Long Verandas Poems
Long Verandas Poems. Below are the most popular long Verandas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Verandas poems by poem length and keyword.
Pots of geraniums down the front steps
peeking from the windowsills
the hanging baskets on the front verandas
or the back porches,
Ravishing beds of fragrant shrubs
adorning the sidewalks,
Swathes of jewel-like crocus flowers
throughout lawns and rockeries,
Patches of cheeriest golden daffodils,
The deciduous magnolias blooming...
There are flowers everywhere
brilliant beauty and wondrous aroma of roses
a kaleidoscope of gorgeous multicolored tulips,
The air is rife with sweet scent
and the sun is shining bright;
Can someone please tell me,
is this spring in full bloom
or my lady just smiled at me with love?
~A Brian Strand contest
If you were mine…
If you were mine…our footsteps would
dance on moonlit verandas while
candle light flickers enchant my heartbeat
when your arms wrap tightly around me
become symphonies played to the rhythm of your smile
as we sway in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers
create eternal echoes singing in harmony with your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing reflections comforting weathered longings
If you were mine…satin beaches would
eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love
entice palm leaf shadows of cooling design weaving embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys
glow in sunset tides teasing below star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams
If you were mine…my life would be
a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire
painted in the sweet aroma of everything that is your spirit
vibrant in wonders of fragrant poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need
worth living, believing that happiness can begin with a smile
shared along endless streams of cherish blessings,
completely satisfied and forevermore yours
If you were mine…oh, if you were mine
Good night Soupers
A gateway, as one leads from Terra firma to the sea
Or a path leading to experiences and knowledge
A leap of faith to explore newer potentials, to free
My enslaved self, from every chain of self-afflicted bondage
My passage is not merely spatial; it's spiritual.
My space, from earthly to heavenly, is separated.
Realms are split from perishable to imperishable.
With virtues and values, verandas are decorated.
Divine vibes, like a million suns, moons, and stars, radiate
Cherubims lead my refined soul to the celestial home.
I shrug off the moments when all that was good I did hate.
The portals are all straight now; I no longer need to roam.
Communion of the earthly and heavenly portals show
Shoreless seas of grace wherein mortal souls merrily flow
W- When clouds gather more each day, we know winter is here to stay.
I- In our houses we preparing, while nature had already.
N- Nights become longer and darker, while days are shorter and colder.
T- Time to take stock of our lives, while we all hibernate.
E- Early we go to bed, it’s too cold to stay up late.
R- Resting time for most animals and trees, until it is spring.
S- Spring, is here can you here? Birds are chirping, animals cheer.
P-Prepare us for the warmer coming days, when lazy we can lay.
R-Resting time is done, a new season is here, and it’s time for more fun.
I- Invite us with beautiful flowers and fragrances, nature amazes us.
N-New seedlings and off springs welcome us, do you hear the busy bee
buzz?
G-Gone is it too soon, summer is coming at noon.
S-Sunshine and sunsets are now welcome, when days are longer and
warmer.
U-Under the umbrellas and verandas we shade, when we enjoy the
sunrays.
M-Most people flock to beaches, drinking cocktails and eat sweet peaches.
M-Merry we are, summer is the best season so far.
E-Excited and jolly season this is, but also a time for love and peace.
R-Reminds us also of Jesus birth, when He come to save His herd.
A-After all the hot lazy days, then we start to crave for cooler days.
N-Nothing last for too long, it’s time for a new song.
D- Days become a little colder and breezes stronger.
F-Fall, is here to come say hello, leaves are getting yellow.
A-Animals gather some nuts and fruit, piling up their winter food.
L-Long, hot summer days we can kiss goodbye, we can feel it in the cool
night sky.
L-Leaves are decorating our yards and streets, preparing trees for a winter
sleep.
Cathexis
I see you silhouetted in a vague haze,
On the far end of this breathing hallway,
Way off in the strange distance there,
Amid the suffocating cigarette smoke,
And the obscene wallpaintings,
Of nude pale women wearing necklaces,
Reposed motionless on verandas by the Seine.
Then, I look and see you squatting there,
Under the tinkling chandeliers,
Aglow as with a halo,
Sainted only when wearing white lace,
As you are now, goddess of mine!
Shhh! Listen!
I hear violins outside, two or three of them,
Playing Traumerie in the rain.
Come here, and let us explore with blindfolds,
This side room of esoteric pleasures.
Shhh…It is unlocked, and there are pillows inside,
Numerous soft cotton pillows,
Piled wall to wall, up to the knees,
And the elbows.
Come here, goddess of mine,
And let us dive into this tundra
Of plush velvety incinerations,
This mind field of amazing meltings.
My dream house no longer a mega mansion it needs to be
with ceilings so high in them clouds can be seen
No more acres of gardens with streams and ponds and fountains galore
no more glorious stories stacked to heaven floor by floor
Gold leaf decadence covering ceilings and trim
fifty bedrooms with en suites adjoining them
Kitchens massive and elaborate just for show
for a cooking kitchen behind each where meals would flow
Dinning halls and sitting areas a theater or two
elevators near every grand stairway never wear out a shoe
Rooms named for directions such as the east parlor
rooms so large to communicate it echos as you holler
Library with rare wood paneling three stories high
filled with rare books and manuscripts stack to the sky
Powder rooms and rest areas here and there
with hallways and galleries filled with art to stare
Porches and balconies terraces verandas all grandeur
outside is the inside all in gorgeous splendor
A stately foyer as big as a house
laundry rooms and craft rooms and a cat to catch a mouse
These are just a few things my dream house once used to be
but now that I am much older I get more practical with need
For now my dream house just needs to be cozy and clean
with a quiet area to write a poem or two for a feeling serene.
