Long Sights Poems
Long Sights Poems. Below are the most popular long Sights by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sights poems by poem length and keyword.
Charm wears a style on Christmas Day,
Heart knows a feel of joy that thrills;
Rouse up fond smiles upon the way,
Ink words that heal with one goodwill;
Start with fine wit that grows with grace,
Truth helps us see how beauty sums;
Make love now fit our precious space,
Apt faith can free such poignant psalms;
Seek zest that grows with lavish light.
Praise in clear voice makes ample sense,
Art knows a flow that greets grand sights;
Rich hope spurs choice in present tense,
Taste your sweet jest where humour floods,
Yield thus the best in surge of blood.
Leon Enriquez
25 December 2018
Singapore
The morning sun illuminates my bedroom window causing me to awake
A breathtaking journey through the forest I am soon to partake
Nature has invited to be part of its day
Promising to enlighten me with every step I will take along the way
The morning silence is broken by the birds and the animals welcoming them to there place where they reside
The path ahead is a visual delight of color leaves that seem to enhance my stride
To be alone with my thoughts and having nature as my guide
Tall trees with their branches waving at me in the wind, a true sense of pride
Many walkers with their high-energy dogs, extend smiles and greetings along the way
The beautiful sights and sounds of nature are truly elevating my day
Whenever you can, make the great outdoors and all of its splendor part of your plans
Once you experience the mental clarity and other health benefits it provides you
will truly understand
(Dedication: For my schoolmate
Lawrence Chee, SJI, Class of 1971)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Live each day well with lovely fest,
Ask for the light to help you see;
Weave your own spell with cheery zest,
Reap happy sights where love sets free;
Embrace the truth with joy and grace,
Now is the time to be at peace;
Charm shows clear proof with poignant trace,
Explore fond chimes and be at ease.
Craft your own play as fancy fits,
Hear your heart speak as soul now hints;
Enter each day with happy wit,
End at the peak where poise stamps mint.
Leon Enriquez
05 August 2017
Singapore
To sir with all my love. You are good to me and my family. I do not have a quarrel with you. It is great that you find beauty in the hills and relate it to my strip of land, forest of land, land of barren. If it had been from any other man than you to say this, they would hear the sound of thunder upon their face with my crimson top nails. They would feel their loins become red with a jack kick from my stiletto heels.
In truth I know that you speak of the beautiful sights and think of me. This is one of the reasons why I show my love for thee. You are me and I am you. Together we are the flesh to create new Xeroxes of us. If another spoke to me as a lover, then I would say, I only speak to my flesh in that way, so leave my sight. A woman’s love is a gift to a man that gives his love, respect to her. Some would say that you are not respecting me. well, to them I say, he does respect me. We are both liberal in how we communicate our love for one another. Watch the person you marry my lady, for he is showing his unfaithfulness behind your back with a friend or family member of yours. Do not berate my love for him speaking of his unquenchable love for me, worry about the lust of your man for other women and men to quench his thirst. My love goes me and only me. if he goes for another it is at my discretion. My vow to him is to only have his line. Also my vow is to let him take another one into your chamber. I am number one and only I can give the consent to that. For I am #1, the other girl is carrying our child in her belly. The second girl has his child, my step-daughter. Both of them were a gift to him from me. Still he is only in my chamber at night. Where is your man if not with your aunt, sister, mother, and cousin. Not to mention the ones in the red district.
To my love, do not be shocked, I told the berater the story to shock her, the story of those women. I retold her that the women were carrying out children. Still be weary my mate that I know of your heart and you know of mine. I k now those girls and you know them. They are still part of this family. Sister wives if needed my love. (smiles brightly and leaves the man with a blushing smile)
I am a cruiser
on a big trawler.
A lover
of the water.
Look at it's blue color.
What's underneath is a puzzler.
Being a traveler
who looks for spectacular
pictures. I always discover
that God is the manufacturer
and complier
of beauty for this true believer.
No matter
what harbour
we pull in to.
Here
the mountains
have a fascinating
allure
as they are behind the harbour
this adds a certain
wonder
and magnificent charm to the terrain.
This place isn't plain.
I was so excited there's
a promenade. We will be walking,
talking,
and sitting
on the bench enjoying
the sights and sounds
of this new harbour.
They say in the brochure
there's coffee bars,
fish shops, and restaurants
to entertain
which makes this harbour
really popular.
Here I would of remained
if we had been able to retain
our health. As it is this harbour
will be ingrained
in my brain
from a water color
that I found
in a beautiful frame.
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
MY HUDSON VALLEY CHILDHOOD
Mother dropped us — we’ve no fear of attack,
shopping in Poughkeepsie, when it was clean.
Teens buy nail polish —hers blue, mine lilac.
Feathered-Farrah hair, wear bell-bottom jeans.*
No call waiting, phones attached to the wall.
Sans social media, not very mean.
Prom in auditorium — had a ball.
Wore wedding-white, back then I was scot-free.
