Long Sidereal Poems

Long Sidereal Poems. Below are the most popular long Sidereal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sidereal poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Rain of Rays

RAIN OF RAYS
A
certainty of
   precision
     aspirations
in
a
phrased curve
  sidereal
freed
    from
vibrations
  appropriate
   & equivocal
to
facilitate
    autonomous contours
 a
seductive motif
 obscure
   consecrated
in the
aesthete
   sensibility
an ephemeral proclivity
 phases&
scales
of tension

THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Form: Other


Premium Member Time Preferences

A Solar trims the Earth's waistline,
while Polars bare all the segments,
Springing up those northern steppes leans sublime,
the Vernal Equinox presents,
then, on March 20th, it will shine.

The southern Pole leans the same way,
as the September Equinox appears,
on September, the 22nd day,
though terms mirror a different side as it leers,
it's Summer there, and it's their time to play.

The Winter Solstice 2025 blinks,
the northern Pole hails a Holy day is on,
December 21st freezes the winks,
as the holidays, year-end dawn,
gifts, fireworks, food, and some drinks.

At the southern Pole, they bare it all daily,
as the Summer Solstice, the sun takes sides,
the people are out and about dillydally,
swimming and surfing the tides,
on July 21st, the Cape Town and Rio rally.

The sidereal year is when the planet rounds its Sun star,
and the tropical year, they all straighten out,
though quartered as the calendrical stretched far,
they separate as seasons all about,
named Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, they are.

Astronomically, Equinoxes and Solstices,
Metrologically, they are seasonal sources,
Astro spatial heavenly body's positioned advices,
Metro is a simplistic seasonal of choices,
pros and novices sufficiently entices.

Premium Member A Stoics Chlorophyll Corona

Sonnet I

In realms of emerald hush where sunlight strains.
Through veils of green. A silent throng takes root.
A clovered congregation on the plains
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
No melodies from throats unseen they sing.
No pleas for mortal ken their silence breaks.
Yet in their rooted quietude they bring
A symphony for Nature's gentle stakes.
From dust they rise, by unseen hands embraced
To greet the dawn's first kiss, a deep-green dream.
Unfurling fronds that grasp the sun's warm face...
A silent pact with life's sidereal stream.
No eyes behold the light their essence drinks
No lips confess the air for which it thinks.


Sonnet II

Through fragrant whispers secretly softly pass 
On unseen currents borne a cryptic lore
A web of messages that dance like grass.
A wisdom! newly sworn on Nature's floor -
No clash of arms? no battles fought in vain.
Yet messages they send on silent wings...
A language dovetailed deep, a copious chain,
A bond that knows no end, the green world sings.
With patient strength... they pierce the earth's cold hold.
A testament to will unyielding. Strong!
Unmoved by tempests' raging fury bold,
Their roots like anchors grip where they belong.
A silent war against the storm's harsh might.
A battle fought unseen, in verdant light.


Corona

A quiet war in bright green
A song for animals and plants
Listen to people in every green leaf.
No songs from hidden throats they sing.
Through fragrant, sotto voce... secrets softly pass
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.


Couplet

A lesson composed in green, a truth to glean.
Where verdant nature creates and wisdom sings.

Premium Member In the quiet aurora, where no whisper builds awakening

In the quiet aurora, where no whisper builds awakening,
No expecting arm to scatter the veil of nights that naturally flee.
Is it the embrace of the ether or the mystery of the wasteland being sifted?
In this standalone realm, voiceless questions are lost in reverie.
I'd step into the aged decor of a universe not confined by paths,
Dimensions tirelessly weaving garments of the spirit for the unshod.
To shed the old monopoly of the ephemeral, to slip from the rank,
For in this estranged cosmos, I am an effect of magic, without a front.
Fear is but a sly dance among palaces of shade,
The heights, the marine abysses, the royal marks of boundless venture.
Blindness and flights and walls of mist, that enchain solitudes,
Yet the deeper fears, a hidden cathedral, where only the acrobat thought dares to decipher.
Fleeting fears bear witness on the silent shelf of the cosmos,
A mystical circle where you're implored not to gaze into the abyss of my essence.
Beneath the mask of laughter, the tragicomedies of a sober soul hide,
Seeking the eternal, seeking the depth, not in vain, but in the joint of sacred paradox.
In this living tableau, filigreed stories of freedom unfurl,
And loneliness, a dance partner, in whirls of soul and being.
I build in madness a celestial pavilion, a world where discernment is wrapped in the new,
In a sidereal ballet, you're invited to explore also the oases of holy ecstasy and to submerge yourself in their prolonged echo.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Moments From the Promenade

