Long Vigour Poems
Long Vigour Poems. Below are the most popular long Vigour by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vigour poems by poem length and keyword.
One leaving year, is sketching to a close.
There will arise a fresh, one beginning.
Bid farewell to anything that is morose.
Reach along the striking sides on living.
Those Promises become a drilling in vanity.
Beings direct bearings emerge to befall false.
Pledges are subtly conveyed, then, futility.
It's doubtful to pursue your dream source.
let's plead for vigour and evident delight.
And for concord in the coming year too.
And as the clocks resound at midnight.
I hope those ultimate dreams come true.
Best tip I've won: live all your daydream.
Utterly one frail life is ostensibly we redeem.
It's trivial to squander strength on expecting.
You will be prodded into a treasure wing.
The finest is withal to reach for everyone.
Expecting bliss in the new year as well.
And at zero hours, chorus yodels loud then.
I hope for you, rapture and hefty outrival.
Written: November 19, 2021
In the deep silence of the night when perplexity
Confuses the mind, I feel your power descend upon me,
Surrender becomes inevitable
As I become malleable under the hammer of love.
I view you, approach mid sea, alone, resplendent
In the pale rays of the dazzling moonlight,
As if you were an enigmatic ghost drawing near
In a flimsy wisp of a whirling nightly mist,
Treading the waves, splashing your body with vigour.
Come closer, come, I'm not afraid,
Sing an echoing mermaid song for me,
Or slide into an enticing dance of love.
I thrive upon such inexplicable endeavours,
Where nocturnal elfin whispers and dreamy antics,
So pleasing to the sensuousness of the mind,
Combine to please the florid sensitive nerves
Of this old, tired and jaded mind.
They are a number of believers in God
but do we really believe as we say?
what do we do when trouble comes?
go to God or just act like lumps of clay
God has provided all the very means
to live for Him with faith and vigour
but so often faith is lacking so very short
His promises we forget, doubts get bigger
remember God wants for us His best
for He gave His Son to be our substitute
Jesus took on our sin paying its price
so we receive the ultimate fruit
God calls us to believe His word
all of His word every little line
our problems all start with unbelief
for God is love this shows His sign
So work hard upon our heart
keep it tender and open to His call
He will draw near in a still small voice
the Lord Himself shows His love to all
('Know beyond all shadow of a doubt, that you are loved unconditionally' - Anon.)
THE ME THAT SHE LIKES IN ME.
The only me she likes in me
Is the me of me only on bed,
For my me is full , strong and lanky.
She is ever laughing vivaciously
On, beside ,with and under me,
Never tired but smiling during
The game called “Bedminton”.
I hardly picks point for
She is a non-stop poacher
Poaching and hitting endlessly
Till I fade away finally.
She was of no special brain
Neither does she got unique intellect
But she is of everything in “Bedminton” .
I became very lanky as she grumbles
And complain of nothing but lacking something
Despite sucking my bulky lanky “corkky”.
I fled into a hiding , gasping and hoping
Not to have her cross my path again’
Oh no ! here she comes again
Laughing with a rare vigour.
Off I went on the ground as I opened
My eyes at the hospital two days after.
What happened to me ? I echoed
“Thanked God he is alive ,Doctor
Come and discharge us , lets go home”
I fainted again beholding her voice
And her very mean look
Her laughter more stronger than
That of an hyena whose pray is around
I was not too sure if I will ever wake up again.
Alayande Stephen T
16th April, 2006
3.15pm
Spiced up story depicting my same friend with her
Same heartthrob who his battling to abscond from.
OUR
Form:
F I r e burns, blazes
with vigour and energy ,
furious, outrageous,
dazzling in rigorous flames,
exhausting fuel, turning c r u e l.
p r l n
Also, enchanting flares in. ~~~s a k i g
in glaze and glare.
Primitive fire in Cosmic Explosion
Hydrogen is burning in fire ball Sun :
Prime source of Energy providing life on Earth
Molecules breaking into those of Helium
in Nuclear Fusion.
F I R E flights with frear,
makes mind clear
ignites dormant desires,
strengthens soul,
puts head higher.
