Long Solace Poems
Long Solace Poems. Below are the most popular long Solace by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Solace poems by poem length and keyword.
Beneath the velvet shroud of night,
where shadows weep,
I weave a melody of sorrow,
secrets I must keep.
No malice meant, no cruel design,
just longing's sting,
To paint your smile on moonlit clouds,
a song my heart would sing.
In every sigh, a nocturne's grace,
a cosmic ballet spun,
Where pain and beauty waltz as one,
by whispers of the sun.
My canvas bleeds with indigo,
a symphony's command,
To chase away the shadows there,
and hold your laughing hand.
Oh, let the lyre of dawn ignite,
on strings of memory,
A dance of souls,
where past and present weave tapestry.
In echoes born of wind and tide,
where moonbeams softly gleam,
I yearn to see you pirouette,
a radiant, joyful dream.
No merchant's bargain binds this art,
no currency of fame,
Just whispers on the starlight's breath,
a whispered lover's name.
Across the cosmic canvas vast,
where galaxies convene,
My brush seeks only your delight,
your laughter bathed in sheen.
So let the purple rain descend,
a curtain for our stage,
Where every drop, a crystal kiss,
turns grief to gilded page.
For in this symphony of woe,
where hope's last ember glows,
My heart finds solace, finding you,
where laughter overflows.
:: 01.15.2024 ::
By Humber in a drowsy afternoon,
When for my love long lost alone I pin’d,
My heart itself did sing a saddest tune
For woeful swain I was to be destin’d.
And I in pain then lov’d this timid croon,
That disposition of mine redefin’d
Against the verdure that beside had grown,
And yon bare land where Autumn crops been mown.
Th’ immediate surface expos’d a tiny fish,
And came thereon somewhence his entire train,
That blur’d my eyes, did vision diminish;
In azure ripples solace I did gain.
And every bird that flew out of his niche
Demulc’d mine ears that on the bank had lain.
I think of her and of the friends that me
No more confront and give me company.
My head upon a tufted ground takes rest,
And sees the pallid clouds stoop’d from above
To obfuscate the Sun that veers towards West;
These equalise the woe of futile love,
Thus empathise with youthful mind deprest,
And slothful healing thereto do they serve.
And lo the Hills! whence wafts the coolest breeze
The sole wanderer’s weary limbs can please.
The Lark so tiny that a blob he seems,
For he hath sor’d in unrestrained joy;
And scoffs the pensive man by blithesome whims,
That his gay mind with exultation cloy;
Flutters his wings ‘neath sudden Phoebus’ beams,
That through the pregnant clouds have found their way,
Like beams of Hope enkindle morbid heart,
O lucid Stream, now jocund as thou art!
(Theme--Oblivious)
7th May, 2017
Born of Spiritual Spasm
We can travel mindfully as with source light,
We can project our sullen spirits outward,
To a timeless harbinger, born of spiritual spasm,
Left invisibly on the shiny star of suburban Formica,
And now we are flying through the pull of the maelstrom,
Traversing cosmically toward a bristling bicuspid,
The standard source,
The standard ending point,
Where tired eyes find solace in the lateral moonlight,
Where trusted voices lend understanding in the sinewy shadows,
Asleep now as the Colorado dead,
Sleeping and sunken now in their timeless tombs,
Alive as the everlasting sleep, this girly sleep,
As it lurches like a ghost gazelle into the soft entrances,
Lunging and leaping into the dark, abandoned residences,
Coldly forgotten amidst the green serpentine vines,
We can sense the emerging timeless harbingers,
We can recognize the unending, standard sources,
Of the bristling bicuspids buried with the Colorado dead,
Sleeping and sunken now in the lateral moonlight.
These days
The sound
of a the busy
signal
echoes
in
my
eardrums
Like
the
sound of a falling pin
in an abondened
home
so cold
These days
its like
we
are falling
apart
like finely woven
sweaters
that
slowly
unwinds
spinning
me round and round so that
I am so dizzy
like
my grand mothers
crystal
on fishwire
so brilliant
are the
colors
yet
we are blinded by the light
and
these days
Sunsets
and sunrises
come and go
Gods
etch-a-sketch
I race to
capture traces
of my life
TO SHOW YOU
but
we are overturned
and everything IS GONE
These days
I
cling
to blankets
for solace
for
comfort that is
unreal
an imitation
for your affections
and still
I shiver
at the thought
that
i need your embrace
as the fall nights
turn to wintery
days.
