Long Spring to life Poems
Long Spring to life Poems. Below are the most popular long Spring to life by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spring to life poems by poem length and keyword.
Come gather by the mirrored lake
Dawn with the children born on suns horizon
Beds and pillows have to stay with empty sheets
Wait motionless with the company they keep
Stuffed animals are the guardians of the soul
Children return to safety when they sleep
Big people, always warm and friendly tuck them in
Wrap them together in their covers snug not tight
That wondrous protective cocoon
The comfort that they seek
Left behind are forgotten baby dreams
Nearly done as they remain unfinished
Perhaps to return to them one day when they are old
To be completed without a care content, serene
Hands rub the eyes of cobwebs from the night
When children try to wake to realize the wonders
New day blossoms by the shore in yellowed flowers
By the graveled edge where bunnies leave a shallow print
Fields near by flourish thick with foliage
Spring to life with young ones and their rosy cheeks
Buds burst forth from the nourished Earth
Opened with a smile in brightness on the forest floor
Red and orange delighted to be alive
Boys and girls want to interact with frogs and bugs
Not knowing if they are the good guys or not
But rise to the occasion anyway in pure excitement
Children dawn with music on the morning lake
In unison but at a distance from the sun
So as not to get burnt too soon or all at once
They paddle in the aluminum canoe through blue waters calm
Songs of life penetrate the soul by golden shores embrace
Looking on, at a glance, there are no waves reflected
Only a blinding light pours over the covered surface lake
Like solid glass through days embrace
Close in touch with nature
Mirrors the eyes of innocence
The sun and children keep secrets from each other
Both looking for their covers
Blanketed in sure love they bond
Dawn on together by the shores sun light forever
O' Christmas Tree, dear Christmas Tree, you've given us so much pleasure!
Again you've graced our home this Yule Season with beauty we'll ever treasure.
How we look forward every Season to awaken you again from your drowse,
And release you from that confining box to spread your welcoming boughs.
You stand so regal with the angel at your top trimmed with garlands of gold.
With limbs embellished with dainty ornaments, you're a beauty to behold!
Tiny lights gleam from every branch to guide Rudolph and the sleigh,
To leave goodies for the kinder - ah, 'tis such a joy to watch them play!
Alas, we must fold your boughs and muse upon memories ever to remember,
But Lord willing, you'll stand tall again about the first of next December!
How we dread to place you in that confounded box but we know that you'll,
Spring to life in splendor next Noel to warm our hearts with another Yule!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
It hangs in the clouds
peeking between the blue white and gray
holding back the sun in its nimbo-stratus shroud.
The clusters trace a line, puffy, dark and ominous
blending passed the sun and flaunting blue away
with patchy sheets of scorched marshmallow cumulus.
A ray or two of faint sun light
glows bright and brilliant through the gaps
then slips through the oncoming dusk of night.
A gust of wind breathes gentle through the trees
teasing promises of needed satiated droplets
as dry and withered plants fall upon their knees.
August fluctuates unpredictble, cool, warm and hot
as storms boldly threaten but quickly fade
into an ache of humid bodies and grass burned spots.
Come wind, come clouds, come soft needed rain
spring to life the tended flower and vegetable gardens
with signs of life growing in each and every grain.
Release, fall soft and kind upon this earth below
sweet August rain, please come again
return the wonder that we know.
I’m toey this morning, we’re getting a test back. I was all right or all wrong. I’m early, the first one here. I’m hoping the TA will early-bird and return my test before anyone else gets here. That way, when I run and jump out the 3rd story window, no one else will be traumatized.
I’m trying to have-sac but I’m keyed-up and quivering like a junkie. My chair seems all hard angles. I didn’t sleep much. My mind is replaying the test in a loop, resisting the unreliable seduction of hope. I've decided my score depends on one variable in question 3.