Massive castles laying in ruins
on barren,steep hills
where fierce battles were fought,
and the dwellers were fraught
as the armies began to advance;
those are the places
that still tell a story when stillness
is able to take us back...
Meadows swarmed by fragrant daisies,
extending themselves to infinity
were the intimate and secretive spots
of the prince and his lovely princess;
a tranquil place where the young poet's hand
wrote those passionate lyrics incessantly
on parchment to perserve his thoughts
in places that still tell a story...
Narrow streets paved with stones
overlooked by flowery verandas
where lovers whispered their secrets
to the stimulant and silent moon;
words never stifled by unpleasant noises,
the perfect place to emanete
their dream,in penumbra,to be gone soon...
without the perceptual illumination so complete:
to remind us of plain people indulging in sensuality
in places that still tell a story....
Celestine sea bringing home weary ships
that discharge the agile bodies of sailors
welcomed by an anxious crowd
at the illuminated and breezy dock;
sailors who rode the tempestous waves
sometimes fearing for their lives in turbulent time,
fusing together to confront the outcome courageously
in places that still tell a story...
Verdant hills and mountains
hiding remanents of ancient temples,
decaying columns without a roof
emitting an indignant mood:
a nostalgia for their glorious past...
still in the delusion of thier grandeur;
who can still hear the hymns sung gleefully
in places that still tell a story?
I close my eyes and dream of winters so pretty that even angels sigh at the scene
cascading snowflakes softly falling, in shapes of doilies and paper ruffle dollies
Winter hats and muffle mitts of red, snowman whispers as red sled rides go by
carnival rides and children full of chide, what a wonderful world of white...
A winter scent of magic, white deer and shadowed antlers of incandescent wood
log cabins with fireplaces and verandas with copper foot welcome matts, come in
make yourself comfortable while the kettle roars to life, tea toddler or coffee lover?
Enter into my little jovial cottage glory and stay a while.
Kansas Poem #4
Hey Hoss, slow down there!
No need to go so fast. Besides,
I don’t want to go
to where you’re going, and
I don’t want to be seen
to where you’re heading.
Hey Hoss, please turn this
furious black thing around!
Kindly get me the hell out of here
before it’s too late!
No, I don’t wish to see
this row of blighted Chinese elms and dead leaves.
Nor hear the badly-sung songs
of lost love and wild regret.
And, I refuse to see
the bloody scratches of truth and beauty,
so scrumptiously etched
with long blades on those splattered bricks;
Embedded there for the duration,
like the gum under your table;
Enmeshed there as the garnished gemstones
of the myriad fountains in Kansas City,
Polished with grit, staid tenacity, and
the time-shorn murders in the wheat lands,
underground in the broad basements
of purple smoke and black blood,
of silent stealth movements
under bending eaves, and a watching moon.
No Hoss!, I don’t want to go
to where you’re going.
Sorry, but we seem
ineffably lost and sadly wandering,
like a couple of dusty dudes
groveling for the keys that match nothing.
No, I don’t want to go
down that long Chinese lane. No!
Turn this furious thing around!
Here the people sit on long verandas and
watch the strangers come and go.
They might notice two dudes like us and
wonder what we’re doing there.
Sometimes I can hear
a loud shrieking funeral going by on Highway 50.
And those same people are staring
at the two caskets, and recognizing us inside!
Hey Hoss, slow down there!
No need to go so fast! Besides,
Time is not naïve, and Its retching Uncle
has left many a lover in the shuttered room,
up there on the 2nd floor,
has poured many a shimmering glass,
and licked many a teeming spoon.
Hey Hoss, ever take a morning break
at Hartman’s Café back in the day?
When the Clutters would drive by waving,
from inside their blue chevy impala, heading
to silent Garden City, and
the cold wind blowing unheard there.
If you drive this black furious thing
down that lane there,
you will see it.
It sits like an old cat in the sun,
going nowhere fast from its sealed post,
high upon these expansive wheat plains,
under this dark, brooding, blood-thirsty sun, and
an unforgiving watching moon.
If you were mine...
If you were mine…our footsteps would
dance on moonlit verandas
while candle lit shimmers enticed my smiled reflections
with your arms tightly around me
symphonies would play to the rhythm of your charm
as we swayed in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers
eternal echoes would sing in harmony to your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing seductions comforting weathered longings
If you were mine…satin beaches would
eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love
palm leaf shadows would weave embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys
sunset tides would tease beneath star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams
If you were mine…my world would
be a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire
each sunrise would be the sweet essence of your spirit
vibrant in wonders of colorful poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need
happiness would begin with promises kept
as we walked along endless streams of hand held blessings,
two hearts loving as one forevermore
If you were mine…oh, if you were mine
Good night Soupers