Long Swags Poems
Long Swags Poems. Below are the most popular long Swags by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swags poems by poem length and keyword.
We scratched and scrapped and piled it together,
thin as cobwebs, like molted bird feathers,
spread out on the frozen lawn,
a gossamer frosting in early dawn,
a meager, stingy December snow,
hardly enough to foster a glow
from the Christmas lights candycane twirled
about the evergreen swags softly whirled.
A new sled from Santa's gift giving
was mine to enhance childhood living!
Why he did not provide the blizzard--
(He could have called on the North Pole snow wizard!)
we just did not know,
but to work we would go
and make a snow ramp out in the yard
about as thick as a worn playing card.
The rest of the story is not hard to guess;
my dad's in the doghouse, my mom in distress.
That snow ramp was built quite poorly it seems,
engineered from child wishes and misguided dad dreams,
and though for a moment, I thought I would fly,
at least, sitting here, I still have an eye.
Copyright, December 5, 2017
Christmas Rhymes Contest
Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor
free spirit of summer: a new foliage
wraps the air; vagabond daybreak spilling
colored tones on mounds of rosebuds
dripping of citrine sensation...
how beautiful they are,
enough to widen hundreds of a maiden's smiles...
and while swags of August cuddle
gemmed blossoms and herbage ,
a plump view shapes morning into a spray
of mountain petals, spreading sheer
rapture on long, lavish fields---
spellbound by sunlight of auroral tint,
flowers burst more daring than
the red, orange and pink of early beam,
as trinket of bulbs surfs along garden beds
waving their flamenco hands to greet tangled wet weeds. ...
and much like the sun they were born from,
florets thrust their tanned arms radiant. rare. robust...
here, a parade of garlands dressed in
satin hues prances on the first touch of light:
that finally, earth's flesh is decked
in summer rays, in softened prayer...
sun - up waltzing pivoting
in dawn's sweet, effervescent glow!
As summer fields grow plump yet mild,
I dimly lay with swags of blooms
Outlined by duskfall I can feel ;
The heavens flaming realms beyond
Just when his ghostly light appears,
While all the flowers scent the wind
New moon bequeaths this precious hour--
For death and life to meet again
That without words, our hearts entwine;
And rose of morning floats to trail
Within his shadow, bright as love
Until I weep for time gone by:
Across the sky, he climbs afar
To leave a vow of dream’s return.
…………………..
Contest Form - B for Broken Wings
12/21/2016
I have always admire hair waves back then,
My hairstyles speak of culture far the sea...
A place I dream but I have always pen;
Maybe if not wrong, my country would be
Just like her, one day.
Visa henceforth, won't delay...
What government portray.
My swags recount past familiar legends
Of insightful pride taking love's guardian,
Haunting down ego to help all survive...
The beast of time, change and grace-- being alive.
Just as fierce as fire,
Dreams keep whole, intense desire
Burning to acquire...
My stepping while on every walk seems cool,
As though I am a peacemaker cum chaos...
That film beasts tempting forsaking wrath's tool,
Ego had long abandoned to hamas.
Just as Gaza cries,
Daily for relieving sighs...
To bring war's demise.
Only my wallet has never, not once
Envelope dollars with handy texture,
That holds transformation to trusty bunce...
Cum life cycle's change- an adventurer.
Just like chance stakes luck,
Fate's creation plays faith dumbstruck
Cum enough havoc.
My supposed tribal marks leads on dispute,
Betwixt my parents; each for a nice take
Arguing her stand of him to bail repute.
How early I am ancestral heartbreak!
Just wondering why so,
Yoruba looks Igbo pro...
My look shines aglow.
January 22, 2024
____________________________________
Divergent viewpoints can arise
Whilst triumphant variously savor
Glorious tune of achievement,
Gain glory as godly guile
Whilst booming into spring blooms
In fervor of zeal, vow faithfully
God bestows on them a swish tree
With a bountiful harvest
Its span is boundless
Akin to an everlasting ring,
However, clocks tick down
Daily weavings of divine honor.
Amidst lustrous obelisk
Unbeknown overall aesthetic
Sprawled across stars haze
My cosmic frame oozes to apex
I harness the strand in crimson
Widening warp and woof
Over that magnificent loom
Queries seldom yield effectiveness,
Sadness for their plight emerged
In bows and flowery swags
We ought to remember
Fetching a fresh format forward
Divine devotion developed.
