Long Sprightly Poems
Long Sprightly Poems. Below are the most popular long Sprightly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sprightly poems by poem length and keyword.
Our love is lofty and infinite as the sky
On love’s filmy wings we soar ever high
It has the might of a towering mountain
And the upward thrust of a sprightly fountain
Our love soars like swift birds in flight
With the boon of newer vistas in sight
It is like the sweet lays of a song
All through life, its rhythmic notes do ring
Our love renews itself like the rising sun
Each day in golden flame, it does burn
It is like the life sustaining breath
That shall keep us alive until our death
Our love, we hope to keep it aflame
As a living monument in Time
Even after the sun of our life sets
In heaven we shall sing love’s duets
Placed First
Strand's (1072) poetry Contest
"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress"
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
The hourglass,
a skeletal jester
mocks in the tomb's chill
Each falling grain an emaciated sigh,
"Soon you'll cease to be."
The mirror's cold reflection,
a Gorgon's ghastly guise
A marionette of flesh with vacant...
hollow...
colorless eyes.
The worms, like pallid mourners
watch me shrink
A marionette of organs,
cold and pale, pink.
This flesh, a borrowed dress
once sprightly
Now stained and thin
Holds tight the secrets only
death can win.
This borrowed dress,
a shroud where my story's writ
In laughter's faded stitch
and tear's accusing slit.
A map of life etched deep
with scars that mar the grain.
A raven of fleeting triumphs
a pendulum of ceaseless pain.
In the shadowed hollows
where sorrow resides
I languish.
marionettes of fate's cruel designs!
Each scratch and cut a lament.
each tear a bitter sea!
Bound by the chains of my...
limited mortality.
In this borrowed dress,
I mourn what could have been...
Lost in the convulsion of my own... sin.
I am transformed
but not redeemed.
I am drifting into the void
My spirits are shattered
and my dreams destroyed.
So in the silence of eternity
I find my rest
Lost in this body of my own...
detest.
And though this shell
a chrysalis
soon withers
and decays
I cast aside the shroud
no longer bound or worn.
Accept the endless night,
where a new self-forlorn is bourne.
Transformed
a residual relic
through the void
I fly
Suture with stardust catgut,
a worn scroll in the sky.
I never round-or-flatly disagreed
with Johnny Appleseed,
so red, so crisp, so...quite.
Never in the dawning, evening dawn
did I fly up or s*it upon...John James Audobon
in the evening, morning night.
Ah, I'd never be rude or eat the food
of the pulchritudinous Johnny B Goode.
How could I?
And why would I harm
odorless, flightless John Barleycorn
or give him Spanish flea?
I'd sail the vast untarted sea,
or play drums obstreperously,
with that flapjack, John Paul Jones,
but what kind of pancake would I be
if I revealed I was bigger than, by three,
that wunderkind, John Holmes?
Would I ask Johnny on the Spot
for a rag to wipe my snot?
Unindubitably!
Would I surprise him with mascara,
or do the backstroke in marinara
like a mushroom in a noodly sea?
I'd be on time for Johnny Come Lately,
and eat bon bons till I sat, oblately,
under the midday moon.
I'd tell Johnny Carson, "That's a wrap"
and neatly wrap my dog's crap
up with cellophoone.
What about John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,
that diaphanous, novelty hit?
Would I blast him with the guns of Navarone
under a sky that sticks like the glue
of a colorless, humid, hue?
Would I deny him a raisin scone?
No!
When Johnny Comes Marching In gets home,
I'd serve him grits and iridescent cornpone,
and sit him on my knee.
Then I give him a lavender shout,
and set up an appointment for my gout,
superciliously.
Would I ask John the Baptist to convert?
No, I'd offer him some camembert
and crackers!
And the sprightly John the Apostle?
I'd offer him a waffle.
and crackers
(for dessert).
Oh John Keats, dear clapboard poet - you left too soon,
before I could offer you a macaroon,
or anything that leaves a crumb.
There's a reason I asked you for tea.
Give me a sign. Tell me honestly,
do you think I'm a doofus - dopey, dippy, daft and dumb?
Would I pull the leg or make fun...or steal a tart, chocolate eclair, pineapple upside down cake or cinnamon bun
from the beetle, John Winston Lennon?
Nope, I imagine I wouldn't, in truth,
but I'd surely pull the tooth
of the weevil John Wilkes Booth
under the midnight sun.
I forgot who I was, almost lost myself
in a mirage of diffidence,
for a lingering stretch of time!
From the emotional age of twenty-one....
I switched to one role from another -
diverse roles, divergent responsibilities,
But where did the real me disappear?
Reading was my first enchanting love,
Creative writing followed soon…
emotional outpouring, passionately expressed
- from letters to pen-friends, to editors of newspapers,
from fantasy to fiction, and informative non-fiction,
but Poetry eluded me!
Many years had passed not knowing
who I was, who I dreamed to be!
Then...all of a sudden, as if my life
blossomed into a Tree of Hope, when you joined me
into the pursuit of a lyrical journey!
Aha! like a Spring, a life-giving source of water,
a fountain awakening from a deep slumber,
and throwing away all resistance, all hesitance,
all inhibitions, and embracing finesse and subtlety...
sprightly splashing with power at the coral rocks,
I wrote poems for you!
I am still writing!
