Long Scenery Poems
Long Scenery Poems. Below are the most popular long Scenery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scenery poems by poem length and keyword.
Our convergent joint
The rallying point
Mecca to the Pastors and Sisters
Jerusalem to the “Alhajas and Alfas”
Refuge to the weak
Shield to the strong
Nowhere on campus like our building
Life made more lively
Added life to the lifeless
Ever enliven to light up a dead soul
Restore spirit to the soulless body
Nowhere on campus like our
World Trade Centre
Goods and services are synchronized
Prizes are greatly subsidized
To augment sense of belonging to our belongings
No wonder, young and old ones throng in and out
For more copies of pieces of paper
Scrupulously they stay glued to
Modern screen for good job
Ours is the biggest edifice in Nigeria
Ours is the best in Africa
Ours is amongst the best in the world
Swimming pool completes the unparallel
Beautiful scenery that I behold every
Midnight that I lay my head on the
Cushion to cushion the tedious effect
Incurred in my sojourn on campus
Twenty four hours was for
Wisdom chicken and chips
A delicacy prepares with wisdom
Which often times leaves Couples off wisdom
As they whisper pouring out farrago of lies
Unto each others hearing
In a latter day hobo’s manner
Like a Romeo in the world of a Juliet
Savoring the dishes
Drinking all drinkable and all gulp-able
Browsing and dancing to the
Rhythm of Yahoo and “Aluta” gyration
Ours was unarguably the best
Our building clad a chamber
Where the Honourables meet
Where ideas and views are chewed
Where political and cerebral jaw jaw are cross fertilized
Where rhetoric and oratory seed are swallowed
Where we read and blessed with “8 points”
Where we digest skills to become splendid
Managers of human and material resources
Our library is incomparable in quantity and quality of materials
All these before they came
They came, they vandalized
They came, they destroyed
They came, they extorted
They came, they collected and replaced for man
Receipt of hopelessness and anguish
They came . . . killed the spirit
They came . . . gauged the soul
They came . . . stole the body
But . . .
Like the Son of Man
The spirit will rise again
Like an “Ayekoto” bird
The gauged soul will escape and fly away
Like the Biblical Zion
The stolen body will be returned
And restored for better glory.
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
August 12th 2005
4.00am
Form:
Has anyone paused and asked himself about
the mysterious boy who climbed many hills
to discover what was invisible to the eyes:
the brilliance of the downing sun in the West?
Mysteries are never perceived without faith,
and his faith needed no credibility for doubt;
belief is an assumption not based on fact:
he struggled with it and discarded it as trash!
Rocks on his path were no impediment,
they glistened when hit by the sunrays;
sunflowers turned golden and meadows
changed to a russet color around sunset!
He didn't have to jot down the idyllic scenery,
it stayed so alive into his adolescent memory;
no groping fear ever prevented his adventures:
the more he discovered, the greater the joys!
Who has never been captivated by Nature
wouldn't know the awesome feeling inside;
while other boys played soccer, he wrote literature:
what surrounded him was too wondrous to admire!
How many kids of his age preferred playing,
never looking around and be wowed by delight,
never running after a kite and discover a new height;
He plucked pears off trees and rested toward evening!
Did the insidious dusk of gloominess scare him much?
He sat erect on that rock and watched luminaries appear;
each one was an earthly soul fled to Heaven upon death:
He whispered prayers while being charmed by their glitter!
St. Paddy’s Day has come. At dawn,
Wake up and put a smile on!
The birds are whistling cheerily
This day of green, a day for glee.
The time has come for conjuring
The start of something sweet. . . Like spring!
So be footloose and fancy free
This day of green, a day for glee.
Go out and find a verdant place
And let the sunshine touch your face.
Relax; enjoy the scenery
This day of green, a day for glee.
A child’s soul inside you thrives.
Unloose it, and when night arrives,
Be ready for a jubilee
This day of green, a day for glee!
Then bring your favorite friends along
To laugh and dance and sing a song.
You’ll wish that life could always be
This day of green, a day for glee!
