Long Tranquilities Poems
Long Tranquilities Poems. Below are the most popular long Tranquilities by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tranquilities poems by poem length and keyword.
When the old man was a sailor
When food was served, before cleaning pots and pans
the old man when young, went out on deck to see the sunset.
A dreamy that is if a tempest wasn`t blowing,
gale in the mighty Pacific reduced the bravest to shivering gnat.
The old man was a cook not the loftiest type of work, whoever
wrote a book titled:” The adventure of a ship`s cook.”
The old man, when he was young, got up early to see the sunrise
before frying eggs and bacon, not forget baking bread; and receive
the insults by frustrated, womenless seamen.
But he was there in all the oceans, their tranquilities and fury,
what was left was serene evenings alone in his cabin read great
novels about audacious voyagers.
Our Beloved Constitution
Our Constitution is a work of brilliance!
It shines as an example for all nations.
Two hundred years have proven its resilience!
Our country has exceeded expectations.
The Bill of Rights guarantees our Liberties!
And helps ensure domestic tranquilities.
Equal justice for all enshrined in our law!
Our Constitution should be held in such awe.
Despicable Party Politics
Party politics the scourge of our nation!
Putting party over people and the truth.
So clear to see with each Administration!
Policy flip flops and privilege abuse.
Resulting in loss of faith and squandered trust!
Party politics are less boom and more bust.
Bad legislation and sordid backroom deals!
No wonder this is how America feels.
I saw tomorrow beckoning us just ahead, and it looks so unlike today.
I saw neither evil nor deception blocking our view and standing in the way.
I saw no race, no creed, no bad seed or lusty greed, no grandiose personality.
They dined and spoke of unity, boarders, sovereignties, sacred tranquilities.
I saw the institutes and universities, the think tanks, and military academies.
They researched the oceans' depths and outer space but studied war no more.
I saw justice rolling down like waters. I saw righteousness like an overflowing stream. I saw weapons of war turned into harvest tools and farm equipment.*
This had to be a dream because never had the world experienced this before.
So I quietly left the scene and slowly closed the door only to be confronted,
I must say pleasantly, to another scene leaving no doubt that it was still a dream. The lion and the lamb were no longer adversaries, and the lion was
eating straw. The serpent was no longer frightening nor venomous as he feasted on the dust. It occurred to me that, 'No', it was not a dream that the
whole world was now behaving like a team. It was a prophesy I had read in the Bible about a new world that has 'yet to be'. Just by knowing today, what
tomorrow will be, injects promise and takes away the fear. I heard a pastor say just recently, that we should tune out the bad news and release good news.
It's hard to sort it all out when we are bombarded and saturated with so many points of views. We need not fear, bury our heads in the sand, or head for the
hills. That pastor also said 'that we need to heed and just draw near'. If we but dare to be still and listen, it is with certainty God's voice we will clearly hear.
072820PS*Amos 5:24, Isaiah 2:4
Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Gate,
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.
With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
Door,
But held - Transfixed!
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious
Angelic rapport:-
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.
For what be this odd muse
That upon my aging senses does so readily
Enthuse...
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Implore?
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to
Say,
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Ray,
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments
We all too briefly adore.
On my side of the hemisphere, Old Man Winter begins in December
and meanders through the earth with cold, ice, and snow. With ice-
laced winds, he lashes against my skin, and no one calls it a sin.
He renders the soil under my feet hard as a rock against whom
my socks have no defense. That's why I like September. She
neither burns not freezes, but with a tender stroke, she pleases me.
Spring is mostly nice as she melts the ice along with her bursting force
with new life, resurrecting things long put to death by Winter's sword.
The sound of 'April' is a charm with the melodic tunes of a song that's
arresting and captivating. She's sometimes a teaser though, setting you
up for a windy ride. She may even swallow you in a flood or blow you
away in a tornado. But by and large, she serves the planet well. All the
same though, I like September who doesn't tease but pleases me well.
And oh, the joys of summer are endless. The wedding bells of June;
the show and tells of vacations to distant places. Some like it hot,
lying on their cots and bathing in the sun. Others like being soothed
by the cool beaches and back yard pools. But be warned of the pain
and rain from hurricanes. And be prepared to endure the smoke filled
skies from the heavy flames of wild fires. There's just no comparison
to Sweet September with her savory treats of tranquilities to remember.
I anticipate the golden trees just before they shed their autumn leaves.
September charms me with musical chimes on mild Autumn nights.
The choice is mine, and it's a happy time when September arrives.
091621PS
Quiet pieces of my heart, fragile
Delicate like silk or hope,
Betray the breath of my past,
Aching through the flames
Burning away my disgrace, my shame
Lifting doubt from the shadows
Gentle stars reflect my soul, shimmering
Like laughter from the sun,
Beaming down, erasing the clouds
Creating beauty from the darkness,
Promising faith to always believe
In the wonders that my soul receives
Distant thunders sound through the skies
Abiding in mysteries, tantalizing
Secrets filling my mind,
Coloring memories in hues of longing,
Feelings both kind and compromising,
Publishing joy through the solitary comfort
Hushed sounds, tenuous flakes
Soft like the serenity, the abundance
Whispering tranquilities, abiding
On the powerful authority edging history
With this winter’s caress, the kiss
Sensitive like the miracle, shimmering
Rich with details, my love
Vibrant and strong, curing all
That is wrong, believing – dreaming
Stirring the song, inspirations
Alive on the moments I know as
Beautiful, brilliant stories of my heart
Writing Challenge - C Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
February 2, 2023
~
Soft melodies of misted spray
adrift ‘pon glistened air
Cascading waters on display
their touch of moisture’d share
As fern leaf sonnets fill the trees
illumined emerald green
Symphonic spun tranquilities
embrace this peaceful scene
Sweet solitude in whispered song
on crystal stream it flows
O’er polished stone it rolls along
as time so gently slows
This moment, pure serenity
of shimmered heaven’s grace
A world of nature’s harmony
is felt this wondrous place
~
9/10/19
Written for the: Picturesque Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
S/he knows hot cold felt co-passions
calling to become Bodhisattva Caller,
EarthTown Crier,
co-messianic prophet of brightest gloom
begging prophecies still hiding
winning our least best common denominations
racing diverse nurturing
of ecotherapeutic tranquilities,
resonant resilience
to both call and cooperative calling back
listening through speaking
what has fissured pathological cracks,
powers of matriarchal hurricanes
nurturing yet controlling
Earth's patriarchal steadfast Peter rocks
deaf to nurturing calls of invitation
but best for flat plane echoing
climates full
uprising
evolving
revolutions
calling as we nurture echo-call,
crying as we nature fall,
supplying all we together recall
competing WinWin cooperations,
co-operators
of and for peaceful piracy,
creolic recreations,
trumping each reweaving species
relearning shared vocations
as Solidarity's apprentices.
Climatic avalanches self-invite
what we co-invited yesterday
as bounty.