This semester I feel like one of those Cirque du sloeil acrobats that spin ten plates on a pole while riding a motorcycle. I realize I’m biting my fingernails and the parental voices that live in my head spring to life. I shut them down with a shake of my head, they’ll have their say later.
Oh, great, another student’s here, Clint, I think. He’s a stengo from someplace tropical. I’ve never talked to him 1-on-1 but we were in a lab group once, where we had to synthesize a coordination complex and characterize it. He’s smart, polite, and forever chipper. He settles into his seat and slouches like he hasn’t a care in the world. I don’t like him this morning.
If he’s wrong, he’s going to have to throw himself down the stairs, I’ve got dibs on the window.
slang..
toey = nervous, edgy
early-bird = arrive early
have-sac = be brave and grow a pair
stengo = a good looking, exotic guy
A writer's craft bleeds streams of words,
Watch passion seed rhymes and chimes heard.
Conjure word craft in vivid surge,
Explore wordplay as feel primes urge.
Feel each feeling that sires fond waves,
Sights and sounds fling such flavours brave.
Listen to writes echo fine sounds,
Discern sheer cites that feelings ground.
Feel deep flames fire as movement jerks brisk,
Heart and mind sire a touch most crisp.
Taste thought profound that spring to life,
Swirl round and round as play prunes strife.
Feel that sad mood that softly moans,
Seize that shy brood as sorrow loans.
Splash of word paint can colour well,
Heed that refrain as flavours dwell.
Feel wise grace bright upon the stairs,
Prize the clear light that ushers flair.
Seek to know truth as beauty kind,
Watch soul spear proof with peace of mind.
Feel more and more that inner call,
Live thoughts now spore word muse and all.
The poet sits still as writes reveal,
Pulse of heart thrills how cites appeal.
Feel gains a grip of word flair reach,
Sample love's trip touch each to each.
For thoughts are things that words align,
Wordplay drafts spring soul's mellow signs.
Now and here we come to know the truth,
Let good cheer be our glimpse of proof.
Leon Enriquez
01 September 2017
Singapore
The soft gentle breeze caresses my skin, tiny ripples washing over me, as cool invisible fingers tickle each tiny hair. I shiver. The path beneath my feet is hard, the narrow veins between the stone uneven but smooth. Leaning down, my fingers explore each stone admiring the artisan's hand. Even cuts and natural imperfections line the face of the pavers from which imaginary flowers and birds and faces, that only I can see, spring to life. Each piece carefully selected for size and shape, puzzled together with perfect precision. The coolness of the stone feels blue like frozen water, or perhaps green like smooth moss. The air colder now I move on, hollow vibrations tingling my hand with each tap of my cane.
09/01/15
I watched them gather round
The warmth of your flame
Like campers at campfire time
Huddling close to you
Pushing and jostling
For the best place
I saw your warmth
Dancing off their faces
Small cinders escaping into the night
I followed the sparks drifting up
On the chilly breeze
Riding high…disappearing into the stars
I was cold
I was alone
On the edge
And yet…I dared not go near you
Though your light invited me
And I wanted so much to be warmed
By you
Yet….how could I find a place
By those encircling you
Watching the mesmerizing display
Of your orange and yellow flames
There was no place
Among the gathering of....
The strong, the beautiful, the insistent
So, on the outskirts I stayed
Tears trickling down my cheeks
Cold
Alone…
I waited…I held back
Until they all left
One by one
Some bumping into me
Not even aware that I was alive
I waited until you had almost died out
No longer on display
But a warm glow of embers
Still orange and glowing with desire
And I approached
Shyly…
Longingly…
Needing to see you dance
For me….only for me
And I coaxed you
In my clumsy way
My fingers cold
My heart ablaze
Suddenly....you burst into flame
A pillar of fire
Miracle of love
For I had not added any kindling
But my little heart
And yet it seems you had waited
Knowing I would come
And my slightest touch
Made the flames spring to life
Voracious flames
Flames reaching the high heavens
Your heat overpowering
Consuming
I almost threw myself into you
Wanting to reach the center
Of the heat and warmth
Of your beauty…
I spent the night
Out under the stars
Lying naked
Yet not cold
Naked
Yet not ashamed
Naked
Yet not shy
For your glow was my covering
I let myself be touched
Time and again
By licking fingers of fire
By the burning flames of your desire
For….ME!
