Long Vistas Poems
Long Vistas Poems. Below are the most popular long Vistas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vistas poems by poem length and keyword.
Alternating with awe and amazement
Belief breathes blessings, brilliant and bright
Calming, creative and colorful – so calm
Dreaming of dainty, delicate delights
Endlessly eager to eliminate evil
Friendly and full of feelings so faithful
Graceful, giving, glorifying God
Hopeful, heartening, a happy heart
Inspiring imaginations and insights
Joyfully jabbering with jaded jests
Keeping kindness with a keener kaleidoscope
Loving, living, laughing, lighting lives
Making music, melodies to make merry
Noels, nativities and needs being nurtured
Open odes and olive branches offered
Promises of peace, prosperity and praise
Quiet and quaint quotes on queries
Reflections and reminders of rare rhymes
Silent sounds, silvery and soft
Truths and talents tempting all to be thankful
Ultimately, using those in unbelievable unions
Visiting vibrant thoughts on velvety vistas
Wise and warm, welcoming worthy souls
Xerically xenogeny brought to xerophilous
Younger in years than in yawning yarns
Zestful zealots who live in heart zeniths
''A'' Forms, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
POEM TYPE: Abecedarian
2. angel
December 8, 2021
Fabulous is summer’s zeal, rustling its vibrant appeal
Allured by song of robins, warbling from willow trees
Rhapsodic in revelry of frolicking shamrock prairies
Enticing lovers’ exuberance waltzing on ocean breeze
Where sandy footprints amble, exuding playful hints
Eagerly invoking love through kindled vibes of fantasies
Luxuriating on beaches, reminiscing sensual musings
Longingly indulging in smitten hearts’ fervent dreams
Tantalized by multicolored choreography of monarchs
Orbiting scented blossoms, articulating random dance
Seduced by fiery vistas invoking passions of romance
Ubiquitous in changing colors beckoning advent of fall
Meticulously browning fields where cattle lazily graze
Mesmerized in twilight blaze, scintillating orange-red
Ebulliently painting horizon in decaying crimson glaze
Ruminating autumn’s brilliance in summer’s farewell
October 8, 2020
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 23 – Seasonal Acrostic – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Farewell to Summer
I could find in all of my short childhood,
No umbrellas around our neighborhood;
Farm-workers used palm leave woven structures,
That resembled head-gears said in scriptures...!
Our school lay less than a kilometer,
Rain torrents in June were true repeater;
Books covered in Polythene on head,
We saved some parts from tickling water-spread...!
Then, when an uncle from foreign returned,
His umbrella, when acclamations earned;
When town-folks knew cost-wise affordable,
We bought and found it so reward-able...!
Soon I found many models and colors,
Used variously by vivid lovers;
Parents had theirs; children had their showy,
Old had stick-bend like their neck-bend bowy...!
I found now umbrella-drawing easy,
One stick and a shade; things go so breezy;
Concept of umbrellas had changed our world,
No human left here, now, curled or furled...!
From childhood now I have seen vast vistas,
Umbrellas, I seem, like day’s cold, by-pass,
Don't they have, yet, in my life games to play?
Each of their work seem the game of the day…!
Modernity entered umbrellas too,
Who knew who will stand? When? Confronting who?
Frail folding one they produced; lo, the girl,
Thank God! Midst tough trials, she managed to swirl...!
I keep one in my room and in my car,
For emergencies, of course, fine these are;
Sometimes, yet, these all get so much mixed up,
At the end, it's like, searching my tea-cup...!
On Corpus Christi they spread umbrellas,
Of colors we had never seen, alas!
Rings, chains and pipes very luxurious,
Are these umbrellas not so glorious...?
Brolly. canopy, gamp, sunshade, they name,
Each, indeed, ends with the same old name game;
Life doesn't rotate on the axis same,
Umbrellas and safety have their same aim...!!!
05 November 2022
Writing Challenge - Unburden a ''U'' Word- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Shall I collect the petals as they fall
As you pluck them, leaving a fragrant scent
Will you smile, if I can gather them all
And give them to you, a lover's present
This field of spring covered in soft clover
Painted by the sun with its purest light
Showing new vistas as shades cross over
Covering petals of scented delight
Waves of moving grass across lush meadows
A rolling west wind arrives as we lay
Large birds glide higher becoming shadows
As they follow sunlight floating away
And though the petals fell they did not land
Between us they stayed, still safe in my hand
for the contest Be My Reason
sponsored by Amy Green
Life once was a journey through springs
And vistas of autumns in colors bold,
In splendor of morn rising on arc
And motifs on horizon sprinkled in gold;
But seasons soon imposed a heavy toll
Ravaging visions of emerald meadows
When echoes of nights roiled in turbulence
And days encountered darkened shadows.
