Long Vase Poems
Long Vase Poems. Below are the most popular long Vase by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vase poems by poem length and keyword.
The painting feels like stepping into a quiet study~
that old parchment background carrying Keats’s lines
as though the poem has settled there for years,
warming the page from within.
A bronze vase with a hint of patina,
holds its autumnal bouquet without fuss:
soft orange petals, a few crimson blooms,
maple leaves turned the color of old metal.
Nothing is loud; everything leans gently
into the season’s slower breath.
The vase rests on a small stack of books~
their spines worn, their pages edged with age.
They look like they’ve been gathered
from someone’s favorite shelf,
placed there not for show
but because autumn belongs beside stories.
To the left, a candle lifts its flame,
a small wavering glow that seems to think
before it moves.
Its light brushes the bouquet
in a small, wandering way,
glances off the books,
then drifts toward the parchment
as though warmth simply
found its own path there.
And the scene~
it doesn’t freeze in place so much as
settle for a moment,
letting autumn lean into the objects
that seem to know how to share
a quiet day.
Fall brushes the bouquet,
touches the books,
and finds the edges of the parchment
as if it knows exactly where warmth is needed.
The whole scene feels like a moment
held gently in place~
autumn settling into objects
that remember how to keep company
with lanquid days.
God loves and cares, He sees our tears,
And knows the number of our hairs.
When tears like dewdrops flow and fall
His mythic mug collects them all.
Be they the tears that babies cry,
Or those we shed when loved ones die.
God sees our tears and knows the cause,
He stores them in His virtual vase.
God understands the speech of tears,
He hears our hearts and clasps our cares.
Things that offend and cause us pain,
He wants to work out for our gain.
When our tears, like a fountain flow,
A river gushing from our woe.
God’s vessel vast, the drops retain,
He stores them up like sheaves of grain.
If you feel burdened with life’s cares,
And fed with bread and drink of tears.
“Cheer up my child,” says God on high,
“soon, I’ll wipe away tears from your eyes.”
Candy coated kisses
Candy hearts
Hearts made of paper
Hearts in love
Love is selfless
Love is a mystery
Mystery to solve
Mystery of life
Life is worth living
Life is precious
Precious moments
Precious promises
Promises of devotion
Promises of forever
Forever and ever
Forever and a day
Day is dawning
Day to celebrate
Celebrate true love
Celebrate with flowers
Flowers in a vase
Flowers growing wild
Wild and crazy
Wild about you
You light up my life
You and I
I love you
I love chocolate
Chocolate bonbons
Chocolate kisses
Kisses long and sweet
Kisses on my lips
Lips red with wine
Lips that invite
Invite a smile
Invite to dinner
Dinner for two
Dinner by candlelight
Candlelight flickers
Candlelight whispers
Whispers sweet nothings
Whispers of romance
Romance brings pleasure
Romance is a dream
Dream of me
Dream of magic
Magic weaves a spell
Magic is mysterious
Mysterious
Spell
2/7/17
For Dave Will's Valentine's Blitz contest
I see the lilacs and think of you,
it's always been that way.
Memories come flooding back
of many a Mother's Day,
There was no extra money
for special gifts for you
but just outside I'd always find
the perfect gift, I knew.
I'd heap my arms with lilacs
and you'd always make a fuss
arranging them in a crystal vase.
A special memory of us.
Years later when my girls came along
those trees were still right there
and on Mother's Day, as in the past,
their beautiful bounty they'd share.
Lilacs and Mother's Day.
In my mind the two are one.
Starting with just you and me
a family tradition had begun.
23/04/2016
Day, and Night
by Michael R. Burch
The moon exposes pockmarked scars of craters;
her visage, veiled by willows, palely looms.
And we who rise each day to grind a living,
dream each scented night of such perfumes
as drew us to the window, to the moonlight,
when all the earth was steeped in cobalt blue?
an eerie vase of achromatic flowers
bled silver by pale starlight, losing hue.
The night begins her waltz to waiting sunrise?
adagio, the music she now hears;
and we who in the sunlight slave for succor,
dreaming, seek communion with the spheres.
And all around the night is in crescendo,
and everywhere the stars’ bright legions form,
and here we hear the sweet incriminations
of lovers we had once to keep us warm.
