Long The path Poems

Long The path Poems. Below are the most popular long The path by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long The path poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member In the Twilight of Time

In the Twilight of Time
I will fly without traces of bitterness,
When constellations still smile down on me,
No longer seeking words that blow cannons,
I ask not for love, nor do I bring it,
For the cold dressed in letters,
I let love weep on a frozen rose,
I return to the time when I was a sphere,
When I ran without legs toward the golden dawn.
I neither remain nor let myself be carried by the wind,
I absent a century from the barren reality,
When day and night break apart in song,
Only then can I erase what I have given from myself.
In the twilight of time, where memories blur,
My thoughts flow like an unchained river,
Through forests of doubt and mountains of hope,
Seeking the rare souls that awaken the spirit,
Who inspire with a glance, with a word, with a touch.
I am the silent watcher of dawn,
The keeper of long-forgotten dreams,
My presence like a beacon in the fog,
Guiding lost travelers towards the horizon,
Where the sun rises on a new world of possibilities.
In the quiet moments of reflection,
I wander through the gardens of my thoughts,
Seeking those who can show me the path to light,
Who can awaken the dormant dreams within me.
Melancholy settles like a gentle mist,
Over the landscapes of my heart,
And I walk the winding paths of introspection,
Searching for the voices that call to my soul,
Those who lead not with power, but with truth.
I will fly without traces of bitterness,
When the stars still smile from above,
For the cold encased in words,
I let love mourn on a frozen rose,
Returning to the time when I was whole,
Chasing the golden dawn without feet.
I neither remain nor am swept by the wind,
Absent for an era from the dull reality,
When the song splits day from night,
Only then can I erase what I've given away.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Walking With Dreams

Alone on the corner, the dark, cold, wet corner, 
Worn cobblestones holding the peace,
Tight to its chest, like a pillow at rest, 
Laid flat all over the street,

And he walks alone, deep in his mind, 
His mind clean and lucid and clear,
For all the small things he must do for his world, 
His mind can vividly hear,

Each idea and belief, each little thought, 
He listens to the dreams that he dreams,
He follows his heart on the path full of love, 
He walks where the cobblestone leads,

And tonight is his night he clears out his hurt, 
Tomorrow his story won’t end,
Because, on each cobblestone, in this dark, cold wet night, 
He’s walking his dreams once again.
Form: Quatrain

How Do Rocks Walk

How Do Rocks Walk?" 
How does pain drain?
Is it all contained within a limited brain?

And yes yes if air could breath
It shall never deceive 
Upon the path of incredible dreams 

It seems it seems that those of us who never dream 
how could the clouds weep and rain?

I asked a flower full of red and yellow
And it stayed in place while I gazed, amazed:

One of its petals turned to the east beyond the meadow, 
across the fields toward a river that spoke and babbled

And there within my sight, I saw a figural whose shape 
was as a heart of mind. 

A torrential eddy swallowed the soul of mine. 

The Great Divine

:: 05.18.2023 ::

---------------------------------------------------------------

Poet's Notes: 

The poem poses thought-provoking questions about nature and human experience, invoking curiosity and contemplation. It explores existential themes, pondering the limits of human understanding. Hypothetically attributing trustworthiness to the air, it delves into the realm of dreams and their emotional depth. A captivating encounter with a vibrant flower sparks enchantment. Whimsical elements, like a petal turning and a talking river, add to the mystical atmosphere. Symbolizing interconnected thoughts and emotions, a figurative object resembling a heart is observed. The concluding line speaks of a soul engulfed by intense turmoil, leaving room for reflection. Overall, the poem combines introspection, vivid imagery, and philosophical questions to inspire wonder and contemplation.

Aura

I can see, and feel the colorful energy, 
the chi, as it flows within and 
Around me with beautiful rainbows, 
like the suns rays through a prism
 
The life force that guides me along the way.
It gently urges me to move along the path
that I am meant to be upon,
To ultimately become, who I am destined to be.

Red, orange, Yellow and blue.
Indigo, violet and green. 
The colors from my chakras glow  brightly, 
Along with my Aura that surrounds my being.

Do you see it?  Do you feel it?
Do you feel the pull upon your soul? Do you follow wherever it may lead?

I say "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" For it is universal forces showing you the way, Showing you your Divine path.  Showing you what could be. 

It is there waiting for you,
Calling to you, Asking you to 
take that first step on the path of 
what will become your destiny.

Trust it, Be open to receive it. 
And welcome it with open arms and anticipation.
And Enjoy all of amazing gifts that 
are waiting for you right around the corner.

Word chosen: Aura

Premium Member What If ?

With my majority years long spent
I oft look back at life searching out what if's;
The decisions made at life's critical moments;
What if I had left, instead of staying?
I think of those I pushed from my life,
And others that I simply allowed to leave;
Some, I wanted to remain,
While some chose to stay, some chose to go,
And a few left and returned.
It is these who cause my heart to rejoice
Because it gives me a glimmer of hope
That they saw something in me worth returning for?
I understanding rehashing past decisions changes nothing;
Could I have been a difference maker in life
Had I chosen another path?
Perhaps not, but God often uses ordinary people
To accompluish unordinary things;
The path I have traveled in life
Has brought me to the spot in which I stand.
I love, and am Loved, and that my friends,
Makes me one thankful man.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


Premium Member In the depths of night, when silence intertwines with the eternal dream

