Long Vibrance Poems
Long Vibrance Poems. Below are the most popular long Vibrance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vibrance poems by poem length and keyword.
"when someone is loved"
when someone is loved birds sing
they sing with angelic voices from heaven
as the sky opens up they glide gracing life
music plays in all corners of each wing
when someone is loved butterflies appear
they appear with beauty adorning earth
as colors show everything is new
both softness and vibrance spray with flair
when someone is loved hearts beat
they beat beyond happiness or bliss
making possible for souls to breathe
making possible for inner and outer glows to meet
may birds enrich
may butterflies enhance
may love surround your world
SkyWatcher
07-28-18
may this day find you all well
Once we realise this world is but thought
and that we’re here because of our desire,
no cause then remains to be tense and taut,
for within this dream, what’s there to aspire?
In space-time dissolves silence, who remains,
save essence of presence, always complete,
free from bondage to ego’s thought form chains,
throbbing living light, here now bliss replete.
Though there’s nothing to be done, life renews,
as a lucid dream, we ourselves have spawned,
so we sing a hymn, as of our heart’s muse,
full of vibrance, although nonchalance yawned.
There’s but one real purpose in this world ~
to behold how the flag of love’s unfurled.
Does a nightingale speak of the source of her song?
Do any peacocks proclaim the cause of their dance?
Doesn't music flow in the vibrance of a gong?
Don't nature's notes put existence into a trance?
I thought my poems would change this world. I was wrong.
Who reads poems these days? If so, shouldn't I write?
With coarse words and mute cords, I still sing all day long;
it's not with swords or guns—it's with my pen I fight.
My notebooks and diaries are scattered around.
Penury has devoured the roof of my old hut.
I feel as though in my own silence I am drowned;
like a cracked gramophone, my worn-out words I rut.
When buds bloom full and nectar feeds the birds,
Must I remain so choked to speak my words?
Pablo...according to me (Part 1b, continuation/finish from Part 1a)
Re Pablo Picasso printmaking exhibition at Bellagio Hotel's Fine Art Gallery.
(7) Photo - PP's living room (by David Douglas Duncan), Summer '57, Villa La California Cannes
I'm glad I'm not the only one who breeds mess, industry, libation, and managed chaos in the quest for genius. He found it. I'm still looking.
(8) Figure (oil/canvas, zinc plate, litho)
Helluva way to capture the lady and her virtues. I've never seen nipples and nostrils so exquisite and interchangeable.
(9) Woman with a Chignon and Yellow Hat
Wife (his) in all her glamour. I imagine the hand on the face is gesturing, "Pablo, finish up, the trash won't take itself out".
(10) Jacqueline with a Multicolored Straw Hat (series from carved linoleum, staged in colors, details and vibrance)
So we start with faint silhouette and baseline virtue, homage to woman as the world's foundation. Then follow to add glow (yellow), fire (red), mood (periwinkle), passion (purple), and beauty (full blown spectrum). Oh, women, you of hues incomprehensible and indestructible to man.
(11) The Two Nudes (his take on Goya's "La Maja desnuda" and Manet's "Le Dejeuner Sur l'herbe")
New muse, old muse. Threesome fantasy. It's getting hot in here, so take off all our clothes. What? One loses steam. Oh no! The other falls asleep. Darn, bitches! Rosie, it's all yours tonight.
(12) Reclining Woman Reading
She's skimming through "Fifty Shades of Pablo". Chapter 12, "Brushes and Booty Calls: How a Flick of the Wrist Seals the Next Tryst".
(13) Photo - DDD again, July '57 (same Cannes villa), PP in his studio looking at "Head" work in progress
Deep contemplation. 42 days until NFL Opening Day. I need to kill time. Hey, Jacqueline, any PBRs in the fridge?!
(8/1/15)
The “Bench” sits proudly among the trees,
perched high and overlooking the beauty of the water down below.
Exquisitely black, it seems to hypnotize,
beckoning you to stop for a spell.
Once captured, an involuntary trance arises;
you’re transposed to another dimension,
where your awareness becomes unblinking,
eyes fixated on the ripples in the water.
Heightened senses come alive
as a shiver runs up and down the curve of your back.
Your mouth gapes open as pieces of precious memories escape,
softly murmuring in soothing tones to the shadow
sitting beside you,
praying feverishly for signs of life from another dimension.
The “Bench”—
strong like a father,
its soft curves of the arms envelope you like a mother’s embrace—
a priceless reminder of a life so loved.
The strength and sturdiness of the bench evoke emotions,
a feeling of utmost comfort,
the head-heart linking,
dwelling in time-stretched blissful peace.
It envelopes you, safe within a cocoon,
untouchable.
The energy rises within, and a soft moan escapes.
The yearning is so real as you reach out your hand,
lean over for a warm embrace.
There is no mystery—
the space beside you is held for an Angel.
The leaves are gently falling and rustling,
blowing in the wind like unspoken words of love
carried into the waves,
like a message in a bottle.
