Long Starry Poems
Long Starry Poems. Below are the most popular long Starry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Starry poems by poem length and keyword.
Into the sea of dreams,
I remember the night I was with you,
The stars shimmered to it's glory,
Like a blanket illuminating our love,
Keeping us safe,
I felt so intoxicated by the drunken moon,
That I never felt time pass us by.
Long conversations on the majestic shores,
As we held hands and waves listened to our secrets,
Grabbing our memories and washing them into sea,
Imprinting in our hearts this connection we shared,
It could not be broken,even if we tried,
This force was not to be reckoned with.
I know this then,I know this now,
That some things are not meant to be understood,
It must be accepted and acknowledged.
The starry night skies once showed us that anything is possible,
If we believe,but sometimes our belief is lost,
In this time of fear it runs away,sometimes never to be found
Now am standing here my heart is filled with so much love,
Can't you see it,Can you feel it.
The wind in my face,blowing the strands of stay hair on my face,
Felt like your aura was embracing me,touching,
Take my back to that intoxicating moon,those addictive stars,
For just one night,one moment,
The moment that is embedded in my heart.
Form:
Baptized in the eddies of shimmering creeks.
,Passages are crossed far beyond what's seen.
Clothes pin dolls donning hand-sewn clothes.
Souls made of papyrus; hearts carved in oak.
Mountain folks know things that you'll never know
A few stay forever and others stray for "things"
hymns on gilded meadows -a vow to never leave.
The sun offers heartbeat to all wayward beings
she's a fiery star riding razor-blade dreams
One day she took off down the lower path
a clothespin doll slipping gently from her hand.
Fleeing salvation mountain, never looking back
a daisy chain lay where her heart once bled.
Another red-eyed sunrise, eve taps stiletto black
she's a wingless pigeon cooing for the misty past.
At the end of asphalt rainbows, a mirror full of cracks
a million pricks ago the starry dream collapsed.
In concrete hearts, there's little shade for peace
from which a mountain soul can gracefully retreat.
With a rustle of leaves, she's finally called back home
,, psalms sprinkled over ashen dreams of feral ghosts.
Mountain folks know things that you'll never know.
Stare-well.! gazing..As emotions and souls to your Majestic fields aspire..
Temporal surrounds me, ambiguous background; below crested fallow moons.."
Amplified." Intensity' as stellar images fall silently; while cresendos of beauty abound
Innumerable shifts of light and dark in shaded displays make play! & re-plays are seen.
Roaming tails of light deny non-existence, "and pass on" in twillight realms...
Wholly indescribable energy masses pirouette; in an eternity of loose and endings"
Always immaculate ways, and untrod paths scintillate to Mercurial growth anon..)
Yea' though is interposed my earthly being; tis the more to highlight heavenly ways,
To rebirth.! "and with all glory" the celestial tapestry alludes to His-story.."
Orbs in incandescence implode.! as platignum stairways transpire..)
Though my script be no match.) the words not worthy of re-counting be, so let it be.!
Haze's of swirl glazed and gaseous liquid nimbus; gather possibility's beyond reason
Eclipse, is a true part of the many story's played upon this..! of aeons august stage.
Starry foot-light stair-well "to be or not to be"of such is all the honor i seek to attain,
True enrichment there'to is revolving; where'of my soul is to pertaining
And there my"die is cast..!as midst the maddening crowd" i cry with sullied eyes.)
Revering and wishing upon the great lights life i see in para-present skies
So i endure..passing all lights are.! await i "a mote of such to be,In the one Gods sight.
Copyright Joe Maverick.co.uk 2012 For Linda-Maries Stairway to the stars contest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh you, who drift between the spinning stars,
who taste the dust of comet trails and drink
the silence of the void—pause on earth awhile.
Behold this sphere, sapphire streaked with gray aberdeen,
this garden hung in blackness, ripe with green.
The trees—oh, trees!—their arms alive with birds
whose throats distill the sunlight into chirping words.
The grass—a green tide that sways in whispering breeze,
the oceans—bluish-green, deep and restless, storms and ease~
And humankind—oh, flawed, fierce, fumbling bright~
we build towers that scrape your starry heels,
yet weep at sunsets, name our dogs Orbit at night,
and bury seeds like celestial appeals.
Do not mistake our wars for the whole story:
See also the baker’s hands dusted with moon,
the child who draws God’s face in divine glory,
and the bridge made of song stretched over a wound.
Yes, we humans are fevered children who build then destroy~
we laugh loud as thunderstorms, weep for both sorrow and joy.
We stitch stories from the patterns hidden in the stars,
and curious, reach, as you do now, for what lies far.
This world is vast yet small, noisy yet shy~
a masterpiece found nowhere else in the celestial sky.
Come closer, stardust kin; breathe the pollen rich air,
let the wind caress your body and muffle your hair.
Stay awhile on this marble of sapphire blue,
a world alive, both strange and true.
(total = 230 words)
In the twilight of a violet sunset, when my soul dons veils of melancholy,
I sit alone, surrounded by phantasms and unspoken words, whispering ancient incantations,
My verses, silk threads woven from starry tears and lunar sighs,
Rise towards the celestial vault, carrying the secrets of my troubled heart.
Poetry is my hidden kingdom, a crystal citadel buried in the mist of the mind,
Where no one can enter, where each syllable is a drop from the elixir of immortality,
Each metaphor, a rare flower grown from the fertile soil of divine experiences,
And the rest of the world is but a faded shadow, lost in the maelstrom of eternity.
