Long Soothe Poems
Long Soothe Poems. Below are the most popular long Soothe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soothe poems by poem length and keyword.
Like an ebony rose in a province
of ivory and golden flowers,
you poisoned each peaceful petal
with your senseless scent of death.
You were never just another floret.
Was I a fool to sow your seed in
hope your roots would grow strong,
portraying saffron scarlet hues with
an emerald stalk flourishing with
verdant leaves in serene sapphire skies.
When winds blew too boorishly,
I held your supple sepal with bamboo hands,
so your sunshine spirit would not perish
to toxic storms from organic forces.
I was willingly the earth to your foundations,
but your breaths became too bitter,
stinging in selfish stubborn sympathies,
as wild weeds strangled your stalk.
We could have nourished nectar with
hungry insects in need of nurture,
but your grudge left behind
broken bridges with a trail of
crumbling caterpillars seeking wings.
Cuts from your thorns remain,
ingrained as internal inflictions,
but still I plant bulbs to bloom.
To create an oasis of graceful charm,
where blossoms of compassion
softly soothe petals of pardon
in a garden of a wounded soul.
Forgiveness is a heavenly light.
A radiant beacon illuminating
through a canopy of trees,
eradicating shadows of hatred you
left behind like excessive weeds.
A melody of redemption whispers in
harmonious refrains breaking chains
of regret with burdensome pains.
To let go is like maturing buds
releasing the grip of timeless hate,
as my meadows are a symbol of a
divine mantra only welcoming peace.
the s p a c e between us,
is lined with full stops
and wistful questions~
tucked within "inverted commas"
of w e e p i n g stars,
but I'm lost in
suffocating s i l e n c e...
t h i n k i n g
l o n g i n g
d r e a m i n g...
as Y o u, my beloved
are enough...the poetic pause
breathing between
stellar heartbeats
of the mourning sky~
punctuating promises
mirroring the magnetic
equations of l o v e ~
a cosmic pyramid
glazed with pearl-dust
as herbs of henna
soothe this soul
swollen with g r a t i t u d e
sipping midnight mocktails
like a dressed devotee
worshipping the aura of roses
within serene scriptures ...
when you wanted to give me
you never said for a while
salavic eclipse per epilepsy
test of the taste then a bile
like a swing in the atmosphere's mood
scared earth passionate puke
next the sky seemed to be soothe
catharsis resetting her view
I never held back
like the waves pulling her muse
contractions of zeal moistened hard
supine sand tracing the tune
chaperoned by a virtuoso,
torrent complimenting the blue
undaunted, feigning its strokes
catharsis resetting her view
This mouth counted its syllables
tossed each subsequently
watched them dance dribbles
erected a mood in your feelings
like the wind and tiresome trees
the former a bow from the latter drew
shriek a shudder, tortured trees
catharsis resetting her view
I'll love no more,
feelings transmogrified into glue
like winter firstly to the earth draw
catharsis resetting her view.
19:10:16:14:06
*Note*: A reflection on the French form of Poetry entitled 'Ballade'. Let it not be mistaken for 'Ballad' of tragic attributions.
Under my Refuge
A canopy of Oaks
Sheltering from the blazing sunshine
Sheltering from the sweltering heat
That has put me to flight
To seek the solace of trees
Too much brightness, too much light
On this summers day
The trees are wilting
They have no water to drink
As on the grounds leaves are falling
Carpeting the ground
The crow squawks for water
To quench its thirst
Maybe a splash
Farmers are harrowing
But ploughs can barely scratch
The concrete hard dirt
The exercises once witnessed
Is a thing of the past
As the heat rages on in earnest
The acorns drops in submission
A gentle breeze rustling the carcasses of leaves
I can't help being grateful
As it gathered speed
To soothe and pamper
Fulfilling a need.
But of this canopy I am grateful
As it has eased my torment
Giving me a reprise.
Feels like a long lost friend visiting
Feels like from heaven sent.
April has a lovely appearance.
The clocks are set forward by one hour.
April showers fetch May flowers.
The soil is kept moist by gentle rains.
On the kitten's paws in the early dawn.
Soft, soothing breezes soothe the senses.
And ocean sounds to soothe your soul.
It's time to let it arise; April has arrived.
Even in April, the nights still cold.
During the day, it was pretty calm.
It's difficult for us to observe the flowers.
Overshadowed by the shower glower.
The flowers bloom with the moment.
Followed by the leaves in April and May.
Filling the flowers with a delicate beauty?
There were a lot of flowery, citrusy scents.
Licorice with fennel and aniseed flavors.
The happiest time of the year.
Summer and spring are merrier.
We sowed the seeds in the garden.
After the last frost had passed.
Most likely, we're eager to yield it a whirl.
To feel the warm scent of April.
It's optimistic and charming.
As it stretches, and as we admire.
The month of April brings sureness
various types of tinny songbirds are active.
By tomorrow, April will have moved on.
I'm ecstatic with the lovely May blossoms.
April will conceal tomorrow's tears and redness.
April is a month of sobriety.
April shudders at the fun life.
Faith and hope are constant companions.
