Long Turquoise Poems
Long Turquoise Poems. Below are the most popular long Turquoise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Turquoise poems by poem length and keyword.
While strolling in my garden something caught my eye,
it was a little bird laying still on the ground;
oh, such a pretty creature with bright yellow feathers,
and a lovely turquoise head, wings, and tail.
Why even his curled small legs and feet were blue,
sadly, he had passed and I wept for him;
I am not sure why his death touched me so deeply,
but, I gave him a proper burial in the garden.
He rests in repose beneath a cluster of yellow blooms,
under the blue sky and rain he will ever dwell:
I will always remember this pretty bird frozen in death,
amongst my lovely lush blooming flowers.
Sharita was running out of make up on this strange night
She had put turquoise and purple in her hair all right
Her eyelids were painted a lovely grayish blue with dazzle
I need more make-up she said, so I can dazzle razzle
When most people are getting ready to go to bed
Sharita is painting her hair, and painting her head
If she was bald, she would put a mural up there
She’s unruly and fun with the wildest hair
My mother never let me have any make up she told me
We were from a church that said let the devil be
My mama thought lipstick was a horrible sin
If she saw me now, she’d not let me in
Irene....My Mother and I.
I cannot believe I am her daughter!
She always dressed in the very best taste.
Very little jewelry, conservative
dresses, no slacks, are you kidding?
A white-gloved perfect lady,she.
Hats she wore yes, exquisite ones.
Never a babushka on her coiffure.
Boots,too, my Mother loathed,
In those years, verily homely were they.
However,in platformed heels, she was
true beauty in motion.
Panagiota, her daughter, the dreamer,
Thinks everyday day is Carnival in Rio!
And would wear a Samba outfit
Right this day, if only she could!
Be a true Sambanista, bringing the joys
of Brazil to your neighborhood.
Loves humongous earrings and necklaces.
People stare at her with strange faces.
And she is insane over shoes metallic.
With colorful gems upon them or
flowers, totally exotic.
Her dreams to be a Rockette, alas, if
only she could.
Quite the woman~ a legend in her own
mind!
Writing poetry, in an imaginary land
of her own making.
In her magenta robe, sparkling adornments
in her hair and gold MaryJane shoes, as dainty as flowers!
Writing her soul poems by the hours.
Cannot forget her paramours!
Listening to the music of Antonio Carlos
Jobim, total heaven!
Enjoying her freedom and ever so blessed!
A Princess~ ruling in a land all her own
smiling with flowers.
Her hand, with the giant moonstone
ring from Peru,
Her passion for all things turquoise,
jade or Santorini blue
Her head, never stuck in things practical.
Just flies in all directions,never pedantic.
Purely, romantic or totally magical.
Thus~ is her setting for writing poetry,
She cherishes your comments in this
land of the free!
We roaming souls connecting by things so
ecstatic~
This is so very joyous and totally
far from all things tragic.
Panagiota Romios
3/24/2019
Whilst in the light of the moon,
I open my notebook of poems
I've written, gaze at the heavens
and all of its harmonious planets and stars.
Whilst my mind wonders,
how can I put into rhyming
and romantic words
how pleasing the aureate sun
is against cerulean sky,
its clouds that sail across.
Musing of earthen colors
that make up the earth that turns
as does the changing seasons;
the snow-capped mountains,
lush forest, and seeds taking root,
stimulating waterfalls cascading down
into the depths of streams
and rivers towards the ocean.
I become filled with wonder
at the sand dunes
that move across the ground in wind,
the complementing blazing hot sun
painting the skies a tangerine-lavender
while melting over the corners of the horizon.
Tantalizing is the turquoise ocean's
and life in its briny water,
whilst waves walk back up to its shores,
warblers sing and spread its wings
and fly across the sky.
Enthralled by sensation of nostalgic moon,
swept away in love upon the sun rises.
5/29/2020
The Sun And The Moon Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
star-swept with
soft blushing blooms ...
this slow sink ,
swathes my henna heart
with deep mauve hues ...
as I fall into the frostbitten lake
mispronouncing ~
the marmoris of metaphors
that were meant
to burn with magic ,
where the soulmate of poetry
breaks within the tears of sunset ~
sipping sighs of sorrow
from the crystal sky ,
that leaks loneliness
through the cracks of
liquid lilacs and lavender light ,
because there seems to be
no translation for the
language of love
that weaves woes
from warm wisteria
instead of blossoming
in coffee-scented chiffons
moulded into origami orchids ~
without any creases
and I wear no name
in the absence
of your ablaze august ashes …
read me swiftly
orchestrating in
the blackcurrant tattoos
breathing ... in tributaries
stretching to
the silent traces of trauma ,
twinkling with
turquoise and turpentine
for, I am not alive ~
but the seas still crash
the swollen shadows in my ribs ,
kissing the fallen sun …
that ebbs and flows …
through violets
of vaporising violas
like an incensed inferno ,
uncensored with ultraviolence
escaping the delirious doom
within driftwood dreams …
I want you ~
to not speak to me
so in affection
in this sparkling satanic siesta,
because poetry
has forevermore been
my saviour and my slaughterer ~
that leaves me …
drifting with the flow ,
in exile … evermore …
chained with
moonstone cobwebs
of confused consciousness
and conversing cryptics ~
befogged with gaslit goldens
laced with forest greens,
where verses wander
like a villain ,
withering
in emeralds …
listen, O velvet ink,
longing to be
r e
s c u
e d …
I like to dream in bright crayon color,
no brown, black, or orange pigments for me;
blue, green, purple, yellow, technicolor,
and turquoise blue and green like the vast sea.
