Long Wakened Poems
Long Wakened Poems. Below are the most popular long Wakened by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wakened poems by poem length and keyword.
A pockmarked plane atop the wooden box
tilts as it dips in the Syrian void,
its hollow compartment lining the faults like
a silver ball which never rests but always
rolls, always weary those worrisome holes
that chisel the quarry to calcified clumps.
Six years spent fighting, flushing freedom
from his nepotistic keep, have rendered al-Assad
a face full of age, nights free of sleep,
and lucid dreams of an Arab Spring
flooding the fields his brother plowed.
There he stands, slaying the wakened womb
that would bury its own for stable graves, aware
there’s a million more marching outside his door.
5/25/17
I Thought I heard a Trumpet
I thought I heard an echo like a trumpet far away..
It was carried on the breezes;
That swept in across the bay.
I listened at my window as I watched the eastern sky..
light up with wondrous lightening;
and the clouds began to cry.
I thought I heard a Trumpet;
and a loud victorious shout....raising high above the thunder...
With Angels all about,.
I wakened from my slumber..in the darkness on my bed...
To a glorious rowdy ruckus
Loud enough to wake the Dead.
I thought I heard a Trumpet, It was a sweet surprise
As I rose to meet my Savior.
And to look into His eyes.
Beaming eyeballs,
and orbs,
from first blush,
offspring frolicsome,
as they dot,
geosmin odoured pavement,
whilst shrieking impishly,
with infectious,
cuddly cheep,
parents shepherd,
yet they exude,
at bounce captured,
cordial conducive,
in electrifying,
picturesque swathe,
orange-scorched oriole,
with coal-black plume,
on urban shade tree,
townscape as hub,
endowed cosmopolitan,
brimful brio, ginger, dash,
kundalini wakened,
as sultry vault,
vigilant ambience,
ample alignment to,
ice tea mint gust,
aroma mediating,
splash of amber sun wash,
neath navy welkins,
that taunt and sketch,
wooing ambit,
extracts of,
aroha’s
indigo index
Our Seasons are a blessing, as they also represent
the cycle of life- and Spring is our symbol of Rebirth.
A nother Spring did come our way;
B egan late March, and day by day,
C ontinued to advance and urge
D ear Daffodils to soon emerge,
E nhancing scenes with pastel splash-
F orgetting drab of Winter's ash.
G reen life came forth with varied hues-
H ad driven Springtime's wakened muse
I nto a frenzy of rebirth.
J ump-started seeds, beneath the earth,
K indly spread Forsythia bloom;
L et Crocus sprout from Winter's tomb.
M agnolia blossoms, pink and white,
N ext painted days with pure delight.
O ur Spring brought Pansy's vivid shades,
P urple Iris, Sweet Pea cascades.
Q uick to grow, Anemones,
R ounded buds on Dogwood trees.
S lowly, Spring displayed her gems;
T iny Snowdrops danced on stems.
U nder bushes violets grew
V anishing bleak Winter's view,
W ith colors painting the new scene.
X anadu, our Springtime dream!
Y early blessings, seasons bring-
Z enith of each year- our Spring!
April 16, 2016 (revised 07/17/2020)
Contest: Share Your Blessings Poetically - Abecedarian
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
A crash of thunder wakened me
as I slept cradled in a tree.
There was fierce growling on the ground.
Something wicked circled around.
I saw the eyes of a beastie.
Its howling was a gruesome sound
Had a dog escaped from a pound
or from quarantine by a vet?
Its canine fangs became a threat
for this creature was a hellhound!
I quaked in fear and broke a sweat.
Deep despair, I began to fret
when deftly he started to climb.
From his drool, it must be mealtime.
Peed on myself; pants soaking wet!
Too young to die; not in my prime,
A ticking clock began to chime.
Can I be saved or tis my fate
to quench its thirst, its hunger sate?
I'm quickly running out of time!
He stares at me as if I'm bait.
My heart races with each pulsate,
hoping this is just a nightmare.
Open my eyes? I do not dare!
His snarling sounds much too irate.
I whispered in fervent prayer,
and slowly, I became aware
of something clawing at the beast,
and on his carcass he would feast.
'Twas the stench of a grizzly bear!
The sun was rising in the East
My brows, deeply furrowed and creased,
pondering the thought that remained,
one I have not yet ascertained...
what should matter the most, not least.
