Long Sage Poems
Long Sage Poems. Below are the most popular long Sage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sage poems by poem length and keyword.
Time is tricky with changing moods,
Space is shaky with bad and good.
Now nothing lasts through change and age,
Time moves so fast from page to page.
Be prompt with time as space finds you,
Writes in deep rhyme is what you do.
Wise up dear fool as sage inks lines,
Verse feels thought drool lovely and fine.
Seize zest for fest and word your best
Make echoes jest to hurl the rest.
Pattern your churn with sonic boom,
Action can burn a sexy bloom.
Reason shocks wIt as fancy strange,
Logic can fit odd waves of change.
Insight now peeps to hustle space,
Delight strings deep a curious face.
Time plunders well to crumble dust,
Soul bids heart dwell on simple trust.
Now dare outlast the certain feast,
Soon the vain past dies like a beast.
Trick or treat shows a pagan ploy,
You seem to know how wonder toys.
Leon Enriquez
10 November 2018
Singapore
THE GAME
A boy, and an old man, across a board,
A game of strategy, played with a sword.
The pieces move, with careful thought,
Each player, a battle to be fought.4
The boy, a quick mind, with eyes so bright,
The old man, a sage, full of insight.
They play, with focus and intensity,
A test of skill, a fierce velocity.8
The game unfolds, a battle of wits,
The tension builds, each move a hit.
The end draws near, the tension high,
A single move and a final sigh.¹²
The old man, with wisdom so keen,
Makes the final move, a deft routine.
The boy, in shock, his eyes so wide,
He'd lost the game, his pride had died.¹6
But as he rose, his head held high,
The old man said, "You fought a good fight."
With those words, the boy's heart was light,
He'd lost the game, but gained insight.²°
That even when you lose the fight,
There's always wisdom, a lesson to learn,
From every battle, a lesson to earn.²³
Though you may fall, or feel despair,
There's always hope, always a prayer.
That even in darkness, light will shine,
That even in sorrow, joy is divine.²7
So the boy left, his head held high,
The old man smiled, a twinkle in his eye.
Life is the game, the players are you and I.³°
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? November 2023.
I'm flattered by Nina but need to take her to the cleaners,
and splat her inbetweeners with fluid from wieners.
Don't mock or beat down Bath when you're Bristolian,
you were all conceived in a seat in the Odeon,
and you should defuzzle that muzzle after a dozen shots
or your muzzle will rot,
it puzzles this Bard from Bath when you say I act hard, that's daft,
I craft the first draft with regards to retards,
but I don't spar like "gangsta", more prankstar, thank ya.
Hip hop Choco-latte,
ow the Arty Farty Party is to tarty for a starty,
this is too easy I laugh at thee, not smarty,
Bath's beautiful with history it stores,
Bristol looks like it fell out of a horse,
we've got James Dyson and Jane Austin,
you've got Baldrick and webbed off spring.
Of course you went off course with the Bath beige bit, nit witt,
but if we are beige, Bristol... sage and onion,
If I'm rhyme goo you're rhyme ga ga,
rotating between that and blah blah,
Nina Parmenter my off par mentor turned mental,
I'm a stray away from putting this to an instrumental,
cus I think you're menstrual, coincidental
you say my mouth before my mind,
this is written down, no noise,
talking out your behind.
I see you wearing glasses Bristolian,
but I'm from Bath we're different classes, I'm nearly done,
if people in Bath are strange then Bristolian DNA aint got range.
And I sense your bitter remain poke, "Bath Farage",
I'm Mr. Bath At Large,
so LEAVE WON of your remoan votes in the garbage, that's GAR-BAAGE.
I know your only joking and fun poking
through rhyme freedom and I sometimes free dumb,
the outcome of a lout on one, shouting out me bum,
but you saved it in the end with a bit of innuendo,
good poke, I'm off to play Nintendo,
you're tender when you bend so I wont stick it in your endo,
I'm a good bloke.
The rainbow-colored dazzling aura adorned,
Unknown suspense awaiting like thorny bush-horned;
Hope, like not so blue sky, yet, tentatively clear,
Trails of travel fog-filled, yet, hope-filled in each sphere...!