For Gail's Contest
Touched by Your Flame
May 27, 2013
On wings of wasted winter northern winds depart,
their whisper frost-fastened barren boughs hear…
wait, you’ll listen sweet music soon, don’t fall apart,
singing southern breeze will caress, you’ll endear.
Misty mask melts away, turning the sky cobalt clear,
dainty spring descends, drizzling in diaphanous air,
gossamer clouds clad in ribbons of regal robe appear,
enticed by their satin shadow the buds unfurl in flair.
Defoliated trees spring to life after verdant resurrection,
sunburst sky sprays dust spectrum on dawning meadow.
In the flow of zephyr floral fragrance finds the direction
to trail butterflies flying in the arena of springtime show.
Southern winds waft your scintillating scent sailing to me,
alluring me with moonlit magic to the ardent river of grace,
its silver ripples reflect the moonbeam lattice on you, I see…
your eternal spring I’ll drape forever in ecstasy of embrace.
____________________
April 21, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest
On the wings of winter the polar winds sigh and depart,
the frost-fastened barren boughs hear their harsh whisper…
“you’ll listen to the sweet spring music soon, don’t fall apart,
the singing southern breeze will caress you, you won’t whimper”.
The misty mask melts away, the blue sky smiles again bright,
as the ambrosia of spring dances in the diaphanous air,
cheerful cloud befriends the luring waft, takes the fairy flight,
embraced by the amorous sunbeam the buds bloom with flair.
The defoliated sad trees spring to life after verdant resurrection,
the glow of sunburst sky paints lively motif on merry meadow.
On rippling flow of zephyr the floral fragrance designs attraction
for the butterflies to perform ballet in the spring time show.
_______________
February 21, 2023
Contest : In Bloom
Sponsored by : Joseph May
Colors dance on the canvass of my life
In an intricate interplay of hues
Intensifying and weakening at different stages
Fluid colors in constant motion
As I age, different colors take precedence
While others slowly recede
Still present, yet less visible
Some colors are all time favorites
Ever strong, ever making their presence seen
The color of Beauty forever captivates me
I immerse myself in this hue
Letting its brilliance ravish my thoughts
Beautifying my life in every way
Truth is another color that graces this canvas
For without it, I cannot live
I need to see broad strokes of this hue
For it revives my heart
The brilliance of the color of Compassion
Pulsating with emotions of oneness...
With the world, with all that inhabits it
It ever moves me to reach, to feel, to belong
Hope, the color of dreams
For my dreams are saturated
In this vivid color
That makes the canvass spring to life
Hope, for a masterpiece to be
Passion, the most prominent color
Seen splashed everywhere on my canvass
The color deepening, ever deepening
Dark and rich, drawing the observing eye
To the wet colors that never dry
Always freshly painted
Bold, brash, audacious, alluring
Pronounced color overpowering every other shade
Passion, shows off her true self
Confident that she is the artist's most loved color
And then there is the color of Love
Capricious
Flitting
Transient
Erratic
Inconstant
Gracing the canvass now and then
Lightly splaying itself across the painting
Bright splashes of rich Gold
I try to focus my eyes on this hue
Wanting it to be evident
In every single image
In every single stroke
A tinge of gold
And yet I know
I know
The color of gold
Is “the hardest hue to hold”
I know this to be true
For my eyes brimming with tears have seen
The “dawn...[of love go]...down to day.”
On this canvass of my life
This truth is clearly displayed....
“Nothing gold can stay.”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A variation on the poem by Robert Frost, Nothing Gold can Stay