Long Softened Poems
Long Softened Poems. Below are the most popular long Softened by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Softened poems by poem length and keyword.
The essence of soft shadows remind me
Of memories that carry pain from loss
But are softened by the love once shared
Before life came to an end unexpectedly
The shadows carry on to follow me through life
But are softened by the deep gratitude
For the quality time we had together
All that I would not be, without our connection
Having learned so many things from you
Soft shadows will always remain with me
Following my footsteps through the days
The darkness lightened by your guiding light
To soften my heart during all the times
I silently scream from grief fallen teardrops
- One by one, again and again -
Heidi Sands
5/10/18
Lying in my Grandmother's old brass bed
I watch the blades of her ceiling fan slowing turning
Around and around and around again...
From the heat of this steamy July
There is no end to my yearning.
The old vintage rosebuds on this wallpaper
Speak of its long gone days now no longer new
The paper's soft faded colors
Cast a feminine pinkish haze that mix into a golden hue
On my tan rural arms and long toned legs.
Somewhere in this old farmhouse
A fly is trapped... I can hear its incessant buzzing
Making its last ditch effort
For any type of escape
I had done that same thing so long ago.
But now I am back here in this familiar room
Lying on one of my Grandmother's quilts
Pieced with love of more than hundreds of pieces squared
Each stitch handcrafted perfection,
An ancestral prize to be loved and cherished.
Softened by the decades of delicate washings
I can smell the breezes from its last airing
I can feel my Grandmother's loving embrace
In this quilt that was so intricately made
With so much love and caring.
Each piece of the hundreds of fabrics
Each of the thousands of tiny knots
That were cut by hand and tied
Were executed with the surgical precision
Of a lifelong Quilter's eye.
Love radiates from this heirloom blanket
Created by my Grandmother's gorgeous vision.
Each block and stitch
That were placed by hand
A kaleidoscope of patterns was her mission.
It will be my lifelong reminder
Of a life that was well lived
Of my Grandmother's love and caring
A wonderful remembrance of her talents and gifts
That I too, can share someday.
And so back in her room I find myself
Lying on my Grandmother's quilt
Watching the fan blades go around and around
Reflecting on my Grandmother's past
Wondering if she ever thought about me
What it would have been like
To have left this strong old farmhouse
To have left these safe ancestral lands
For the biggest of the big cities...
And then to have decided to come back.
(January 27, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Son of a Sailor, this Sailor it seems,
Salt weathered, grizzled, bed feathered,
Softened endless schemes of fulfilling his dreams.
In time, his mind, became untethered.
Was clearer each day, words nearer were cast.
At last! Words shaped wonders of ventures past!
Inspired! Each new sight and sound, jotted down.
Though not spoke, became the joke of the town.
Time would levy, as his heavy drinking,
Dulled his mind and impaired his thinking.
Rot-gut gin, left pen, nowhere to begin.
His sadness broke free, and woke madness within!
Had countless revisions, mountainous ambitions,
But, Alas! All his words were never heard.
With one final drink, this Sailor at the brink,
Scribbled...Almost There!...as his final words.
I have read a lot of books
Not sure what I remember of them
Written a lot of poetry
Yet cannot recite any of it
I have lived a lot of days
Faint memories entwined
In fluffed and softened lies
I cannot unentangle them
I have loved and been loved
Shared the pain and joy of both
Inhaled the breath of generations
Destined to remember me
I have grown old
And yet my mind resists
The weakness of my body
Calling forth its inner youth
I have read a lot of books
I have lived a lot of days
I have loved and been loved
I have grown old
And still I read
I write, I remember,
I love and am loved
For life demands it
The church we sought to find a home in no longer exist.
Our courage is strong, our future belongs to temptation consisting sin.
Woods cut and gathered with selfless labor shall provide us a ship.
This is where I realized that Noah was wrong let the story begin....
The bible has been written by other humans and not by god himself,
If that were the case this place we call earth would surely be squashed by his thumb:
If Noah was chosen by the lord himself why wasn't there taken a vote.
Only those true to the cause, who never broken a law are the only ones who can travel afloat.
If you ask me workers with skills, hunters, doctors, and authors had to be put on the boat.
Waves. collided with storm, some fell overboard, and disease killing the most.
This was not a story written down in the bible, it was clearly a religious joke.
