Long Take root Poems
Long Take root Poems. Below are the most popular long Take root by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Take root poems by poem length and keyword.
Regardless of our faith, in Love we can believe,
For Love's within us all, if we choose to retrieve.
Should we choose to leave Love in a dormant state,
Then we invite into our heart the bitterness of hate.
Those who believe in the power of Love,
Radiate and spread around all the beauty of.
Those who deny Love to flourish within their heart,
Spread misery around, since it's all they can impart.
We have all been blessed with the greatest Gift,
Though some choose to away from Love, drift.
The presence of Love or not is always crystal clear
In how we treat others; how others we revere.
Love is not selfish, cruel, apathetic, unforgiving;
Does not embrace greed or a miserable way of living.
Instead, Love is selfless, compassionate, and kind,
With consideration for others a natural state of mind.
Love is not ego serving, boastful and bragging;
Doesn't tune out a guilty conscience nagging.
Instead, Love is humble, modest, and reserved;
Accountable and accepting of what's deserved.
Love is not jealous, envious, resentful, or bitter;
Nor shallow, spineless, a flip-flopping fence sitter.
Instead, Love cultivates virtue, values, and integrity,
Making real in oneself a comfortable place to be.
When, our Gift Of Love, we cultivate with care,
We then reap to scatter Love seeds everywhere,
Always hoping they'll take root in another's garden bed,
Where there's being tilled the opposite of Love, instead.
When in our hearts we grow Love, we never have to feel
Afraid that another will come along and from us, steal
What we are growing and therefore, in possession of,
Because all they can take from us is some of our Love.
Once in the thief's possession, Love can only grow,
Infiltrate and change the current seeds they sow.
So, when we give the Gift Of Love and without request,
We can know in our heart we have given the very best.
In this day and age of money taking precedence,
Love is still free to receive and to dispense.
Love cannot be bought nor can Love be sold,
Making the Gift Of Love untouchable by gold.
We need not save our Love for special times and places,
Just for special occasions and to gladden special faces,
For the magic of Love is released every time we give
And multiplies within us when the Gift Of Love we LIVE!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-12-24 16:52:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
THE LAST NEGOTIATIONS
The child that I was – Never believed in death-
Loving life so much that I cud not conceive of it.
Time – states of minds- growth-maturation
New realizations, that interfered with my own
Understanding of, life death and purpose.
Collecting bits of earth- I loved her
Wanted to hold on to whatever came from her.
Butterflies, fire flies-lady bugs and praying mantis.
Geology was my solace.
The sun kept my “pet rocks”
Warm for me –
Unlike the trees, Moon, and Stars,
I could hold on to them.
Rocks, stones, and driftwood and the like- All
Had the formation and the beauty
That drew me in as if it had a personality.
I loved them, and knew they each had a story-
Unlike living pets, I also knew my rocks would never die.
I had grown up to find that the deal I made with God.
{To never let me die}, was neither, doable, nor had the Bargain
Been sealed on the other end.
I have seen people suffer and grow old.
Therefore, I have made a new deal, asking God.
” Please do not let me grow old”
with incontinence and feebleness;
Afraid while moving towards my
impermanence my mind may tell me to;
Seasoning my food with cleansing powered instead of salt.
Once I never wanted to grow old-
Once, I longed to stay upon on the earth forever:
With the promise of the unknown heaven as a reward,
I still opted to stay.
Today I have Different eyes, think different ways.
I have made a new deal with my creator,
Which is: “Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my breath to take. I pray
my kept soul be set free,
and my loved ones to keep,
Come gently and swiftly
I speak the uttered lines.
To fit my worth- Not so eager to
remain on earth anymore.
No longer is the earth my turf.
Not the version prayed for as a child.
Let me Die peacefully in my sleep.
Bury my Ashes in the Black sand,
Cover me with beautiful Stones.
Until I take root and grow something
healing from my rich soot.
Greater now is my faithfulness.
For I no longer fear death.,
But fear what has become of this earth.
I want no turmoil to spoil my peaceful transition.
