Long Unreached Poems
Long Unreached Poems. Below are the most popular long Unreached by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unreached poems by poem length and keyword.
The surging stream cascades in swirling ebullience
Through dancing shadows of swaying trees entranced
The spectral dew drops draping the glinted grass tips
Weave lattice of splendor on the meadow bejeweled
The drizzling dust on moonbeam in blue satin night
Adorns the pearl laced waves of rolling sea beguiled
That’s where I look for my muse elusive.
Up above the majestic mountain’s serenading slopes
Waits the sun-soaked summit of ecstasy unclimbed
Far down the verdant valley’s slithering spine curved
Sparkle emeralds on picturesque plains untreasured
The rain-washed sky spreads the tapestry of dreams
Of chromatic imagery on rainbow horizon unreached
That’s where I seek out for my muse concealed.
The sun rises with the grandeur of the nascent dawn
Lifting the veil of miasma from the sense of unfeeling
The winds of imagination blows on the mindscape
Raising the dust of all dormant emotions unbound
Turning them into a surging storm of creative urge
Flying the muse to me with afflatus unconfined
That’s when it makes me a poet profound.
________________
June 30, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest
We owe it to our doctors
We owe it to our doctors…
The ones who took it to be part of Sun Pharma’s greater mission;
To prevent disease rather cure
Cure and control if that happens at all;
Defying comforts of air conditioned hospitals,
confronting heats and chills
of seasonal tones while sitting in villages;
A zeal to serve those in pain
having set besides the monitory gain;
A cavalcade of patients all round the day
Intense work, putting impatience at bay;
Educate and listen to endless woes
Mental, social apart from somatic;
What poverty jostled them into
have no means to seek medical care;
We doctors being the sole healers...
We do what we do;
Not for money, not for name
responsibility is an assorted game ;
Had everyone taken to hospitals
and been part of corporates that work for profit;
And Ignored distress of rural and slums
humanity would have scrounged to bums.
Words fail to say what we take back ;
The smallest salving touch
that makes the tender souls smile;
The tranquil looks of the patient
that soothes us deep down the heart;
A good night’s sleep
and utmost content above all,
Limitless goodwill, enormous blessings ;
No mathematics can compute,
no callipers could measure ;
Beyond the prowess we go ...
Meeting people to explore what more we could do
Take them to specialists, to the institutions;
Make them aware about Govt schemes
Involve volunteers from within the community;
Bridging the gap, reaching the unreached
Citing the logic, what cannot be preached ;
Although a tiny drop in vast ocean
but very tender and precious ;
However small the team we maybe,
We proffer colour to the sky
Imbue the aroma of empathy far and wide;
We can move mountains with a solo touch
and change course of feral winds;
With our staunch determination;
and incessant efforts;
Combating disease and ailment
Countering the social taboos;
We do what we do
and will continue doing so.
We doctors are warriors braving the front
Have our families accompanying in this battle;
We owe it to our nurses and drivers as well;
We owe it to our doctors !
Written Sept 24, 2020
© Dr Upma A. Sharma
IT'S NOT TOO LATE
God gave me a blank diary, its pages numbered,
and in the hand of destiny a pencil for my take
when I came in this beautiful world enamored
to write the distinctive story of my life I’d make.
I traveled a winding path, destination unreached,
couldn’t get niche in many hearts, I tried in vain,
In storm strife found the bridges I built breached,
a lone drifter in desolate wasteland I did remain.
On the pages of my diary I truly wrote my story,
turning its leaves now I don’t find it charismatic.
I wonder if it is what in life I was destined to be,
a futile anecdote so very mundane and miasmic.
I don’t know why thus far life utterly failed me,
I ask God for second chance an eraser can I get
to erase the old narrative, construct new story.
The sun hasn’t set, maybe it’s not too late yet.
January 19, 2019
I drive alone down misty roads
where the morning’s frost still lingers
on the earth, grass, leaves unreached
by the feeble winter sun
whose fingers slowly withdraw
into the white blankness
of unmoving air.
The road bends as it climbs between
the shadowed pines and
leaping across the road
two roe deer, almost always two,
run from the shrouded trees
slowing my progress as I scan for more
to disappear again in depths of forest.
Higher the road climbs these mystic hills
higher still until the sky appears
that clear blue dry-air winter sky
full of all light but bereft of warmth.
I think of home, as I clear the misty hills,
mystic still but now illuminated
by the light of memory, of love departed,
thoughts of you beside me
almost always you beside me.
As I drive alone out of the higher ground
the frost still lingers but the feeble sun
has banished the obscuring mists
full of all light but now
bereft of warmth.
After the unreached future burns whatever remains
In the unseen ashes to unknown heights it flies away.
After the disowned image fades whatever remains
On the deserted wings to desolate sky it flies away.
After the shapeless shadow floats whatever remains
In the distant clouds as dissolved memory it melts away.
After the inevitable emptiness forms whatever remains
From the spaceless hearts to the oblivion it drifts away.
After the destined time terminates whatever remains
With the eternal time to its undefined edge it runs away.
