Long Tranquilizing Poems
Long Tranquilizing Poems. Below are the most popular long Tranquilizing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tranquilizing poems by poem length and keyword.
God gave me a sunrise today,
oh, it is bathed in purple hues;
in the mist of dawn flowers sway,
the great beauty inspires my muse.
There are mauve chive herbs and flowers,
God gave me a sunrise today;
my mind just lingers for hours- hours,
I pick a wildflower bouquet.
And in the lush fresh green I lay,
across the sky are streaks of gold;
God gave me a sunrise today,
a wonderful view to behold.
And the sun is tranquilizing,
I am caressed by a warm ray;
the scene is so mesmerizing,
God gave me a sunrise today.
____________________________
January 16, 2020
Poetry/Quatern/Dawn in a Meadow
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1217-164-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Distant Refrains
sponsor, Joseph May, Inspiration Image # 4
First Place
dear me, the woe of time weaved with
~ ultraviolence ~
you have held me close, in the universe of
~ hesitance ~
but, does the vigilance in you whisper low?
when the bluebirds of blemished love know,
as I fly away, where black dahlias bleed
and dance to the wine-blush of weeds,
that never forgot the cry of the morose moon
embellishing omen with emerald rune,
because everything is not forsaken,
in cacophonous croons, we remain mistaken;
when blames bear a blade,
and fears wear fame, with the face of fake fervent flame ~
fluent in the language of aching alchemy,
who deceive my tranquilizing truths with the blood they bury
my worst enemy is the life I kept replaying without any comprehensive catharsis,
in the vinyl of wistfulness being my own villain, my nemesis;
in bloom-less sunsets, I metamorphose
to my own crow-kissed cavern and cosmos ...
"lick the sun with the tongue of torment ~
and taste my tears as you burn, O sky-dreamt,
but not enough, to see the oblivious
where my metaphors remain mysterious,
stigmatised by the spirit of the shadow
that inks my name, with stardust does
only to be erased ~ by their death ...
and here, I lament in kohl-laden breath "
so forgive me, m i s t r e s s of the p a s t,
tie my throat with knots of thistle kismet at last~
as cruel pearl cherubs poison this petal,
and I become a rhyme in soul-metal,
whirling in wildflower witchery ~
between the sepals that echo misery;
but I do not seek to summon the dark,
and reminisce waterlily dusks with mauve marks,
for, I will remain a sign of serendipity
the one you know, I shall kiss ~till eternity
and be left bereaved... the way...
this life has never been mine to lull away...
Freezing in the midst of hostile ice monsoon
triggering aching woes beneath blood and bones,
I search for a quilt woven in sanguine rune
silken feathers of clementine and gold tones-
body ails, yet spirit soars, sings to the moon,
beyond clouds obscured in kohl sleets of hailstones
whilst rhapsodies of nature serve light to calm-
scattered scars in the air, like cosmic mint balm
But as skies swing heavy, and coldness seeps in,
hope breathes from sapphire dews of rain waltzing free,
for when mists of nature envelopes my skin,
I find traces of peace from roots of my tree
amidst the piercing pain pulsating within-
fields of eagle ferns, the tranquilizing key,
sets a serene scene with silver sequined lines,
sprinkling zests of zen from inner sun that shines.
Sometimes mind gets blanketed in confusion,
sinking behind steel walls sculpted in distress
although shadowed stars swirl like an illusion,
faith is the thread for thin needles to redress
and restitch fragmented frames of vague vision.
So let suppressed agony slowly digress
in pearl pages of cathartic tomorrows-
now my ink abandons yesterday's sorrows.
A carpenter’s daughter am I but I do so love music.
So I built myself a lap dulcimer
of fine wild cherry and walnut;
I used my late Father’s old jigsaw,
cutting each plank into an elongated guitar shape.
Into the fingerboard, I measured, cut and hammered fret wire and carefully rasped away the roughened metal edges,
so I could play without any harm.
I sanded each one to a velvety caress,
steamed wood, shaped, and clamped sides into place;
a future musical vision, not just a typical hog fiddle but,
a fine tranquilizing music box.
On the top, I cut out flying birds and wood-burned, curly, swirling vines. I glued it all together carefully;
making sure to wipe down all of the sides.
When it was dry, I varnished it and then I sanded more.
So many layers brought out the woods luster.
No words explain the joy inside as my heartstrings did began to flutter.
Installing the pegs to hold the strings;
I carefully placed my screws then turning, turning carefully until they were solid there;
I adhered my bridge to the top.
Upon it then, I placed my strings;
adjusting the bridge, and tuned it up.
Oh, glorious be, such celestial sound
as across the strings, I dragged my thumb.
Such a magnificent harmonic thing;
ah, the way those strings had rung.
Off to YouTube I did go, for lessons I knew I’d find;
and when I play my dulcimer, it’s serenity sublime!
Husband constantly beating and batting,
His kiths, like allies, consciously hitting;
Father-in-law, in his way commanding,
Mother-in-law, dire duties demanding;
Neighbors mocking at physical darkness,
Her skinny dullness and financial weakness;
Her aspiration to be fullness gone,
Seeds of hatred in each heart around sown;
Losing her solid ground beneath her feet,
She, like a little lamb, started to bleat;
Some stood shocked; some so terribly awestruck,
Some said she's mad; others, she's hysteric;
Whatever might whoever might have thought,
Whatever view, she on her, might have wrought;
Mystery over her started growing,
Mastery of her wisdom grew glowing;
She talked of heaven, hell and highest skies,
Assured of abundant heavenly pies;
Her sermons varied from great wealth to health,
She talked on glamour of glorious death;
All listened seem to see in her strengths strange,
Her deliberateness seemed seeds of change;
They saw avatar of goddess kali,
In her they found Durga, Radha, Lakhsmi;
Her husband, forever, stopped batting her,
Kith and kin pleasantly extolled her stir;
Father-in-law still; mother-in-law calm,
Life, to her, turned sooth-tranquilizing balm;
Learning, thus, tackling of trickling issues,
Our hamlets have now many such goddesses...
01 February 2022
Art And Science Of Pong
Not tennis, not quite ping pong, it’s Pong.
Not everything in life is black and white. Pong is.
There are no laws regarding playing Pong without your clothes on
Or playing in the dark
There should be, as that is simply wrong
Be alarmed and warned against distractions
It is suggested that women wear makeup while playing in the game
Not for any particular reason
The trick to winning Pong is in the wrist and never miss
A tiny white dot
Or is it a square shaped dot like thing, appears on the TV screen
Very surreal and unstable, moving at the speed
With the social graces of a turtle
It flows across a black back drop at mesmerizing tranquilizing slow motion
Takes an hour or two to travel or traverse from side to side
Read War and Peace between each serve and drink milk to develop skill
Two small thin lines or “cursors”, fixed on either side
(It is wise to have two sides to any screen to know which side you’re on)
The cursors act as paddles to hit the moving dot
As they maneuver up and down
A loud “blip” sound indicates a hit
Sends the dot crawling back into the darkness
Returning later from a black hole in time and space into the proper place
You have time to finish art and science projects while involved in Pong
Waiting for the dot and its Halley’s Comet like return
The essence of the game is to keep the dot in play
For $250.00 USD you can’t go wrong
It’s Pong!
her untamable sakura spirit
glows like sweet scents
of petrichor peace,
perfumed in jasmine water,
whilst there’s no path
to golden rays of sunlight,
she shines for the elite vines
trailing through silver
gates of heaven.
and when the sky is a sea
of lilac lanterns,
and mauve mists,
shifting amidst
raining rhinestones
etched with mood-swings,
she remembers~
God as the choreographer
the mindful maestro,
tranquilizing trees tangled
with roots of torment.
but chocolate cosmos
remain blindfolded
by pearly lilies,
as the salmon-hued
bird of paradise
blossoms from
neglected lines
of caramelized skin,
she still sprouts in solitude,
delicate but
powerfully growing
from sepia roots
of grief and regrets,
lessons learned
through wisteria wisdom
earned from
turmeric truth,
and holistic hymns of the
almighty that echo
in captivating cadence~
as spiritual songs
of sepals flourish
amidst withering petals,
there her frost-bitten
soul found a healing field
in a poetic reverie,
where lyrical lines
float above mulberry meadows,
sowing hyacinth herbs of kindness~
painting petunias in patience,
silently sprinkling
enticing anemones
as an inevitable sign
of eternal hope to freedom.