Glad we soon defied the travails of yore
Turning focus to goodwill of tomorrow
As you stood there like a lighthouse of hope
When my heart was weak and full of sorrow.
And now I feel zest in breath of the winds
And pitter-patter of exuberant rain showers,
And now there's whiff of sweet fragrance
In budding new blossoms of April flowers.
No longer in our eyes there is hint of fear,
Neither are there tears of saddened years
For in your embrace wallows forever love
And in my heart dwells revelry of cheers.
September 15, 2019
Poem of the week..beginning on 9/22/2019
HM: Strand Special 4 by Brian Strand
And in my dream- I am floating in fantasy blue,
where calm aqua water caresses my tranquility;
and the vistas are wondrous below the deep misty azure sky,
oh, I am drifting toward a tropical secluded island.
Submerged above, below, around in splendor,
and my spirit comes gliding as a lovely white bird hovering;
oh, utterly beautiful is this island of emerald green.
Little fish like gems come to kiss my toes with love;
there are no crashing waves, no sounds, just sweet stillness,
and in my dream- I am floating in a fantasy.
_______________________________
January 10, 2016 (Edit)
Poetry/Verse/Floating in the Blue
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1103-957-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into Standard Contest 540
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Upon the threshold of the mind I stand;
grasping a latch of cold and rusted steel.
To seek the wonders of a hidden land;
Beyond the reach of reason’s stern reveal.
The golden key is but a restless thought;
A hunger for the truths we yet deny.
Through dusty halls, the ancient spark is sought;
To light the shadows where the secrets lie.
Then swing the portal wide on hinges bold;
Let strange and sapphire vistas greet the sight.
For when the spirit’s map begins to fold;
This narrow path shall lead to endless light.
Stay not within the cage of what is known;
For through this door, the seeds of stars are sown.
You were once a small child
With paper and crayon
Cacophony’s of colours
Scribbles so crazily drawn.
Then Mummies and Daddies
Crafted with circles and lines.
Soon squiggles of sunbursts
Your world produced in design.
Princes and princesses
Flashy flowers on the moon.
A glimpse of imagining
A child’s dreams in cartoon.
Illusions of spirals
Sophistication of style.
A mind in awakening
Creating art also tactile.
Definitions of shade
Pencil, paintbrush, and pen.
Astounding refinement
A babe leaving the den.
Inventions and visions
Digitising maps of the skies.
Discovering new vistas
Fresh frontiers as the prize.
Technology projects.
Scheming trips to the stars.
For you are the future,
That’s how special you are.
28th April 2016
Hieroglyphs and Holograms - Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Anthony Slausen
If this tumbling stream be nameless,
I might as well hazard a descriptive guess.
Ripple River might do,
there are none here
to deny my footloose thoughts.
Submerged river rocks guide
a sun guzzling water
through a wooded way.
I'm not good at identifying tree's,
how they shape themselves
means more to me.
How old can a little creek be?
How to measure the ever changing?
If I return to this place by dawn or evening light
the name of this stream might alter yet again,
the way the light swims
renames our memories of it.
I prefer pictorial names
for all those innate features of a place,
the pleasure of naming prospects and vistas
gets to be a sacramental act,
a way of saying:
"Hey, I see you."
One of my friends recently suggested
I write one called “Cracker Jack”
Who better than the cracker himself
Who's wheels have left the track
I've never professed to be poet
In the ilk of Browning and Keats
A rebel, a renegade, an enigma of sorts
Marching to a different beat
A bit of a “cracker” I've always been
Take pride in being off beat
Don't have a choice, it's who I am
Travelling down a different street
Always write in the purest of forms
Simple verse most of the time
Since a very young age, always thought
Of poetry as a needing to rhyme
Forever been one to revel in creativity
Searching new vistas each day
It sure turns my crank and floats my boat
Wouldn't be happy any other way
Thank you my friends for the inspiration
To express what makes me tick
We're all cut from the very same cloth
Till we find a pathway that clicks