Long Silvers Poems
Long Silvers Poems. Below are the most popular long Silvers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Silvers poems by poem length and keyword.
Celestial whispers paint the fabric of the dark expanse,
stars the glitter on Christmas baubles
merry and festive;
the glitter that spreads far,
dusting every corner yet is minded by no-one.
In the moon's basking glow
each speck pulses brilliantly.
In the cosmic ballad
they hum their timeless glory.
In their observant rays
a stargazer beholds their own story.
Among the constellations, a painting unfolds
a battle between the silvers and the golds.
So enthralling a clash the universe sees,
the stargazer dares not to breathe
as the soul ascends to join them
in that endless expanse,
if only temporarily.
A program is pending. Kids are milling around,
ending the day on the fall afternoon.
A pamphlet about war is displayed on each desk,
ignored by the class, who are restless, at best.
Just a few books are opened, at the teacher's request
There's a strange mix of whispering, laughter, and squirming.
Chairs have been scooted to make extra room
No one much caring that a speaker is due.
They are just in a hurry to finish the day.
To leave with their friends, get on with their lives…..
The noise in the room hums like bees in hive
A guest soon appears, without much fanfare
Slow is his gait, from a limp. And they stare
how it takes him a moment to gather his words.
His gaze drifts away, to something reserved
His face marked of age, furrows deeply endowed
But, as his story unfolds, ...and the quiet takes hold,
all the air in the classroom is breathless and cold.
And so,.. left behind are scars of the truth
that will mark them forever, give them a cruel
lesson of life, lesson of death, lesson of courage, and much more respect
This was not just a movie, a book or a tale
But truth beyond fiction, a story of hell
The remains of his youth, are now left in their hands
to change what could happen, and never forget
With far-away eyes, and with sage not denied
The frail little man has made the room cry
Their tears brim with outrage, compassion and vows
The room has gone silent, but his light will shine on
The dust motes have settled, sun silvers his hair
Enlightenment enters where dark once appeared
The world at the window is now theirs to own
Somehow grown older……..they watch the man go
with the tears of their sorrow, on a fall afternoon
God has taken a paintbrush and created the most beautiful painting
Except what is a painting to the Lord,
Is the night sky to us
A painting created with the finest blues, blacks, and silvers just for us,
Each stroke was thought out on every inch of the painting
Each detail down to the blackened shadows, meant to be through the will of our Lord
The stars shine with the love of the Lord
The darkness of night, ready to comfort each and every one of us
The darkened clouds rest along the entirety of the painting
The night sky is the most beautiful painting,
Who knew that our all-powerful Lord
Would create such a magnificent piece of art just for us
In pounding Summer, our love is restless,
like daffodil dreams immersed in hot wind.
In the vapor of Winter’s reign, our love rises above,
reaching the glaring mountain’s lips.
If skies cloud red with war, our love exuberates the fight,
two hearts gazing at the wisdom of the sun .
If thunder pangs our heart in static shocks,
our love shawls the sound, refuging the embrace we won.
When the buds of Spring bloom, our love emboldens,
like the yellow petals on a matchless rose.
When Autumn sings its death, our love silvers,
the harvest beckoning our works to fall and resolve.
From the Hour of Languishing to the Day of Settlement,
our love will continue to strengthen.
From season to season I love you always!
My one, my only, my Brightest Star.
Just after diagnosis with MS,
Stephanie took injections,
Beta interferon injections,
Which saw her to Beijing.
She was originally, in the past,
A British team swimmer,
A really good swimmer,
So she continued on in the Paras.
2010 and the World Champs,
Held in the city of Eindhoven,
In Holland, where lies Eindhoven,
Holland is also called the Netherlands.
There Stephanie won five silvers,
Plus one very sure bronze,
Proud of that bronze,
So she qualified for the Euros.
2011 and in Berlin, DE,
Stephanie won three golds,
Add two silvers onto these golds,
To get the result.
At the London Paralympics,
Stephanie won four silvers,
Three were individual silvers,
Plus one 4x100m relay bronze.
In 2013, the Worlds, Montreal,
Golds: Stephanie won four,
Her prides came to four,
Plus one shining silver.
Then 2014 at the Euros,
In Eindhoven she sealed six golds,
Add one silver onto these golds,
And also one bronze.
In Rio Stephanie won two more golds,
One for the 100m backstroke,
No more an S9, now S8 backstroke,
And one for the 4x100m medley relay.
With every gust of wind, secret taboo,
secreting a web a cocooned prison
of liquid knowing, flowing,
emulsifying impossibly old and new.
In the beyond of the known, stair-stepped,
desert bone flashed into
your consciousness a confident cajoling.
To stew, on the broth of you.
A teasing shot across your bough
of lost resistance and preservation
your eyes rolling white to the out of blue.
Sailing magnetic across it's salivate maw
and unflinching gaze
You are its pupil satellite Positron of drug,
positioned, strung shift of phase shift
of new vistas of truth and beauty unsealed,
inlayed in the naked language of the Angels, stage.
You are, quickened.
Quickened-Quicksilver, tuning, dimensionality,
Principality.
Hidden depths of self,
trigger emotion and thoughts
of infinity divided by three.
A black hole of obscene curiosity
swallows your mind.