In the depths of night, when silence intertwines with the eternal dream,
A dance of shadows is born beneath the sky full of fragile stars.
Let my love be a hidden treasure in the heart of silence,
In the sanctuary of the soul, a place where only desires breathe.
In this invisible universe, I call you with whispers of light,
To gather from the love I bear for you, as much as your desire asks.
Please, do not stray from the path that binds us to infinity,
For I fear you will wander through labyrinths of illusions.
I, with torches of dreams and sapphire stars, will light your way,
To return to me, regardless of the endless distances.
I await your presence like an ancient promise,
Even if time tries to separate us through silence.
And perhaps in the cosmic story, a narrator will dare
To rewrite our destiny among galaxies and constellations.
We will awaken at dawn, embraced in the morning dew,
In a rain of petals that sings of the eternity of love.
For our love burns with the intensity of a sacred fire,
Just as it did a hundred years ago, when our hearts united.
We breathe through a single soul, in divine harmony,
A love that knows no antidote, a covenant of infinity.
In the continuous flow of time, we seek meaning in the chaos of the world,
And in each verse, a part of the inner universe is born.
Thus, in this mystical incantation, we find ourselves,
Embracing mystery as an eternal gift of the universe.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member I Am Called Woman

Sometimes, I find myself on a battleground
in the present or in sieges from the distant past
It may be a war I've been waging within myself,
a thorn that needs plucking so that I might heal
I wear no crown, nor do I wish to be gowned
in regal robes and sit upon a throne looking down
on anyone.  For me, those things hold no appeal
I am rebellious against the many wrongs I've seen
and if you think it's mean of me to feel that way—
You don't know me well enough to pass judgement

With regret, I've been the cause of an Angel's weeping
when down a misguided path I chose to walk
Mistakes? I've made my share of them, maybe more
but I've always tried to amend my faults in some way
Indemnity is not always reimbursed with coin
More often than not, my tears the price to pay

Sometimes, even I have not found the sentience of it—
things I do; emotions I feel. No reason as to why except
that I am compelled without restraint or prudence to try
I refute the need to live by the creed of the golden rule—
for only a fool would claim the world is a righteous place
where smug faces play fair in games of love and war

If I am defeated, I never hesitate to stand again
for I've always despised the thought of white flags
and retreating like a coward again and again, in sad refrain
I garner resilience and strength from every enemy I meet
and in defeat, my stratagem sharpens much keener
I am not a warrior; that's not the path I want to take
I've been storm tossed in seas of turbulent weather
When faced with animosity, I will not shiver and quake
Offered silk or suit of armor— I prefer a softer demeanor

   Self-professed I am supple of breast 
       Heart not crafted from leather
           From flesh, blood and bone
              Of the gender called woman 
                 I was not chiseled from stone
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Love

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. The word is love.” 
~ Sophocles, Greek Poet

Love, where travels thou diminishing shade?
This is not the path I hastily bade
nor is the future I envisioned made.
Now, my Love, I feel thine true essence fade
as old hung tapestry that's worn and frayed
that in finality, to storage laid. 

Oh, Love. Art thou listening to my plea?
I am selfish, I want thee near to me.
Hear me now please oh Love. I beg of thee.
Stay thou ground with me please and do not flee.
Let us build a life together, may we?
Or is our forbidden love not to be?

Alas, thou hast died and our love is done
and with shaking hands I cradle the gun.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Your fingers struggle to follow the path, to fiercely pluck the pretext

Your fingers struggle to follow the path, to fiercely pluck the pretext,
As though my being were trying to catch the last drops of your receding waters.
You leave our novels under the clear summer sky, waiting for all that was
To evaporate, to be lost in the sun, to detach from us as easily as morning dew.
An eternity I wandered through fogs, to wake from beneath your repeated enchantment,
Which, like a sorcerer who forever charms his little sphere, you've muddled my moments,
Turning days into palimpsests upon which you wrote and erased, as often as the spell lost its speech.
Now it is you who wants to sever the meaning of magic, the honeyed sweetness dried on your lips,
In the moment when your scent surrendered to the forgetting between the pages of our favorite stories,
And then, the sadness reflects in us, that our paths were not meant to intertwine.
What was between us remains a dimmed syzygy, without a temple, a star without shine for me.
Yet, memory plays unfettered in my secret garden, keeping only shards of joy,
But that muller which crushes between memories distinguishes them and smoothes the path to what will be.
Those foreign memories, stirring the still waters of the moment, were not worth pouring into the cup of tomorrow.
Thus, I let them burn in the flame of an everlasting twilight, just as you did with our last silent farewell.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Lemon Tree Flower

I know the land where the lemon tree flower
It is a magical place known to only a few
It smells of lilac and roses after a gentle shower
It could be a terrific haven for me and you.

Rich fine verdant leaves completely awe the landscape.
The sky is streaked with brilliant lavenders and pink.
Azaleas and primrose surround each garden gate.
You can walk barefoot into lush grass, you will sink.

There are mountains in the distant, capped in pretty white.
It is a short walk to the violets along the path to the stream,
I would like to go there now, without a fuss or fight.
There is a feeling about this place that comes straight from a dream.

Delicate white flowers sway from a giant weeping almond tree,
Dragonflies and butterflies often land on a shoulder.
Are you ready to go? I can be packed by three.
I want to go now, before we get any older.

Written July 15, 2018
Julia Ward’s Contest - Pretty Poem, Pretty Please
Form: Lyric

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