Finally a sigh, purely blue sky. God questioned himself an said this must be why.
After the glory of Independence wore off,
cold came with hunger, sickness with coughs.
Prolonged by sinister thoughts.
Tundra frozen softened, by mayflower drops.
Searching for freedom of religion has fueled actions of the devil himself.
Natives survived years beyond measure and offered to help.
Simple measures of using world greatest treasures,
are kind to share if all is replenished.
Rivers provide water to fish, drink, and refresh.
All mother earth asks is to be shared and respected.
In the name of any religion, sins are forgiven
mothers love fathers, and together form children.
God is good, life can be better.
jesus sacrificed his life for happiness of others.
Where did it all go wrong?
I walked through a fire
It scorched and it licked
But my heart remains soft now
All the charcoal bits flicked
What remains is just sadness
At the thought of all loss
Though the flames served a purpose
Burned away all the dross
My hand held another
She got lost in the heat
Want to turn around, rescue
But the mission's complete
I can wait and be hopeful
Pray and hope that she might
Through the smoke and the debris
Emerge cheery and bright
I admit being anxious
As she shouted out 'go'..
Yet this fire we started
Once it smouldered so slow
So my heart it is softened
Not encrusted and black
I just long that our friendship
Can make it's way back
Fog
No shadows cross this dampened land
No blue fills the hidden sky.
A dog’s bark in the muted distance sounds
As you and I go, silently, passing by.
No distance past our chilled breath’s span
No far echo sounds the grey cloaked air.
Down fog walled paths to silent glade
We walk with softened footfall there,
And speak in hushed and secret tone,
Our world apart where we may wander
And so pause upon this unseen plot
Where wetted leaves in gentle measure
Drip and fog enfolds earth and sky,
In this veiled world, you and I.
Barry Stebbings
9/03/2016
Entered into Contest The Sun is Out
Sponsored by C.T.
?? ?SpEaK LORD SPEAK-My SpokenWord
~There is a bird in my bush in my yard. She was the mother, she had built her nest in middle spring. And as I sat on my steps she looked onto me. She stared into the windows of my soul I softened my voice and quietly assured her that your children okay. cuz! We all belong to the Lord. Beautifully she stared, she tilted and moved her head from the left to the right and in that moment she knew that we are all God's creation. Her presence He speaks throughout through her. Together she knew within herself together we share the same space on creations time. And that we were created by mighty Elohim and that she tended to her business As we glaze upon each other. Both united creature of a Holy God. SHE FEEDS her young and I gaze abreast upon her in the bush/ hedge so in and everything was beautiful as we both were blessed.
We were thinking together the bird and I voiced aloud
SpEaK Lord SPEAK
This day this moment we share June 1st 2023 on 12:12AM
6/1/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Pony Life in a Dreamhouse
Dreamy creature,
With ocean eyes and batting lashes feature,
Still looking like Barbie,
The pony's glittering saddle guarantees.
Horsehair dipped in gold paint,
A dazzling smile can't escape.
The moment Pony meets Ken,
His eyes softened.
He looked at her like the stars were jealous,
As if she had been his wish when he wrote to Santa Claus.
Her. Half-Pony. Half-Barbie
Always have been, always will be.
Ken stroked her mane warm and Pony clung,
Letting out a soft purr from its lips,
As if testing the reality of it on its tongue.
Well, Pony is whipped.
Pony will be the sun that can shower Ken with rays.
Pony will be his moon, with a glow that never wanes.
Because Barbie can be what she wanna be,
And her Shape-Shifting Pony will gladly.
Though born half-Pony,
in a Dreamhouse that's unpredictable,
Barbie had Ken's unwavering loyalty.
Pony is one of a kind after all!
“empty within, with no desires to quell
smile on his lips, at the moment he fell”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The silence deepens
as we partake it’s elixir
in rippleless tranquil calm
enriched by our playfulness
Our body responds to the hum
reverberating at frequency of love
imbibing beauteous hues of magnetism
osmotically percolating each lifetron within
Thought rested awareness and softened attention
in the eternal bliss continuum is gently present
boundaries between form and void blurring
celebrating flow of life with exuberance
Dreams within dreams all life a play
we melt into the waves in motion
within but not of the external
touched by Gods miracle
19-December-2020