Lost, yet, not fully; moving from known to unknown
What, midst mundane existence, ever clearly known?
Every single soul, like a sage, moves toward search,
Nights and days have slept in sleeplessness sleepy lurch...!
Beasts and birds of pleasant and unpleasant moods flow,
Encountering all, like a child, in gleam I glow;
Life is known; unknown is its origin and end,
Each branch of each tree knows which direction to bend...!
30 December 2022
Beyond Reach Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
O souls of the Island,
I have silently
heard through
tropical torrents
and surpassed
a million miles
of the milky seas,
away from
mint-marine
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland,
as strawberry
ripples and
coconut-scented
musings called
upon my
flamboyant spirit,
to explore those
ebony-emeralds
of universe and
envelop my hope in
creamy pink shells.
I have soaked in
sepia impressions,
ebbing as
crepe currents
on splitting shores
and windsurfed
through the
hibiscus rays
of life by forbidding
heartache hymns
of yesteryears,
from lurking in
jewelled hours
of today
and built a
kryptonite kayak
to sail in the
turquoise times
of tomorrow.
For, now I know
that the
opalescent ocean
has chosen me,
to return the
riveting spirit
of sage-rufescent
rivulets back to
the 'Heart of
Humanity's Cosmos',
shaped in
soft serenades
of seraphim.
When the
whispers of a
mauve french-rose,
blooming within,
will uncurl their
farthest wish
in silken twinkles,
my eyes will always
remember these
watercolor heights
splashing crayon dusks
and revealing
silver moon truths,
for there's more
beyond the
neon networks
of syzygy pearl skies
and chestnut reefs,
yearning to be
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love.
So, I abandon
those sooty
regrets that snorkel
with their fragile fins in
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations
of intuitions, formed
by the star-kissed
manta rays and
sketch sagacious
saudades laced
with hope, as a
halo around the
lilac Pole Star.
In this mortal
seascape of
the seventh heaven,
every orphan
of darkness
shimmers as
the beacon
of lustrous
sugar-scintilla that
shapes this world,
in ivory-smitten
spheres of
magically
diaphanous helix,
waltzing in whispers
of wind and water.
Every lava-skinned,
feminine flame
of doleful daffodils
was once a glittered
cherry-red gardenia,
laced with
cardinal buds,
who nurtured
velvet seeds
in the womb of
celeste compassion
and edenic empathy.
And like myself,
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations,
crowned with
purple plumerias,
is a whimsical wayfinder,
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity
and blue-star petals of peace.
I held my arms out to her.
Waiting for her to hug me.
I miss you today. I whisper.
Such a moment of jubilee.
I fair need to be on the charm of my dove.
She's in my heart forever.
who can spy Springs flow pure love
She felt the warmth stream over.
The water flows by the scent of my flowers.
How the body flows under jovial heaven?
She reveres the shadow cower.
And carries a little of the old leaven.
The window blasts the spring breeze.
The Parrot soaks my glass of bliss.
The sip of divine grace appeases.
She is upbeat to know my kiss.
I did not realize the beginning.
But agreed the plan was shrewd.
In the end, I ran out of paper, querying.
That’s a sound chain of deeds.
I have no place in any scenario.
Why should we live in vain?
Who is impressed that the big profit is our embryo?
Who persuaded them that you're trusty, not a strain.
Who claims women’s vision there's no delight in labor.
This vicious principle was extended still further.
I feel that I can't swim; in the sea of flavor.
May the breeze prank with all the storms of fervor.
Soothe the lips of the roses.
Pacify the voice and bright guitar melodies
With the charm of nectar doses.
She said I was from winds, in the books of parodies.
Not the background bust, all lines of affection.
You crush me toward the edges of the stage.
I remain in the strides of attention.
I alter my words to see your sage.
The contrast between realizing how to play words
A dream weaved dramatic content for me.
You are a princess, in my words.
I cruise with your eyes; that’s the key.
You are my novice
You are my present and my past.
You lift my goodness.
My sonnet is your name hast.
Your energy will stay in my books.
