Long Unimpeded Poems
Long Unimpeded Poems. Below are the most popular long Unimpeded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unimpeded poems by poem length and keyword.
Who cares about the heights of mountains?
Who dares to scale their lofty fountains?
For it's not their altitude that truly matters,
But the awe and wonder their presence scatters.
Who cares about the hue of rocks,
Without the sun's light that unlocks?
For it's the vibrant glow they reflect,
That reveals their beauty, we can't neglect.
Who notices the mountain's modesty,
Standing tall, yet silent, for all to see?
For it's the quiet strength it possesses,
That earns respect and admiration, no lesses.
Who observes the mountain, untouched,
Unfazed by winter's snow or summer's clutch?
For it stands firm in its endurance,
A symbol of resilience, a powerful assurance.
Who notices the wisdom it gains,
As it reaches the heights, no restraints?
For it holds the secrets of countless years,
A source of knowledge, erasing all fears.
Who names its generosity, so grand,
As it shelters creatures across the land?
For it provides a home, a loving embrace,
A selfless act, a testament to grace.
Who notices its love, pure and true,
As it bonds with the earth, its value imbue?
For it radiates warmth when needed,
Like love's embrace, forever unimpeded.
Who knows where the mountains came,
Seeing them there, in their eternal frame?
Who wonders their age, their ancient birth?
They've stood timeless, a marvel on earth.
Who doesn't seek the mountains' serene,
For their stillness, their peaceful scene?
For they understand our mind's needs,
Nourishing our hearts, fulfilling our creeds.
In a busy world I don't take for granted simple pleasures
Blooms, newly risen in Spring from bulbs planted last year
Rummaging through my collection of keepsake treasures.
My children saying those three special words I want to hear.
I smile when I have the involuntary reaction to give one back
to a stranger who has just offered a nod and a smile at me
I've found myself grinning, and doing so with great satisfaction
when butterflies emerged, knowing that I'd set them free
That first sweet bite of a warm cinnamon bun with icing
The feeling when first waking and taking a morning stretch
Purchasing what I want, then finding it has a sale pricing
When I'm happy with a painting I've created from a sketch
When gifted with a bouquet of flowers for no reason at all
Seeing pewter clouds in the sky when there's need for rain
Watching my granddaughter take motherly care of her doll
Feeling the gentle touch of a friend, trying to ease my pain
Having an unimpeded view of stars brightly glowing at night
When I've found that daydreams have set my thoughts adrift
Watching dawn's roseate skies and lavender hues at twilight
And being offered forgiveness for a sin: the most revered gift
VOICES RISE FROM DUST
The uphill path rigorous and arduously rough,
obsessed fervor’s effort to climb the mountain,
in aspiring life’s progression agonizingly tough,
drove me unimpeded for sky of success to attain.
Above the blaring stratum of mundane cacophony
I rose testing my perseverance in sheared sense.
Those who crossed my path realized their folly,
for they were waylaid outside my egoistic fence.
Suffused with the euphoria of reaching the summit
the aura of success congealed the heart in thin air.
Those who held hands adoring me beyond the limit,
discarded, they fell back in obscurity, I didn’t care.
In the twilight hours when the journey is downhill
along the lone path, crossed all bridges but the last,
in the deafening silence of the petrified night still
I hear the stifled voices of nemesis rise for the dust.
Written : December 5, 2018
January 19, 2020
Contest : Strand No 650, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
The mulberry fell to its knees;
in Smith-Gilbert Garden, it prays,
near the moss-stone steps;
and I look on, in curiosity.
It was an oddity, but I learned
of its plight. In sorrow, we make
it right, a great fall onto infrangible ground.
Like a bonsai tree, twisted.
Listed, like a ship at storm,
but sailors will never use nets,
to cast, for silent butterflies;
In July, they gather.
Hereby is Summer magic,
buzzing bees, buckeyes, swallowtails
and painted ladies (sailors swear by them).
Yes, all the prayers needed.
Unimpeded, the mulberry fell,
whilst fluttering wings that disappear
in season’s cold, bring merriness,
there’s little hope for thee.
Still, we visit the treasure that bows,
climb the steps, for a further glimpse.
This garden is where I stroll
among the butterflied tree.
Growing up in Ohio it was easy to find my Christmas spirit with the snow and cold within my reach…but after moving to Florida I wondered how I’d ever find my Christmas spirit in the warmth or on the beach.
Well I must admit despite my initial reservations…(yes, even I am stunned)
to discover there is that Christmas spirit…down here in the Florida sun.
It’s in a walk on the beach before the sun rises…for no matter which way you choose to go…the moonlight whitens the sand and you find yourself walking barefoot in the snow.
You quickly come to realize you’re not the only one enjoying a southern Christmas-land
as you pause to enjoy a snowman built completely out of sand.
