Long Tranquility Poems
Long Tranquility Poems. Below are the most popular long Tranquility by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tranquility poems by poem length and keyword.
The goal of life is rapture. Art is the way we experience it.
Joseph Campbell
A calm, unpretentious, breathtaking connection,
A hypnotic glimpse of Zen-alike delightful flection.
Spirit healing serenade into the borderline,
A serenity of a viable pond is lost in perfection.
The laconic calmness that is invoked and divine.
A magic soul, soaring in sync with heaven's shine,
untying of mind and soul from bowing emptiness.
A sigh of solace is followed by another whine.
Achieving inner peace and tackling stealthiness.
Silky ripples, awash in tranquility and richness,
Innate calm is layered with rustical sylvan charm.
Embraced by the arms of unwavering prettiness,
Words began to ooze from the scarlet smarm.
This work was iconic; I've never seen a palm.
She moved ecstatically; she had no tale to tell.
Defeating demons and surviving a swarm
Dance, dance akin to a child before he fell.
Lose your inhibitions below orbs and spell
In the glow of affection, dance to the glee.
Dance, dance, as a baby learns to quell
Dance is a trick to happiness and ecstasy.
Dance is the dialect of a huge banshee.
Dance is a specific way to discover your mood.
Dancing before a kid is dangling on his knee.
Written: April 02, 2023
1st place contest winner
Writing Challenge - 'R' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
The dull and bare farmland
speaks with sad murmurs,
seeming laments of lost harmony;
the naked trees' branches are cathedral's spears
vertically pointed to a Heaven
that's not complacent but echoes
with an air of startling silence...
suggesting that God is absent and rests
in the realm of timeless eternity,
while Nature below is as helpless
and contemptuous as an unhappy human!
The peach-faced wanderer carries his enormous grief
as a weight, have his wrinkles widened and his steps
diminished in the agility of movement during Fall?
He loves Naturel and the spectacle of the changing leaves
as he paints the idyllic landscapes on small canvas;
only then he finds tranquility, purpose, and relief
observing sailing boats by a steep cliff,
watching foaming waves break and roll!
Shy violets show their adorable purple petals
dripping with dew, they wish it would rain
to keep them moist attracting butterflies and bees;
will they die from the drought and begone soon?
Amid the sadness, there's also a joyful song about wine,
it's not the usual robin warbling from a branch for pride...
hear the robust voice of that farmer returning home hungry and tired,
carrying a bucket of red grapes with a sweetness that is unrivaled!
Doesn't the late evening evoke sadness,
that feeling that many seem to express...
when all quietens down and every bell chimes
to set heavenly music to a poem that rhymes?
Trickling down the unblemished glass
Window, squeaky clean and clear,
…comfortingly still
Quiet as the gentle healing
From the splatter of raindrops who whisper
In soft dripping, soothing, tempting
The soul to breathe, to kneel
Praying easily to the One who is…
Creator, Spirit, Strength
Streaming down the heart, the soul
Liquid light, promise of hope,
Renewing the world, refreshing
With a moist smile, fading the hues
Caressing the stillness, like a miracle
Easing the darkness, erasing
Starlight and moon song, denying
…kisses stirred by hunger
For the wonder of a life set aside
To worship the king of grace
The One who made this fluid,
Melting away the doubts, the pains
The sorrows that abide in the heart
Who knows that rain refreshes and
Awakens the silence of a gentle fate
Soaking the dreams with intimacy
Insight into the future who believes
There will be faith beyond belief
Joy to wipe away the suspicion, the hesitation
Who abides inside the spirit of uncertainty
Coloring the mind in a sea of tranquility
…filling life with waves of fealty
Promising the future to always be
Stirred by opportunity, the sea
Who is nourished by the starlight
And the rain, shadowed by thunder
Trembling with the vibrancy of lightning
Cutting the skies into shards, reflecting
The beauty rain showers command
With their unshaking hand
Pouring down, in torrents of meditations
Flowing, rich with details – elements
Knowing the facts, the features, the flavors
Indignities who quack at the sound
Saturated by beauty who soothes and moves
Drenching the fresh, new world
… in breathless sighs
