Long Symmetrically Poems
Long Symmetrically Poems. Below are the most popular long Symmetrically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Symmetrically poems by poem length and keyword.
Sunflowers make a unified display;
symmetrically joined, each one by one-
gold petals dance around a center stage;
together, side-by-side in harmony.
Sunflower stems exhibit stable strength
supporting well their towering large heads;
as they, with thick, broad leaves encounter wind-
stems firmly keep them upright in the fields.
Adapting for good light, sunflowers thrive
by using their heliotropic heads;
they turn to face the sun when changing paths-
from East to West- and back to East again.
Framed by a landscape under sunny skies-
sunflower scenes are lovely works of art;
bright, sunny faces, swaying in the breeze-
creative work of nature- full and lush.
Bright, golden sunflowers- for me, mean love;
a gift presented to me through the years.
To honor special days, my family-
oft send me lovely sunflower bouquets.
May 8, 2021
Contest: Workshop: Inviting the Muse
Sponsor: Joseph Webster
Emotions/Feelings represented:
Unified, Stable, Adaptable, Artful, Lovesome
In each and every species
Of animals and plants, as well
There can be a pigmentation deficiency
Its cause? I cannot tell
Instead of being a grey elephant
One can be born all white instead
What is normally a stripped zebra
Can be white from toe to head
And such was the case once
Of this beautiful pumpkin that I found
A more perfect pumpkin never existed
Absolutely symmetrically round
But in this sea of round orange gourds
This amazing pumpkin stood out
Not only because of its perfect shape
But because of the color it was without
Its insides were just as gooey
It made a pie that tasted sweet
And of course we carved a ghost’s face on it
It really came out neat
Now, orange pumpkins were all I had ever known
Until that special one came along
I thought we might find another one
But, you know, of course I was wrong
they put us
side by side
on a shelf
turning our
keys at the
same time
but we each
have different
tempos as we
motionlessly
pose in stance
atop our music
boxes and turn
merry go round
as if to dance
you a ballerina
me a frog with
tux and tails
top hat cane
complete
Puttin' on the
Ritz which
juxtaposes
though we're
both on one
leg your form
is balanced
on one toe in
that of sacred
geometry
so as our music
slowly slows
yours shows
still melodic
lines symmetrically
infinitesimal eternal
my song has stopped
but in the faintest quiet
yours will always be heard
Form:
Hateful as they may be, to the eye
and ear, the elimination of words,
statues, ideas, etc., will do nothing
toward making a venom free society –
to flood with light, explaining,
though far more difficult,
more laborious (seemingly impossible
at times) is the only palatable good.
A great, natural builder, artist,
builds his (his/hers – God I hate this,
Politically Correct) foundation using
those odd, irregular stones as well as the
seeming, symmetrically perfect –
variations, outliers are a blessing,
and not a Cosmic Blemish –
the fault, if any to be laid, is when using
ourselves, needlessly, hurtfully -- making
arrow-heads of the pen's of Valentines...
Taking free-thought away from children
will only do away with individuality,
leaving soulless shells instead --
not cleansed human beings, ready for
fresh priming; but globs of rancid, detergent
filled sponges -- the soppy, dead remains,
of what were once, thriving, healthy, alive
brains...
gone any true worthfulness, and sense
of sacred being....
My navigation seems as though toward eternity,
Though I'm alone, I could feel an unknown fraternity;
Surrounding the highway, both sides, are beautiful greenbelts,
While passing the mountainous paths from peaks rocks soft snow melts...!
I started alone from the darkness of obscurity,
Fate, midst kith and kin, has been my constant security;
Each season of summer, spring, autumn, winter, and monsoon,
I've been moving through a grand universal rhythmic tune...!
The path is not, always, symmetrically straight and smooth,
Scenes and landscapes do not always, sensory organs sooth;
Turns, twists, terrifically tricky titanic tunnels,
Hills and mountains that resemble black brown and grey funnels...!
Graves like Pits, ditches, drenches, potholes, and patch-ups pop up,
Dogs, cats, cows, donkeys, horses, and even wild beasts mix up;
Wrong-side, drunk, speedaholic, wreckless, and ruthless drivers,
Men and women who ignore signals and road-dividers...!
My aim, midst these, like a river toward the sea, is clear,
Day or night winter or summer, I have nothing to fear;
Humans or animals I meet, good or bad, I confront,
I drive ahead, calm and quiet, fighting each battlefront...!!!
21 January 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 34 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
I say, can you?
“You can,” says Uncle Sam.
“I don’t have an uncle,
named sam
I am,” I say.
Can you?
You can,
and you do,
go off with boots
on the ground,
stand your ground,
get ground
into the grind
of a half-written rhyme.
Uncle Sam wants you,
who me?
We’ll see.
We will?
We will time our rhymes
to meet symmetrically.
Uncle Bob begs
you to join.
You know Uncle
Bobbing Head.
You agree to meet.
You can’t help
yourself.
You’re a yo-yo,
attached to a
round robin,
writing
in refrains.
Refrain from such nonsense
as calling the uncles
or stepping on ants,
and saying
your ain’ts and cain’ts.