I declared prophecy before my fall.**
Burgeoning sights and sounds —poetic me
adored rainstorms, the way the branches bend
at the onset when wind frazzles shade trees.
Perched in maple with my neighborhood friends,
riding my bicycle all around town —
sunny and cloudy days breathlessly spend.
Memory swinging at village playground.
My Hudson Valley’s a luscious hometown.
11/23/2020
Contest: Terza Rima Form
Sponsor: Constance La France
*Farrah Fawcett, Charlie’s Angels’ fame, 1970’s hairstyle
**Before I fell in love. I wore that same dress when I got married. I had said to my mother, “This would make a nice wedding dress.” I married just a few months after I joined the Navy. Had no idea I would find a husband or wear this dress when I got married. LOL...so young.
A group of wild horses
Free as can be
Out in the wild
Beneath the bright blue sky
Running with the wind
That is blowing through the maple trees
Along the river’s edge
Their hoofs splash
Through the murky green water
These horses
They’re on a mission
To gallop as far can be in the outdoors
To places they have never been before
They have their sights set high
To accomplish every mission possible
That a horse can accomplish
Humans such as you and me
We have a lot to learn
From the magnificent horse
So let’s start learning the horse’s language out in the wild
Where horses are free and one with the land
Part of me longs to reside in
a high functioning
win/win cooperative community
of resilient left hemisphere,
resonant right hemisphere,
polypathic/polyphonic communion.
Part of egoself-care wisdom
and longing
feels drawn toward eremetical asylum
more than gregarious shared sanctuary;
to solitude,
peace
ease
natural sounds and sights,
green new/old deals,
relationships
communications
communions of egalitarian interdependence,
more internally holistic intersections
noticing sacred global beauty
in local experiential truths
mundanely secular.
Yet the best part of my internal ecosystemic awareness
wants both,
wants Earth's all,
longs for cutting edge win/win communion,
healthiest wealth,
resilient resonance
restoring ego/eco co-investments,
just truth and beautiful mercies,
graced bounty,
synergetic integrity,
robust democracy of healthy hermits.
Too unneedy greedy,
the sound of two co-arising hands
not clapping,
I unrealistically realize
longing in belonging.
Seek silence here as stillness waits,
Let calm make clear the open gate;
Let silence speak in language plain,
Find sublime peaks that peace attains.
Seek that true heart that waits for you,
Dare then to start to know anew;
Leave all your loads and go within,
The inner road prompts joy unseen.
A still small voice renews a call,
Enter bold poise as footsteps fall;
Hear then a song that feels so good,
Your soul now longs to bring fresh food.
Heed the wise thoughts that echo pure,
This is your lot in fond touch sure;
Here time and space seem beyond sense,
Meet face to face soul's timeless tense.
Speak meaning clear beyond word form,
Joy now moves cheer in happy norms;
Here as a child with curious eyes,
Cast in the wild of inner sighs.
Sense meaning change in sacred sights,
Vivid yet strange this cosmic light;
Soul sings most free a union pact,
Love speaks to me of profound fact.
Leon Enriquez
25 September 2016
Singapore
My world spins round
too fast most times
from Greek deep roots
on Black Sea ports
crossing Jordan's River
on Catherine's Great
trains meet sailboats
greeting sea planes
flying off to sports unknown
throughout Lake Odessa Highway.
Where Ottomans
blend Spanish matadors,
heroes for Earth's day
and night bleeds forth
a calvary of SunGod force
to please titillating whims
of Lake Odessa's middling class czarinas.
I can't go home again
to straight places never born.
My mind can wavey roam
and try to swim
and fly to where and what
and whom and why
we might have been
if we had built
a fine fair fortress
for peace that loves to rock
and sing sad songs
of what brilliant sights have been
in resilient Lake Odessa.
Instead of gangs
and clicky clacks
we learn monopolistic quacks
to flap and honk
like disturbed Canadian geese
Transubstand she ate
where great America
begins to end
through Lake Odessa's mean clean streets
Not too busy
self-righteous
sleep deprived
and deprogrammed lose to lose
to win our way
back home again
where Lake Odessa healthy meets
and wealthy greets
Love's polyamorous EarthMother role
as played by odysseys of We
writing comic operas
only eros kids can consensually see
was what Me loved
most secretly
in long lost Lake Odessa.
We need a better god for now
bringing peach tree jams
singing immortality
of love as healthy wise
Reframes lost unwealthy loves
to live in jesting jarring jokes
of honeyed sweet corn
thorn tested streets
tasting ancient salad Greeks
on shores of Lake Odessa.
We reunion back
to save each other
from what might have been
without sly rudders
Tipping posts from wu wei mothers
restoring crystal castle love
of unformed flows
that buzz with lifetime mystery
and retiring tours
that sag with straightline history
Spinning sprays
bewitching licking waves
lapping soft and sandy
on long gone sacred skies
of sanguine Lake Odessa.