Long Roots Poems
Long Roots Poems. Below are the most popular long Roots by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roots poems by poem length and keyword.
In the heart of the evergreen state where mountains touch the sky
You’ll find the PNW Poetry Guy under Mt. Rainier’s watchful eye
With the South Sound’s rain-soaked landscape boasting tall fir trees
The PNW Poetry Guy’s verses are penned in the cool misty breeze
From Seattle's shimmering skyline to Tacoma’s tide-flats
The PNW Poetry Guy honors his roots wearing many hats
Observer, consumer, and admirer of the beauty mountains to sea
The PNW Poetry Guy inspired by an Emerald City spirit so free
Mossy paths winding through sprawling foothills in the Cascades
The PNW Poetry Guy enjoys the forest-covered steep hiking trail grades
Through the Puget Sound whispers to Ocean Shore’s rhythmic songs
The PNW Poetry Guy writes among scents of coffeeshops, fish grease and bongs
City Center, Montlake and SODO are special places energizing Seattleite’s hearts
The PNW Poetry Guy at the stadiums and arenas as our teams do their parts
Sure, we have problems but through diversity and inclusion they are addressed
The PNW Poetry Guy is proud to be born and raised in the majestic Northwest
Shirtless and nervous, I sit at the edge
Of my bed, all alone, my courage I dredge
From deep within in my heart so long gone
The matters of heart can't by solved by pure brawn
I hear her getting ready and my heart won't slow down
Just like the first time, its pace is abound
And it slams to a halt as she opens the door
As she walks to me, I feel it drop to the floor
I take her in my arms and hold her close to me
Inhaling her scent as she presses close to me
We both fall back hard, her lips pounce upon mine
As I taste her sweet breath, I lose track of time
The minutes slip by as we return to roots
Scents more intoxicating than the sweetest of fruits
At the end of it all, we fall back with a grin
Some things never change, that's how it's always been
A speck of dust upon the moss,
A tiny life the breezes toss,
Too small for any passing eye,
Beneath the wide and heavy sky.
It has no stem to proud upright,
No brilliant petals catching light,
No perfume drifts across the lake,
Where sleeping frogs and ripples wake.
Yet Wolffia drifts, a microscopic dot,
Upon the still pond's quiet spot,
No roots to anchor in the silt,
No green and spreading leaves to wilt.
A speck of green, a simple grain,
Untouched by heavy summer rain,
Two grains of salt could match its weight,
So small it mocks the grand and great.
Through needle eyes its frame could slide,
Like quiet hurts we lock inside,
A single stamen, lonely fruit,
An empire built without a root.
The busy bee goes buzzing by,
To seek the garden's painted crowd,
And misses where the treasure lies,
Concealed from all impatient eyes.
Whole ages fade and cities rust,
While mountains crumble into dust,
The loudest voices fade away,
Like shadows at the end of day.
For greatness is not born of might,
Or standing tallest in the light,
The weary heart can still endure,
With quiet steps, and purposes pure.
guess we are not equal
i was hoping for the stars to align
evil spirits have interfered
then again, it is just the another facet of the truth
guess we are not compatible
i was hoping for the energy of the chemistry to be kinetic
demonic forces have reared their ugly heads
then again, it is just another facet of the truth
guess we are not connected
i was hoping for the dots to perfectly connect
wicked soldiers have drawn their icy rifles
then again, it is just another facet of the truth
guess we are not soulmates
i was hoping that God would gleefully say 'YES'
corrupt counterparts have totally reconstructed the brain and the heart of it all
then again, it is just another rung of strength to motivated the roots of our love
The Storm of Ages
I was given a taste of something... sweet.
Innocence reborn a new,
I... am... born... again.
While some celebrate,
others cringe and cry.
They try to mock and separate,
what is truth and real?
Yelling openly,
and not the same...
How can it be said
man refused his maker.
Desperately...
living a stunted life,
holding onto the afterbirth,
of their own existence.
With both hands...
clutching for power and gain,
worth and value,
gold and silver,
hearts and souls.
"They" are here.
"They" have always been here.
Since the fallen dared to mock His steps,
turned to bodies of swine,
to die and die and die.
In dropping to my knees in repentance,
my eyes have been opened wide.
The Light has cast away shadow,
and He walks before me.
I humbly follow.
The Jubilee is upon US(a).
Tonight I learned that I...
am also a Citizen of Jerusalem.
I feel a need to return home.
I am impassioned by the desire,
to change all that I am for all that can be.
From the roots of my being,
to the hopeful heart of my own soul.
The turbulent times are upon the world.
The beginning of the end has passed,
as we are far into the thick of all that...
has been, is and will be. (reverent tones and quiet bells)
The mark is already being used,
in companies around the world.
Keeping track of everything they can.
You can see everywhere as well,
by cam, most live and streamed.
Echoes of prophecies,
Angels gathering,
and prayers lifted desperately,
constantly and consistently.
"Here US(a) Oh Lord!..."
Kindly, God created humans with luck
In a garden, He placed Adam with martini
Not to live hurdles, but happiness in ton
Gambling, humans weren’t allowed to long
With power, Adam sat on the garden pew
In times God made him Eve, a helper Gemini
To crown him with all possible powers to get
Hence a king, all prerogatives with.