After the mortal existence ends whatever remains
To the supreme soul waiting somewhere it goes away.
December 25, 2017.
Hell is a place of eternal torture
With restlessness’ angst and despair-puncture
Sealing the faithless in their doomed future
Midst cruel hatred’s defiant gesture.
Hell is a prison of endless darkness
Where misery’s gloom prevails in blackness
Due to sufferings, despair, hopelessness
Leaving the convicts in their guilt’s fierceness.
Hell* is a cell of everlasting torment
Expressing death's wailing every moment
As sorrows, anguish, woe wildly lament
With constant gnashing of teeth engagement.
Hell is a dungeon where there’s no exit
And each one slides toward bottomless pit
Struggling to reach foot stool summit
Yet never to taste freedom’s air a bit.
Hell is lake of fire** where God’s wrath abides
Unreached by His mercy, while His grace hides
There, worms die not, with pleas’ screams at all sides
Along unheard prayers … deserving chides.
Hell awaits everyone who’s a sinner
Bearing “You’re forever condemned” banner
No one can flee from punishment runner
While Satan and cohorts serve cursed dinner.
Hell can be missed by trusting the great Lord
In placing faith in God upon His Word
He vanquished hell’s might with His divine sword
For those who are in Christ in sweet accord.
Hell is indeed closed to the redeemed soul
Assured by the Almighty's loving goal
Granting eternal life**, forever whole
Through Jesus Christ in His great Saviour's role.
*Luke16:23And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments...
**Revelation 20:14 - And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. Revelation 21:8 - But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.
***Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
October 5, 2018
Edited on March 5, 2023
2nd place, "Hell" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 3/10/2023.
"The mind can weave itself warmly
in the cocoon of its own thoughts,
and dwell a hermit anywhere."
~ James Russell Lowell
"As weavers, we weave.
As spinners, we spin.
And somewhere, in the loom's blur,
Our poems begin."
~ Sudeep Pagedar
"Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair-."
~ T. S. Eliot
Weave into my dreams, a tapestry of magic,
Of heart's deepest emotions, cheerful or tragic;
Weave into my poems, soft tunes that once were lost,
Of fallen leaves, waltzing breeze and winter's white frost;
Weave into my hair, the glitter of sunrays bright,
Of dappled shadows, moonlit skies and starry nights;
Weave into my life, the threads of love and romance,
Of passion's sweet nectar, ardour's unending dance;
Weave into my heart, twirls of happiness and joy,
Of everlasting pleasures that none can destroy;
Weave into my being, the essence of your thoughts,
Of that luminous painting from untangled knots;
Weave into my soul, strands of fantasies and songs,
Of desires and unreached heights where this girl belongs.
23rd April 2023
For Constance La France's "Writing Challenge - 'W' words" contest
The cascading stream leaping in swirling ebullience
Through dancing shadows of swaying trees entranced
The spectral dew drops draping the glinting grass tips
Weave lattice of splendor on the meadow bejeweled
The drizzling dust on moonbeam in blue satin night
Adorns the pearl laced waves of rolling sea beguiled
That’s where I look for you elusive.
Up above the majestic mountain’s serenading slopes
Waits the sun-soaked summit of ecstasy unclimbed
Far down the verdant valley’s slithering spine curved
Sparkle emeralds on picturesque plains untreasured
The rain-washed sky spreads the tapestry of dreams
Of chromatic imagery on rainbow horizon unreached
That’s where I seek out for you concealed.
The sun rises with the grandeur of the nascent dawn
Lifting the veil of miasma from the sense of unfeeling
The winds of imagination blows on the mindscape
Raising the dust of all dormant emotions unbound
Turning them into a surging storm of creative urge
On its wings to me you fly the afflatus unconfined
That’s when you make me a poet profound.
Written : March 27, 2020
May 23, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice Q
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Bridge
I whirl through moments etched upon my mind,
Sink through midnight layers where shadows creep,
Hear the rushing floods – no smooth waters find –
Crumbling day light eludes vesper’s sleep.
Solitude’s still waters boil – restless energy -
Rushing waves clog with flotsam discarded
For shores unreached – a rueful elergy -
Undertows of catacombs bombarded.
Shapeless forms from midnight sneer, then arise –
Frantic fear flails seeing in undertows
Vanishing edges but phantoms thin lies
Flee as new shafts of amber light now overflow.
Starshine resurrects from the hopeless night
A bridge between nightmares and true sunlight.
Another passing, quiet tears
A time of reckoning, a few more beers
Once wooded, now populated, concrete
Where crickets chirped, now a street
Dreams dying, goals unreached, a new reality
Coming face to face with your own mortality
Material achievement, awards on the wall
Of no real value, please take them all
To change the world but the drive is gone
There's a torch still burning, can you pass it on
Stars in the sky whose light will not diminish
Journey toward dreams that you'll never finish
There is a peace in memories, pain doesn't last
The future intimidates but not the past
Different roads but the same destination
Reaching back in sheer frustration
Fearing places where we don't know what we'll find
Thinking back to all we left behind
Another passing, quiet tears
A time of reckoning, a few more beers.