Who dares to step into my garden of verses, to profane my altar of creation?
Who can understand the cosmic storm in a poet's soul, the infinite ocean of emotions?
Let me sing my pain and ecstasy to the rhythm of my bleeding heart,
For poetry is my sacred temple, and you, mere mortals, have no place in the sanctuary of words.
In the deep night of creation, when the moon weeps silver on astral parchments,
I transform into an alchemist of the divine verb, melting reality into mystical verses,
Creating new universes from the ashes of memories and the dust of shattered dreams,
And you, who do not perceive the magic of this sacred ritual, can depart to profane realms.
Each poem is a piece of my celestial essence, a prayer whispered in primordial darkness,
An invocation addressed to the forgotten gods of inspiration and eternal beauty,
I care not for your petty criticism, for your ephemeral misunderstanding,
For I exist through poetry, and you are but passing shadows on the cave wall.
So leave me alone with my verses, with my demons and seraphim,
With metaphors dancing in my mind like blue flames from another dimension,
Poetry is my intimate ritual, the cosmic blood flowing through the veins of my personal universe,
And you, who do not feel the divine vibration of words, can lose yourselves in the void of oblivion.
A composition on canvas; lyrics written for a song
Tortured was a soul asking, "Where do I belong?"
Daunted with a fragile mind but never was he blind
to being rejected although his love for her was true.
In oils squeezed upon a palette, did he seek to find
peace in such a hostile world, he painted cobalt blue.
Don Mclean denied accusers of Van Gogh's insanity,
Windswept clouds were part of his artistic humanity.
Brush strokes of sadness were not proof of madness.
With such a depth of emotions, why did no one see
the hand of one who created the abstract landscape
unlocked Vincent's prison door so he could escape?
His visions of dark shadowed hills and starry skies,
were boldly brushed with sighs and wearied eyes.
A tapestry he left behind; a life of angst and regret.
Yet, no one listened before he took his final breath.
Van Gogh sought freedom but only found it in death.
A tragedy that can never be compensated or offset.
Midnight and,
far from my town's bright lights
in darkness of sky, I find solace
in darkness of sky, I seek freedom
I looked at the glittery trail of stars
the satellites moving as if stars are racing
the pleiades looking like a small ursa major
I lay my head on the grass
before fog comes to obscure my view
before it's grayness takes all over me
I look at the stars, spot constellations
Wishing if I could fly through them
wishing if I could go and visit a planet
wishing if a planet that can carry the weight,
the weight of my emotions
the weight that pulls me down on the ground
there's a freedom in the night sky
meant for dreamers, meant for believers
I want to dream, I want to believe
that I will be fine
midnights, and I run away from the town
to seek freedom in the starry night.
Bloomed there are the starry flowers of life
On the twilight landscape of gold springtime,
The time horse runs far from the wood of Frost
Though the dream holds the sleep very warmly,
Crunchy leaves flow with the south gentle wind
Soggy meadows wrap the sunlight in ground
Steam hot under the green leaves, warming buds
Crunchy wildlife with the heave of spout trance
No stoppage in the beat lane of world blood
Why should sleep grasp the eyes in the trip lace?
Move fast if you want to lift yourself up
Lift up someone else for the happy goal
Bloomed time suits the endless cruise to renew
Where bloomed nature processes the new gyre
March 07, 2023
B--Forms And Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Wild meadows
beneath white peaks,
a jessamine perfume
enters the nostrils...
winds resume.
Sturdy men
hop on stallions,
wolves growl
as worried mothers
tend to their babies;
a tenebrous night
is about to fall...
way off is the dawn...
darkness covers all!
My land has no frontiers,
all stranded souls
are welcome to stay
for an evening away from dire,
they can warm-up
by the flickering campfire
and drink their whisky;
do they have bedtime tales
to tell the starry-eyed children?
They won't go to sleep as yet,
a hungry wolf has lept
and staring at them he lies down...
preferring warmth over raw food:
a single chick or a whole brood!
My village is one of the thousands
dispersed through this valley
of cotton fields, of strawberries,
of watermelons and of perfumed air;
everyone keeps an eye on each other.
An intruder is fended off with rifles,
may he resists, he'd be subdued...
unless their intentions are good.
A cowboy lost his life, his name was Willy,
and it makes other cowboys
suspicious of a shady stranger!
Silence lays shadows
over the Joshua trees,
the Madagascar palms
and the Burning Bushes;
it leaves the entire village intact...
forcing the midnight wind to go north;
happy are the desert roses
keeping their pink flowers,
they won't shed any petal on cracked rocks...
they'll guarantee wages in the farmer's wallet!
We used to be young, and dreams where free
We used to wish for love, and run without a care
And now the seasons change so fast
The leaves they fall, they never last
We had our wine, we had good times
The days of spring, filled the air
Love was young, and filled our hearts
We had are dreams, seasons in the sun
We used to dance, pretty girls at the fair
Under starry nights, we reached for the moon
Now is time to say good bye
Think of me, times end too soon
The flowers will bloom, and hearts will always weep
But I have run out of seasons, run out of time
Too much wine, I leave lost hopes, nothing left to keep
We shared good times, and now the seasons have all gone
I was dressed in black, for this last dance
I drank from the glass of love for a final time
Prey for me, as I fade away
Our memories linger, as the children play