Always in my heart, a shining light,
an innate vibrance, an everlasting energy.
God bursts everywhere…
Smile of a child
Twinkle of an eye
Surge of a wave
Silence of a grave
Bloom of a flower
Unseasonal showers
Kindness of the heart
Purity of a thought
Every drop of sunshine
Some poems of mine
Starkness of the night
Forgiveness after a fight
God bursts everywhere…
In the green of the woods
In the ‘G’ of the good
Moments of fear
Heads bowed in prayer
Every bite of chocolate
Ghalib’s* every couplet
Serenity of soul
Oneness of a goal
Bonding with friends
Concern of parents
Sweat of toil
Whiff of wet soil
God bursts everywhere…
Tears of solitude
Courage of fortitude
Vibrance, music, words
In organized and absurd
Dreams, hopes, love, compassion…
Humming tunes and quiet conversations,
Even after my days are done
This poem will forever go on
A verse could be added each day
Because God bursts everywhere.
*Mirza Ghalib was a great urdu poet.
Line of inquiry:
"betwixt the pulse of our heartbeat
simply present, head-heart linking
dwelling in time stretched blissful peace
awareness became unblinking"
For contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
_________________________________
In the hush where heartbeats softly blend,
A vibrant hum, where time and space suspend.
Each breath a bubble rose to the skies,
Awareness is sharp as if we’re born to rise.
The world emerges as petals in the light,
Where hermits dwell and drink from nectar’s bite.
On window sills of dreams that dare to soar,
We stand, mere men, yet feel the ancient lore.
With paths that twist as rivers through the earth,
Voices echo wonders whispering our worth.
The pulse between us thrums a sacred tune,
As daylight dances with the waning moon.
Her life is woven with threads of glowing grace,
A tapestry of moments we embrace.
We stretch in blissful peace beneath the shroud—
Of light and shadow mingling in a crowd.
In every flicker lies a call profound;
Our spirits fuse where silence knows no bound.
Yet still we feel—the tender ache of dreams—
That shimmer bright within reality seams.
So let us drink from this eternal stream,
Where head meets heart and minds ignite the beam.
In nature’s arms let every moment swell—
For here resides our truth—a living spell.
The orange sunset bleeds, and in its wake
Corona of moon flaunts a hue…opaque;
To etch one’s vision until dawn rises
While brushstrokes in oil abandon the day--
With pigment lavender circling away.
And tints slip-slide on radiant flowers
Where a pond’s varnished tones daub evening hours ,
That olive boughs hang on an easel moist
Embellishing garlands utterly white
Along ebullient woodland, red and bright.
How such panorama fires one dappled trance
Allowing colors their primitive vibrance…
As still- life bursts like a god's creation :
Here, an artist traces traces again
In night’s chill … bold paint splashing nature's grain.
Your Personal Perfect Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Disclaimer
poems are weaved as of impressions received
reflections portraying the truth as perceived
perhaps we turn to scriptures to validate
uniqueness of our path, as our ordained fate
be wary then oh reader of words we pen
discovering God’s light in mood and mode zen
feeling the vibrance unsaid between the lines
let us go beyond the written word’s confines
***
the heart, the source, the core
unites us with the Absolute
pure souls unmask God
if they be resolute
***
feeling, not thinking, head and heart linking ~
attain oh hermit, awareness unblinking
***
who is the dweller of our heart ~
reflecting thus, God-search jump start
***
within the heart, let us anoint
Self: a singularity point
where there be neither space nor time
before emission of love’s chime
all energies herein are held
in quietude all desires belled
all is formless, there is no shape
yet in the stillness we’re awake
***
what does it mean to make our eye single
that we see everything just as it is
for this first let bliss pheromones mingle
that we become the flame, the bubbling fizz
when ego dies, we become the twice born
balanced polarities descend to heart
boundless rapture feeble form does adorn
breath by breath we feel bliss ignition start
ego exhumed, light of Self is revealed
the pranic energy grid comes alive
we as child of God, are in His heart healed
innate love and light of soul we revive
one with the universe, soul sings a song ~
aligned with the hum of the cosmic gong
***
what we call heart is Self as living light ~
at its core we see God’s light shining bright
***
I awake royal blue
It fades to a teal
Just a different hue
To change my appeal
Come noon, neon yellow
Before long, an off white
For a moment I'm mellow
Seeing the light
Everyday, come supper
I'm as red as an apple
A weathered fixer upper
Splotchy and dappled
Much too often
My colors bleed out
I find myself caught in
A saturation drought
My contrast, I tweak
Adjusting my vibrance
For hidden hues, I seek
In hopes to enhance
Sometimes I find
I'm underexposed
I can't see when I'm blind
Or fix what doesn't show
In desperate moments
I click delete
Though the process is dense
Again, I'll repeat
Often I'll distort
Overindulge in a tone
An alternative port
Highlights blown
I manipulate emotions
With photoshop talents
My colors I blend
It's a daily balance