Long Sparklers Poems
Long Sparklers Poems. Below are the most popular long Sparklers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sparklers poems by poem length and keyword.
They married in their own garden under the canopy of a Wild Date Tree
An indigenous plant standing tall for sweetness and benevolent spirits
This one untamed and miraculously withstanding droughts in the City of Gold
It gave meaning to their union which had begun with similar unbroken desire
A small bonfire at midday crackled with pure passion and unified souls
It was warm in their hearts and droplets of faith embraced the heat
Shadows of yesteryear’s clouds had retreated from sorrow and sadness
Not long ago the two lovers had eloped into sunshine and started again
A small party of family and friends sat on the grass casually dressed
The bride in an attire from Camden market wore a rose petal crown
That matched the floral display on his colourful shirt which was in date
With Hippie dreams and nostalgic reverberation of rebellion and Peace
Her Anglican priest had refused to wed them ‘I need to ask my bishop
Who would have to absolve you from the sin of divorce and new love’
They found a Lutheran pastor who arrived dressed in African garb
Aptly with crash helmet and Harley Davidson with a roar to his engine
The lovers had decided against fireworks because they would resemble
Gunshots rather endemic in Johannesburg for all the wrong reasons
Sparklers would do nicely and sky lanterns floated into heaven above
Reached high rising feelings released bright unequivocal compassion
‘We honour our ancestors with all their beauty and divine guidance’
They proposed followed by clapping of hands and a rain dance’s vows
The sun sent its rays to bless everyone in the congregation of well-wishers
When it started to rain at the same time they danced naked in the spray
When such water and solar power combines at such a meaningful time and
Forms a rainbow presiding over the ceremony it’s called monkey’s wedding
And its display brings grace and good luck to withstand vagaries and misfortune
With a ring he gave her a wild date as the fruit never failed to deliver its promise
01st July 2019
Sparks of golden quarks
Amazing particles of heart
Pyrotechnic shower
Too fine
Almost from cloud nine
Rise from the articulation-flood
In the fulfilled flow of fascinated blood
As effusive praise in Aha and Wows
The moment a poet finished an Urdu shayari in a mood of sunset
Like in the couplet:
“If someone were to listen, one thing I will opine
Love is not a crime forsooth it is grace divine”
in a poetry soiree
in a gleaming evening
I can see in the frame of my mind’s eye
Those soul-sparkles in a diamond glow
With jaws distended in a gape
In a variety of shape
Beautifully blowing up
By the chorus of wows, and wah wah
In the wake of delivery of the rhythmic couplets and quatrains
Fine grains of pain
Pomegranates in pleasure
In poetry or shayari
Also called “Sher”
And then the sparklers from the listeners taking illuminated seats
On the trees in the garden
Looking resplendent with those fireworks of satisfaction
Grand vocal pyrotechnics of the artistic colors inside our soul
Our whole world now at the goals of releasing
The ingrained heat and light
Into softly loud appreciation and approval from the aroused assembly
Of pink interest
An aesthetic quest
in the bird-like flying of the eloquent firework
The sophisticated atomizer of stirring pyro-spark
A soul-stirring recital followed by the sparks of applause
From the embers of the latter arise another shayari
On goes the reciprocation
Of passionate oral fireworks of elation
Quarks in the pulse
Shower of polished spark
In sublimation of our basic dark
____________________________________________________________
June 5, 2016
For: Fireworks for Me – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by : Julia Ward
Note: 1) Shayari is a musical form of Urdu poetry… - Wikipedia 2) Wah - Used typically to express admiration -Oxford Dictionaries ( Internet)
~*~*~*~*~
A little girl with dark brown braids.
White blouse, gold-colored wool skirt
and patent leather Mary Janes.
An only child with a wired haired fox
terrier that lived with Grandpa,
Mother and Father.
Her Mother, sweet, who saw to it
that she had ballet lessons, went
to a private school and Mother read
her poetry for hours.
A book collection she did have and
loved to read even before she really
could.
Playing with friends, riding her bike,
loved sparklers on warm, July Fourth
nights.
Saw men proud to wear a uniform,
who never came back from the war.
She did not understand when someone
stole her Teddy Bear during one of
many blackouts during the war.
Whoever would do such a thing?
No TV, no technology, just cut-outs,
crayons and she was taught to salute
the flag, because she lived in the land
of the free.
Children were safe, could go on the
train downtown.
But she cherished it the most when
hiding like a cub, under her Mother's
warm coat. The snow sticking to train
windows, peeking in.
Swimming at small lakes in summer how
she loved that the most. So suntanned,
she, the color of warm toast.
The girl knew song lyrics, she never forgot.
They live in her mind and heart and cannot
be turned off.
Years passed, the autumns and summers.
Family now almost all gone, yet somehow,
she remains young.
Always desirous of being herself, you won't
find the braided girl wanting to belong to
any crowd.
The music, the dance, her life, somehow
made her become a poetess.
Surely, not the best!
Being genuine is the gold standard for
all she writes. It must past this test!
