Long Seasons Poems
Long Seasons Poems. Below are the most popular long Seasons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seasons poems by poem length and keyword.
In the depths of that meeting, an echo of a silent love was born,
like a hidden whisper in the cold wind embracing the sleeping earth,
and every moment spent together became a page from an untold story,
where words were unnecessary, and their silence was full of deep meanings.
He looked at her as a winter miracle, a rare flower in a frozen garden,
and in her eyes, he saw the reflection of a universe defying the chill of time,
a place where desires and regrets blend into a symphony of emotions,
where each note vibrates with the promise of a spring to come.
In that life-filled silence, he understood that beauty is not only in what you see,
but in how you feel, in how each touch becomes a prayer,
and that sometimes, the deepest connections are formed from unspoken things,
from moments of quiet where their hearts beat in unison, without a word spoken.
Thus, in the eyes of the world, time may seem to freeze, but in their hearts,
the fire of love burns unceasingly, like a flame that knows no end in the heart of winter,
and every memory becomes a warm light, shining in the frozen darkness,
a testament to a bond that transcends the seasons and the passage of time.
Thank you, God, for everything,
especially, giving life to me,
and thank you for these thoughts of mine
the hills I climb, and dreams.
Thank you for the sky and stars,
planets, asteroids, and moons,
the air we breathe, two eyes to see,
and rose gardens in full bloom.
With butterflies and dragonflies
and birds of every kind,
for ants and worms and even germs
you once brought forth, designed.
Thank you for the grass, trees and whispering breeze,
that cools our skin and bones,
for water, seas and bats and bees,
and our families, friends, and homes.
And thank you for the times we share,
including broken hearts and pain,
with all the lessons we deserve
for our missteps, mistakes, and shame.
From exercising our free will
you gave us from the start,
and thanks for the undeserved grace,
you lovingly impart.
And thank you for our hearts and souls
that make each of us unique,
for ears to hear, hands to hold,
and our lips and tongues to speak.
Thank you for the seasons,
winter, spring, summer, fall,
for boys that like to run and hide,
and little girls with baby dolls.
For teachers, preachers, moms, and dads,
doctors, nurses, and cops,
for truck drivers, ranchers, and farmers,
and all their animals, fields, and crops.
For history, time, and words that rhyme,
and all the knowledge we've attained,
about science, math, and our planets past,
and for snow, ice, fire, and rain.
And thank you God for being,
Our Creator and Love unfurled,
and allowing me yet one more day
to seek and find you in this world.
in the quiet of a perfect evening,
i pray with a smile on my face for the first time in years
i have finally feeling light, merry, and bright, for i have shed each all remaining tears
the moon smiles at me through gentle flowing waters
magic in the form of a moderately chilly breeze uplifts me and my positive thoughts
the Christmas Spirit inspires a transformation
at the same time a Personal Reunion takes place
a sudden warmth consumes me in the form of Radiant Effervescence
the stars align as a sincerely friendly wave
the reassurance and its underlying guarantee makes me come out of my cave
i notice MySelf thinking about shopping for Christmas presents
i am imagining MySelf hanging stockings on nails in the wall with care
i find MySelf reminiscing about seasons past and the Comfort and Joy they brought
i see MySelf pouring out some eggnog for The Ones Who Made It All So
i free MySelf and Discover More New Vibes that i never thought i would Know
Isn't life a joy beyond imagining
When a child is born to us?
Can there be any greater happening
When families become a chorus?
Oh sweet melody of life's golden symphony
Pregnant seasons birthing spring
Nothing can compare to the cacophony
Of a baby when first she sings.
Look: she smiles, she beams,
Her eyes seraphic twinkle, deep blue-green,
Enchanting, magically enticing, endearing,
Urging her mother to a hug, a kiss
Soft as the early sun on her puffy cheeks.
Captivating, she melts the heart,
Then strikes, straight at the delicious milk
Of her mother's full sweet breast.
Endless is the Road
I have for some time not been eating boiled cabbage, and it is
of not the slightest importance unless it has been boiled with
pork shoulder ham. I just say this because we had dinner at
a restaurant, for once I was not driving since we were taking
the motorway, a toll road where all the crazy people assemble.
Big, powerful cars driven by men who have not yet mastered
the mantra my driving instructor repeated: you drive the vehicle, it
doesn’t drive you.
I dislike driving on modern roads; they go on forever, and I get
the feeling of a prisoner, a man who looks out of his barred cell
window and sees only the landscape’s seasons, but cannot touch
It inhales the aroma. I shall never be free of a past imagined.
I demanded she stop the car; I was going to walk home, a feat
I’m not capable of, I demanded a cigarette – we don’t smoke-
She gave me 5 5-milligram valium, as ordered by the doctor, and after
a break, we somehow got home.