As a child I liked all the hues of green,
and blue was very calming to my soul;
so those greens and blues are found in my dream,
and in the dreamy green forests I stroll.
When I feel broken- I dream in torch red,
with imperfect crayons like dripping blood;
I lay dreaming in my brass antique bed,
my tears falling, falling like a spring flood.
When happy my dream is periwinkle;
with all the crayon colors that sparkle.
The dulcet dawn serenely veneered
my heart’s horizon with streaks of halcyon hues,
spread the sunburst tinges of timeless yearning,
painted a golden garden in my heart’s canvas,
blooming with the lilac luster of my love,
unfurled the facsimile of your astral floral face, I adored.
As the pristine patina of the radiant roses
flushed fresh your cherubic cheeks resplendent,
sparkling with seraphic grandeur of glittering pearls,
relentless rhapsody wrapped the meadow of my mind.
The cadence of your remote heart pulsated within mine,
in the ether of encompassing euphoria I floated.
In the vivacious valley of my verdant heart,
configured by the chromatic contours of your charm,
I carved an ardent conduit of earnest yearning to reach you.
The fervent cloud of my captivating craving
melted in an endless torrent of engulfing emotion,
where you disappeared with the cascading waves of despair.
Drifting listless in the desiccated wilderness
of the waning memory of the divested longing,
my tear drops rolled on the dismal course of melancholy,
where I heard the enchanting echo of songs you sang for me.
You never knew how much in the downhearted time
I missed you when I was deprived of your love.
I lost the lilt of longing in the debris of broken heart,
transient flame of the trajectory of devoured desire
furrowed in my mind a blazing trail of yearning,
I fancied I could trace in the track of spurting star,
even if it was fleeting like the flicker of your love.
That was when I felt like I didn’t dream enough.
As I heard the squelch of submerging sorrow
stealthily enter my heart into the void you made,
the miasma of melancholy enveloped
the shattered landscape of longing.
The swirling sigh of its wafting desolation
trailed the remote resonance of my pathos.
In bleak landscape that shaped my psychic wasteland,
your footprints disappeared across the pining plateau
beyond the turquoise trail of lingering longing,
forcing me to wander chasing mirage, taking me nowhere.
The flakes of dream flew away in the desert storm,
I wish I could then decipher how to abandon you.
If you want a treat, look up the most colorful birds
Ever made by God, and you will come up with the best.
Paradise tanager, red-bearded bee-eater, macaw. My word!
What a fantastic creature in and out of her glorious nest.
The kingfisher has an azure blue that is a most unique hue.
Rainbow lorikeet brings God’s promise to us. Hope alive too.
Violet crowned wood nymphs are a turquoise, matching the sea.
There are so many lovely birds, and not all in a tree.
The peacock has always been amazing to me.
The male, who has all the glorious colors that you see.
The female peacock is brown and dull, kind of plain.
So she can hide her chick’s nest in the barn, or in a storm drain.
No matter what bird color you love or admire.
Know that there are some birds out there the colors of fire.
I have not seen them all, for I have not traveled to some places.
But I admire God’s creatures on social media spaces.
"What should I say of the waters that touch the peoples and cultures of the east, west, north, and south!" - By Poet.
The Earth's Oceans Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by: Constance La France.
Three seas converge in my homeland.
Arabian Sea with her waters, grand
Hugs the Bay of Bengal with endless waves breaking
With flora, fauna, and fine sand
Like the heavens and cosmos, they expand.
With jingles and pitter-patters
With them the Indian Ocean chatters.
Every brook, creek, stream, and river merrymaking
With whirlpools and water splatters
Every barrier within them shatters.
Islands that are warm, clean, and green
Fish, pearls, and coral reefs are clearly seen.
White-sand beaches and turquoise water-furls snaking
Waves stand as though frills of silkscreen.
Charming, she looks like a queen so serene.
As though a divine sovereign
In Kanyakumari—Cape Comorin
Has this ocean found a place of awakening?
In Swami Vivekanand's shrine
The Indian Ocean forms its design.
PALE MOON
Pale opal-like depressed Moon
on ebon night in charcoal turquoise sky
peeped through dark grey scattered clouds.
Soft glow casting sober polite glance looking morose.
Whelmed and mesmerized I am to gaze.
My forgotten love of bygone days
whispers and sighs merging in dim hazy glaze
of maroon Moon.
Off and on black clouds try to hide the Moon.
Time to time it slips to show dull face
emerging from clouds
I reminisce grief stricken lost love.
I sink in despondence
drinking dormant dreamy desires
seeking serenity in illusive drowsy dwindled
lunar lamentation.
07/26/22
Second place
One in Five 2
Contest by Joseph May
A Brian Strand Premier Choice
Contest by Brian Strand