Writing unwraps my soul…
But, would you love me,
As much as you do,
If I were not a Poet!
Seasons change…throughout the year…
From vibrant joyful colours of Spring, through deep and warm autumnal splendours of Fall, to white silvery jewelled trees in winter..I keep writing poems! You are always with me…by reading all my poems, you infuse inspiration into my mind, My heart beams and beats softly inhaling the tenderness of your love!
Would you love me…if some day,
I stop writing?! my imagination doesn’t create
the magical lines any more... images are blurred,
creative words abandon me...would you?
There is no doubt in my mind …you will.
Poetry will remain in both our hearts,
as our own-orchestrated, unfettered song…
like a transcendent melody spreading the
fragrance of an amazing life savoured together!
Each Summer blossom, rustle of the trees,
Spring’s over, I know your work is all done.
Every bird in flight, every gentle breeze,
Summertimes here to have fun in the sun.
Still glowing brightly, is the colored moon,
Wonderful perfumes drifting so sprightly,
Excitement of surprises coming soon,
Summer sun shining, shimmering slightly.
By the seaside the ocean is churning.
Such sunsets, the skies drenched in purest gold,
Notes you send, to tell me you’re returning,
Stunning scenes, fields of flowers to behold.
These wonders I cherish deep in my soul.
So when Summer comes round, I'm feeling whole.
From a mountain's peak,
to a very picturesque valley below,
these cold and sprightly waters flow...
watching the gyrfalcon cool off his beak.
River, don't stop your flow anytime,
let me admire how you glisten...
running down the snowy inclines;
hearing the croaking sound of a raven.
Further down you plunge into ravines,
and less forcelful than a waterfall,
you splash on rocks and wildflowers...
raring in the manner of a rascal.
No vigilant eagles, or dozing marabous amid stalks,
are found as you approach vast grasslands,
but the ocean is very far and doubts arise;
o river, keep on flowing towards those serene skies!
From a mountain's peak with graceful glee,
you gurgle in flowless rhythm without mistake,
satisfying my dry palate in a dire state;
o river, flow like the blood that sustains me!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
i need a day where i don't feel low
i need a day where i can walk a trail that takes me to nature's beauty
i need a day where it is not too hot and not too cold
i need a day where everything is paid and i have no worries on my mind
i need a day where there are no aches and pains and my aging body is in a good mood
i need a day where i feel young and sprightly and said body is fully cooperating
i need a day where i can only smile and give a frown the almighty finger
i need a day where people do not get on my nerves and nobody asks me for anything
i need a day where the phone does not ring and the only notifications are the birds singing to me like angelic arrows
i need a day like today where God Is Good like EveryDay and she loves me unconditionally in addition
THAT IS A DARN GOOD DAY TO ME!
If a grown you still love to drench in rain,
If every bird sings to you just as sweet,
If you find every flower a rare treat,
If talking to stars’ found never so vain,
Find thrilling a chase of sprightly rivers,
In every hill looks an inviting friend,
Find it tempting—every un-trodden land,
If you find in shells moonlit night's silvers,
If you feel at home, all alone with self,
Each day if opens up your life’s fresh page
On which to paint a portrait of your age,
And still love, find in odds charm of an elf,
Rejoice my friend as only but you can,
A child still thrives along a musing man.
_____________________________________
Musings | 01.05.16 |sonnet
CLOUDY SKY
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
For acrid are your lies,
And by your rhetoric speech
No more are we enthralled.
For, this perennial drought,
On pages, in archives lies.
For rain to come,
In vain revelry the farmers wait.
For no wages, like a serf in the
Corn field they toil.
Your oath of fealty you scorned
And in the belly of sectarianism
It erodes.
Cloudy sky.
Say no more us
About rain to come
For the seedlings from drought’s
Heat wilt and by the arbor of your
Cloud eclipsed are the dreams of
The saplings, etiolated in gloom
For sunlight they grope.
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
For horrid are your lies.
See,
The fettle faces that cheered
You to the pinnacle now shrink
From dearth. Wane, once glaring
Eyes in their hollow socket cringe.
Languid now are those sprightly
Hands that lifted you from the craddle
To your apogee.
From your wanton revelry the thunder
Claps and into the serenity of the famished
It cuts as with parched throat for the opening
Of the sky’s door for even a trickle they wait.
Gnarled children from famine on the scrawny
Backs of their mothers berth,
And with baleful eyes for them
The scavengers wait.
Cloudy sky.
Say no more to us,
About rain to come.
Form:
I hear your voice and the tears fall again
As babbling brooks flow and soft breezes blow
When birds sing us their sweet morning refrain
I hear your voice and the tears fall again.
Without you this life simply isn’t the same
Time goes by slowly and I miss you so
I hear your voice and the tears fall again
As babbling brooks flow and soft breezes blow.
I see you in stars glittering brightly
Memories made from moonlight romancing
When the two of us were young and sprightly
I see you in stars glittering brightly.
You are the queen of my dreams seen nightly
With the both of us joyfully dancing
I see you in stars glittering brightly
Memories made from moonlight romancing.
I miss the touch of your hand held in mine
The sweet kiss from lips that made my heart flip
Our embrace too exquisite to define
I miss the touch of your hand held in mine.
I cherish moments that stood still in time
The ecstasy and bliss of our courtship
I miss the touch of your hand held in mine
The sweet kiss from lips that made my heart flip.