Long Unfold Poems
Long Unfold Poems. Below are the most popular long Unfold by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unfold poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: June 19, 2023
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On the canvas of life's eternal stage,
The supple smoothness confronts the brittle break.
A delicate petal's silk, the passage of age,
From innocence to wisdom, a journey for sake.
The dance of seasons, a waltz of grace,
A symphony of colors, nature's embrace
In spring warm embrace, the buds unfold,
The supple smoothness is a story yet untold.
As youth's sweet fragrance fills the air,
The petals bloom, untouched by despair.
But time moves swiftly, as it always will,
And the supple must learn to be still.
As the days pass and summer's heat grows,
The petal's silk matures, as does the sun's golden glow.
A wrinkle here, a line there, etched upon the face,
A map of memories, a testament to the grace
And as the leaves turn and autumn arrives,
The supple smoothness now wears and thrives.
Late duskfall cracks the air tenderly,
wandering on a language of silence
as twilight caresses the breath
of fluid intuition… for when all else
is sprawled quiet, there comes this
certain ambient stream wading on
mouths of reflection, far beyond
the collage of any flushed landscape,
and watching inward becomes a vision…
that learning how to hear a pear or
pebble unravel the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
unfold its leaves beyond unknowing a
need to stay in the moment: and images
passing through calm eyes of any season
is poetry’s way of coming back to itself.
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*It is in deep silence
and mindful awareness
that the burst of imagination
flows freely.
Thomas Martin’s Ars Poetica
6/3/2015
The young couple was engaged to be married…and though they hadn’t set a date…their families came together to rejoice and to celebrate.
And celebrate they did with food and wine and song…toasts were made to the couple…that their life be happy, successful and long.
That their life be one of hopes and dreams fulfilled…of wonder and surprise…their mothers were so happy…tears fell from their eyes.
Their fathers were busy shaking hands and doing what fathers do…but…if you took the time to notice…their were tears in their eyes too.
As I watched the celebration…watched the festivities unfold that day…
If I was to give them some advice…this is what I’d say.
As you spend your life together…whatever happens…come what may…before you close your eyes each night…may you wish for one more day.
One more day to love…to laugh…to count the stars up in the sky…one more day to make mistakes…to apologize…to cry.
One more day to face the world united…to endure the fairest and foulest weather…one more day of life…one more day to be together.
It’s such a wonderful feeling when you open your eyes once the night is through…to look at one another and know another wish came true.
This would be advice…yes…this is what I’d say…
I’d wish you a wonderful life together…filled with a multitude of one more days.
For all we really have are moments together…moments when we laugh and love and play…
And the best any of us can hope for…is one more moment…one more day.
“How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood”
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
How dearly past evokes my red-tiled home
Which sits on the hill near a mango tree
Where cows merrily graze and cattle roam!
Back in my childhood now memories plea
For wildlife, rice fields, and days full of fun
For haystacks on bull-carts rolling carefree;
For mauve-tinged horizons ruby skies spun
For grasslands, rivers and monsoon rain fall
For prairies serene, thrilled in gleaming sun;
When rosy dawns awoke to roosters’ call
And farmers tilled their land in sunrise gold
As cultural myths invoked in crows’ squall.
Oh, land of my dreams how snugly I hold!
While treasures dear to me fondly unfold.
November 24, 2020
Placed 1st: Writing challenge -Terza Rima - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Placed 2nd: Podium placing contest 4 by Brian Strand
In those kind of days
That do not feel quite right
Feelings swirl in empty ways
A heart holds onto the night
Rise up my friend, take a look
Let the air to the skies, clear your mind
Move forward like the gurgling brook
To see what you will find
The water sparkling in front of you
Meanders to lead the way for now
Let go, a walk will bring you through
To the other side somehow
In those kind of days
That can be so difficult to face
When heaviness lingers to stay
With longing to be some other place
Take a listen to the music
Write yourself a pleasant note
A reminder to read and to pick
A positive affirmation to float
In your mind or written on a stone
To know, to have and to hold
My friend, you are not alone
You can let the day unfold
6/18/17
**Entry for the Creative Collective Anthology Series Contest sponsored by Geraldine Taylor
God signs off on His handiwork
releases into the world a human soul
First inside the womb and then outside
that soul begins to unfold
For mankind yearns to be free, free of direction
ignores all instruction as its sets sail
Free of direction and of directions
Freedom the goal, man’s Holy Grail
With good luck comes wonder
at creation, at a cosmos so awesome
Though the journey leads, inevitably,
to frustration, disappointment, unripened blossoms…
Then the cruelest blow when eventually
the unfolding process reverses
The ramrod-straight frame
folding in on itself as it rehearses
its return to its Maker, Who delivered it here
Who lets man search vainly for freedom
and come up empty year after year
~ for only His Truth makes everything clear
In a world of flowing shades, my hands stained with waves of ruby,
A tapestry of pain and sacrifice, in suffering I drown.