We could detect tangles and flaws
Fairness shares justice and equity
The quest implies grace and faith,
A gorgeous layout with a top-ounce
We are haughtily proud,
Divine is eternally supreme
His work never stops, and
His weaving is always wise,
But we must remember that
We are an essential portion of it.
Let us embrace each day
As a raw opportunity to weave
A Halcyon design
With dedication and patience
We can grow the warp and woof
Over that majestic loom
Until we blossom, akin to flowers.
High above the quiet, darkened streets of January, the night wind begins to whisper secrets through my apartment window casements. Far below me lie four cafes, all in sync as they awaken from daytime hibernation to begin an evening ritual of turning on lights, welcoming thirsty patrons, discouraging lost polar bears, trying to survive.
Light bulbs hang in lazy swags, dripping evenly from the edge of each identical awning. Predictably, their glow travels as fast as the light itself creating a sudden and uninvited interruption of the Arctic desert landscape.
Sitting apart on their respective corners below, the cafes squeeze into a single pane near the bottom of my window. Leaning closer, I blow a hot and intoxicated breath onto the glass in defiance or retaliation, an attempt at immolation perhaps. Instead, my unused air lies wasted across the cafes on the other side of the window, in an irregular oval of futility.
I use a balled-up fist to wipe away the misty scene before it has a chance to evaporate and leave me alone, a desperate and inevitable disappearing act in the face of my curated isolation.
I have always lived in this house.
Yet, these floors I don’t seem to remember.
From parlour to pantry there were once rugs
from Persia and Minton tiles of cherry in the halls.
Now the boards are decayed and rotten and I can
see the earth and worms through splintered holes.
These walls make me shudder and cringe.
From skirting to ceiling there was once willow bough
wallpaper of olive and cream and a gold Roman frieze
that soared between arch and chimney breast.
Now the panels are damp with mould and peel away
in greying swags that reek of bugs and putrefaction.
I shade my eyes from, the windows.
The light that once shone through the panes was a
mottled spectrum of purple, green and yellow that
glowed alive through the face of the Arch Angel Michael.
Now the glass is fractured and stained with rust as
freezing winds blow through their sacred cracks.
Today I found something new.
A piece of paper pinned to a tree in the garden.
Upon it, a message read, ‘you knew all along’.
I don’t recognize the hand.
I don’t recognize the sentiment.
I put it in my pocket.
Today I found something familiar.
In the scullery, a clump of hair clogging the sink.
It’s red and thick and not mine.
It wasn’t there last night.
It wasn’t there this morning.
It wasn’t there an hour ago.
Today I found something lost.
A single harpsichord key on the music room floor.
Its edges are chipped and scarred as if bitten by tiny teeth.
I thought he had stolen it.
I thought it was gone forever.
I’m so glad I can play once more.
January is never meant for blue
It is always of pure gold and the pearls
These days, if you wouldn't argue how true
It has done the do, January curls
Forgive January for its merry
Seized up by December's bill payment
And its galore enjoyment, unwary
Toasting eyes of its darling assortment
It was like a mile of thousand gazes
Grievous goodbye's wish, everyday is long
Seems unfortunate like lonely phases
How ideas run in disarray so wrong
December has blessed January rooks
In its entirety of heavenly nooks
Surely, the troubling peace of previous nights
Shall I see no more from February
The class dinner that breakfast deeply benights
Happy to see the best cautionary
Grateful for the opportunity, Sir
Knowing fully what time mean to pretend
Have I to unseal the veil not so blur?
Or get mind accepts to become unbend?
All baggages' swags claim to be of prudence
Young mind; old way home to pickup any
See discordant bail out of innocence
Enforce blinded choice on times so many
Thanks dearly Sir for the closed eyes given
No offense but heal flurry once driven
I suppose no speech or pen can reveal.
Hidden mysteries of the cell buzzer.
Whose sleek screes fit conjointly like a deal.
To boast about such a complex shudder.
A thin membrane that provides protection.
In order to shelter its swags inside.
The city is ruled by its switch section.
Yielding hurdles over today's worldwide.
While books about fable intend to sell.
Such a DNA change occurred by chance.
Each organ and nucleus in the cell.
A mind is warned to be behind the stance.
I shake my mind; dawdling was a mistake.
I note the book to read, needing a break.
Written: June 22, 2022