Long Stars Poems
Long Stars Poems. Below are the most popular long Stars by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stars poems by poem length and keyword.
“It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.” - Sarah Addison Allen, First Frost
September speaks of light and love, everlasting
Kindled by a heartbeat, breathing praise, adoring
His still, small voice, in the wind, autographing
Autumn’s glory, all the leaves falling, transforming
Kindled by a heartbeat, breathing praise, adoring
Shuffling through the silence in brave colors, pouring
Autumn’s glory, all the leaves falling, transforming
Gentle flames of lasting grace reach the soul, warming
Shuffling through the silence in brave colors, pouring
Lasting beyond the rustling, murmuring heart flowing
Gentle flames of lasting grace reach the soul, warming
As the stars fill the cobalt skies, moaning and groaning
Lasting beyond the rustling, murmuring heart flowing
Beats of light, filling the darkest night, shadows roaring
As the stars fill the cobalt skies, moaning and groaning
Erasing the mindless seas of lasting winds, scorning
Beats of light, filling the darkest night, shadows roaring
Original sin, from Eve’s flaw, shouts, still grieving
Erasing the mindless seas of lasting winds, scorning
Forest’s ensue with October’s mind, endlessly screaming
Original sin, from Eve’s flaw, shouts, still grieving
Resting on the echo of a mindless beauty, so soothing
Forest’s ensue with October’s mind, endlessly screaming
Winsome kiss of the heaven’s light flowing down, musing
Resting on the echo of a mindless beauty, so soothing
His still, small voice, in the wind, autographing
Winsome kiss of the heaven’s light flowing down, musing
September speaks of light and love, everlasting
“The stars are old with watching love,
Yet love is ever new.”
— J.Mc.
---
The river runs cold in my hands,
Silver and sorrowful under the moon;
It sings of all that passes away,
Of the faces we love that fade too soon.
Asking me—why was I born?
What was I before?
Only a thought in the dark,
A breath before the door lies open like before.
The path is long, and I breathe
The way of they who gave me
Shape and form;
Their silence lives in me.
Your path leads to my heart—
Yet still I remain.
You go farther and farther,
And I am alone again.
Yet when you sleep, the world is small,
Your pulse keeps time with the stars;
I follow where your dreaming falls,
And gather your tears in jars.
Tonight, in your dreams, I will come
And wear your face as my own;
You will not know if it is I or you—
Our souls will be alone.
Caroline, my tender one,
I am the hush beneath your name;
When the river runs cold in your hands,
Know I have touched it the same.
For love is a circle of wind and flame,
Neither lost nor gone through years—
You are in my heart too, always—
Beyond tomorrow,
beyond the reach of tears.
We were tight — we were thick as thieves
Only we didn’t quite know it then
Isn’t it true that a friend in need
Is your only kind of friend
And we band of brothers
Went marching through the streets
Ready to take that dirty old town by storm
And we band of brothers,
Whoever we did meet
Became unwitting belligerents in our war
In Pikersville —
We were small-time
But we had big ideas and big words
In Pikersville —
Strictly small-time
The chosen steer marked out from the herd
Now, a generation or more is passed
And we’ve reared up our own
To take up the Piker mantle, once again
To walk the casual hallways
In our glorious institutions
And glow like stars in a constellation of friends
And we band of brothers
Went marching through the streets
Ready to take that dirty old town by storm
And we band of brothers,
Whoever we did meet
Were drafted as belligerents in our war
Small town — small change — full of big ideas
I saw the midnight rider;
He rode so very high;
Upon his silver stallion,
He galloped ‘cross the sky
I saw the midnight rider;
He rode so very fast;
He did not fear the morning
That waited in his path
I saw the midnight rider;
His face was pale and worn –
A victim of the weather;
A veteran of storms
I saw the midnight rider;
His eyes were still as stone;
They gave a saddened sparkle
Among the stars that shown
I saw the midnight rider;
His heavy heart was set,
On distant glow arising –
The herald of his death
I saw the midnight rider;
He fled the scarlet moon,
And rode into oblivion
Wherein he met his doom.
What it means to believe
How often I’ve read about Joseph and thought how amazing his story is! A story of dreams. Dreams dreamed and dreams dashed. Dreams as honest as the stars who glisten in the night skies. Dreams almost as solemn as prayers, yet just as tender as the dawn’s kiss against the dew drenched grass. Dreams alive with insight and understanding. So powerful they feel like God’s breath trembling upon the spirit. His gentle coloring the heart in rhythms of grace and hope and glorious wonder. Dreams so wise and dreams who seem to cry out to the very core of the being. Heart wrenching and heart healing. Heavy with plans that seem so far fetched no one can possibly believe. Yet, time will explain how all else might fail but God never will. No. God never will and when you hear the voice of God – in a dream or in a soul – you know that you’re bound to find your purpose somewhere down this road where He leads you. With God, anything and everything is possible and nothing at all is impossible. So dream and believe in your dreams. Joseph did and you can see what happened in his story.
the stars dream, then fall
stirring laughter with the calm
sparkling hues of grace
It is ironic that those who guard the gates of poetry rarely,
if ever,
manage to enter into it themselves.