And also here we find, like bled carnations,
red lips that whitened, kisses drawn to lies,
that touched us once with fierce incantations
and taught us love was prettier than wise.
Keywords/Tags: day, night, love, rhyme, moon, moonlight, pockmarked, craters, window, vase, flower, flowers, fragrance, star, stars, starlight, music, spheres, communion, crescendo, lovers, kisses, lies, love, unwise
night yet clings
yet smothers the numb highway
breathe the wheel
sigh through the gears
wave-ride rubber after-shocks
follow the beam-eyed light
into the blossoming gray
adjusts to blacktop rapids
the sky is passing
it is now ahead of itself
convertible clouds weep dry tears
slip-slide the slick dark banks
with flickering wrists
A second light blooms
a small sun pastes itself onto distant white
a hooded bonnet shakes like a wet wolf
the horizon is now a mobile scaffolding
the whispering tread of a fast coming daylight
rushes into view, it snorts though a crystal vase
that the mind grips tightly
the roads blind ability
to avoid Niagara or the Grand Canyon
guides cold white knuckles
the drunk rocking of a back axle
warns you of a surfacing
unpaved parking lot
engine bones tick-over
articulate shuddering full stops
as they cough up stillness
here
at the end of
one half of a minute
and that is the third manifestation
of breathable light
In the middle night,
in middle America — a small tremor,
not enough to scare the cat,
but the cat knew, and it told the mice
who lived in the walls.
‘It wasn’t us’, they said.
A mess on my desk.
The thin vase with its lone chrysanthemum
toppled.
Spilled water printing a figure,
smudged ink on my poem fragment
— moth shaped,
and in the middle
a human form - man-moth?
I saw my cortical cortex
sliced for microscopic examination.
I envisioned giant wings landing
on a tiny earth planet.
I thought of ripple effects,
how all things run to the middle
when tremors threaten.
Across the midpoint of the rug
the cat has fallen asleep.
The ink-image crawls away.
its wet wings drooping.
I push it back to the
middle.
Fragmented poetry
should stay where I abandon it.
One night I dreamt of flying
through my own head –
I was a small light
in the middle of an endless blackness.
Strangely I was glad to be the center of nothing at all.
Then from my small light a deep voice intoned
as if it were a large mouse in a full moon:
it said:
middle,
middle,
middle.
Mind is void, life is empty .
Brain now dull, though once was witty.
No more I'm in hail and hearty.
Wandering fully meaningless
Lone sailor sailing just aimless.
Matters not , careful or careless.
No hope is left to achieve more.
No desire, even to explore.
Confined ! No means to open door.
All my works almost to delete.
Love -flowers drooped in life's twilight.
Nice memories turned obsolete.
Now reached last stage to discover
myself as helpless observer.
Empty vase : My time is over.
I was 86 two weeks ago
It's no wonder that I move slowly.
My brain is racing down a track,
Looking for lost bits that won't come back.
My spelling is getting worse,
Which upsets me and makes me feel terse
Terse and frustrated, old and grey
Few can understand the things I say.
I do not know myself,
I could be a dusty vase perched on a shelf.
A vase that once was admired,
Now out of fashion, no longer desired.
A relic of another age
Tottering on the last page
Of an 86-year-old book
That is nearing its end,
But are there other chapters?
For me and others to look at
Before I go around the bend
I have much to comprehend.
This day is set aside
So that we may impart
Our feelings of devotion
That comes straight from the heart
Some show adoration
With chocolate and sweets,
With heart shaped cookies
Or some similar treats
Some choose to give flowers
In a vase or a mug,
With the picture of a bear
Asking for a big hug
Some send silly cards
With a balloon or a toy,
In hopes it will show
The amount of their joy
Some are more elaborate,
Expensive and bold,
In the form of a diamond
Or something made of gold.
I chose to be simpler
Or humble if you will,
To try and show you
Just how I really feel
So I wrote you this poem
In hopes that you would see
Just how special you are
And how much you mean to me
Although they are just words
They are passionate and true,
And meant to express
The enormous love I have for you.
You are my beautiful princess
So elegant and divine,
So I'm asking that you
Be my forever Valentine.....