Walking on the bridge, over the river wild
I see the sky, I see the clouds, I see the birds fly..
The park, where we first met,
The grass is still green today, 
The smell of ecstasy 
Purging through nature’s velvet bodice:
The rubies peeping in delight
And the dew like diamonds, radiating beauty
Subtly sidereal, even in daylight
The life here had been the same..
The children playing, ladies chatting
And their men down the distance,
Voyeur teenagers..And regret…
The couples in love kissing hard,
The world is a better place for them,
Like it had been once
For me and you..

Time and Age had consorted us.
And while we cry in our own neighboring valleys,
We hear the echoes of pain,
And wanting,
We stare at the highness, separating us,
Then we stare at the blue above,
Thinking of the same nothingness
Pacified are, our naïve souls
Return to city streets.
Every night when I close my eyes,
I think of you,
I think of her who has taken my place,
In between your arms, where I once dwelt,
My parlour of serenity
Had become your harlequin…
Trapped in the kaleidoscope of passion.

Suddenly, 
I see you strolling across the promenade…
Looking at me, 
With the love we had,
And now, we don’t.
My heart skipped a beat in remorseful hope.
I smile, 
And you smile back
While walking past on the same bridge, over the river wild,
In the park, where we first met.
© Iman Roy  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Just a glimmering astral spark births in the gloom a crest of day

Just a glimmering astral spark births in the gloom a crest of day,
A solitary thread of wax dancing its aura
Scatters the night -
In a delirium of gleamings that chase phantoms of fear away,
Shaking the hegemony of silence with a hymn of photons.
Just one snowflake star, in its cascades of silver,
Deciphers a divine ode
That might launch upon the ridges of time
An avalanche of harmonic purity,
That seraphically fills the flesh of the world with psalms of clear might.
Just one rebel petal, upright in storms and flutterings,
Elevated like an oasis in untamed deserts,
Adorning resignation with an outpour of grandeur,
The sole in its belief,
Unnamed heroism - an avalanche of strong essences,
A shout that blooms in orbits of daring.
Just an echo of prayer, the murmur of a pierced chest,
Can transfigure souls into gusts of wind,
In the avalanche of affection pouring over unnatural borders
Cloaking enmity in cocoons of phosphorescent loves.
So illuminate, divine pioneer, with your eternal wick,
Wave halls of grace over stretches of shadow,
Your spark flutters - a phalanx that awakens -
The hour of resurrection in the crucible of deep night.
Be that snow which falls from the wisdom of compassion,
The flower which de-petaled storms,
The candelabrum of life in crypts of obscurity,
The pulsating prayer, the heart of celestial song,
Unceasing in the feast of its sidereal rebirth.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Forevermore

A crepuscular theatrical serene speech prompt,
slip spill  in an echoey pattern down my soft skinned ear, 
as I was captivated by the gloss quilt luminance of,
glow worm  stars, silver moon tarpaulin, indigo horizon,
elysian sidereal dust that so magnetic trance,
I dwell on flawless antique navy blue tapestry,
of enthralling nocturnal mirth streamed murmur,
timelessness a slow tick second hand mesmerizer,
symbiotic solitude on moulded granite bench,
 whets intense yearning as my elevated odyssey,
where gilded gust a universal sage’s hint from,
invisible zone whose through the age enchantment,
forevermore a velvet hush, a lush chrysalis,                   
metamorphosis at a peek, diurnal cyclic mystery,
forevermore I am  an affluent lodger to telluric haven

     riddle  of the night
      unveils its lucid passage,
        beyond mortal span


Heaven within an effervescent  spiral steam moiety,
juxtaposed across emblazoned morning patch
immortal, 
of swooning sun whose rays bounce off garnet veins,
me, spectator, bard, curator of reflection for posterity,
this tantalised dawdler in a dewdrop leaf coppice,
majestic mountain summit under dawn spell, 
arousing passionate interwoven interface of cordial,
bonhomie link to merriment, auroral pathos, 
perpetual and beyond expansive firmament, 
romantic fingertip alignment in surreal fog tango,
where pounding heart oath infinite in salient scope, 
blue lagoon bounty, argent cascade, rainbow chaser,
dizzy upper echelon beauteous my twinkled torrent of delirium,
forevermore, longer longing, forever as this wonder world dervish,
waltzing through eternal mists, with my zest for life, 
as gold encrusted passport to a rapturous paradise

             daylight points the way 
                 to lasting beauty on earth
                   cherish the vista
Form: Haibun

