Long Rising Poems
Long Rising Poems. Below are the most popular long Rising by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rising poems by poem length and keyword.
I brushed the side of her soft cheek with my hand
Cradled her head with my other
Looked directly into those two beautiful brown pools
and in the still summer air
i whispered her name,
then kissed her waiting moist lips,
slightly parted, as her body trembled in my hands.
Hips now grinding in anticipation
Hands roaming and finding
the targets we both were eager to share,
and without a care we laid bare
in the misty moonlight of delight.
Rising, falling, passionate sighs
and moans and groans building to a blissful
finish, in a sweaty collapse.
No words have to be spoken
For the windows of those two beautiful brown pools
speak all i need to know
We have become one
I want to be a dolphin so cool
Having lots of fun swimming in my school.
The smartest of all, the ocean as my pool,
I want to be a dolphin so cool.
I want to be a parrot so bright
Showing off my wings, rising into flight.
I’d chatter with the cheetahs all night.
I want to be a parrot so bright.
I want to be a cute kitty cat
Sleeping all day getting happy and fat;
Adored as the queen of my habitat.
I want to be a cute kitty cat.
I want to be a small playful dog.
I don't want to be a lizard or a frog.
The comforts of home beat living on a log.
I want to be a small playful dog.
So tell me, dear, what you would like to be?
Animals abound on land, in sky and sea.
Would you live on a farm or in a tree?
What kind of animal would you be?
March 29, 2023
For Eve Roper's Children Sing To Rhyme Poetry Contest
(I ended up reducing syllables in some of the lines to fit 10 or less per line)
A seasonal malaise plasters
stray tendrils of wayward thought.
Another dreary gray day hovers.
Vacant is the sky, as empty as the
surface of an unwritten page.
On days such as these the mind strays
through the attic’s dusty remnants.
Times freezes mid tick.
Stale…and salt less..simpering day,
humming to the background noise of distant stars.
Age has brought with it a leathery sensation,
as crusty, picked over bundles of brashness
failing to ignite the fires of laggard thought.
Severing the ties, the starched cotton strings
of apron which held the crumbs of motherhood,
hopefully, causes a rising of, if not a phoenix...
perhaps, a cardinal of a different Spring.
Juices from a dry well, well, perhaps not dry?
Crisp, precise, if unpunctual, cookie fortunes
flutter upward, on curled strips of sugar coated white.
Who is to say, who is to be, the center
the jam in the depressed hollow of my life?
Let the mind soar for a settlement of glee.
Let it roar for the loss of flexibility and
trumpet a coming of age so rare…
for it is not madness which hovers
in the grey of dawn, or the wet bleak day,
but, the elegant solace of silver strands
their tendrils spreading unhindered
cuddled among the cue, not vacant at all.
Waiting…waiting to breathe.
Do you care for me
I ask. As I shall do for
You?
Will you lead me by the
Heart? As for I shall
Never break the valve
Which has brandished the
Templar construment of living
Past the certain and polarising
The rising of God's Mom into
A statue of liberty and mutal
Understandings his father
Had given reason only to smile
Upon the risen, and grieve for
The laughter slurred skies
Spoke openingly about the
Beginning being that and the
End being this.
If it has become any concerns
Of yours to delve into the lapsed
Forms of times broken promisings
Then you would have come across
Patience which letters eighteenth
Centuries ago that what we have
Done together should never be
Despaired from the martyrs along
Masked conception of rivers
Twist and bends with the calling
Of what you have turned the other
Cheek looming over fervently.
Silent Escape
A light breath of wind refreshes his skin,
and the sun slowly fades away.
His gaze wanders through a violet-pink sky,
where faded clouds drift along.
Offering himself to the slow magic of the day,
the shades glide in harmony.
Silence lays a veil upon the shapes of the world,
evaporating in soft rising vapour.
He whirls, lost among immaterial beauties,
given to the immensity of space.
He lets himself be carried, his thoughts diluted in the clouds,
breathing in the sweetness of escape.
Then he drifts, guided by the mingled light of colours,
feeling weightless in the absence of sound.
It is not a dream nor an illusion,
but the quiet force of the reader who forgets himself.
To escape for a few moments…
into mute abysses where the sky glows and remembers.
— Joël Charvillat
The air is heavy—
like a warm, wet blanket wrapped around everything.
The sun?
Hiding behind a cloud,
like it doesn’t want to deal with the day.
The Brahmaputra flows—
slow, wide, calm.
It mirrors the dull sky,
grey and tired like it skipped breakfast.
The trees don’t move.
Not even a whisper of wind.
Just leaves, soaked with sweat,
hanging there like they’ve given up.