Silence Listens
In the quietude of a room at night
When all is hushed to stern and strict silence
When the soft chirping of crickets takes flight
When rebounds of the breeze are no hindrance,
A listening silence creeps in around,
A deep quietness invades the surround;
In the serene space where no voice slithers
Silence stretches its soft, sensitive ears
To eavesdrop a desolate folk`s shivers
Gauge the extent of a soul`s inner fears
Listen to pangs of a desolate heart
And try relief and rapture to impart;
The solitary silence of a room,
Seemly spot to delve down the inner self
The seedbed for truth to take root and bloom
A fitting ground to realise oneself,
Lends its kind ears to echoes from the wall
And is a close companion in the fall.
Let the roaring din of the outside world
Entice those who yearn for mundane delight;
For splendid souls who seek serenity
Silence of a room ignites inner light,
Ideal seedbed for enlightenment
And liberation from imprisonment.
Let the ears of silence hear our heartbeats,
Vibrations of our spirit and our soul,
That it may transmit tales of our feats
To the sky where it may wish to unfurl
As silence is the place where we become,
The source from where transpire our sweetest hums.
Women look at us with haunting eyes,
Quiet depths where dreams swing, scattered gems,
What do we seek, perhaps, among rays and shadows, to embrace the dawn?
On pathways hidden beneath leaves, where love is whispered in the rustle of the wind.
Women gaze at us with velvety eyes,
Deep seas where yearnings swim, shining pearls,
What do we sway for, among waves and shells, to gather treasures?
On golden sands, where love rises within sea foam.
Women regard us with mother-of-pearl eyes,
Blue skies where dreams fly, glittering stars,
What do we desire, to soar among clouds and birds, toward the sun?
On wings of wind, where love is sung in the song of a zephyr.
Women watch us with eyes of fire,
Blazing volcanoes where passions ignite, consuming flames,
What do we search for, among lava and ash, to warm our hearts?
On cliffs of fire, where love melts in the glow of a volcano.
Women stare at us with eyes of ice,
Eternal snows where desires freeze, cooling crystals,
What do we wish for, among flakes and snowfall, to cool our souls?
On floes of ice, where love freezes in the chill of winter.
Women look at us with honeyed eyes,
Green fields where feelings blossom, fragrant flowers,
What do we search for, among wheat and poppies, to sweeten our life?
On meadows of honey, where love revives in the dew of the morning.
Women behold us with eyes of clay,
Fertile lands where emotions take root, ripened fruits,
What do we wish for, among furrows and seeds, to nourish our body?
On fields of clay, where love is nourished by the sap of the earth.
Women observe us with eyes of gold,
Holy temples where mysteries are kept, hidden treasures,
What do we search for, among columns and statues, to worship the goddess?
On altars of gold, where love prays in the silence of prayer.
Women look at us with eyes of dreams,
Fantastical worlds where magic happens, astonishing wonders,
What do we long for, among fairy tales and legends, to live out our story?
In realms of dreams, where love occurs in the enchantment of a spell.
Continued From:
9. BTK Coming Attractions
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195845
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Billy
There are guns all over the country aiming at you.
There's a lawman on your trail who'd love to surround you.
Bounty hunters are encroaching all around you.
Billy they're just never going to let you be.
It seems that there's always some stranger sneaking glances.
Could he be some trigger happy fool willing to take chances?
Having a price on your head brings many threatening advances.
Billy, you're not in jail but you're still not free.
You're enemies and politicians want you to be put down,
so they've hired Mr Garrett to go and hunt you down.
He says he'll either bring you back alive or put you in the ground.
Billy, you're always going to be on the run.
Everyone says that Pat Garrett has your number.
So sleep with one eye open when you slumber.
Every little sound you hear could end up being thunder.
Thunder from the barrel of his gun.
Looking over your shoulder from sunrise to sundown.
Never being able to take root somewhere and settle down.
Billy it must make you feel even more low down
to be hunted by the man who was your friend.
****************************************************************************
I often wondered what thoughts and feelings were going on in his head
as he stood staring out the window next to his bed
watching the gallows being built meant to be his deathbed.
One can't help but wonder what was going on in the Kid's head.
Did he know at that time that his hanging would never come to be?
Did he know that before night fall, he'd once again be free?