Alibis who reveal to the truth
It is rain, the caress of its watery
Welcome who knows that only God
Could create this nurturing stroke of love
Raining down on the heart and soul
The conviction that He is always in control
Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
November 8, 2022
For years, the ominous signs were palpable
The deep fraternal mistrust festered and discernable
Propagated by colonial masters to divide and make Rwanda malleable
And left lingering became monstrous and uncontrollable
Snowballing in 1994 into an orgy of murderous hate
As Hutu brothers turned against their Tutsis siblings
For three cruel months respect for human life was obliterated
For three bloody months sanctity of human existence perished
As the government of the day made killing an obligation
And mobilized the population through official propaganda
To destroy all Tutsis and saboteur-Hutus
At the end of the Holocaust over one million Tutsis were sent to the great
beyond
Dreams and hopes were shattered
Loved ones massacred in the most agonizing and cruel manner
While the indifferent international community looked on unconcerned
Just like after the rain comes sunshine
The blood of the martyrs of Rwanda has irrigated and purified
The country of a thousand hills
Which has risen from the ashes of the gory tragedy
To a land flowing with peace and tranquility
To a Haven for tourists and investors
To a land of calm and forward- looking citizens
Committed to work and put their past behind
And queuing behind their charismatic Leader
They cry unceasingly and with one voice
‘’Never again shall bestiality descend in our clime’’
Between the blades of dewy grass
Mingle the particles of fresh dust
Their colour bleached to grey.
A bird descends and pecks for food,
Finding nothing it ascends today
Climbs higher than the trees, away.
Weeks go by without a soul
Tending the ever growing grass.
I chose that tranquil spot
For them to be blended in the soil
That many years before received
The bleached grey dust of her lover.
The years will effectively combine
Them in the soils embrace and then
She will be lost, untraceable,
Indistinguishable, shall become one.
My parent's will be done.
© Allen Ansell 2025
My heart sings on this lazy summer night at the amazing beauty of the
moonlight illuminating the Chesapeake Bay,
making a solemn pronouncement of it to be magical and mystical.
From the comfort of my screened porch, I am at ease in my padded chase
watching this magnificent adoration between the moon and
the Chesapeake Bay.
But I am not alone in my empirical study of the admiration between
the moon and the bay.
For the beauty of the two fathers moods.
The fireflies move swiftly through the night winking their approval.
So encourage by the magic, a Loon calls out to his mate to come sit
beside him to share in this spellbinding view.
The frogs croak out a sonata to help define the moment.
Happy for the moonlight the populace of fishes nibbles at the bugs
that surf the surface.
The age old owl sits on a limb to mesmerize to realize that he missed
the meal of a small country mouse who scurried by.
My skin is a glittering onyx under the moonglow, and my hair, thick as
the Congo jungle is dampened by the misty and salty breeze that is sent
my way from the bay.
There is nothing so exquisite and provocative as the moonlight and the Chesapeake Bay.
In the envelopment of sweet tranquility, I fell into a daydream.
copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake
up and down like a jo-jo
the mind flits in opposite motions
causes doubt and delight
hardly ever rests quietly
and yet sometimes it reaches
moments of clarity
no sound disturbs its tranquility
visions fall upon an empty canvas
all senses merge into one
it is not reason nor emotion
but a meandering spirit
and when ebbs and flows
touch each other’s caress
the soul divines a powerful moon
creates a transcendental journey
thoughts are merely opinions
foisted upon us by social demand
propping up the Ego’s false needs
feelings however valuable
can be illusions
when no truth is to be had
without light there is no darkness
in symbiosis they create one
with shades of grey in between
picturesque extremes
glorious attempts of reality
breathtaking placeholders
of universal forces
that entice us to breathe in
and out of Nirvana
Written: September 3rd, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
"Quote: Your eyelashes will write on my heart the poem that could never come from the pen of a poet."