No cease to worry yet.
Hide the blood shadows from your cheeks
The lines had a chance to thrust.
Do not be shy.
Do not be shy.
Salvation
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you believe in absorbing esoteric supernatural impressions
To clear your pathways
Of all mental or traumatic depression's
To then walk down life's metaphysical runways
Like a young Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel or an inspired
Paul Poiret
If so
Because I believe
In you
Always be optimistic and open to being positive when exploring newer experiences
For true belief
Lies in the right mindset in all you do
To transform your soul into your best version of a sage or mystic
Allowing you to chase stars and wild Middle Earth dreams
To bind old mistakes and fears
To white metaphorical feathers
To throw them into the healing fires within your mind
For their old powers over you
In the unconscious rising smoke retire
As you learn which new bridges to cross
And which old bridges to burn
For sacred self-knowledge and empowerment is ubiquitous
A chimera
A conjunction of wild beasts
Roaming wild
Living life through
Eight letters called Salvation
Which to the child of the Revived
Like you
Cannot never ever be denied
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
I could find my child, who's a butterfly lover,
Often bunking school granting many a reason;
Knowing her mad love, over the air to hover,
I allowed her to continue with no treason...
Having decided to find the reason from her
When, finally, persuaded her to open up;
Observing sage-like silence and eyes with no blur,
She blushed as though there's a tempest in her teacup...
Pleasing, easing, teasing, tiring, tempting, mocking,
Persuading, convincing, coercing, smooth-talking;
Silver-tongued sweet words on her slowly showering,
Ultimately, she spoke up as though rock-shocking...
Does schooling teach one to fly like a butterfly?
Does butterfly, in a school, ever long-time lie?
05 July 2021
Contemporary Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot
She went to live with a skinny tattooist,
growing ever more sexually magnetic
but she denied him her
,
anus and mouth,
forcing him to masturbate while she danced for him.
O how she danced!
The dragons upon her skin
were her partners, her pets. Her post-cathartic
vividness glowed red, green and blue,
yet there were still unpainted parts.
She made her pale partner
fill in these spaces with other flying serpents,
which he did, tapping her with a zealot’s fervor.
Abraxas, Orochi, Anataboga, Xiuhcotl, Nidhug, Longwei,
the brimstone killers, the sage guardians -
the detonations of hell and heaven.
He cunningly wove their wings, tails and talons
about her flesh until even her most intimate areas
were also dragon parts.
One by one she fed herself to them, and they
knowing she held their flames between her ribs
danced for her as if leashed to her will.
“Do you see me”? she asked.
“My flesh is an anvil of fire.”
He could not reply.
He saw not a woman but a coruscate gyre,
as if a female energy were escaping on serpent wings.
“Beauty.” He gasped as his ****** took his breath away.
She laughed out loud, threw her arms above her head
stamping her feet, dancing on invisible skulls.
I think of you being a universe away—
it cuts like broken glass, being apart from you
and all alone and without a bright ray
that's you to keep me from growing so blue.
If I could fly like a bird and appear
at your front door like a long-lost, old letter
I'd move both heaven and Earth to be near
you,—nothing under heaven could be better!
Tho' I am poor my words are filled with riches
and emeralds for a beautiful, high princess
like you—a sweet, highborn girl who bewitches
all with her charming brilliance and great rictus.
To please you I would scale tall mountains
and plumb the depths of under-sea valleys;
and like de León I'd search the lost fountains
of youth for you 'til I grow feeble in both knees.
Together, we are the Shepherd and Lamb;
I'd lead you to graze in the tall, green grasses
where the fields are watered by the brick dam
ahead of the dry and dusty, dirt passes.
I am the river and you are the sea;
my love flows into you like the Ganges;
like seed, I'd flower in your open lea
and sprout in your heart’s crannies.
I am the soil and you are the Rose,
rouge-tinted with life and fertile beauty;
you'd reek of great wisdom to every nose
and be sage beyond the ripe age of ninety.
Like a bottomless sea my love runs deep
for you and will never run dry or run cold:
thus, with these words of mine you can keep
them near you and treasure them like gold.