Now Eve causes trees grow thorn
Ongoing suffering roots in Eden go
Cos Eve listened to the Serpent comic
Rays of hope vanished for ever
Over time, Adam has to sweat to eat too
Without hope of returning to Eden window
Now, Adam has lost his crown
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
In a garden of shadows, where dreams float like petals in the evening breeze,
The little girl walks the thin line of time, a path of mist and unfulfilled longings,
Night approaches like a dark wave, ready to crush the bones of dreams,
The woman hides beneath the sheets, listening as silence turns into whispers.
On each side of the path, the girl stretches her wings like two storybook pages,
Struggling to rise above the earth that wants to swallow her in its deep silence,
Flowers bow before the darkness, and stars fall like tears from a forgotten sky,
A silent dance of the cosmos, where dreams break and weave with the night’s shadows.
Her wings are a silent symphony, a mute cry against the weight of oblivion,
Night extends its cold fingers, like roots searching deep within the soul,
Flowers retreat into the earth, and stars extinguish like candles at a dream’s end,
A bridge of memories over the abyss between worlds, where girl and woman become one.
Between two heartbeats, between two whispers of the wind,
A path of light and shadow, where the girl steps among forgotten dreams,
Under the weight of night, under the burden of whispers that say day is but an echo,
An endless dance of longing and silence, an ancient song of the forgotten heart.
As I'm walking on air in a cool breeze; its' effervescents of life puts my mind at ease.
In my head plays the happy tune I'll be strumming along before too soon.
Surely so, after not too long, I hum the sounds heard all around.
Chevalier trees beckons "if you please"; on bow of knee they ask of me.
Taking my hands we dance a prance, and twirl to the rhythm of this romance.
As the Flowers sway; I am swept away entranced inside this festive day.
Happily the bees don't sting; only echoes of their wings are here to sing.
Then birds joined in with chirps of laughter, in a span of time, shortly thereafter.
Flying up high, swooping down low; are twenty birds all in a row.
Alas! the grass not to be out done nor last couldn't let this moment past;
raised its' blades, to my amaze, {just before the music fades}
rocked the roots down under the pave__and rowed in motions as smooth as waves.
It's astonishing how nature behaves. One never knows whenever it craves__
the need to show us that we are one {all of us born under the sun};
how to have a little fun.
Behold! this joyful wind that blows again__ assurance of it's never end.
And that's the story from All of us in this moment of felicitous.
Wanderer yet of my first lighthouse the eternal shining darkness,
Of the pupil candlestick flicker of light your serene turbulent skin,
Still in place in place the same place let basil rise from aerial roots,
From card game read in a pail by a blind fortune-teller seer.
Who chilled me with her thought of statesman without majestic power,
Not too big not too small good to put there chic in arranged disorder,
Two palms long of wide below navel of corrected correct integuments,
Feelings slow as frozen lightning slight erythema without frightful shiver.
Of my patent hidden loves perpetual mobile repeated stopped,
Your lighthouses blind with black light in the candlestick pupil that sees blindness,
The basil rises burying itself in place without motion that runs forever,
The blind fortune-teller reads the past future in the unwritten books of fate.
The statesman without state rules the lost empire of full nothingness,
The wide narrow palms measure the distance between near and never,
The corrected integuments are perfect in their healthy imperfection,
The shiver-less erythema burns my skin with warm cold emotional ice.
Your serene skin storms my calm in the ordered chaos of the body,
Flicker of dark light ignites the shadows that illuminate my night,
The card game guessed wrong reveals the lie truth of our fate,
The repeated loves perpetually stop in their static dynamic motion.
Wandering in place I travel motionless through the fixed universe of your drift,
Your blind lighthouses show me the lost path toward nowhere precisely everything,
In the cosmic navel of the immense small I plant the basil that dies-alive,
I am the extinguished lit candlestick in the luminous darkness of your solar pupil.
My eyes are neutral
Observing the horizon
Morning may never come
The birds may never chirp
My song may never be heard
If that sun never rises
It'll be because I didn't make it
I'm tired of everything
Though I have no reason to be
I've just got a foolish heart
My reflection reveals something hideous
Because my soul can't shine through
The layers of depression
That cover my body so heavily
And I'm not sure how to get rid of them
I yearn for fields of strawberries
Wearing straw hats and smiles
Watching the lazy clouds float past
With my child on my shoulders
Overlooked by my proud wife
Irony is me finding a glimmer of hope
In the darkest moments of night
When I fail to find slumber
And somber thoughts beckon
I remember to hold on to myself
Voices are the water that hydrate my soul
Allowing positivity to blossom
Displaying even an inkling of gravitas
I just want to feel the comfort of others
So that I'm not alone with myself
Truth be told I'm just a wilted flower
Digging my roots into concrete
Because conditions don't allow me to grow
And even the prettiest dream is a nightmare
When it's something I'll never attain
My eyes are neutral
Observing the horizon
Morning may never come
The birds may never chirp
My song may never be heard