Long Signifies Poems
Long Signifies Poems. Below are the most popular long Signifies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Signifies poems by poem length and keyword.
The queue was long, fifty or so,
Spacesuits donned, ready to go.
With wife and son, of ten years old
We await our journey to unfold.
Earths orbit was good, the moon even better,
But Mars signifies the true jet setter.
The craft in the hanger, white and obscene
Larger than any craft I’d ever seen.
The gel like seats programmed to mould,
To any shape or form you wish to unfold.
And a gravity equaliser on board to boot
Working in harmony with your gravity suit.
The craft will propel via the repellent field,
protected of course by the ships heat shield.
No sound detected, no smell of the fumes
Until the atomic fusion produces a subsonic boom.
It’s 30 days and the orbit is reached
Through cryogenic state, our rest is not breached.
The planet below is a sight so immense
As the shuttles descent keeps us all in suspense.
There it is, a majestic city in lights,
Incoming shuttles, so many flights.
Visors lowered, to protect from the sun
Cold to the touch, before the gloves are put on.
A city of forests and huge water falls,
A man made miracle with customary malls.
The ultimate holiday to tick off the list.
Human exploration not to be missed.
I sense tomorrow is the future- Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Sheri Fresonke Harper
Date - 8th October 2019
Why do moms change, when girls grow up?
New set of rules!
Never ending do’s and don’ts!
Teaching, preaching, gazing,
Its damn irritating!
But let me tell you, dude!
If you really know your mom,
You will surely find her super cute!!
Sharing with you, a funny docket.
Surprisingly, found it in my pocket!
Huh…..Lol! How high, she thinks of me!
She’s looking for my perfect soul!
Is that an order for me or my indirect extol?
Will read it out for you.
Let me too get the right cue!
Promise me! You won’t roll in the aisles!
Hey! Come on now, stop that smile!
Ohooooo! Now, this is to prevent me from infatuations!
She is just toooo prepared for such situations!
What a cute comedy!
She needs a whizzkid, a prodigy.
He should be a xue Ba.
Besides being naughty and sporty.
Blessed with high IQ and EQ.
His eyes should be blue, in fact green would do.
Height shall not be less than six point two.
Fair! Umm rather peaches-and-cream complexion.
A brawny and willowy,
Not a bad connexion!
She needs a perfect charming statuesque.
Ah! What a critique!
She has fixed such standards,
Signifies how much I am being pampered!
Such moments are delightful treasure!
Love me Mom, like this forever!
It is so beautiful
It get it`s beauty from God
God has given it colour from rainbow
It`s smell is from the scent of God
God has given a blessing to it
The blessing is it get it`s charm
When someone by leaps and bounds
Takes it`s bloom from rosarium
What is it which is used with love
It`s a rose .......
Rose of certain colours have a special meaning
A red rose signifies love,beauty,courage and respect
Deep pink rose is gifted as a symbol of appreciation and thanks
Desire,enthusiasm and passion are conveyed by the orange rose
While the lavender coloured rose is linked with love at first sight
The most exquisite is the white rose
It stands for purity,innocence and humility
Among all, a blue rose is very special
It suggest unrealized dreams,ambiguity and mystery
It does not exist in nature !
Quote: "The Taj Mahal, the symbol of love, signifies that the tomb can be architecture too.” -- unkown
Taj Mahal, a testament, love enshrined,
A marble ode to a love undefined.
Through the ages, its beauty persists,
Eternal love in white marble exists.
A tomb of white splendor, like a moonlit dream,
Where Shah Jahan's love for Mumtaz gleams.
Inscribed in every corner, whispers of devotion,
A monument of love, a celestial emotion.
A captive of fate in Agra's strong fort,
Shah Jahan's gaze on Taj, a solace sought.
In mirrors and windows, reflections so dear,
His heart held captive, a love sincere.
The imprisoned years took their toll,
Yet, his spirit soared, an undying soul.
In the shadows of love, he found his rest,
Beside Mumtaj, in the tomb's silent nest.
Unveiled in death, a union complete,
In Taj Mahal's grace, their love discreet.
Shah Jahan and Mumtaj, entwined forever,
A legacy of love, fading never.
Social media on fleek
Prolific likes and praise we seek
Knowledge of 'SELF' is as distant as a stranger in the night
A nomad in a dark, desolate land so void of divine light
Social distancing is now a central theme
Incomplete sentences, text messages, and mindless memes
Faces covered, calling all to join the masquerade
Only weary eyes of confusion while a life of exuberance abade
Mumbling music signifies obfuscating thoughts
Shiftless artistry made popular, creativity not wrought
Stored seeds in Svalbard
No questions or concerns yet humanness is being marred
Food shortage hovering over us
Monsanto disguised as Bayer but still no justice
Delta variant in the air
5G and fear emitting everywhere
Take the 'Jab'! Come on and indoctrinate
Don't be an outcast; participate
Hitting more 'LOUD' and becoming more quiet
Desensitized from voices of inspiration when instead there should be a riot
Smart devices in hand appear cool
Stooped over postures and slanted information, what a fool!