One very special place,
Within each person’s face,
Reveals inner confidence to be seen,
From relying on God’s providence to be clean.
It’s not just in their smile,
Nor in their pretty style,
But in their eyes,
Where this knowledge resides.
When we feel and know who we really are, as in days of yore,
Revealed by removing the veil, from our life of before,
We know all things in life have eternal direction and meaning,
As we move forward in eternal progression, redeeming.
Through the lens of wisdom we see,
That God’s kingdom is the only place of peace.
Covenants, ordinances, obedience and grace, give us the keys,
Which open heaven’s doors to power, aiding us to be free.
Now life has great purpose and joy,
For as servants we work in our Father’s employ.
We no longer grope at the wall,
But in valor and righteousness, conquer all.
Throughout seasons of fashion and trend,
We hold fast to moral standards wise, and defend,
Our brothers and sisters, each our friend,
Strengthening each other, on whom we depend.
When this is done, then heart, mind, body and Spirit,
Are in their proper, ordained and intended design.
For truth is voiced unto all, but who will Hear Him?
Glory be unto their bright, and enlivened souls divine.
Enticing early spring, yellow daffodils smile
As cherry blossoms flaunt an ebullient style
Pulsating sweet fragrance on butterfly wings
Yellow daffodils smile, enticing early spring
Eager for warm air, the atmosphere churns
Surfing blue waters as sandy beach burns
Donning tiny bikinis inviting stealing stare
The atmosphere churns, eager for warm air
Hugging autumn's grip, meadows turn gold
Windy pastures sway wearing colors bold
Swinging barren trees stormy winds whip
Meadows turn gold, hugging autumn's grip
Grassy fields hide, under shrouds of white
Snow showers delight painting pretty sight
Crowning treetops, pleasing cheery eyed
Under shrouds of white, grassy fields hide
April 15, 2019
Poem of the day on April 17, 2019
Placed 3rd: Your choice (4) contest by Brian Strand
The hoarfrost bites the tender limbs, with hard snow on the ground
The water surface mirror like, in the forest there's no sound
The footbridge wears a coat of ice, flashing in the sun
Awaits steam blowing joggers, out on their morning run
The birds sit on the branches, wrapped in feathers warm
The morning is so peaceful, not the slightest sign of storm
The badger curled up in his set, he waits for stronger sun
You can't dig worms in iron hard ground, winter life's no fun
The fox patrols the open ground, where the rabbits dig for grass
They are deep down in their burrows, wait for early morn to pass
While Owls eat mainly insects, Voles and Field mice don't stray far
From the warmth of grass lined burrows, safe haven that they are
In time the winter turns to spring, the freshness that it brings
The green grass back, the leaves on trees, all the pleasant things
Soon will come the Caddisfly, with larvae for the fish
The same that later in the year, end in the anglers dish
And so it goes the seasons pass, as they have always done
Since the time this earth our home, created by the One
While each of us is not here long, it behoves us to take care
Of what was given us to use, I'll do my best I swear
People feel something lacking at their core
and worry they are nobody, living meaningless lives.
Depressives dwell on this existential dread
(susceptible then to projecting it outward in paranoid fantasies
of climate change, gender dysphoria, and political turmoil),
the less privileged just accept it
as the nature of life, the nature of all things.
It all comes down to how big a ball of desire
we bring along as baggage;
the larger the desire, the greater the disappointment
with the lack at our core.
As infants this desire makes up our whole universe.
Once mature, we see our desire as tiny,
infinitesimal in comparison to the rest of life.
And yet, even a small ball of desire can be difficult.
Difficult is always manageable. And difficult is rewarding.
But the true nature of us, of life, is that we are a nobody,
and that the accomplishment and reward of difficult
is just another vanity.
Being nobody, going nowhere, Life unfolds naturally,
like the seasons, like the passage of a day.
And although the effortless is not difficult
it has its own rewards.
As Lao Tsu once said:
The wise consider themselves “orphaned,” “widowed,” and “worthless.”
Their humility is the source of their strength.
Too much success is not an advantage…
(4/22/23)
September sun setting low,
Fall in all its golden glow;
Anticyclones hold transient sway
As mist forms ,at the close of day.
Dogwood,jasmine,marram grass
In flower ,as pressure fills the barometer glass;
Evening primrose in scented bloom
Fill Autumn with pungent perfume.
Sycamore seeds twirl and twist
Onto a fairy-ring fungus tryst;
Stink horn capped with slime,
As carrion beetles pass the time.
Bramblings feast on bountiful mast ,
As the Autumnal harvest dwindles fast;
Yellowed leaves drift and decompose
Into next year's cellulose.
Winter migrants with welcome calls
As the Indian Summer falters,and falls;
Nature's tempo tarries,then slows
As all creation begins to doze.