These days
Form:
As a child so very shy was I so delicate and fragile too
Forever missing school seeking solace inside my shell
At sweet sixteen I met a man who was to change my life
Gregarious kind and loving gently igniting a passion deep inside
I felt a special bond for my soul mate I had met and yet
So many times I'd found this world a scary place to live in
But he brought a special calmness that restored my equilibrium
Then cruelly he was taken as cancer stole my love away
Distraught with grief I really did not want to live another day
Now finding poems deep inside has changed my life miraculously
Written 29th September 2019
2nd Place
Contest: Story of my life in ten lines
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest Name STRAND SELECT 9
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONOURABLE MENTION
"Let yourself become living poetry." Rumi
Soft whispers of those early summer's breeze
Touches my wrinkled skin, caresses so fine.
This fleeting moment in time's tranquil ease
In your soft embrace let me entwine
Feel the petals of pink rose, like lamb's ear.
Soft hues upon each bud slowly opens to the sun.
In their fragility tenderness appears
Peaceful, wanting to be touched_ touch someone.
Soft melodies dancing upon the air.
A soothing love song that calms one's soul.
Find comfort in gentle notes, find solace there.
Birds' and bees' symphony that makes me whole_
Softness surrounds you and I in nature.
Each soft, peaceful moment, nothing greater
SUMMERTIMES MAGIC.
Summertimes magic makes a fine holiday,
Where lands of enchantment, invite us to stay.
The lure of the wild, or, in peaceful solace,
These wonderful places we love to embrace.
To dive coral reefs, with it's blues and the greens of aquamarine,
Or tantalise tastebuds, with exquisite cusine.
By dining al fresco, while taking a cruise,
And drink cocktails at eight, mixed with green chartreuse.
With the tang of sliced lemon or sweet tangerine,
Those bountiful fruits will keep palates clean.
A walk on the wild side, delightfully charms,
With the heady perfume, passing lavender farms.
Those waysides and byways, when we need to refresh
At watermelon stalls quenching thirsts we stay fresh.
From the pale lilac crocus, a fine yellow spice,
For exotic dishes, saffron flavoured, served with rice.
All beautiful memories, under cerulean skies,
It's summertimes magic, which fill misty eyes.
8/ 16/ 2017.
Upon the tracks, the train does glide,
With people inside, a bustling tide.
I wonder their thoughts, as they journey along,
To places afar, or where they belong..
Are they lost in the moment, or lost in their mind?
Seeking solace or adventure to find?
Heading home sweet home, or to lands unknown,
In the train's gentle rhythm, their stories are sown.
Through bustling cities and quiet plains,
The train carries them, through sunshine and rains.
And though paths diverge, as they each disembark,
They leave an imprint, like a fading spark..
But in the grand scheme, as the train chugs on,
Each finds their purpose, and the journey's done.
Whether seeking or returning, they all have a role,
In the tapestry of life, they play a vital whole.
So when I see a train, I see more than just motion,
I see a symphony of souls, each with their own notion.
Of love, of longing, of joy, of pain,
Bound together in the rhythm of the train.
From a quaint chalet, one young mother breaks into solace glancing at doves wheel across a teal skyscape. Like intermittent flashes, her lucid memory recounts the giggles of her son rising near a hill... a pleasant outburst for a boy wagging and tugging his paper kite.
Mid-autumn is a season of murky trails on pastoral ledges. As sunset dips its crown, a loud holler bangs among slime of marbles. The woman’s vision smears... feet race with an icy wind. ‘My child, my child!’, she fumbles. Down the curve lies her offspring trapped under rubbles, motionless. The kite, nowhere to be found... until
cherub birds sway low
wrapping youngster in gold light--
bleak autumn defied
8/2/2019
Angels Danced Contest of Lu Loo
Every day hurts a little more,
Feels like I'm sleeping on a concrete floor.
Every day I feel worse,
Wear my body like a curse.
My energy drained by years of pain,
Every moment lost came with no gain.
So many passions set aside,
So many dreams I learned to hide.
And every day that I look back,
I see the widening of every crack.
A stolen childhood wrapped in shame,
My heart learned how to bear the blame.
A command to smile when I was ill,
But they never let me eat my fill.
Everyone else had needs to be met,
And they haven't even considered mine yet.
Every breath fills my lungs with a fire
That can never match my heart's desire.
Every beat of that treacherous heart
Taught me how to play their part.
Every step I will ever take,
They never thought I had the strength to make.
Yet every day that I awake,
I see again how much it can take.
So here I seek solace among the trees,
No judgement in the gentle breeze.
Here I'll sit and silently weep
For all I've lost and could not keep.