For The Wearing of the Green Poetry Contest
of Francine Roberts
Today, I felt the cooling breath of Autumn's morning mist
and my cheeks wore a blush of pink as if I had been kissed
The season is a time of bejeweled scenery across the lands
When Summer sleeps and Autumn lies in Nature's hands
Its gentle winds rustle through a grove of sugar maple trees
Perhaps it's sharing secrets it heard drifting across the seas
Autumn sings a lament as leaves tumble in shades of gold
With a palette of paints brushed on canvas, bright and bold
Its breath lingers across ripened orchards and wildflower fields
Where Summer's harvested crops have given up their yields
Fall carries along with it, the pungent aroma of spicey scent
cinnamon, cloves, and citrus of mulled wine, still in ferment
Autumn's enchantment holds me totally enrapt and spellbound
I hear flocks of migratory birds in flight and their anxious sounds
Over Fall's foggy moonlit field, comes the cry of a roosting loon
Cooing songs to his mate beneath the shine of a harvest moon
With every breath I inhale of Fall, I praise my Creator with elation
Blue skies or clouds of grey, I marvel at Autumn with admiration
Softly, I whispered my name to the wind on this morning's walk
and heard it repeated in distant echoes as if Autumn could talk
Pine rustles in gloomy afternoon
Foretoken of turbulent storm
Thunder tremors with violet lightning
Descend electricity
Burning pine tree forest
Enamored couple walking in the forest
Ensconce for shelter in an abandoned house
Awaiting that the heavy rainfall drops stop
Discovering a far away red lighthouse
Calm reigns in ether
Garnet sky is scenery
Setting love story
Carved as a heart and arrow
Romance symbol in a tree
For It Takes Four Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
Third Place
8-11-2016
Sometimes, people are missing some dignity here
Of being good and unclean is two different things
Have we lost some honor to become dishonor then
Can we sometimes be good men than being barbaric
Two days ago, when I woke up, nice scenario here
I saw the scenery of rice field, lush and green
Today, I woke up and saw the scenery of garbage
It feels like a dream, but it's real to appraise
Between rice field and garbage affecting our life
It's unfair to good people for one act of vagrancy
Let everyone act according to the precept of law
Let government execute and solve this without flaw.
The snowflakes are falling like the words from my heart,
on the scenery they soon become part;
and I breathe snowflakes_
my world changes to a beautiful work of fine art,
and my rosy cheeks are snow kissed ~
I walk the forest paths meandering in thought,
part of a painting that cannot be bought;
and I breathe snowflakes_
winter fills me with joy and a knot,
and my rosy cheeks are snow kissed ~
I was born in a winter blizzard storm weeping,
into my life snow is always seeping;
and I breathe snowflakes_
cold winter into my poems is always creeping,
and my rosy cheeks are snow kissed ~
I am filled with great joy when the first snowflakes fall,
when winter says I am here to enthral;
and I breathe snowflakes_
in the snow my name I like to scrawl,
and my rosy cheeks are snow kissed ~
________________________
December 11, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Winter Rhapsody
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1311-198-11
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Winter
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 01/03/21
Second Place
There are so many things to observe
as I sit at the canal trail.
My senses catch it all.
Shirtless runners,
The swish of thier sneakers as they pass.
A family picnicking not far away.
Bike riders side by side chatting to each other.
A man pushing his partner in a wheelchair.
A child running to his daddy.
Leaves fluttering in the wind.
Hawks soaring over thier prey.
Gulls seeking fish.
Sparrows chirping away.
Ducks bobbing on the waves.
Speed walkers pass briskly by.
Seniors walking thier dogs.
Dogs checking out the trees.
People gazing at the scenery.
Girls and guys with hair tied in ponytails.
Shadows dancing across the lands and water.
Roof tops peeking through the trees.
Sun beating against my back.
From where I sit I am just a shadow.
Sitting on the sidelines,
with my butt pressed in this bench,
Wondering...
"Why am I not doing any of these things?"
Dawn is breaking over the park where my heart is sprinkled amongst the geese, deer which call this park home..
The wind is gently blowing the prairie grass, no sound you hear, as everything is at rest, I lay down in the grass as not to be seen.
The trees so tall with its branches provide a shelter for GODS creatures who are tired from trying to forage for food.
Staring up in the sky as I lay in the grass, I curl my lonely body into a ball, the emotion is too much, only Christ Jesus knows my sorrows, suddenly the deer are coming close suppose they too feel the beauty of this place?
The geese are dancing to the songs of the birds, sad are they too about departing this inclusive, safe, town?
The sun has risen, its warmth is shining on my baren skin, I close my eyes as to soak in this blissful scenery, I know not when I will return, as my home is not this blissful back home..
"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from an autumn tree."
Quote by _ Emily Bronte
All the trees are changing their summer gowns,
the winds whispers- trees it is time to fall;
and stained glass leaves drop in golds, reds, and browns,
taking their time to fly they often crawl.
And drifting are sweet bird rhapsody songs,
the tweets, the chirps, twittering and the twangs;
all of autumn is quiet and mellow,
I am holding a leaf veined and yellow.
The rain falls in a pitter-patter dance,
there is a splendor in the scenery;
and the leaves with a madness spin and prance,
a beauty where once there was greenery.
The wind is wailings like a violin,
oh God has painted his beautiful art;
all around painted leaves whirl, swirl and spin,
his voice whispers in the trees and my heart.