Long Stillest Poems
Long Stillest Poems. Below are the most popular long Stillest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stillest poems by poem length and keyword.
Although I felt alone, like a shooting star,
My light always showed from very far.
He is the Earth's stillest bodies of water,
So clear, so calm, he will never falter.
He beautifully reflects my streak of light,
He sees how I can be so warm and bright.
I see him for all of what he is truly:
A serene lake so deep, cool, and lovely.
I am the fire matching his passion,
He is the ocean mirroring my compassion.
He and I, although often physically apart,
Our souls inherently know every psychic art.
Although I felt all alone, faraway, for so long,
I suddenly descended to where I belong,
Like a falling star, he made a wish upon me,
I emerged anew, from his own sea of lonely
A sudden weight upon the quiet sheet,
The tentative approach of stepping feet.
A wet and sandpaper caress upon the face,
Brought with a quiet, aristocratic grace.
You are the soft alarm that starts the day,
Demanding breakfast in your own sweet way.
A resonant, low rumble in your chest,
You purr your way to loving me the best.
Curled tight into a perfect, furry wheel,
A gentle crescent, quiet and surreal.
You sleep through storms, you sleep away the day,
Until the fleeting twilight calls to play.
A breathing moon of warmth upon the bed,
With folded paws beneath a sleepy head.
In your deep slumber, perfectly at rest,
You teach us that the stillest life is best.
I'm thinking of Genesis where God recorded His work.
"and the evening and morning were the first, second, third... day"
on throughout the six days of Creation.
And He added each time "and it was good."
He spoke the world into being with His breath
the light, heaven and earth, plants, sun and moon,
creatures of the sea and sky, beasts of the earth,
in response to His words - "Let there be..."
"The stillest hour of the (sixth) night had come,
the hour before dawn, when the world seem(ed) to hold its breath."
The moment when God created man out of the dust of the ground.
He breathed into the nostrils of man - the breath of life.
Thus, man became a living soul made in the image of God..
And God said, "It is not good for man to be alone."
He took one rib from man and made him a mate
When Adam woke up he said, "she shall be called woman."
I pause almost daily to re-think this awesome thought:
We have the very breath of God for that is what life is,
life eternal, never to end, unlike the rest of creation -
There will be a new heaven and new earth, but man is eternal.
quote used with variation is by poet Kate Chopin (1899)
November 12, 2022
Now burst forth your long-suffocated song,
You gagged lips with mute anthems sweet!
Speak of your celestial lays with angels high
In stillest skies above men's unmusical beat.
Say which den under heaven's serenest wings
Writhes most chargrined by tart mortal things.
Divulge rare trills piped by such celestial sum,
More dulcet tunes that finessed pickers strum.
Kindly whisper into this pen's Muse-eluded ear
The unheard-of strains that superior lyres pelt.
In gentler tones alien to poor harps herebelow,
Play fine ditties that earth's senses haven't felt.
Anon spill in over-millioned soothing tongues
Ethereal lines to sate this poet's aching pangs;
And in earnest buzz your time-perfected chant
To shame the best of man's cacophonous rant.
Your most inharmonic line in lame pitch sung,
Beats all tuneful vibes powered by carnal lung.
I feel unease, when trees creek so
(The stillest slice of night cuts deep)
As wind chimes chatter to and fro
From dusk till dawn my nerves do seize
(Alone with only mirrored thoughts)
When trees creek so, I feel unease
Strange things I see, when darkness falls
(Reflecting all that softly weep)
Soft shadows dancing down the halls
Translucent specters watching me
(The stillest slice of night cuts deep)
When darkness falls, strange things I see
At night alone, my thoughts do stray
(Exposing fears that silence reaps)
Splintered memories, barbed and splayed
So many voices – most my own
(A splintered plank, now blindly walked)
My thoughts do stray, at night alone
The white coats come, when daylight breaks
(The stillest slice of night cuts deep)
The blue pill helps reduce the shakes
First eyes are checked, then straps undone
(Alone with only mirrored thoughts)
When daylight breaks, the white coats come
David Mohn
Poem 1 – Alone at Night - 28 Feb 2014 (Swap Quatrain)
Poem 2 – Gloamings’s Razor – 09 Aug 2014 (Triolet)
Craig Cornish Intermingle Contest
I believe in the whisper of wings
unseen but felt,
like a soft breeze brushing past
on the stillest of days.
I believe in the sudden glow
of warmth within
when shadows press too close,
when the world seems
too heavy to bear.
Not in halos or robes,
not in golden trumpets,
but in the gentle nudge
toward the right path—
a stranger’s kind word,
the resilience of a child’s laughter,
the steadfast light
of the moon watching over us all.
I believe in moments that shimmer
like dewdrops caught in dawn,
where grace lingers quietly,
unassuming, unnoticed by many,
but undeniable once found.
Perhaps angels are not
what stories say—
not celestial beings
descending in splendor,
but the hidden threads
weaving miracles into the mundane.
So yes,
I believe in angels—
not because I’ve seen them,
but because I’ve felt them.
**There is tropical warmth and listless life**
In the city this morning of July 9th 2020
The poet finding her hidden voice,
searching for the correct words,
Just to coincide with the invisible
birds with the sweetest tunes,
on church street and Tennis Court
The stillest trees with the airborne disease
Presses on despite its odds choice
Yet, they say my poems isn’t up to parody
A poet must stay in her lane,
A painter must control each and every stroke,
An essential worker must embrace the moments
Of respect, because it’s not going to last another month.
As well as the stillest trees,
with the airborne disease
should press on despite its odd choice?
I think the citizens of this country
should stop focusing
On what Mr. Trump says or do.
They should reminisce on why
They elected him in the first place
"My mixing bowl did not get on top the tallest shelves
By itself:"
Someone place it there, and somebody have to take it down
There is tropical warmth and listless life
Around most country today,
And yes, there is going to be more missing children,
As we move forward dealing, with these crisis
one after another, and another
Pandemic, politic and riots:
as from past experience when we don’t paid the Pied Pipers
Our livelihood and our children will vanish: