Long Turning Poems
Long Turning Poems. Below are the most popular long Turning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Turning poems by poem length and keyword.
I
one Fine-
morning when the garden was misty-
ethereal the beauty
birds mellifluous
brouhaha loud and donnybrook
a gang came
fluttering over the fence and
canoodled the flowers
sweetly
when the day was infinite serenity
the birds
lilting and murmuring
loud and donnybrook
and buzzingbees were buzzing
from jewel-toned and eye-catching blooms
oh
summer
and
the
sun-kissed
color-infused birdies
loud
and
donnybrook
II
here there
sweet butterflies
breathtaking
gamboling
delicate wings
always a-fluttering
insects
dilly-dally flip-flopping
hummingbirds whirling
a black cat licks
his lips
whiskers twitching
sneaky shifty
lissome fearless hunter
sneak-a-sneak
slithers
woosh watch out hummingbirdie
with your pretty wings
fly away fast
faster and faster
for the cat is a hunter
the cat hunts
the cat
quiet and deadly
go
dancing
hummingbird
hummingbird
turning
twirling
spinning
III
raven hair-tangled girl
gathering daisies
pansies
wildflowers
And drip-dropping petunias
in this sun-drenched garden
stops to gongoozle
and a butterfly drifts-
upon the gathered-blooms
________________________
August 15, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Garden Rambling
Copyright Protected, ID 16-818-665-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Cries fill the night
People lost to fright
Confusion rules land
So many gone , no one can understand
They were there then they were gone ,just a bink of an eye
Planes start falling from the sky
Cars crashes as more people die
People praying, but much to late
Only thing for dinner is an empty plate
Darkening of the cloud
Trumpets blowing so loud
Earth starts turning forever night
Country blaming country each start to fight
No food for one to eat
Mankind kneels in defeat
No more is the world we knew
How swiftly the body count grew
Mankind slew and slew
For food and drink a
place to sleep
Till no one left alive to weep
Death all around
Of a heart beat there was not a sound
No one left here to find
Of all those left behind
Looking beyond birth
And death of human person
Stepping through sanctuary of faith
Holding onto wings of heaven
And embraced by heavenly bodies
In hallowed journey,
To empower human being,
Maintain connection with heaven
In manner pleasing to the Creator
Leaving behind everything unrighteous
And vacating field of darkness
Where satan is prince charming
Deceiving kings in their dreams
Making everyone doubt
If there is such a ting as love
And peace of God,
Thus turning against the light
And follow route to pleasure land
Where every kind of enticing evil is freely available,
To every creature without question;
But only those who could look beyond,
The birth and death of humanity,
Could see how busy heaven always is,
Trying to save the soul of humankind,
From miseries inside hell of fire,
To repent and follow the light
Leading all people
To the kingdom of heaven
I am painted by a minor Dutch master
whose name is only known
as a Flemish squiggle.
Low clouds could evaporate
or lift the wings of varnished geese.
Wind-sails part a low-land mist.
I will send the black dog.
Pheasant and grouse fly up
each feather intense with hindsight.
This is a New Year’s Eve poem,
yet I can’t remove the Flemish windmills,
the black dog, the shotgun,
the marshy landscape.
I will roll up the old canvas,
hawk it around, barter it for some new boots.
Windmills will keep turning the sky.
Frames will keep breaking free of walls.
Clothes for the artist:
an old bush hat,
a long canvas coat,
borrowed from a gallery
of yellowing landscapes.
New brown buckled boots.
I'll go looking for red swans
in the sunrise,
though I won't call the words that.
I will splash forward following
the dog's quick nose.
Sleepless
My mind wanders down an empty hallway
Turning knobs
checking each door
Hoping
Wishing
Wanting
To find Sleep
She is my elusive lover
I was in bliss
When she cradled me in her soft arms
I rested my weary head upon her bosom
Lovely dreams flowed like a peaceful river
Refreshing
Invigorating
I flew among the treetops
Gentle breezes whispered my name
“Come discover the secrets of the universe”
I could see brief glimpses of eternity
Light lived inside of me
Now I am stuck in the dark
Eyes closed yet she will not come
I toss and turn on sheets of broken glass
Cutting
Slicing through
My dreamless silence
There on my nightstand
That clock
Mocking me
That incessant tick tock
Seconds to hours
Thoughts disjointed
Flickers of the past
Future worries
That rarely materialize
I know better
Yet I’m unable to be wise
So I continue to walk
Down this empty hallway
Turning knobs
Checking each door
Knocking
Pounding
Please please
I don't want to be here any more
Slumber
I beg you
Please
Please
Open a door.
Lake Natron
the story goes
a guy meets a woman, his friends know he really really likes her.
They wrote another friend of theirs to inform him of the happenings
they had been advise to tell the woman that another one of their
friends would really like to meet her and they often play this game with women.
Well the original guy takes the women on a vacation on the Amalfi Coast there
they dock and oranges and lemons are loaded onto there ship. The fragrance
enchants her. While on the boat a half bird and half woman creature perched on the ship and watched them as the kiss and embraced steering for the whole duration of there play. Then after an hour of steering the creature spoke. " o shall lake she us o no?" And then again the creature said "Si, shall stand us shall then be there?" After this the guy spoke and said what is your purpose: and the creature took to the skies and circled over head. Than in a passing sweep it grabbed the too and flew then miles and miles away. And when it had reached it's destiny it dropped them in to the lake. There they turned to stone. After turning them into stone the creature flew them back to where they had got the oranges and lemons. And placed in the garden. There for an eternity they shall stand that they refused not to love.
People do the bare minimum to spite others, often as a deliberate, calculated action designed to impose harm or send a message while expending any effort. This behavior acts as a form of punishment or emotional manipulation to hurt, or control.Hylia the Evil goddess did this to stop the people form loving one another and found these two were the source of humans conspiring to do other mischievous things to one another. Friends support not distort was the lesson she wished to teach.
When morning breaks in shades of wine...
with claret skies to blush the dawn...
I will stretch and yawn, and thank the night
for this polished, dappled day
I will wait until the sun is high, and dew upon the rose is dry
I'll have my cup, .. with toast and jam...
then, make escape, ..........for the quest begins,
to seek my small reward
It happens slowly...
gathering reason from an untamed mind
up into the meadow where the brambles climb
twisted and tangled, through the burgundy vines
deftly my fingers, while probing the maze
will reach for wild berries.....warm from the day
thumping their goodness, one after one
into the bucket, dented and worn
A search through thorns, a prick on my thumb
till my back is ripe, and wet in the sun
Finger painting my faded old jeans
Knowing my cheeks are flushing in pink
Sucking sweet juice from two crimson thumbs
Who cares a lick, of the thorns or a bee?
I am a bee, buzzing serenity...
plucking small bits of reason and sanity
taking home goodness in a battered tin pail
feeling alive, on this wild-flowered hill
Tonight's sweet delight, is warm berry cobbler,
oozing with goodness of juicy red gems
staining my tongue, and turning lips scarlet
dripping like blood drops onto my chin
Yet never as splendid, or tasting as fine,
as warmed by my smile, straight from the vine
Picking red berries, and freeing my mind
* *
* *
* *
*
*
under clouds tinged vermilion
from a gold-rimmed crimson sun
There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages. - Mark Twain
reflected in the spring’s gentle whisper
mingling the music, soul sounding crisper
risking light’s voice, calling to her sister
hues so daring, friendly and delicious
collecting moments, clearly auspicious
amazing as He who is omniscious
medley of dreams, revealing yet serene
glowing on cerulean seas of green
smudged with hints of yellow and tangerine
laughing beneath autumn’s exciting skies
waiting on night’s moon and stars to arise
listening for the wind’s song as she cries
enchanted webs of peace and grace and light
tempting moods so the heart and soul unite
There is so much
left unsaid
Words will go on
forevermore
As I sit next
to her bed
With all the words
that needs to be said
I hear her feeble breath
laborious gasping
If I utter a word
I know I won't stop
But in her condition
will she hear any of it
In my heart of hearts
I hope she does
But it will satisfy no one
but myself
Wishful thinking
that will be
For I will know
the truth of it
That it will all be words
carried by the winds
Words that would
satisfy all her questions
Words were the
answers she needed to hear
Words she longed for
and clung to life for
Words that ...
"We're turning the machines off,
I'm sorry but she's gone."
... that matters?
See the still water
Watch the flower bloom
Feel the air around You
Look at the man in the moon
Hear the wind's might
See the sun rising
Watch the bird in flight
Hear the bees at work
Touch the meadow grass
Feel the cold night air
Hear the crashing waves
Watch natural shadows forming without a care
See the cobwebs glistening
Hear the evening chorus
Watch the Bats in flight
Watch the sun flower turning
See the bluebells' beauty as thousands stand side by side
Hear the Robin singing, try to catch his eyes
Nature's out there asking
For you to appreciate this life.