Long Sylph Poems
Long Sylph Poems. Below are the most popular long Sylph by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sylph poems by poem length and keyword.
And I quaffed the nepenthes of your touch
Vainly you felt me, yet not and not so much
I watered my flow'r,my bulbous marigold
Today it blossoms in distant garth; been told
I ask you and the ask,questions you why?
Awaits we the reply, the reply!
Mine smile fled away in hesperus radiancy
Too-the memories yet the only,the only fancy
O' mistress; my mistress where of you left me now
Many a day and night hurl a storm in my brow
While I was counting an alfalfa of a boundless meadow
The sylph swirls beneath the sempervirent shadow
Lured me to whirl along her susurrance eyes
Above the earth and beneath the æther of paradise
The trick is to be grateful when your mood is high and graceful when it is low. Richard Carlson
____________________________________________________________
Who lives fully? Oh, such a sight to foresee!
A life so valuable, so graceful, and so carefree
With every passing day, raw insights mold.
A quilt of tales, a life worth relating to gold
In such an enormous and chaotic universe.
A tremendous grace symphony, a karmic verse
Unspoken dancing with exquisite footwork
Heart and intellect are enthralling for the network.
In this ethereal universe, grace rules supreme.
Witness the riotous swirl of an opulent dream.
Akin to a swan in still waters, it glides with ease.
Through every swirl and turn, it aims to please.
In this refined world of demeanor and charm,
Where cuteness finds its place, in a grace arm
From inept souls to those with aesthetic eyes,
Let us witness the antelope's lithe sighs.
With gentle gestures and a voice serene.
A language of grace that's seldom seen
Their eyes orate volumes with every glance.
A silent communication, a cosmic dance
With gazelle feats, their steps lilting
In refined motion, willowy and beguiling.
No cumbersome stumble, no swallow of pride,
Fluent and slender, glide with a sylph stride.
Consort kindness, from sullen to refined,
Irreligious views, swapped by goodwill, bind.
In this world of amnesty and dower grace,
Blest with piety, they effortlessly embrace
In the intricacies of every choreographed zest,
Imbue the essence of what it means to nest,
Kindness and pristine passion can transcend
All quests and discordances are keen to mend.
A stance of graceful behavior, a testament,
Might love and respect, and how are meant?
To steer us through life with dignity and grace,
To induct a realm where clear heed bears place.
Soothing, lissome; render the facsimile of its
Heart; Such a spright with adore imbued.
‘Er pelt’s so sleek; as petite fry’s
In its nurse’s, gentle and suckling:
The only Cutie-pie on my heart.
Realism in its mettle glints joie de vivre,
As doeth molten chaste gold in the forge; a
Knoll of whose acme other inamoratas feign. Such
An Alkebulan nymph of finest of lustre imagined:
The one and only on the heart.
Nymph of great splendor so priced,
Guarantees anew that adoring even more I stay;
Or peril I at rivals shameful losses, awaiting
My heart’s intensely pricked – broken:
As if it weren’t the only Cutie-pie on my heart.
Beauty as embossed on it and in
Every milieu envisioned, of itself no ill utters;
Making it the solo etch on this conquered heart,
And of those who in split or full, fray pro-reign
Over the one and only on the heart.
Hells all abhorrence merited, it deters!
Anti-doting each time desolation's endured,
Thus, it insures my glee agst perils viable;
Agst rivals in places – a reassuring haven:
The only Cutie-pie on my heart.
In its blissful eye’s such an unfaked
Love that soothes like no cool draft does;
Optically reassuring in such ways it’s my
Venus, the finest of icons in the realms of adore:
The one and only on the heart.
Every songbird that hums its tune,
Yens for the arpeggio worthy the hymn for
One sylph in a million – for its admirers reverie;
‘Until fatality do us part’, in their self-deceited yen
For the only Cutie-pie on my heart.
My springtime blood did flow a river’s rush
in stream bed’s cradle anchored to the land
as dreams rode jet streams to the cirrus strand.
I grew beneath the nimbus, thunder-lush
but autumn’s dry-leaf-drought did bring a hush…
though soul, a snowy owl, not stuck in sand,
as slowly stilled my river came to stand —
my thirst now nursed by rapture of the thrush.
I muse about this skin and skins worn past,
rebirth perhaps… a dolphin of the seas.
This river turned a ripple wanes tonight
surrender of what’s mortal… not the last.
My sigh the sylph that finds the Pleiades —
this breath I shed, a winter’s wisp of white.
CRAZY ANGEL
He is good-don't take him away
He is loud, don't silence his noise.
He is talking when you’re talking.
when you are saying your say.
Crazy angel, takes care of everyone but himself.