Through the shadows of despair, true love emerged,
A gift of agony, a dream ennobled by courage.
From the soil of my soul, the roots of passion deeply pierced,
I gave my all, my essence, for a love so pure.
In the echo of my heart's relentless beats,
Reality bloomed like a flower in scorching land.
My flame may flicker, life's breath in fleeting sighs,
But the reward of waiting, love that never fades.
No visible foes to face, but a sacred vow to defend,
In this ruby journey, I transcend through what I've gained.
Oh, Lord, witness the strength within my veins,
A symphony of sacrifice, where love remains.
In the echo of my steps on this shadowed path,
I am a testament to the eternal dance with enclosed blood.
In the ocean of memories, dreaming of strips of eternity,
Every drop of blood, a burden and a blessing.
In the red current, my thread of hope is woven,
A story of love, among shadows and whispered words.
Among the melancholy clouds, my thoughts float fervently,
A dance of shadows, a waltz in the profane dusk.
Lights unfold like falling stars in the endless abyss,
My love, eternal, remains like an infinite dream.
A tapestry of pain, but also of infinite hope,
I sacrificed everything for it, but my heart does not relent.
In the flow of my consciousness, love finds its purpose,
In my ruby odyssey, embraced by magic, love weaves its essence.
Oblige fond heart the signals clear,
Urge then the taste of ample fare;
Reap the fine art where oomph greets cheer.
Feast with grand haste the happy pair,
Ask then to see traits of deep joy;
Make what you will of faith and hope,
Indulge beauty where truth employs;
Live with sure feel of lovely scope,
Yes starts the way of style that grounds.
Reach poignant wit with pleasant finds,
Express each day that logic sound;
Urge bit by bit true peace of mind,
Now and here be at peace with truth;
Incline pure heart to walk faith bold,
Outline and see the fragrant proof;
Notice the art that must unfold.
Leon Enriquez
09 February 2016
Singapore
A bloke who hails
from New South Wales
will know of Gundagai.
Some guy found gold,
or so we're told,
in days now long gone by.
I grew up there
without a care
when both of us were nippers:
she was my mate -
her name was Kate -
I used to call her "Kipper".
We loved to lark
around Yarn Park,
and sing Frank Ifield songs,
play hide-and-seek
on Morley's Creek
all golden summer long.
I'd glance at Kip
(she fielded slip)
and try to hoist one high:
but quick as thought
she'd yell out, "Caught!"
or "Nice try, Gundagai!"
Her brain was quick,
her wit was slick,
and ready with a joke.
She'd bat and bowl
and kick field goals
as good as any bloke.
Well, time moved on.
Those days are gone,
and never to return.
I've roamed this earth,
for what it's worth,
and one thing I have learned.
In this wide world
there's heaps of girls,
and some of 'em are ripper,
and dark or fair,
I've had my share,
but none of 'em's like Kipper.
I'm not that grand
with pen in hand,
but I've written Kip a letter:
I may be wrong,
it's been so long.
She may not even get 'er.
So now you know
the way it goes.
You've heard my tale unfold.
I'm like those fools
with sieves and mules,
hell bent on striking gold.
I'm a chafing chook
on tenterhooks,
awaiting her reply.
I know my Kip -
she's sure to quip,
"Oh, nice try, Gundagai!"
Not in a palace built of gold, nor a throne of ivory carved,
But in the heart where embers glow, excellence is truly served.
It blooms not in the sterile gleam of trophies won on marble floors,
But in the soul's resilient song that whispers through open doors.
It ripples not in stagnant pools where shadows lie and brood,
But in the river's rushing tide, a symphony is misunderstood.
It shines not in the polished lens of fame's relentless gaze,
But in the quiet candle's flame that lights a lonely maze.
For excellence is not a crown, a burden grand and cold,
But in the dance of sun and rain, a story waiting to unfold.
It whispers in the wind-kissed leaves, a hymn of ancient trees,
And sings in raindrops on the roof, a lullaby of ease.
It's woven in the spider's web, a masterpiece of grace,
And sculpted in the weathered rock, a testament to space.
It hums in bees' industrious wings, a symphony of gold,
And flickers in the firefly's light, a story yet untold.
So seek not excellence in halls where marble statues stand,
But in the calloused hand that plants a seed in barren sand.
It's not in victory's fanfare, nor the conqueror's stride,
But in the gentle hand that heals, in love that knows no tide.
For excellence is not a quest for things that the eye can see,
But in the quiet, steady beat of what you truly are.
It's in the laughter shared with friends, a warmth that melts the frost,
And in the tears that cleanse the soul, a lesson never lost.
So let your spirit soar like hawks on the thermals of the sun,
And weave your tapestry of life, with threads of light outrun.
For excellence is not a race, a finish line to claim,
But in the journey's every step, a whispered, burning name.
Live, love, and learn, with open eyes and open hearts,
And in the tapestry you weave, find your work of art.
For excellence is not a prize, a trophy held aloft,
But in the quiet, steady flame, the ember's burning soft.