F I R E The P U R I F I E R
As though it was born free only to eat,
The soft caterpillar keeps on its work--
Just to turn and finish the leaves neat;
And on it goes unchanging,all in the lurk
Till begins the self centred walling in plot;
A soft, round globule comes up wrought
Only to be boiled and disrupted to fraught
The potter wasp has flights great many,
To the clay and water pits far and near
As is chosen the safe nook or slot puny
With all vigour, labour and concern dear,
The little bit sticks to the select spot fast,
That the set purpose resolves till the last,
And greed does not breed a monster ghast
March Winds
Stooping their backs while grasping their hats,
The gentleman and lady friend push back
The wind, attempting to gain progression
On the sidewalk to their destination.
One leg ahead, followed by the other
Stepping forward in an aggressive manner,
They make tracks, but the draft is intently
Sweeping, brutally blistering, and chilling.
This is not the juncture to be out there, I conjecture
While staring out the window, observing the weather
And the motions and energies exerted by the couple
Entering the establishment where I wait on tables.
Raw oysters with cucumber mignonette sauce
(Recommended by many for manly performance)
Complement steamed Asian greens and oyster mushrooms,
With a slightly chilled Chablis to rid the gloom.
In-between seasons of winter and summer,
When the snow melts by the sun and wind’s vigour,
Giving way to raw dynamics and our encounter.
March winds—I was never too fond of the changeover,
Except on the latter in April’s joy filled days,
When spring becomes wonderful to the pupil
And I smell the sporting grass and see trees sprouting leaves
And flowers unfolding their petals in the warm breeze.
Whereupon the bough birds chirp endlessly
And bees fattening on blooms hum melodiously,
And people, carefree, are zestfully happy,
As when entering a garden of felicity.
Discreetly, I recompose myself not to let my emotions display
And leave the miss and her beau to enjoy their entrée plate,
Who softly giggle to each other with innocent grins
Of fortitude when out there braving March winds.
Though nothing changes, nothing stays intact.
Some places I have loved are shrunken, spoiled,
and sights I’ve carried with me are now soiled,
polluted. I’m confronted with the fact.
But Rome’s eternal, even when it’s sacked.
It’s comforting to know that, when I’ve toiled
to keep alive a vision, and recoiled
from ruination, I can yet exact
enormous pleasure from what still remains.
The brooding phantoms which I have to face
are ghosts of my past self. As vigour wanes,
it pains me to recall each trait and trace
of what I was, in catacomb campaigns,
whose faded glory saturates the place.
She is ‘life’ in the strength, as of Earth,
She is ‘pulsation of ardency’, a woman of worth,
She is ‘harmony’, as of the timeless spheres,
She is ‘stories of deliverance’ from pain and fears,
Through waves and seas of uncertainties,
She is ‘nurture’ amidst adversaries,
She is ‘battle’ in her wars with chaos,
She is ‘warrior queen’, majestic in her ethos,
She is ‘swag’, she is ‘attitude’, she is ‘fire’,
Yet she is ‘calmness’ and ‘throb of desire’,
She is ‘madness’ in the caprice of wisdom,
A motive, an impulse, a beauty in motion,
She is ‘heart’, she is ‘warmth’, she is ‘hearth’,
She is ‘vow of oath’ that only death can part,
Yet, she is ‘symphony’ of eternal love songs,
She is ‘force’ and ‘vigour’ in souls she belongs,
A thousand lifetimes would echo still,
She is ‘woman-beautiful’ driven by will.
The green-eyed monster
The green-eyed monster has awakened
From a sleep that made him rest
As he has regained his vigour
He will put you to the test
You will have to act real courteous
While your heart with envy sears
And you must control your anger
Maybe even hide your tears
Your endurance will be torture
For it lacks good sentiment
There’s no will or motivation
To utter any compliment
Now your mood is so confusing
And it shows upon your face
Which appears real taut and rigid
And you feel so out of place
’Cause the monster has awakened
And he wants to be amused
He wants you to spew out venom
And he will not be excused
As you struggle not to please him
You blend friendliness with spite
And it all becomes real awkward
’Cause you want to do what’s right
So you smile and raise your eyebrows
In case your eyes stare blank and cold
’Cause you want no one to blame you
For a grudge that you might hold
This is how you fight the monster
Or at least that’s how you try
And it looks as if you’re winning
But you know it’s just a lie.
Wendy Nipas