Long Vale Poems
Long Vale Poems. Below are the most popular long Vale by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vale poems by poem length and keyword.
Have you remembered these before
Begirded, by the yellowy maple
Sweeping them in morning's chore
And the first bites of mellowy apple
And the voice dwindling in icy pallid
The evening thrushes nesting over
Your eyelid mere balmy; thawed my heart of gelid
In my heart of gelid, bloomed the clover
Have i remembered these now-
The joyous rhine smoothing down the vale
And the cockcrow kissing your flawless brow
And to you, I speak those times of tale
Never were the asphodel so cheerly
And too cheerly and too softly wave
To the passionate daisy and too the jovial lilly
'Ah fallible love! truly paramour they are; and brave'
.
My hibernating heart,
frozen in the arctic archive,
wakes up enlivened
in the dulcet dawn,
the yearning brush soaks
the sunburst colors,
paints a Monet garden
of blooming lavender love,
unfurls the facsimile
of your floral face,
adroitly appealing.
The luring luster
of lilac rose petals
lines your luscious lips,
quivering with the cadence
of the dancing dew,
turning to diamond
for you.
Rhapsodic ripples
in my mesmerized heart’s
pictorial dunes
trail the mirage moments
in dormant dream,
migrating in the deserted time,
shimmering in euphoria,
endlessly enchanting.
In the velvet vale
of satin passon,
my fascinated mind
fashioned by fervor,
carves a charming channel
of longing to reach you.
The drifting ebony clouds
of my desire
come down in a torrent,
makes my melodic love
a meandering river,
etching an exciting template,
the enticing design
earnestly enthralling.
In my pensive pasture
the panorama appears
alluringly contrived,
apparently alive
in the recess of sanguinity,
where I wait
to take you
to the valley of flowers,
entrance you
with my animated absence,
eternally eluding.
In the sunburst sensuous hued dawn,
the surging stream within my heart
cascades in the vale of chromatic joy,
while on the beguiled banks of yearning
you turn into a flitting butterfly.
I flow with the surge of foaming fervor,
and you fly alongside with flirty flair,
cross the plateau of passion together
to the blooming dale of flowers yonder,
laying threads of spectrum to brace us.
Before I reach the bay of the twilight bliss,
meander awhile on the slope of quietude,
weaving the tapestry of designed dreams
with the lilting lattice of your charm dipping
in my flowing heart, making a lured splash.
June 4, 2020
Contest: Splash
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
On his twenty-fifth birthday, elated
He decided to go hunting.
He let the fresh air of the early morning
On the slope of a wooded hill, fill his lungs.
A small vale stretched beneath him,
Whilst behind the trees rose a small sheer cliff.
That was where he saw the golden oriole.
It was a beautiful specimen, all yellow.
Martin admired its graceful flight.
And the bird seemed to enjoy itself, too.
He observed it intently as it glided, soared, turned,
And flew happily over the old gnarled trees below.
Suddenly, a hellish black kestrel appeared in the sky.
It hovered above, eyes glinting, beak poised.
The oriole sensed it immediately.
Irrationally, it defied the bird of prey,
For it continued its fancy flight
Until the kestrel began its dive.
Then the oriole flew directly towards the cliff
And inexplicably disappeared.
It was the worst birthday of Martin’s life.
Abandon through the flowing blue ice streams,
then rise to thirsty trees and fields of dreams.
Abandon in the beige fields of Indian red autumn,
skeletal keepers lean from the fragrant ledge then forgotten.
Abandon through the weaving champagne sunbeams,
stairway to nirvana, most transient gleams.
Abandon in golden salamander orange, that hath,
set archway of pendulous amber stipule path.
Abandon in the summer sky blue waterfall,
frond through the echoes, grayish fog call.
Abandon in lichen depth and pinnacle spears,
bent and rooted in the brown, in deaf ears.
Abandon in liquescent hands, in its melancholy vale, slowly unfurl,
meeting once more in a dying golden pearl.
Reaching for the stars, yet the soul hath life diviner.
Let it sooth my bleak sorrow and my ashen sin, a love finer.
6/26/2018
In the splendorous crown of my ardent heart
shimmering in the glow of the indigo night,
you gleamed like the tinsels of the moon.
I tried to feel your sapphire sheen touch,
but you drifted away slowly out of my sight,
from the seeking sky I had sculpted for you.
In the verdant vale of my cascading heart
your footprints impressed a turquoise trail.
As I walked with dream on its tortuous trace,
I discerned the remains of my love glimmer
in the mesmeric embrace of the moon dust,
showering on me the patina of your beauty.
