Long Swan song Poems
Long Swan song Poems. Below are the most popular long Swan song by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swan song poems by poem length and keyword.
"No sight is more provocative of awe than is the night sky."
- Llewelyn Powys
Tonight it seems as if moonlight sings
and stars surround her in nocturnal musings.
Would that I were an angel with feathered wings,
I'd fly to bask within the golden light of her haloed rings
I stood in awe of her without askance
Mesmerized by the sight as if I was in a trance
Agasp of the night's celestial beauty with each glance
I imagined they were enjoying their cotillion with a dance
Suddenly a shooting star took the stage
in a solo ballet, it's swan song earned with age
Brilliantly it gleamed with flames as if it was in a rage
I was breathless watching it glow, then its death to assuage
From shadows, I quietly observed them tonight
watching the heavenly gems shining ever so bright
as the moon glimmered and stars shimmered their light
I was amazed by the magnificence of the breathtaking sight
I Am as am, in being-ness complete
Self luminous, with vibrant bliss replete
Here and now present, in the joy current
Centred in void, to each pulse cognisant
Swaying to the rhythm of loves heartbeat
I Am both the static and dynamic
Self-existent aliveness ecstatic
Here on Mother Earth, flowing like the breeze
Fragrance divine, thus imbibe and release
Unified head and heart, view holistic
I Am! That I Am! The unnamable!
Beyond mind body, truth of parables
Living in this reflected universe
Swan-song love throb, in melodious verse
I Am the symbol of Gods miracle
18-March-2021
An army that had beat the world,
against them scared farmers were hurled,
they shocked the world with guts and brawn,
Washington pressed the freedom on.
And when they again came around
burned the capital to the ground,
then Jackson the redcoats set upon
and freedom kept pressing on.
Then we divided, blue and gray,
to fight over if men were slaves,
six hundred thousand, dead and gone,
through blood the freedom still pressed on.
When empires burned foreign lands,
and things were getting out-of-hand,
over there we fought tyrants strong,
helped to keep freedom pressing on.
When fascists took the tyrant’s place,
murdered millions for the master race,
on two fronts we fought hard and long,
the freedom, it kept pressing on.
Then bigots here obsessed with skin
found themselves challenged from within,
white hoods could not stop marching throngs,
5he freedom just kept pressing on.
Communists butchered and enslaved,
while inside they rotted away,
then Soviets sang their swan song,
the truth of freedom pressing on.
Now we’ve fools who whine of ‘privilege,’
dumb kids who think they’re socialists,
time’s harsh glance will prove them wrong,
we’ll keep the freedom pressing on.
It’s funny…when we’ve lived in one spot for a long time…
or like Deborah…forever and a day…
we’re filled with mixed emotions when we make plans to move away.
The thrill of a new adventure…full of wonder and surprise
when we stop to think about it…brings a few tears to our eyes.
While at the same time the thought of leaving friends we’ve known forever
and new friends we’ve come to love…surprise!
when we stop to think about it…brings more tears to your eyes.
The thought of making new memories in a new and different place
when we stop to think about it…brings a smile to our face.
While the thought of all the memories made…in this beautiful and happy place
when we stop to think about it…brings a frown upon your face.
Even though we know…because of all the time we’ve spent together
and by the wonderful way our lives have intertwined…
we will take a piece of everyone and every memory with us
we’re not leaving them behind.
It’s interesting when we move…the place we have chosen to be
is the land still revered and held sacred…by the indigenous Cherokee.
Interesting because the Cherokee language has no word for goodbye
If someone leaves or moves away…then
the word exchanged between them means…
until we meet again.
What a wonderful tradition…no farewell statement…
as one soars off to the sky…
no adios…no swan song…no need to say goodbye.
And we take comfort in believing…our old friends will once again be seen…
no matter how long an interlude…no matter how much time between.
Which means when we finally move…as we pack up our belongings…
to our friends and memories made here…we will not say amen…
Instead we choose the Cherokee way of leaving
and will say…
until we meet again.
You're the very angel morning,
and the rising, blessed light,
You're the star that always glimmers
in the fading of the night.
You're the promise softly given,
by every mother to her child.
You're the milk that's ever flowing
in pools and brooklets sweetly mild.
You're the memory angels cherish
far a world way beyond
in a mystery of longing
ever come and never gone.
You rise to greet the waiting morning
that's already greeting you.
You live before the magic forming
in the promised light that's you.
Coming from the far horizon,
resting in the nearest sigh,
living past the unborn future,
here before the footfalls die.