Premium Member Witching Hour Minstrel

Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal  venturesome brushstroke sort,
they paint sound and city pastel,
never at a loss for inspiration,
weather neither bar nor barrier,
in the face of whirlwind snowfall,
freezing ice, torrential downpour,
within themselves, he, she, they plod on,
hardship is adopted, never cast aside,
while others brazenly squirm,
wallow in uproarious denial,
wilt before the slightest storm,
taking flight in arid comfort zone,
shelter is their first convenient port,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly  remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
alert does not begin an ample portrait,
of this wilful dwindling genus,
genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
they capture worlds sidereal,
under velvet moon imagining bespoke,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost  punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
how magical their canny weave lexicon,
for us timid souls to relish evermore,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
vicarious the kismet, excitement from afar,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling  suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep

Mundanity Doth Not Mean Unfulfilling

Though predictability prevails
     pertaining to my life,
     nonetheless a pronounceable zeal
bestirred from writing,
     and reading (no surprise),
     which literary leaning, inspiring,
     fueling cognitive pastimes
     elicit unending appeasement

     within mine private weal
without doubt (I intimate), and
     predicated on an
     adequately comprehensible, hypothetical
     sampling of the population,
     would probably accurately concur,
     that hallmarks majority of
     quotidian, weekly, monthly...activities
     would NOT re: veil

dramatic seat of
     the pants, nail biting, unreal
high wire, death
     defying ironic steel
lee cliff hanging,
     bare knuckle adventure squeal,
ling small hairs some deal
of the spine raising goosebumps,

     sky diving with
     out a parachute,
     intercourse without a condom,
     et cetera gasping
     for breath, before sidereal
     red giant stage
     obliterates flora and fauna doth seal
verdict - case closed,

     and legitimate reason to repeal,
thus this sketchy
     pictured exhibition sedentary
     cerebral efforts for real
marginally quiet natured unvaried
     repertoire applying
     thee measure piecemeal
asper wilderness trekking, exotic

     excursions globe trotting,
     (sans criteria as well spent
     purpose driven existence),
     mine unmasked, 
     minimalistic patrilineal
lovely bare bones (hollow winning)
by thee above arbitrary fictitious ordeal
figuratively hypothetical measures,

this generic guy, viz zero
     less exciting even eating oatmeal
     as resultant measurement,
cuz his feeble minuscule variation,
     thinner than lean gruel
     would NOT even
     constitute living, ideal
as...a fly, thus accept this message
     as plea whisking me
     cerulean heights ethereal!

Premium Member Just a single astral flicker births upon the darkness a crest of day

Just a single astral flicker births upon the darkness a crest of day,
A lone strand of wax, dancing its aura
Dispels the night –
In a delirium of glimmers that chase away the phantoms of fear,
Shaking the hegemony of silence with a hymn of photons.
Only a lone flake of snow, in its silvery cascades,
Composes a divine ode
That could launch upon the crests of time
An avalanche of harmonic purity,
That seraphically fills the flesh of the world with psalms of clear powers.
Just one rebel petal upright in gales and storms,
Rising like an oasis in wild deserts,
Adorning resignation with an outpouring of grandeur,
Alone in its belief,
Nameless heroism - an avalanche of stout essences,
A cry that blossoms in orbits of daring.
Just an echo of prayer, the murmur of a pierced chest,
Can transform souls into gusts of wind,
In the avalanche of affection that overflows unnatural boundaries
Dressing enmity in cocoons of phosphorescent loves.
So shine, divine pioneer, with your eternal wick,
Wave galleries of grace over expanses of shadow,
Your spark rustles - an awakening avalanche –
The hour of resurrection in the crucible of deep night.
Be that snow that snows from the wisdom of endurance,
The flower that unfurls storms,
The candelabra of life in crypts of mist,
The pulsating prayer, the heart of celestial chant,
Constant in the celebration of its sidereal rebirth.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

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