The cicadas sing—
a slow, sleepy song,
as June presses down on everything.
The earth lets out a long, hot breath.
Dragonflies zip past,
quick little sparks in the still air.
Then—
a moment.
Rain.
Just a sprinkle.
Just enough to tease.
And then—steam,
rising from the roads,
rolling off the fields like ghosts in the heat.
The tea plants droop,
lined up in rows,
too tired to smell sweet anymore.
But even in all this sweat,
this heat,
this heavy, breathless air—
there’s something strong here.
Something green.
Something alive.
That’s Assam.
Unshaken.
Unbothered.
Beautiful.
How long will this dreary night go on
Seems years since the dawn of morn
Why does anxiety keep me awake
What is this burden I cannot shake
Heartbeats too fast within my breast
Too quickly to grant needed rest
There's no moon above to cast light
This crepuscule gives birth to fright
I smell the wax of candles burning
but something keeps me from turning
If this be a dream, I pray, let me wake
for I've a thirst and hunger to slake
My eyes are open, and yet I cannot see
the willow outside; my weeping tree
"Fear not," I warn myself in voice aloud
the moon must be cloaked by a cloud
I call out for Davinia, in angst and fear
but my dear wife is not sleeping near
I long to glimpse morning rays of sun
Harried for never-ending night to be done
Only sleep could bring a measure of peace
and from shadowed night to have release
but I seen to be shackled to the beast
who fights the dawn's rising in the East
Of going insane, I fast approach the brim
tortured by thoughts, dark, dank and grim
Whispers I hear, mawkish murmurs dim,
"What will become of Davinia without him"
Who speaks of me in grammar, past tense
Someone who's lost all sentience and sense
Fragrant air 'round me grows warm and dense
Could that redolent odor be flowered scents
A memory haunts my sleep deprived brain
It's of a brutal nature, and cold falling rain
An act of violence, like the angry sin of Cain
A man's life taken; from a dagger he was slain
Motionless in rest, but not on my feathered bed
This unnerving moment is one I most dread
In a sepulcher, on a satin pillow, rests my head
In eternal darkness am I to dwell, among the dead
The heavy sky begins to press,
A velvet shroud of dark distress.
But where the masses turn to hide,
I stand awake and eager-eyed.
The distant rumble starts to roll,
A sudden tremor in the soul.
A phantom scent of rising rain,
That washes clean the weary plain.
The heavens split—a brilliant spark,
A jagged ribbon in the dark.
It dances through the clouded deep,
Waking the world from troubled sleep.
Let others tremble at the noise,
And seek the shelter that employs.
I find my peace within the chaos,
Where fierce and stunning that crisscross.
An electric thrust upon the air,
A wild, untamed, celestial flare.
I breathe the lightning, source the rain,
And find my silence in the chain.
Good things will grow, from planting healthy seeds,
Bad things develop, when we start to pay no heed,
Grains grew and flourished, filling up our fields,
Why oh why, did we cut down all the trees,
To move giant statues, in honor of our dead,
We needed so much wood, to build rollers and sleds,
Competition grew between us, megalomania spread,
Statues got bigger, along with enormous heads.
Soil started to vanish, every time it rained,
No trees to absorb, through porous rock it drained,
Harvests failed, our children starved in vain,
Battles broke out, opposing clans where blamed.
Hard times came upon us, diseases ensued,
Cannibals emerged, in search of meaty food,
Sought solace in our statues, they remained unmoved,
Gaze fixated on the ocean, behind landscape in denude.
Easter Island remains a lesson, not to trust mankind,
A microcosm of our planet, when nature’s undermined,
Even as I write this poem, earth’s being redesigned,
Chimneys our new statues, spewing filth into the clime.
Ice sheets are melting, forests are burning wild,
Sea levels rising, with each and every tide,
Population’s growing, while reserves are in decline,
Will we heed the warnings, of course when out of time.
Let me be the one
I try to sense, all that you feel
I wonder if your love is real
Why don't you let me be the one?
I know you're filled with doubt and fear
please let me dry all of your tears
Why can't I be you're rising sun?
Chorus
Let me be the one
I can be the one you love
Let me be the one
Let me be the one
you fit me like a hand in glove
Let me be the one... that you love
You've waited forever for love
All your life prayed to God above
Don't you see, He's answered your prayers?
You might not feel like I'm the one
but you'll feel different, when I'm done
'cause I'm the one who really cares
Chorus
When I look deep into your eyes
maybe that's when you'll realize
that I'm the only man for you
Love whispers softly in your ears
with a voice so crystal clear
I want to spend my life with you!
Go to chorus
fade
John Derek Hamilton
November 1,2016