Always going way out of his way, to protect and direct:
At your feet; He holds the lantern,
this has always been his pattern.
He won't let you stumble nor go astray,
no judging others as he lights their way.
Too good he is, his heart is a cliché' ...
"A heart like gold": That is to say:
He is loud, don't silence his noise;
He is good-don't take him away.
When the plane is going down,
"who must get the first mask",
I asked- "you, or the baby in your lap"?
Of course, he said "the baby".
But that answer was wrong:
"Who'll save your baby, and everyone else
if you are the last one, that is unmasked”?
We may be left at the mercy of the Sylph:
The first law of saving others, Is to first;
"Save Oneself".!!
.
normally
mine artist
hearz
smellz
feelz
thuh morn'ninz
crisp this early spring
yet
this a.m.
all uv me found
whilst
prairie sun'nin
vernal true
spring az nun i've
hear'd
smell'd
feel'd
ooh
mine were almost
trick'd think'n
tuh
'twere thuh sun's warm
lap'n mine torso'z
back
though
'twere hern
naykid
'gainst my
hern pixie
sylph
rupture
then
poooph
(alter knit lee titled: vita in oculis nudato)
goo goo gaga I wanna yell
cuz, synonymous
with other wordsmiths,
or...well
whatever will eire'n burr,
a sought after creative
passionate pursuit aye tell
ye a boot me own aha...eureka insightful
revelation explaining
ma quotidian writing spell,
and phalanges skitter
across qwerty keyboard
at light in an attempt to quell
onslaught tidal wave crashing
upon me conscious state pell mell
which tsunami flood spongy
heady gray matter with hell
over high tide heals assailing,
bruiting, clobbering this fell
low inducing (me) to play
Handel's Semantic Water Music
on the smallish piccolo cello
which Sirens of Tighten,
(who just appeared out of thin aire -
cuz scriveners can resort
to prestidigitation to make appear
any necessary entity
without rhyme or reason),
anyway, this sylph sea Oceanids nymph
i.e. mermaids didst dee clear
particularly via
barely audible verbal communication
sotto voce en dear
ring gently beckoning
affinity this modest heir
to secret himself within secluded lair
whence, an automatic
erectile flickr, kickstarted,
levitated, and manifested
an instantaneous jubilant kik
lobbed me near
this seductive, sedulous, and sedum
scented sir experienced hypnotic stare
charming froto into trance scandent state
as if by magic the tubular
testicular proboscis didst inflate
aptly serving as modus operandi flagellate
thus proving a "happy ending" against being celibate.
And tuning of fiddle,your voice vibrate along the strings
The strums of lute echoes far beyond and rhymes
The songs of a praise flows and clings
With an autumnal bare bough of winters rimes
My poor heart creeps and you please let it sway
In truth the poets heart is small like leveret
I plucked you a flower from the redolent
bouquet
And heaven knows a flower or your face of claret
Here comes my lovely nymph inch by inch nearer
O'god heaven is mine eye seeing a lissome sylph
Ruffled and tattered and struck the mine answerer
Was she the mayan people a words in their glyph?
And what so more to expect for mine brow to hold ?
The dewes of eyes or the snow of cold
old post from last year.....
"Music Maestro," the conductor turns-
The curtain rises and the ballet begins,
People sit on the edge of their seats-
Tasting the sweetness of the violins-
Dancers make not a single sound,
As their slippers touch the stage,
The audience, still, gazing forward,
Quite intimately engaged-
The music pitch is soft, then loud,
Creating a somber mood,
With cabrioles, jetes, arabesques, plies,
An ambiance of mystery, the dancers all exude.
Painting a captivating canvas,
Gracefully moving, white sylph-like silhouettes,
The "Prima Ballerina Assoluta" twirls,
Executing perfect en-point pirouettes-
This ballet tells the story,
Of how a peasant girl, from a broken heart, dies,
Her last dance - a spectacular performance,
Brings tears to the audience's eyes.
Nearing its dramatic ending,
Dancers complete their last entrechats,
Spellbinding, flawlessly done,
A standing ovation for them all-
The music stops - the Maestro takes a bow,
The curtain lifts, then falls,
The applause of the audience demands,
A number of curtain calls-
Ballerinas retreat backstage to celebrate,
Their "Prima's" last dance was today,
Inside, the dancers weep softly,
Outside, people praise the ballet-
.
from thuh straps draping
hern shoulders
it's linen
flowing unto hern
hip's limb'z tramp's
digits
mine eyne
roam'd
it's soft blueberry drape
outlined
hern taut
gift
mine unwrap'd
Frenetic
thuh sylph
her eyne
almost
exophthalmous
her lips
trembled
az aft her dome
flump'd
hern grateful
echo'd through thuh
forest