For Christmas lights look to the stars in the sky…as they twinkle through the trees
or to their shimmering reflections they create upon the sea.
When the sun begins to peek over the horizon illuminating the sea and ground…
you find a million different ornaments strewn upon the ground.
Which makes you walk a little slower…more carefully through this ornament surprise…stopping every now and then to pick one up…to admire it’s color, shape or size.
You appreciate their beauty…how smooth they feels…each one a unique sight to see
then you place them back upon the sand…where nature intended them to be
A little further down the beach you marvel where the tide had visited before receding off the land…for in her wake she’s left behind rows of garland on the sand.
And you don’t have to walk very far…to find a topper for your tree
Your can choose between an angel in the clouds…or a starfish from the sea.
It turns out if you walk along the beach in December in Florida…
where your view is unimpeded…unobstructed…
you can find your Christmas spirit…in a Christmas deconstructed.
It’s not the Ohio Christmas I grew up celebrating…
but one walk along the beach makes it abundantly clear…
in Florida…a deconstructed Christmas…is one you celebrate all year.
They grew up close together…sharing laughter…sharing frowns
playing in their backyards…hanging upside-down.
The world was oh so different then, as they hung so effortlessly
It was a simpler, uncomplicated time…more innocent and free.
A time when all that children needed to do was laugh and sing and play
when hanging upside down…unimpeded…they would sway.
For they were making memories…no future memory would surpass
As they hung there…upside down…or ran barefoot in the grass.
And as they look back at this picture now…it’s those memories they see
awakening from a place where they shall always be…
And when thy close their eyes to remember…that certain time…that certain year
sometimes it brings a smile…sometimes it brings a tear
Because they realize how lucky they are
to have shared a life time of laughter
and of frowns…
from a friendship that began so man-years ago
while hanging upside down.
How do you think Scheherazady
Would incorporate her body
To spice up those tales and keep enticed
That potentate?
She would ges-tic-u-late.
Aladdin could have faced disaster,
But the djinn said to his master,
"I've three wishes I can grant
But can't articulate
Lest you ges-tic-u-late."
In ancient Greece Olympian Zeus
Would turn his Titan anger loose,
And lightning bolts he'd throw to show
That how his wrath to demonstrate,
He would ges-tic-u-late.
Superheroes spend long hours
Developing their special powers
Of strength and speed that's unimpeded,
So they wear costumes both for show and to facilitate
When they ges--tic-u-late.
So, let me say here, as I wind up,
When you talk, just make your mind up,
To enhance your speech and diction,
Take a tip from folks in fiction,
Make your conversation great
And just ges-tic-u-late.
A Capulet named Juliette
Exclaimed to her ardent beau,
"You're not to blame Montagu's your name.
By its nature a rose's aroma is sweet,
Though in nomenclature it be not so neat,
But wherefore art thou Romeo?
Why can't you be John, or Frank, or Ben,
Gregory, Justin, Bill, or Farley?
I'd even go for Joe, or Charlie,
Or Abelard, or even Sven."
"Hey, I didn't choose it, so please don't abuse it,"
The young swain gently pleaded.
"We must conclude our families' feud
If our love's to proceed unimpeded."
But those star-crossed lovers
Were destiny's fools,
They drank poison and ended up dead.
In that feud Shakespeare roped them,
When he could have eloped them,
And written those kids a happy ending instead.
For many of us the holidays are happy times…it’s when we smile, we laugh…we grin but for many others the holidays is when sorrow comes flooding in.
When the waters of sadness rise around them…as they are reminded of a death, they wonder how long they’ll be underwater…how long they’ll have to hold their breath.
And though they know the flood will on day end and their life will resume unimpeded…they wonder how they’ll repair the damage once the waters have receded.
How will they rebuild each time they’re reminded of their pain…if they’re lucky they start to notice little things…like the sky after a rain.
Like how the sunlight paints the morning sky as it welcomes in the day.
Like the laughter of their family…and friends they’ve met along the way.
There is no time limit on sadness…and it may take a while…but eventually they begin to remember all the things that made them smile.
And the more they remind themselves of the pleasures in their life…the less they think about the pain…
a skill they will find useful…when the waters rise again.
Your love, my
Darling,
Miraculously, it has transformed me into
A poet,
Not to any poet
But
To a special breed of the sort,
The winged one
For
Free to be, away at will to
Fly,
Unimpeded by space or time,
To lands unknown
To undiscovered shores
To unconquered mountaintops
Where the grandeur of your
Beauty
I could observe in blessed silence,
In utmost concentration,
In absolute reverie
So
Able would I be,
Undisturbed, your splendor to adore
And
By doing so, inspired would I be,
A worthy poem for you, my love,
In
The annals of eternal beauty, to
Engrave!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
01 OCTOBER 2014
* This poem of mine that was well-received, unfortunately,
was deleted by my computer; therefore, I post it again.