From the ebony edge of the tranquil night
storm clouds surged with the thunders of strife,
splintered my sky of seamless yearning motif.
From beneath the dispersed debris of despair
I gathered the fragments of my broken heart.
These turned into stars sprouting one by one,
when you returned to my empty sky of longing.
Adorned by the moonbeam lattice of your grace
I configured my heart into a crystal constellation,
weaving an astral garland to embellish your love.
February 25, 2021
Contest : All Yours (Apr 20)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Cold crisp air this thirty-nine degree morning
Out on the chilly porch shivering from the cold
An unusual sound draws my attention
What could that possibly be this time of day
Three deer bedded down under the great oak
When they heard the door open spooked ran
The sky is clear, a very soft blue
Sun seems to radiate a halo
On this clear early morning
The color at the horizon is sand
Slightly tinted and shaken with pinkish brown
The roosters are crowing for the sun to come on
Their voices seem to oppose each other
As if to say this is my space, my day.
The veil of mist rises from the creek in the vale
Slowly creeping higher as if the cold air
Weights in down in place
This is not a morning to linger for there
Is no firepit or heater out here to warm
The cold almost freezing air but the beauty
Is so inviting even though the chill sends shivers
Thank you God for this few minutes on the porch
It helps me to relax and renew my spirit
With this I can be a better person
When I interact with others all day
Hail, the vale aches from retraced tattered feet going hither and tither the rambunctious brood, as dawn's golden sleigh race into a sanguine morn, of languishing warmth to sheath from the fleecing errant breeze, of yonder mountaintop, amidst a blanketed respite snow made heavy from the weight of the gods, who sit eyeing the mere mortals workloads that wanes into clear desks and cold seats. Traffic slows in the late afternoon and speeds when loosened while the dusk undresses the night, whose yawns of wearisomeness is inhibited by their backsides while bustling and hustling end, lain ontop of unkept beds.
2020 January 14
The last I think I saw of the rustic scene
Of the age long lore and antiques
Before the spell was cast
Was a dancing constellation in the sky
To the throbbing of drum and flute.
A full moon in golden attire watched keenly
Smiling over the quiet thatched huts
And all around the planes of furrows
Where our backbone ache from tilling
Where young cereals countless had sprouted.
Then we reclined on our bamboo beds
Having over-fed with yam porridge
Yam boiled in red oil, dry fish and hot spice
Watching the live coal glow under the tripod
And transfixed by the distant throb of life.
Suddenly a gust of wind descended
Routing from the western valley
The moon quickly puts off its smile
The throbbing ceased, the stars disappeared
And the coal dispersed sparks of its last ember.
I saw the trees bowed to their lords
The sky mumbled with iridescent light
To the distant vale of palms wriggling
Their braided heads to the dissonant rhythm
Of disco and afro night storm.
First there was only a patch of pool
The pool turned to a running stream
And the stream became a flowing river
And the river expanded into a great sea
And the sea brought forth a white monster.
And the monster foaming and roaring
Routed the huts and tossed us into the sea
In the wild turbulent waves set adrift
On a piece of raft, once our bamboo beds
In dark storm and thunderbolts drift amiss.
Then I was woken by voices of weeping
And complaints; doused and shivery,
There was no thatch or mud walls standing
But a great flood washing away
Remnants of our toils and inheritance.
The dulcet dawn lights up
my heart’s ebony horizon,
spreads the sunburst colors
of spectral yearning in the fervent garden,
blooming the flowers of my love.
In the strata of my mind’s vibrant vale,
I carve the channel of desire to reach you
through the fervent clouds of craving,
melting in a mesmeric torrent,
making my love a cascading river where I swim.
Suffused with the diffused diamond drizzle
of my love in luminous turquoise twilight,
you disappear beyond the onyx horizon,
trample in the garden path my emotive flower.
The crumpled pensive petals turn
into shards of shredded dreams.
Losing the remains of longing
in the debris of my broken heart,
I saunter with sullen fractured feeling
to the forsaken shore of silent sorrow.
My quartz emotions swirl unbound
like the dislodged rolling sands
in the obsidian tide of dismal time.
On the sighing sea of despair,
made of billion drops of tear,
descends the somber shadow
of the nostalgic night’s slate sky,
split asunder by the cobalt cold flash
of the tormenting thunder,
fading in the miasma of my memory,
hung in the opal horizon of oblivion.
Walking in the cinnabar path of wasteland
I live alone only to seek you,
implore to hold me in your heart,
take me to your velvet valley,
turn my longing into a flower again,
for my love to bloom in your spring evermore.