Whatever his thoughts and feelings, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
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To Continue Go To:
11. BTK Coming Attractions Part 3
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195843
{And as we progress ever onward, I related all that need be said
Recounting only of recent and never the past for Twit to partake
Astonishingly for one as he, Twit’s astounding silence was almost unbearable
Listening too attentively, yet his welcoming approach was indeed charitable
And with the last of detail conveyed, we finally reach the summit
Though knowing time is against, my this one little time I’ll permit
There were breaths of splendour in company of unearthly delights
Leaves of green ever so rich with touches of dew in dusky sight
It was a moment so calm, where dreams are believable to come true
So full of divinity is the place and to think it even exist from few
Evermore so, with streaming waters running alongside so pure
Angelic times in melodic chimes in gentle harmony whence of yore
Breathtaking was the only thought in mind, yet I must press on
Laying Alkaiya on an enormous stone, I stood forth with Twit to guide along
Yet… of time within The Ancients exhausting away momentarily
An inevitable cause to open my eyes to see, I’m no more within flights of fantasy}
Was it a night I’ve slept to?
Was it a night before to remember?
Myself I awoke knowing not who?
Is there ever a moment to remember forever?
Ever once more, is the adventure to take root?
And once again, is adversity being the bringer of cause?
Are answers found in momentary neighbourhood?
Or be there givens to think always… for the lost!
Love in reality has nothing to compare…
Be it felt, be it dealt, simply misgivings to give
Yet threefold were in grievance to be aware
When its love in disorder and disarray to receive
I guess how I feel I haven’t the final say
Too much to consider, too much in deliberation about
Yet, whether reality or fantasy, them isn’t to sway
Is there a God or perhaps a Devil I can consult?
Love is there, love is where, love is everywhere
Whether in reality, either in dreams
With time only to belong an instance to share
Cause nothing in ever is ever to seem
……………………………
Love is a kiss
A prelude to the dreams we hum
A postlude of what has become
Love is a wine
Intoxicating heart and soul
Over the mind it gains control
Love is a song
A melody to remember
Forever a burning ember
Love is a light
Dispelling darkness in the night
Keeping hope of morning in sight
Love is an ointment
Soothing discomfort through the years
Healing our wounds, calming our fears
Love is a nourishment
A meal giving comfort and strength
Encouragement for the day’s length
Love is a refreshment
An oasis along the way
A cool drink at the end of day
Love is a Faith
Bearing hope in the worst of times
Always waiting to hear the chimes
Love is a Jewell
A dangling necklace of fine gold
Staying the same as it gets old
Love is a perfume
A fragrance seeking our favor
An aroma we can savor
Love is a curtain
Protecting our secrets and pride
A shadow where we can confide
Love is a banquet
An emotion to celebrate
A good reason to Decorate
Love is a banner
Appreciating our worth
Expressing our value on earth
Love is a flower
A lily growing from the pond
Beauty that expresses our bond
Love is a voice
A call to the places we roam
An invitation to come home
Love is a guardian
Protecting us from things that spoil
Watching over the fruits of our toil
Love is a rock
In whose cleft we obtain refuge
Granting us strength for battles huge
Love is a covering
A quilt hand pieced with perfection
Stitched with peace, hope, and affection
Love is a garden
A soil where our lives can take root
A fertile place producing fruit
Love is a spice
Amending the ordinary
Bringing taste to the contrary
Love is a tree
A gentle breeze providing shade
A place for the stories we’ve made
Love is a seal
A room that captures and confines
A lock that holds us and refines
Love is a comfort
A shelter from the wind and cold
A blanket when sick and old
This unhappy man in the midst of flowing opulence lived
like a discolored precious stone in a box of rare jewels,
and was always sad like a dry wood in a lush green forest.
He got up one morning more dejected than the morning before,
threw the flower embossed curtains off the crystal clear window
and looked out to see, maybe for the first time,
the crimson sun rising in the flaming horizon
that painted frescos of rhythm on water of the river.
He heard the beckon of the river in the rustle of the
leaves as the cool morning breeze ruffled them,
and as the colors of the dawn touched his heart softly
like the petals of flowers embracing the hard grey ground,
a delightful sensation he never felt before,
and as the call of the river floated silently to his senses
the way the drifting clouds talk to the mute sky,
he walked with his face flooded with soothing sunshine
to the bank of the river where he saw a sand bar
rising proudly from the water in the middle of the river
and spreading a golden sloping bed for a small tree to grow
whose branches were dancing in the western wind
and the emerald leaves were shining in sunburst splendor.