She does not write to impress with great
finesse. Just to keep it simple as can be.
Thus~you will experience her poetry!
September 12, 2020
8pm PST
With day full of sleep, moon falls in the river.
Its beams danced on water with shadows of trees
to a beat of rhythm from wind till it died
and buried in music of quietness of night.
With perfume of flowers giving weight to air
cool of dark beauty night’s peace granted prayer.
Cathedral as reverent as echoed Lords prayer
as gentle as songs by frogs from the stream.
Harmony hanging in a gemstone sharp air,
with touch of sadness as dim sparklers in tyrees
while chirping of crickets brings richness to night
This will be the hour which wretchedness died.
The stars in the heaven pronounces day's death,
still speaks of the coming of fresh morning prayer
as glorious moon-glow reigns above night
while weak light reflects off bountiful river
twinkling in beams through branches of trees,
gives a roar of stillness through paper thin air.
The sky and the dark and the shadows of air
The river, moon and the sun as it died.
As leaves slowly descend from generous trees.
An answer it seems to nights granted prayers
it all means little to approaching rivers
which has born witness of deceit of the night.
So quick in the darkness will charge storms of night?
Critical lighting strikes in tranquilized air
heaved by the wind once magnanimous river
thunder and rain, wind and foreboding of dead
comes terror and fear and murmuring prayers
amongst shacking of limbs and bowing of trees.
Fierce is the storm and with uprooting of trees
as wind rips and cries through cover of darkness.
All creatures will witness the dark Devil’s prayer
as thunder splits atoms of wild burdened air.
The night cannot sleep till storm’s ferry dies
and silence of night returns to the rivers.
Storms of the night and night’s peace granted prayer.
Shadows of trees and moonbeams on the river
but rising of sun will bring death to night’s air.
Pretty poison in the yard. Butterflies
Abound - Horseflies fly into pool. Bees
Buzz! Algae, fish, lady bugs, yard tools.
Grandma's house is pretty. Houdini The
Turtle escapes to visit. Next door, new
Neighbor - Max! Runs with Arthur - Chow!
Eddie and Max run for a ball, Mom throws.
Catching night fireflies, letting them go.
Sparklers burn bright. Yearning to learn,
What a wonderful childhood. Theirs, mine.
Black widow spiders at pond's edge, fish
Larger each year. Beautiful webs hang by
Dream catcher - Chimes! Tree grows over
Waterfall. Wildflowers in the rock path.
Cactus. Desert beauty blooms. Algae blooms.
Mesquite overhangs driveway - Sharp, Ouch!
Rock bench for writing and reading, taking
In all of God's wonders. Blue skies, Sun
Warms my face as I wish a wish, bidding a
Neighbor hello, goodbye, or Good Luck!
Moved on to Grandma's house by the little
Church. I walked to hear music and words
To live by. Tyler had a coke and asked me
Why my treadmill was dusty. Pictures adorn
Walls and furniture. Books adorn shelves.
With antiques, dolls, bears, knickknacks,
Snacks, candles, flowers. Red juice for
Mykayla, milk for Matthew. Bar B Que adults
Enjoy our getting together to bless meals.
Christmas exchanges, warm fire, pretty tree
And decor, Wyland's piano. Halloween
Pumpkin carving, costumes and candy!
Thanksgiving we held hands and gave thanks
For an excellent meal and good health all.
Beautiful hutch full of mementos, pictures
Adorn buffet. Casey's on the computer and
Tyler wants another blanket. I'm another
Grandma Smith and I couldn't ask for more.
We struggled along damp, smoke-filled streets;
leaves still summer green,
a chilly breeze rustling some, turned golden early
in anticipation of the fall.
Neil at one end of the log;
me at the other.
Occasionally we paused our journey, rested;
took turns with the diminishing gobstopper;
and backward walking with the heavy branch.
Early October, our collecting started;
we had first-dibs on Ethel Jones' old settee,
two shabby chests of drawers,
about a mile of rotten fence,
branches collected from the woods,
assorted liberated shrubs,
and now, of course, a giant log.
We were to build
the most monumental funeral pyre;
the street had ever seen,
topped with fabricated Guy,
long-wheeled from door to door
for a penny here or there.
It would be the biggest and the best,
standing proud in the bombed-out lot,
that was our playground,
but once home to family and friends.
November fifth would come,
the bonfire built, would fiercely burn;
cracking windows with the blistering heat
scorching paint on faded doors.
Part-cooked potatoes
thrown in the embers;
would later, held in hands
be greedily eaten with a spoon;
steam rising from damp, woollen gloves.
Red noses, rosy fire burned cheeks,
sparklers waving patterns in the dark;
oohs, aahs; and gasps at fiery rockets,
whirling Catherine wheels and jumping jacks.
Then time for bed
Our grubby faces,
smoked stenched hair and clothes
would last a week
'till bathday.
October Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Date wrote: 03-October-2021
Sometimes
By Michelle Morris
11/11/2023
Sometimes we get lost
And yet it's good for our soul
Because we need to escape to freedom
Embrace everything unknown
Sometimes we get found
By the most delightful folks
They light up our world like sparklers
And leave magical footprints in our souls
Sometimes we get wise
Sometimes we get silly
Sometimes is all it takes
To learn a lesson for eternity
Sometimes is all we have
Sometimes is all we need
Sometimes we experience miracles
By everyday good deeds
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes
Enjoy those moments
Let them bring you a smile
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes
Enjoy those moments
Bask in the sun for a while
Sometimes we get lost
And yet it's good for our soul
Everyone has their own path
We need to go it alone
Sometimes we get found
Or we find ourselves (at last!)
We ignite the Light within us
And get the hell out of the Darkness
Sometimes we get high
Sometimes we get low
Sometimes is all it takes
To learn and to grown
Sometimes is all we have
Sometimes is all we need
Sometimes we experience serendipity
By everyday meetings
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes
Enjoy those moments
Let them bring you a smile
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes
Enjoy those moments
Bask in the sun for a while
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes
We are the miracle
We bring hope to life
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes
Enjoy those moments
Make every one worthwhile
© Michelle Morris, 2023
Independence Day has come and gone....
All magic has been trucked away to come again another day
Sweltering, yet, in the dewy lawn,
is the fragrance of burnt offerings....
hovering low like a old gray ghost,
vast over the Riverside Park
In the still, early dawn, that now murmurs like a whisper...
Where evening throngs and
voices of oohs and aahhs were heard just hours before...
Where excited eyes glistened and reflected a night's sky alive with fire
A solemn morning of chattering squirrels
remain the only sign of life
as they nibble on pieces of hot dogs, or popcorn hiding in the grass
Morning air is cool and damp
Park benches, a bandstand, hilly mounds of grass and a playground
abandoned, barren and lonely...
The day appears to be wearing mourning clothes
Of candy wrappers, watermelon rinds, mustard coated paper plates
spent sparklers, fire crackers, one lone sneaker....
Where hours ago, radios played, laughter, cheering, hooting, jeering,
deafening man-made thunder made babies cry,
dogs tremble, children clap their hands over ears
Now there sprawls a silent, somber dawn
The only music in early morning light...
comes from a slight breeze that stirs
a tossed Pepsi paper cup
as it clatters a pop, pop, popping tune...
hopping among the dried, brown leaves down an empty sidewalk....
Iris sun fades and so does the day
whispers the carried in the silence of night glowing
Wishes floating on silver trails faraway
The image of your face will forever bounded to this world
Angels Brought you to me made a lightening
sparkling diamonds in the misting treasures gems so bright
Ice roses turns into a steaming jungle of quivering glass
Flashing in the distance, in the moon light
and all of its stars, that's where the angels dancing
A beautiful adventure picture sparklers on a winter night
A cold moon dressed in dark velvet
with a pearl milky white smile beams
Sparkling jewel crystal lights up
stars blinking silver awakening
warm invading darkness your light
My life has at last found its light and its hope
Soulful cries a wolf dressed in winter clothes
faraway over ocean waves
carries in a wind’s whisper sweet music dances
A magical night that will set the spirit free
Silently breathes out a puff of magic sweetly
beauty enchants warmly etching strikes
frosted fingers cracking ice deeply echoes
Striking inside bells toll warmly skipping drumbeats
bouncing of chamber walls loving tunes
Believing in your love a dream
Which enchants music of the butterflies dance
howling clouds out steaming warm sighs fluttering warmly
I closed my eyes at the end of the road
and thought of the stars
and the reason earth spins around the sun
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and
Anne- Lise Andresen :) - 28.12.2014 -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
One day remains
Before this most peculiar year ebbs into distant memories
Wings are buttered awaiting burnt orange flames
Crisp sticks of celery trimmed to impeccable perfection
Must not forget—
A small, very small, bowl of the consummate black-eyed fruit bearing luck
An obligatory remembrance to dear old Mom
Crystal glasses fluting the bar await the caress of cheap champagne
To be shared by young and old alike
The last day of the last month
A day I have come to long
Children and children of my children will come to visit
Silly games will be played
Small explosions of fuse fed paper will fill the night
Dancing sparklers held in little hands
As a mother’s smile hides behind her raised smartphone
Concealing chicken greasy lips and smudges of creamy blue cheese
I love this eve of new hopes
The last one stolen by the coddled Covid
I think I will add a ham to the table
Smothered in brown sugar wearing pineapple rings
When the phone does…
“Sorry Pops, can’t make it this year”
"Maybe the next," I proffer with hope
Another hour, another call
“Sorry Daddy, not feeling to well”
“Hope you get better soon, baby girl”
One more
The youngest
College bound and new friends calling his name
“Sorry Dad…”
One hour remains, minutes tick tick ticking away
I sit beneath the shaded yellow lamp, all others turned low
Lingering aromas of untouched buffalo wings
And the silence of uncorked bottles
Calling to mind on this treasured eve
In the home I built—
Only one remains