Long Sheer Poems
Long Sheer Poems. Below are the most popular long Sheer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sheer poems by poem length and keyword.
I loved you once like sunrays kissing earth,
like drenching rain that brings with it new birth.
I loved you once like waves that reach for shore,
and then receded to come in strength once more
I loved you once like stars that pulse with light,
held captive to the Milky Way’s delight.
I loved you once like moonbeams touching trees
that dance within the branches as they please
I loved you once like clouds that grace the sky,
enchanting scene that draws a whistful sigh
I loved you once like tender falling snow
embellishing the world in splendid show
I loved you once like angels drawing near
to bring the needed comfort, hope and cheer
I loved you once like flowers dotting land
that blushed in bloom of love in fusion grand
I loved you once, but once a lifetime fills
My life without you is devoid of thrills
I loved you once and earth was paradise
My sheer delight in love defied disguise
I loved you once; I'll love you for all time
You’ll never taste a love as sweet as mine
I loved you once, and once lives on in me
Alas, for you that once is history
Eileen Manassian
To the delight of the sky,
in its little place to abide.
Along side the great expanse,
is a great divide.
As a face to peer expression,
not less.
In a cheerily sheer convection
of infectious activity, not bereft of the virulence
that will be under test, testimony adherence.
The moon beaming, proud, portaled in.
stagelight_esteeming
The starchild moonlighting-shrouds
upon its step, trolling the cleft mounds
it doth curtails
treasured shipwrecked fools
mirrored beacon, fashioned to our imagination.
False Profit us puppeted by
it's zephyr demon prophetess' improvisation.
We the lost, butt found trailblazing Hallowed.
grounds.
Of the fountains of the deep held aloft
by the wind in the sea of tranquility.
With one eye open, looking around for trouble,
but sometimes for deeper meaning.
As far as the eye of the storm can see.
What the eyes can't see.
That which only the spiritus cumulus optimus.
primus minus the us in pre-ordination means?
You were only twelve when I first met you through your mom
a special star in the sky that shone always brighter then the sun
You had the rare ability Alison of seeing auras around each soul
and when you spoke about it, your eyes pinned me like dark coal
Then you visited Quebec City and you came down with a disease
a rare one, with only 7 in the world, no drugs could fast appease
Intestinal lymphangiectasia, as rare as it was , you fought it still
at the Sick Kids Hospital, they placed a tube and fed you at will
You raised money for others like you, and doctors were baffled
by the sheer stamina of you, we had a banquet and tickets raffled
You wore a lavender gown and you gave a speech that made us cry
at the age of eighteen you died, and never questioned God's why
Your mom, my best friend, got a coach with horses of white rhodium
and at your funeral the congregation of angels were your symposium
I never cried so much as I did that day, when you left behind Caroline
a sister who loved you more then anyone else, but it was your time
Alison my dear may you rest in peace, and may the wayward dove bring
your memory to the caves of Al, where children children bravely sing
God speed my love, may you arrive to the summit of your realization
that the auras you saw were a reflection of your Angel immunization .
August 22, 2021
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
Contest Name The One Who Touched My Heart
Americans are Americans, period.
No matter color, sex and for heavens, sake!
Not ....Their "party affiliation,"
On which some are insanely fixated.
We were born au natural.
We were not born as a member of political party.
That's a choice you make way later.
But some think they must be of the same political
lineage as their pater.( father)
I bring all this up as today is Memorial Day.
Millions died to keep America free.
Guess what?
All colors, ages, political parties under the
earth now lay,
Who gave their lives for you in foreign lands!
We are supposed to honor the dead today.
So today, only one channel with backbone
Carried the ceremonies to honor them.
The other two, busy trying like insane bees,
To destroy the current Presidency!
These same two channels that lauded criminal
Michael Avenatti for the next President.
(Had him on over 200 times!)
But neither showed few if any of the ceremonies
at Arlington Cemetery?
Get a clue! That tells you something!
Are they really that dense? Do they think the dead
in wars did not include Democrats?
They will have criminals on and America haters,
disgusting race- baiters, and all manner of
impeachment go-getters.
But can't honor fallen heroes? Not a chance!
The true heroes, go ignored by two major networks.
Meanwhile, the dead sleep under grass and flags.
I am glad they cannot see, how un-American, we
Americans have become.
Destroying the Constitution, killing babies and worse.
Forbidding-saluting our flag and hiding statues of
American heroes.
And banning cauliflower~as its is too "colonial?"
Today, we stuff ourselves with processed foods
Growing bodies like balloons.
Walking barefoot on lovely poisoned grass,
All too perfect!
Poisoned food in our faces, while we sneer in
hatred at this great nation.
It's so terribly tragic.
The political blindness, the sheer ignorance here.
Causes me to pray to stop this endless vexation.
Before we become a Communist nation.
5/27/2019
5:45pm PST
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
When Winter comes, remember me
beside you on those ivory sands
If frozen fingers reach for thee,
arise and fling aside her hands
As you awake on shortening days,
when Winter comes, remember me
We'll pray that Frost forsake his grays
and set arrays of color free
Light snow may fall so subtly,
bright notes on parchment sheer as sleet,
when Winter comes. Remember me,
that I might play each shimmering sheet
Short interlope of Summer gone,
I'm owed no scope of reverie
but hope you will, from this day on,
when Winter comes, remember me....
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Cobwebs of thoughts dangle in forlorn corner
Spun by emotions that surrendered long ago
Still hanging out, anguished, in grip of throes
Engrossed in silence while gazing night skies
Admiring how they once painted astral designs
Brush stroking delight by sheer hint of eyes
Until the silken threads of lives ripped apart,
Each filament eagerly tearing webs of hearts.