These he thought were the expressions of happiness and joy
that the lone tree could generate as it grew free
in an isolated barren bed of dry sand bar.
So he traveled across the coral sea to a distant barren island
and like the tree he let his life take root in desolateness
and lived to see the dawns come with pristine colors to cheer,
the sea become tapestry of liquid gold in ecstatic sunset hours,
but he couldn’t spread his hands out in the embalming air
the way the branches of the forlorn tree did in joy,
his eyes didn’t shimmer under the sun soaked sky
the way the leaves of the lonely tree did in happiness
because he became a barren island.
October 8, 2018
Contest : Fiction - October 2018 Writing Challenge
Sponsored by : Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Love is a beautiful thing…filled with joy and passion…never boring…often lyrical…
and made up of not one…but of a large array of miracles.
One of those miracles is, at this moment, one I’ve been thinking of…
it’s how love is universal…but there is no universal way to love.
How we can love another person, black white, Catholic,, Muslim…gay…
because we never know where our love will land
when it’s our heart that leads the way.
How we can love the mountains, an animal, a sunset, a walk along the beach, an early morning breeze…
How we can love a flower, a tree, eating ice cream, or a pizza with double cheese.
But I wonder as I sit here counting love in her sizes large and small…
if, perhaps, the most intriguing miracle….is how love begins at all.
It’s as if we’re born with seeds implanted deep within our heart
where they remain dormant …lying low…
until such a time, for whatever reason, they begin to grow.
Oftentimes we can pinpoint when love begins…
the why and how we may never know.
It happens to all mothers…when they feel their seed of love begin to grow
Sometimes it’s as simple as when two eyes meet across a crowded room
that awakens a seed within each heart allowing love to bloom.
Sometimes it’s a laugh, a smile, the way they touch your hand…
sometime you’re unaware what it is creating this feeling in your heart…
you never knew was there.
If we’re lucky in life a few seeds take root…again why…nobody knows…
If we’re truly blessed those few seeds…into a garden grows.
Because the more flowers in our garden…the easier it is to face the day
when one of those flowers dies…or another fades away
So here’s a Christmas wish for you…
the end of the thought I was first thinking of…
May you experience in your life …
all the miracles of love.
May those seeds of love planted within your heart all those years ago
continue to be awakened…
continue to blossom…
continue to grow.
In the odyssey of days that mercilessly run like grains of sand,
An unseen battle is foretold that we shall wage in the shadow.
The war within our hearts, a citadel besieged by falling stars,
Where every collapse exacts from the spirit a tribute, a drop of molten gold.
Beneath the vault, the cosmic architect with thoughts of crystal,
Arranges untouched paradises, but our hands prefer to dawdle in the hourglass,
Battling with the hope that deep down longs to burst into hyacinths,
Teach us, O experience, to offer instead of an army, a choir of chosen voice.
The spell of fears is the garment we don, fling it through the wind!
Even titans carved in stone feel the shiver of lurking fears.
Each lemon seed become a tree, the hope that raises its branches to hanging gardens,
Where the seed of goodness rises to the heavens, to bind remnants of fairies in tender whispers.
Refuse yourself, O being, to lay treaties of war upon paper,
When in your palms you might hold the core of reconciliation, the sketch of a beginning.
Behold how illusions take root in your eyes, that gilded in the sun dance vividly,
Horizons drawn in skies, where stretches a greenhouse of blossoming souls, a chord of love.
It's the battlefield and the sacred hearth, a struggle of good against the very self,
Shields of silver carved in seafoam, inlaid with pearls of love.
Pawns of spirit in the cosmic game, where the queen is compassion,
And the king, a generous spirit, takes his throne in the vastness of the universe, bearer of untamed light.
Thus, with each turn of fate, in the weave of time, we embroider new destinies,
Where the spell of fear is undone, and in the chaos of the night grow fields of stars,
Thousands of lanterns, guiding man's steps to the fountains of ageless love.
In this magical tableau, we take the most sacred war, to be human, and melt it under rays of peace in guitar strings' song.