Mystery of the unseen motion
that the smiling Buddha taught
angel child and revelation,
promised kiss your soul has sought.
Touchless sweetest visitation
of a grace beyond all pain,
welcome to the waiting world,
come to greet your smile again.
Softest, breathless revelation,
mystery of the deathless dawn,
cherished, longed for consummation,
lovely, loving Susan Swan.
Christopher M. Swan, "Song of Susan," 2008
*Image of Music Heart by Pixabay.
A Heart's Melody
Harmony palpitates...conducts the abandoned chamber,
albeit, interludes providently...kept in tune with themselves.
The metered winks...influencing oneness to soothe and rise.
The cloud nine reviewed....negotiating remembrances
of "Each and All", the "Earth Song" by Emerson...a ballad medley.
Unversed preexistence...reminiscence, rekindled charge.
Harp rhythms veinuous strings strumming...as the organ pedals.
Some rhapsodical soul...repeatedly ensures an airy suite.
Rehearsed pulses...convey themselves as an opening night.
Calm sounds reflect symmetry...hallowed core pleasures a theme
donning inner expressions...grants the life-timers brevity's blinks.
Solemn occasions the welcomed psalm...heartfelt gifts its claim.
Juxtaposed rapture instants...contrariety absent
of muted aches for a quiver...contrite hands fold into prayers,
beckoned Heaven's gate perseverance...angels heralding.
Unsung Heavenly cadences extend...stead the swan song
that left open--an invitation...as internal hope vibrates,
a renewed life has been rewarded...the heartbeat pipes true.
2022 December 09
*9th Place*
Thought rested awareness
~~Unseeking Seeker
*HM*
SECOND CHANCE FOR YOUR N-A
~~Brian Strand: Judging 2022 December 19
*HMS.
She is the first great experiment
of the universe,
and of my life:
to release the only one
so that she may become the many.
No longer one thing, she becomes
everything.
And thus I may wander everywhere
in my being
through an emptiness of space
in the alwaysness
of her.
Once I was fortune's favorite
on hand for hours of discovery.
Now I am crowned
with perfection.
Once there with her, now
here with her
releasing myself
into the infinity
of love.
Christopher M. Swan, "Song of Susan," 2008
LICKING WOUNDS
Lulling the bye and bye
In dreams that oozed and wept with the regret
Of unfinished business
In the portage veiled with the drift of confusion
Sustained by the envisioned memory
Of snarling words and demon eyes
Ejaculating horror from the love swept beginnings
We once knew
Reigning in this fiery heart so full of itself
To burst in the moment
Releasing its pent-up punishment
To sing in the realm of forgiveness
The harmonies long forgotten
Belied by the swan song that lost its rhythm
Along the path of little substance
Of fabled passion
Weeping upon the pillow of hiding
To disappear while each tear washes away
The dirty laundry stained with apathy and rejection
Dwelling in the temple of our shallowness
Buried in the effort of our escape
Emerging like the slow sunrise of a spring day
Diffused into believing tomorrow will never be the same
To any Joy that is created
One of the benefits to being an early riser…
is I am blessed to hear and see the interplay
between the night as she clocks out
and cedes the mountains to the day.
There is a lonely owl who, if I’m early enough,
from her spot hidden in the trees
sings a lovely nightly swan song and sets it on the breeze.
She sings in a beautiful soprano…
clear, peaceful and bright…
as she anticipates the day…
with one final nocturne to the night
I think of it as the concluding song of an opera
and how, once her final song is through,
the birds who wake up with the day
begin their musical revue.
Perhaps she’s singing a wake-up song
A gentle musical number
into the ears of the morning birds
awakening them from their slumber.
And perhaps their singing in the morning
once their music fills the sky…
which to me seems like a symphony
to the owl …s a lullaby.
At any rate is it a wonderful way
for each new day to begin…
watching and listening to the nigh clock out
while the day is clocking in.
Seriously thinking of calling it quits
I'm rapidly running out of gas
Dragging up stuff from the bottom of the barrel
Scrounging around looking for inspiration
Can't seem to find any anymore
Think to myself it'll pass
Not quite so sure this time around
Maybe just the mood I've been in lately
Lost my fun loving approach to things
Perhaps my age is finally having an impact
And I'm finally growing up
Well whatever the reason
It's not exciting and new anymore
Everything has a beginning and an end
I am not resigning from the site
I am just backing off a bit
I have too many friends here that I would miss
I hope you will all understand
You guys are and have always been
© Jack Ellison 2014