Vibrations so highly enticed
Welcome to zeitgeist
Blest with true love’s precious wonders
My heart with bliss exclaims praises
Exalting God, love*’s Creator
Source, Author, Sustainer indeed.
Having family so caring
Nourished midst parents’ endearment
Along siblings kind, sweet, gentle…
…I’m gripped with great love’s fulfillment.
Surrounded by valuable friends
Granting support graciously best
Inside fellowship’s warm goodness…
…I’m glowing through love’s radiance.
Recipient of compassion’s worth
Exposed to clemency’s full strength
Beloved who can’t be denied…
…I’m a product of genuine love.
Anchored upon steadfast mercy
Experiencing give and share joys
That signifies true love’s essence…
…I’m moved to live by its power.
Benefiting from Christ's pure love
Engulfed by clemency's freedom
Thanking His eternal life gift...
...I'm His own love-propelled servant.
*Romans 5:5 … The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.
January 28, 2020
2nd place, "True Love" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 1/28/2020.
The morning breaks not with light, but with a sound—
A low, vibrating hum beneath the floor,
The stress of deadlines, heavy and unbound,
That gather like a storm behind the door.
It is a phantom hand upon the throat,
A tightening of wires within the chest,
Where every frantic, scribbled morning note
Becomes a thief that steals the power to rest.
The shoulders rise to meet the burning ears,
The jaw is locked against a silent scream;
A calendar of mounting, modern fears
Has turned the waking world into a dream—
But not the kind where one might fly or drift,
Instead, a race through thickening, gray sand,
Waiting for the heavy fog to lift,
Or for a clock to stop its sweeping hand.
Then comes the moment when the tension snaps,
Not like a string, but like a melting frost.
The mind retreats from all its clever traps,
And counts the heavy price of being lost.
It starts within the lungs, a shallow well
That finally finds the depth to take a breath;
The ringing of a loud, internal bell
Signifies the frantic worry’s death.
The tension spills like water from a jar,
The iron in the muscles turns to oil.
The things that felt so heavy and so far
Begin to loosen from their frantic coil.
It is the cooling rain on sunbaked stone,
The sudden silence in a crowded street,
A sense of being centered and alone,
Where mind and body finally learn to meet.
The world is still the same, the tasks remain,
But now the hands are steady at the wheel.
There is a strange perspective born of pain,
A newfound grace in learning how to feel.
Relief is not the absence of the chore,
But knowing how to carry what we must,
To walk through every open, waiting door
With quiet strength and a weathered trust.
Jesus Christ’s cross*!
His priceless blood!
His perfect sacrifice!
His selfless offering!
His total surrender!
Indeed anchors my faith’s concrete, firm, steadfast foundation
It signifies my eternal life, along my soul’s earnest redemption
With my daily sanctification of sure pardon for transformation
Proclaiming the Lord’s victorious death, burial and resurrection
His Word I believe!
His name I esteem!
His guidance I seek!
In His might I abide!
For Him I live truly!
*Hebrews 12:2 "Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God."
Edited on February 27, 2019
Honorable Mention, "Cross - Your Interpretation..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire; judged on 3/3/2019.
At my Birth, I was heralded as a bastion for the Free.
I was torn down, burned, made ragged with bullets, and yet I held my head up high.
At Ft Sumter, my colors inspire all who see me.
Some nations see me as the light of hope for all.
Other nations see me as the heretic they hate.
My people embrace me and honor my values.
My embodiment of free will represents my people's resilience.
Other people will trample on me and curse me for who I represent.
My Colors are real and have a moral value.
White signifies purity and innocence.
Red symbolizes the blood spilled by our heroes to preserve our freedoms.
Blue signifies vigilance, perseverance, truth, and justice.
Lovingly, I am draped over my heroes, who gave all.
My Colors will never run as God is my Protector.
My presence at all functions across our nation is the great Unifier.
My people will never forget me when others have.
Our Nation will persevere in these colors no matter what the future holds.
These are the tenets of my people's hearts: to bear love of freedom for all.
With honor I hold and Glory to our Father, please bless America.
When the mind speaks
Poetry is immensely personal. I hide behind
storytelling, not talking about my feelings
but the sensibility of others.
What happens has nothing to do with me, the onlooker
the observer, like an architect surveying a building
and finding the house wrongly designed.
I don’t mind if the building has doors and windows
and are watertight, I gladly move in, love is
another country as passion is an ember of an ancient fire.
You say I’m a liar who tells the truth using the passage
of time as my mentor.
“Once upon a time, there was a cobbler…” There is not
a cobbler, but someone else timeless as history
written by those who weren’t there.
My writing is mundane, like a forest if they are not
so big I can’t find my way out
Sometimes it happens, and breaths of death come
into my mind, upsetting the delicate balance
between life and no life.
I’m not an intellectual reading a book as a pensum
to an exam, there will be no trail of titles
When I have gone.
I like flowers, but dislike flowery poems. I find them
artificial, as Gertrude Stein said,”
A rose is a rose.”
But of course, a rose signifies much more.
While not waiting for Godot, I will write some more lies
as long as I can.