A poetic earth that shall remain
untouched amidst the cruel wind
that blow it’s way through,
while lakes of longing
emanate soulful sagas,
synchronized from strings
of moon-kissed stars,
unfurling light when darkness
dwell upon dreary hearts.
Mother-nature, compassionate
spirit,
I hear her plea for
empathetic emeralds,
engrossed with
righteous rubies,
from topaz tenderness.
here, in singing silence,
I stretch my heart to
seraphic spheres,
for she lies in solitary stillness.
Let the beating hearts
of walking silhouettes
manifest silken fate for her
divine aura.
Rivers may no longer flow,
and flowers may
no longer be fragrant,
but faith shall
never be perished,
and the wildest forests
of her heart shall forever
flare evergreen
dreams of tomorrow.
God gave me a sunrise today_
oh, it is bathed in purple hues
in the mist- dawn flowers sway
this beauty inspires my muse
there are mauve blooms and herbs
and my mind just lingers for hours
while I pick a wildflower bouquet
later in the lush fresh green I lay
as across the sky float gold streaks
it is a wonderful view to behold
Oh, the sun is so tranquilizing
and I am caressed by warm rays
this dawn scene is so mesmerizing
God gave me a sunrise today_
___________________________
May 3, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/"Dawn in a Meadow"
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1248-384-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Edit from a poem written in January 6, 2020
Submitted to the contest Brian's Choice 2
sponsor, Brian Strand
Second Place
even though the world has changed
the center of my jolly is still present
nothing has been rearranged
the vibe of the joy is still effervescent
even though the mask is required
the intention of my greeting is still vibrant and sincere
the gleam of your smile is the aim of that is desired
the release of your stresses is the hope i bring in clear
even though expressionism has been the way of the march
the balance and the sway of my merry sleigh is still even
the wear and tear of my many movements may have caused me a slight arch
yet and still my footsteps' purpose is still strongly breathin'
even though my skin on my hand are a bit flaky from sanitizing
i sing a song gleefully with a bashful passion
the repetitive monotony from certain officials may seem tranquilizing
i pray that the rhythmic picture is absolutely smashin'
oh how i wish for days of old
oh how i miss the inspiring scent of silver and gold
oh how i miss her smile and the happiness it brung
oh how i miss the Christmas tree corner and the shelf above the toybox where the stockings hung
the bodies of water where i take my selfies are all the tears cried for missing her
i would give my left hand for a clear vision of even a blur
however i do have her memories to keep the files safe and warm
the embodiment of her treasured yuletide inspiration will not be moved because of some pandemic swarm
even though the tradition and the love within has become oddly estranged with time
i am still forever etched in the immovable influence of The True Unwind
for God will AllWays be the Imminent Concluding Factor
His End Result is Straight, No Chaser.....never portrayable by any actor
IN THE SHADOW OF CLOUD
A life lone on the shore of the breaking sea
Saw my heart shattered by surging tempest
I searched in the ruins for you to be with me
So in your tranquilizing arms I could get rest.
Time stopped for me for a while yesterday night
When in the silver shower of the harvest moon
I saw your glowing grace glimmer in mystic light
My love sang once again in the forgotten tune.
Misty breeze flowed from the sea now calm
Embraced you with my swelling emotion
I felt the ripples on your luscious lips warm
You closed my eyes for my dreams to return.
Crimson sun lifts the dawn from the horizon
The veiled night within me will glitter forever
I’ll grow a garden of your memory of my own
In shadow of colored cloud that you now are.
April 13, 2018.