Consciousness crests
in trans-mission inflated verbose
relay of Celeste divine? Freet?
You are a place of shipwrecks and mires,
Vagabound desires.
Who dares to sail beyond the horizon of the known retreat.
You come to an isle
of Precious golds and silvers
in frequency bands of holo-hold.
Land of spellcraft, music, heresy, thrones.
Centrigual placement of palaced
internment, camp of strange instruments,
beautiful adorned accoutrements, and contrived designs.
Rune of keys you can feel, the need.
To play them, a feeling, freed.
You shape the music into an arch entity
that offers you it's drink.
You become a dizzy swirl, unable to think to speak...
Of
Silk robes of every delicate fabrication of sin.
Jewels undone, in mythos biolocationed- transmogrifliquesatisfactions.
Yet the symbology remains constant
in it's sustain of visual topology.
Guiding you through the choppy waters
on ethereal landing
in land of the cloud of uncertainty, in hymnal,
refrain, refrain from it's hypnotic beat.
Hold on tight, Jane, Jason of the
foams and eddys and strangered things.
The exhilerating peril, in para parable.
Epic Tome, seasoning tomb of forner deed, denial plausibility causible.
Be ye not
thirsted for the salts of her drink.
For these are the Seven Seas.
Pink! Perfect!
Orbs are zooming around
Buzzing and humming
Flutes and harps are in this courtyard.
In the distance I hear a Native American type drumming
“Are you new?” a kind voice asks.
Everyone looks new here.
There are no old people.
I look down at my hands. They are young. Where are my spots?
Where are my veins. I touch my face. I am young too. No wrinkles.
Fresh? She guesses. I nod, but it is weird because I know this place.
I am surrounded by emotions of joy, love and hope.
Orbs are buzzing around in pinks, yellows, blues, silvers, and golds.
There is a purple orb, she looks like a faerie. She waves.
Children’s laughter filters in.
Toddler orbs are sitting on laps.
Dogs and cats are dancing.
“You have finally arrived!” a group of orbs say.
There is much giggling and hugging, but without touching.
I recognize my mom, dad, sister, and three of my best friends.
They are orbs, in a variety of colors. Somehow I know them.
What color do you think you will be? One asks me.
I have no idea. Pink! One yells. Look she is turning pink.
Heaven is a magical place; spirit welcoming spirit.
And I am pink!
Perfect!
Snow seated where flowers chatted with wind
Snow of deep breath and frozen grey laughter
Dance of my life absolutely unhinged
Futile search for the whole finished chapter
We had planned for making a long river
Shadow spreading ever green trees on shores
When we would meet like two buoyant silvers
Flood of white foam bursting out in galore
Failed to make out what made you hesitant
One day put out glowing lovely candles
Did you feel some rhymes of mine irritant
Or in the wind did you hear some scandal
Maddened my hands reach out to vacuum
All waves are lost leaving for me just scum
______________________________________________
29/8/2016
It was Hannah’s young dream to win golds,
At Paralympics because she was born blind,
So she races in the visually impaired class,
S12 along with many other blind swimmers.
Both Hannah’s parents are sporty and athletic,
So they wanted Hannah to participate in sport,
So they all chose swimming having no focus,
No balls, no team mates, others to focus on.
Hannah loved it, and after seeing Simmonds,
Swimming at the Beijing Paralympics in 2008,
She asked her parents if she could swap clubs,
‘Cos she wanted to take the risk, do more hours.
At the 2012 London Games Hannah won thrice,
A silver for the 400m freestyle, bronze for back,
And another bronze for the 100m S12 butterfly.
In the 2013 Worlds she took 3 silvers, 1 bronze.
In 2015 at the Worlds again, this time in Glasgow,
Hannah sealed 1 gold medal in the 50m freestyle,
And another silver 100m freestyle, so in Portugal,
At the Euros 2016, she won one of each medal.
In Rio she took the gold for the 100m backstroke,
In a time of 1:06.06, 6 seconds faster than Matio;
She trains, exercises in Woking Swimming Club,
And studies sports science at Salford University.
Ross holidayed as a kid once at Center Parcs,
Where he first played the sport of table tennis,
And he loved it so much ‘cos he was so good,
That a member of staff remarked on his ability.
He was successful, ranking in the world top ten,
But later, in 2011 he was genetically diagnosed,
With multiple epiphyseal dysplasia of the bones,
And was glad to be welcome in disability sport.
He was the youngest table tennis team member,
At the London Paralympics where he came fourth,
In the singles, so he did well considering his age,
‘Cos his inexperience didn't hinder or scare him.
In the team contests at these joyous 2012 Games,
Ross and Aaron McKibbin won the bronze medal,
Which ranked him as No. 2 on the worldwide scale,
But he then got a shoulder injury which he nursed.
2014 and Ross took the gold in the International,
At the Cote d’Azur, so 2015 saw him take silvers,
In Hungary and Italy, but then he was injured again,
In his knee, elbow and he strained back muscles.
However, at the Lignano Master Open in Italy, 2016,
Ross won with teammates a bronze, so in Rio grand,
He took another bronze with the team. He’s a fighter,
Born on 5th June 1995 in Minster and trains Sheffield.