Dear Poetry,
you are the shape beneath my breath,
the quiet grip that keeps my ground,
the sure thread that turns a word to singing—
giving the ache a name, the blame a grace.
You are the serene, silent zephyr,
the soothing symphony I seldom sense,
during drawn-out days of dimness,
transform tumult into tranquility.
You uphold low as a hollow holds heavy rain,
a steady, soothing stream, not a surge;
constant, circular cadence, obvious rhythm,
the final fervent flutter I find.
You found me while dialog had gone dark,
Quiet sank ominously in my chest,
I learned to twist chaos with my tongue,
To label the taboo, put the lost.
You are the pulse beneath the pulse,
the hush that hums when every room is still,
the silver syllable, the secret suture,
the little light that language cannot kill.
You play my fractures
rhyme with ruin, bone breath,
grab the fragments I can't carry
create individual windows.
Your sadness soars without denying harm;
joy turns a bell, then a breath, then a bloom,
You let the dead speak softly through the living,
and feed the voiceless somewhere to belong.
Dear Poetry,
You're beyond scribbled words,
you are a soft breeze amid the crowd
the pain behind the rhyme
the odd, bright pause
where the spirit finds its own voice,
If I ever stop speaking,
let the final sentence be my sunshine—
for I was here,
I felt,
I faltered,
I loved—
and poetry
made the silence sing.
..for him
A little something in the
scintilla of soporific smiles you left me
beneath dulcet gazing twirls
of ballerina stars amongst a moonlit lullaby,
sitting in the quixotic corners of my
magnolia mind unwrapping whimsical
sestina sensations of every
enigmatic emotion
dreamt up in a sanguine spirit
"I love you,"
a sonnet susurrus poem
you whispered into
vanilla velvet tunes of tranquility
hidden against ballad beats
of fawn furtive fear
of rhapsody rejection..
A chuckle escapes my lips,
perhaps because you
don't seem to know the vesper vividly
uplifting my reviere realm
of harmonic hymns,
watering my galvanic garden
of emeralds and
pulchritudinous peonies
in the withering winter wind.
My vesper,
a chiaroscuro crescendo
in the marigold melodies
of my canvas,
A diaphanous dove breezed
our twinkling topaz
sending us a forbidden feather
of a reckoning reality
drenching in nebulous nectar
flowing threnody thorns.
Are we bound to be as
sailing stars intertwined into a
chalice cosmic dance,
where a foreseeing forever
results to fading slowly
as last sacred notes of a
virgin violin in cozy cynosure cottages
among fowling fireflies
of a deep nocturnal night?
Sweetheart,
must one day I suffer
to bear this life of
longing laminations
without your mystical
mellifluous mourn
to edify dissonant days
with hallowing hope betwixt
dusky ocean shores of serenity,
and seashells
of petal promises?
Inside amaranthine labyrinth
madness and
cauldrons of drowning despair,
you lied as a glimmering garnet
of twilit tercets in an
aethereal autumn sky.
If I achieved my
nirvana aurum and
rhinestone resolutions
to pursue a
gauze penumbra path
cascading a forensic future,
be there alongside me,
so we can create our own roses
of eternity.
The darkness accepts the awakening of a new day over the eastern rim of the valley floor.
The distant highlands sculpted by nature’s wind and ancient ice accept this sun ’s morning’s gift of bright glistening golden crowns along their uppermost edges, as the lower masses blanket themselves in shades of soft blue mist.
Sheared cliffs stand guard as sentries protecting all that lives on the valley floor.
A meadow bounded by an emerald green forest that has given perch to the midnight stars for a thousand of years awaits the first ray of warmth upon its branches where a mountain jay trumpets with joy.
Given this moment of tranquility, my soul returns to its resting place_ concealed by time, laid to rest by my brothers the Miwoks of the Yosemite; my valley for evermore.