I came in through a secret back door,
a door hidden from the eyes of the world,
where the waves of the sea whisper the secrets of time,
and each ripple of the water tells me about lives lived and forgotten,
about dreams lost in unknown depths,
and stars that fall into the ocean like silver tears,
reminding me of the burning desires that were never fulfilled.
I feel myself getting lost in this flow of thoughts,
a river of memories and dreams intertwining in an eternal dance,
and each wave that crashes on the shore reminds me of the inexorable passage of time,
of the moment when the sun sets and the shadows lengthen,
and I wonder if I will ever find that old ship,
with its salt-crusted sails,
and if I will sail towards horizons where the sea promises me immortality.
And in this quest,
I wonder if I will ever forget the love of a woman,
the music that fills my soul,
or the taste of food that brings back childhood memories,
or the wild play of the horse running free on the field,
throwing clods of earth and destinies into the air,
in just the moment when the sun sets and the world sinks into darkness.
It is ironic that in our quest to guard the gates of poetry,
we forget to live within ourselves,
to open our souls to the magic and melancholy of life,
to lose ourselves in the flow of thoughts and dreams
and find the secret door that leads us to the heart of the sea,
where the waves whisper to us about immortality and eternity.
What keeps me going in these cruel days?
Feeling my dogs' warm bodies next to mine.
Reading a poem that makes my heart sing,
or one so beautiful, it will bring tears.
Talking with friends as hours pass like minutes
Laughing over an old joke we've all heard.
Reading a beautifully-written book.
Listening to music, lost among thoughts.
Catching breaths of a gentle rain shower.
Listening to mockingbird sing refrains.
A gentle breeze that tickles face and flower
Finding new buds on young plants of summer
Searching stars on a quiet, moon-filled night.
Feeling the lightness of spring in the air
Letting soft evening lift my worried mind
hoping the World will find its long way home.
April 3, 2022
for What Keeps Me Going Contest ~ FIFTH PLACE
by Cecelia Hopkins Drewer
Syllable check: howmanysyllables.com
In a sea of time, my soul drifts like a leaf in the wind,
Memories are ice sculptures melting under the rays of forgetfulness,
Silent betrayals are strips of silk that cloak my heart,
Days begin like sweet dreams and fade like candles in the night,
I watch the years flow like rivers that can't find their course.
I carry a feeling like an unseen tattoo on my bones,
It's the belief that happiness is a butterfly that won't land on me,
Every time something good touches me, I become the shadow of a tree,
I hold it like a snowflake melting under the warmth of my hands.
I've started to believe that love is a mirror shattered into shards,
People come close only until they see the hidden truth in the reflection,
Now, when I look in the mirror, I see only an echo of silence,
A soul that laughs, but its laughter is the wind whistling through dry branches.
How can I breathe when the air feels like an ocean flooding my lungs?
How can I reach out to people when the emptiness stretches like a desert?
I don't want saviors to come with their tools to fix my cracks,
I don't need prescriptions of hope like pills swallowed with water,
I want those who sit in my ashes like birds singing at night,
People who cherish my silence like an unfinished symphony.
I want those who sit with me in the darkness without fear,
Those who stay, even when I can offer only a whisper of wind.
But the truth is, these people appear like stars after a storm,
I don't call them with my voice; they come like waves that know the secret of the shore,
They know my gaze that says, "I am here, a flicker of a star."
And when they come, they don't need to speak, just to be present,
They stand in my pain like a field of poppies under the spring sky.
Unorthodox, this water- bearer rules,
an Aquarian god moody yet calm in the
face of persistent winds…his pail of wine
gushing on mouths of February streams,
like an outpour into first night’s cycle
of unpredictable moves, reigning like
a prince-in-waiting, this heir
from brazen garnet stars:
Oh, his vision is light years ahead of time;
breaking from clasps of tradition,
his maverick streaks defy life's norms
and while he dives into a crest of independence,
fool he is for needing warmth and affection.
Yet,a blend of hermit's pride and gentleness
dares the element of air to brew a storm,
then romances the lusty sea of love in a flash...
pray tell, how can one define a mystery?
------------
Brian Strand's Contest No 214
The lamp that invokes the dusk,
A splendid natural frisk,
Eccentric among the constellation of stars,
Concealing your char to the view from Mars.
Masking your beauty with the darker clouds,
Blushing away from the denser crowd,
Calming the Earth with the cooling rays,
The land that was warmed up in many ways.
Beetling in the sky,where none can arrive,
Thy captivating vision makes us revive!
Shattering the differences and detachments,
Entrusting, we are under the same sky of bondings and attachments
The enthralling "Prima Donna" of the lovely night, Thou !!!
To you, I make a bow !!!!