We're thinking around our rebirth.
Anything that is in the routine of being renewed.
There will be a lot of family pets and newborns.
Thank you for resurrecting the dazzles, April.
We've been dealing with heavy snow for months.
God was merciful, and the earth was in his hands.
In April, this is a symbol of God's line with the spirit.
Creating a delighted and equitable society.
Written: April 11, 2021
Edited : April 24, 2021
All Yours (Apr 25) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Enduring in the gullibility of your
vacuous domain
Where viciousness stretched its cruel chains,
and vain vows cast in silver lined threads
were soft enough to soothe,
but sharp enough to shred.
I followed the fractures, fine as hair,
witnessed truth crackle through oxygenated air.
Your crown — little more than gilded dust,
from my puppet strings severed
I placed my trust
that you’d come undone from your reign unjust...
And in your castle carved from fears,
bloom black orchids, drenched in thistles of tears,
veiling the moon with lethal lace,
perfumed with poison, in gruesome grace.
Yet I refuse to drown in the seas of the artless,
like a marionette, silenced and heartless:
for I am the silhouette of silk and solace,
soaring beyond chains of brutality and malice,
To an island where thorn less love blooms,
and faith is the melody to erase written gloom,
from the sinister streaks of the narcissistic sun-stain
I ricochet amidst the night and champagne rain...
Imagine sleeping on a roll away bed not holding steady
Overnight sleep ride
That’s what every roll away bed provides
It comes when a person turns over in twist and turn
The roll away Bed is not firm
It’s about move
You certainly wouldn’t be smooth nor soothe
You would find yourself somewhere all over the room
Travelling without ever getting up at no charge
Take it from me, I have experienced sleep being no option
Journey to anywhere within
Unplanned moment, but anticipate
The Roll away bed has the right name
There’s no telling where you will aim
Full of no sleep surprises heading for the door
Roll out definitely for sure
Ladies and Gentlemen, good folks gather round!
What I have here to show you is worth every pound.
It will soothe your dry bunions, seal your canoe,
Moisten your leather, and stretch your shampoo.
At my own huge expense, from India to thee,
The famous, spectacular, Big Jumbo’s Ghee!
I’ve used it as wheel lube from here to Mumbai.
It can quiet your babies at night when they cry.
It can mollify itching from poisonous plants.
It will ease the infirm of their ravings and rants.
No sir, not a swindle, this is no evil boast.
You can even put Ghee on your pancakes and toast!
Just so, Sambo travelled from hamlet to town,
Selling his Ghee; a half-cup for a pound.
Word spread like wildfire, for this was no hoax.
Just a golden-brown product that’s good for all folks.
He lived very simply, for Sambo was blessed.
And sent home his millions so Mumbo could rest!
5/30/17
For the contest “Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman”.
Sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
There was a time when her voice filled the spaces of my days, when her worries became my own, and I carried them as if lifting them might save her. She came to me with her storms, and I stood there—open-handed, willing, ready—believing that love meant stepping into the rain beside her. I solved what I could, prayed over what I couldn’t, and hoped she would one day see the depth of what I offered.
But then the silence came.
Not the gentle kind that rests between two people who understand each other, but the sharp, sudden quiet of someone turning inward, shutting doors without explanation. She drifted into her own world, posting words that cut deeper than she knew—claims of having no partner, no support, no one beside her. As if I had never stood there. As if my love had been invisible.
I watched her choose solitude, or perhaps someone else, while I remained with the echoes of what we once shared. I had been ready to cross miles for her, to show up in ways that proved my heart was not just talk. I cared for her child, played music to soothe her spirit, dreamed of a future where we lifted each other. But she walked away without walking—just faded, slowly, until I was speaking into a void.
She once said that maybe God would bring us together again. I held onto that hope longer than I should have. But now I see that some people are not meant to stay. Some arrive like a season—beautiful, intense, transformative—and then pass, leaving you changed but not destroyed.
So I lament her absence, not in anger, but in truth.
I mourn the version of her who trusted me.
I mourn the plans I carried quietly in my heart.
I mourn the suddenness of her distance, the unanswered messages, the way she chose silence over honesty.
I mourn the love I gave freely, not because it was wasted, but because it deserved to be received.
Yet even in this grief, I release her.
Let her walk her path, even if it leads far from mine.
Let her find what she seeks, even if she must do it alone.
Let her discover the strength she kept insisting she had to find without me.
And let me learn to carry my own heart again—
not as something broken,
but as something that loved deeply,
and survived.
***
~What does that mean?~
It means a life where your soul sparkles, and in serenity gleams.
Where the sounds of nature are your food.
You are not focused on problems in the world neighborhood!
You water your soul and soothe it.
Never dwelling on the negative to ruin it.
Where only great poetry do you read.
To negativity, you know better than paying it, a hint of heed.
All those ghastly thoughts of fear and trepidation.
Are sourced by Satan, I forgot to mention.
You create your life by your own original, design!
You are not a victim of life, you are both fine and divine.
Oh, silly this poem is you say? (I say not.)
Be the most humble hero or heroine of your day!
1/18/2021
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