Regrets of passion buzzed roiling wistful lives
When placid frontiers encountered stormy tides
Sailing smooth surfs that callously turned wild
On oceans unfamiliar to the benevolent minds
Beckoned by allure of prairies shamrock green
Thinking out there grew a garden of paradise~~
Abundance of blossoms their lives couldn’t have,
Squandering foolishly bond of love they had.
Yet, the darkened nights they traversed all alone
Heard repertoire of enchanting mirthful tone
Wooing love, having crossed thousands of miles,
Reminding them~ you don’t just abandon life,
Trilling tunes of affection in imploring oratory
Teaching humans secrets of romantic allegory
When the dawning on horizon gleams lapis lazuli
And a doting nightingale sings of dawn’s glory.
Promise of hopeful day glimmered their insights
Spurring their spirits to revisit places of delight,
Those they painted once by sheer hint of eyes,
Reassembling the filaments torn apart by time
Proceeding soon mindfully to rebuild their nest
Excited once again to hear chirps of hatchlings
When the dawning on horizon gleams lapis lazuli
And a doting nightingale sings of dawn’s glory.
June 7, 2021
Placed 1st: This or that, vol 3 poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: A nightingale sings of dawn’s glory
That was the day everything changed
when life on earth was no more
in a moment a twinkling of an eye
there before me open heaven's door
Before my eyes all was glorious
nothing but sheer dazzles of light
but even more glorious my saviour
His glory shining all around so bright
His voice so very crystal clear
come He said draw near to me
then showed me His hands and feet
His marks so evident this I did see
This is really heaven full of glory
enraptured to see scripture said
here I am in my resurrection body
what wonders now alive not dead
Jesus guides me along streets of gold
to my mansion eternally forever mine
specially created for this old sinner
but Jesus died and rose so here to dine
(Telling what I think it would be like in my first day in Heaven)
Sheer Phawn was not like other jungle creatures. She did not blend into the landscape.
She was not fearful of the unseen dangers, or the dark shadows, or the lack of sun.
The secretive cloak of the jungle and the diabolicalness of its floor did not alarm her.
There was no hiding for her, no secrecy. No reverence at all for her mysterious surroundings.
The plane had crashed two days ago, and Sheer Phawn was existing on adrenaline and anger.
She was furious; at the pilot, the crew, and all of the passengers which had died, and left here.
She was tromping through these unknown grasses, in a furious way, glad that she had an axe.
It was one of the few things she decided to grab as she left the plane. There were only two survivors.
Jim something was the other one.
She was mad enough to stomp and tromp, but these vine-encrusted tree trunks and grasses
Slowed her progress, increasing her furiousness to almost a frenzy point. Was no one looking for them?
She cut a little niche out of some grasses with the tiny axe, and screamed a war cry as a snake slithered
Under the spongy jungle floor at her feet. She did not see his head, but if she had, she would have
No doubt cut it off, she was so mad.
This jungle from hell which had been so foreboding and intimidating two days ago was irritating now.
“AH! LEE-OH! YAH! HEY!” she screamed, pretending she was tough, while she was really just sad.
There was no echo, as there never is in the jungle. Jim, the only other survivor of the crash, suggested she sit.
Sheer Phawn laughed, maybe a bit too loudly, and she caught herself.
Jim had been looking a bit suspicious of her lately, she did not want to give him fodder, so she sat.
She did not want to give her plan away, but she was never letting her axe out of her sight.
She kind of thought of Jim as a possible future lunch, and it was not good to let this out.
Cannibalism is a lot more difficult if you make lunch into a friend, right?
She sat down while boring Jim told her things she did not want to hear. He droned on.
She pretended to listen, too angry to hear the words. Neither heard the tigers until it was too late.
I roam through this forest of vibrant hues
Lush plants of bright greens
Deep shadows of blues
I amble along at contentments pace
Soft moss on bare feet
Dreamy smile on my face
No sense of urgency swallows my steps
I wander freely
Exploring its depths
Sheets of sheer mist dance down a small path
the tickling sensation
making me laugh
Natures wet kisses upon my skin
Gooseflesh erupts
Tailing tingles within
I shake off a shudder running down my spine
Dew drops on my neck
Standing under the Pine
Golden rays dimming to crimson beams
Nighttime has come
In the forest of my dreams
13.04.2021 - In the forest of my dreams contest
On the one hand, there is a remarkable beauty in watching one entity blend into the environment
of a different entity. On the other hand, there is less
to be appreciated about assimilation if it results in the
destruction, disappearance, or utter annihilation of that entity.
In the world of nature, on one hand, one considers that, of necessity, the sheer
essence of 'survival' is largely at play. On the other hand, in the sociological world of mankind, the blending or assimilation becomes not an 'instinct to survive tool', but rather a remarkable 'melting pot' for advancement in human development.
Whether wall street or boxing ring, we compete and fight to the finish; but we never eat each other; (Well, except for the Holyfield-Tyson fight). On the one hand, there is exhilarating satisfaction to be found when we observe camouflaging in the rain forest or in the kingdom of the wild. But on the other hand, except for the camouflaged soldiers at war, in communities of the civilized, we take exception to those choosing to wear masks or appear to be something they are not.
There is a distinctly different expectation and purpose that require the maintenance and maturity of character. On the one hand, in a civilized society, when such expectancy fails, the lines of demarcation are drawn and defended. On the other hand, in The Serengeti of Tanzania and Kenya,
no one is expected to protect the wildebeests and Zebras from the alligators and crocodiles. There, it is the natural state of things; lines are not drawn and neither required nor desired.
08062017TGPSContest, Late Summer Standard, Brian Strand