No answer that can be explained,
and no sense of it have I gained
as to why I slept in an oak,
and why my lips have never spoke
of the tree trunk that was bloodstained.
June 15, 2022
Tall Tales 3: Quintilla Fantasy Fiction Contest
Sponsored by Jeff Kyser
zealous woozily throbbing
quintessentially narcotic
karaoke humble ecstasy bubbling
yawningly vibrantly
singing praises motivates
ineluctable fancy caparisoned
zestfully whooping tellingly
quaking novel kindles
heartfelt essence
blubbering yipping vocalizations
sincerely pronouncing
myriad jubilant gleefulness
describing absolute x2c
unbridled rhapsodic
obeisance loosening
inimitable fabulous communication
zeroing wakened tremendous pleasure
marinating joie de vivre
gurgling dynamically aspiring xylem
unstoppably roiling
overtly liberal fawning calculus
zinging wordy tome
proclaiming motive jangling
glorifying divine adulating
x uber rants obediently liberating
inducing fantastic crowing zestfully
warbling tenderly quiet nursing kingdom
harkening enjoyment bestirring
x unnumbered remarks
outlining linkedin impressiveness
from crocheting zany way
this poet marries juxtaposed grammar
describing atypical xfinity urging requiem
oozing libation inside
fleshly corporeal Zen wordsmith thyself
questioning messenger's (mine) jabbering
gets decoded accurately.
Days sneak up on the sleeper,
Either anticipated, or scorned
To the pessimist, they are dwindling,
And to the bright eye—they carry on beyond our selfish minds
Upon the wakened dreamer,
Days draw on in a smiley haze,
Keeping one buoyantly bouncing inward
Outnumbered and overlooked—he is opulently occupied elsewhere
To the seeker of truth,
Ancient, though ageless are the days before him
Crouching along the edge of tomorrow—seeking always more…
As days billow like robes cooling long-trod legs gainst the Eastern sun
And to the beasts and birds,
Feathers, claws, snout, muscle and bone— all harmonize
Instinct and passionate drive hurling precious life onward,
Their days meander freely, like knowing feet on familiar ground
For the contest “Days”
Sponsor: Thomas Martin
O butterfly
Warmth does fall of wakened skies
Sunbeams frolic ‘pon this ground
Basking deep its soothing lull
Alone of wispy windswept sound
O butterfly of colors rich
Pastel rainbows flit the wing
Blooms so full and fragrant filled
Affirm the charm this waited spring
Such the beauty ‘fore my eyes
Emerald shades abound this place
Painted scenes of dawn’s sweet kiss
Enchanted vistas to embrace
Along a path of bordered hedge
A’ winding soft yon golden view
My heartbeat sings in harmony
To spend this morn with only you
1/9/17
Written for the Butterflies of Beauty Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
Consumed by The Widow Spider
The wretches of life are gone,
from the weathered of a peaceful place,
lived once in a playful soul?
Feasting upon his flesh the widow,
bite by bite, bit by bit,
hurting from inside, he hurt.
Does he deserve to be noticed,
when he clings to the emptiness of a soul, that he sings.
Then a storm came,
swiftly it consumed him in the rolling that burns the flesh.
The cries of torments are touched,
only if it steps outside in a confusion of nothingness.
What am I to do in a land that has no care,
as a wilder beast searches his prey?
Look, look he cries,
stumbling and the beast that was near,
devoured him,
which he desired to take of the nothingness that left him to be.
What else he says,
what else, he tries to scream.
The nothingness did he let out,
he fell into a slumber of his bleeding death.
His thoughts had wakened.
Had he been deceived by the widow spider that spun him up?
At his fate,
he knows the torments of his death.
Day, my lifelong friend,
Thousands of times we have said good morning to each other and
As many times we have said goodnight.
You have wakened me up with the caresses of the sun’s rays and
You have put me to sleep with the lullabies of sunset’s myriad hues.
Sometimes, you were calm as a harbor's waters, and other times you were
Turbulent as the stormy sea
But
I loved you the same, thus inseparable we have remained throughout
The years, holding hands from dawn till dusk.
How many times have I, anxiously, waited for you to come, you will
Never know
Neither will you know how much I have prayed to see you faster go when
Unkind you were to me,
However,
You kept your pace unchanged, obeying only to the will of mighty time.
All these years you have brought to me:
Sorrows and joys,
Tears and laughter,
Failures and successes,
Sickness and health,
Death but also life.
You were the best of my friends and the worst of my enemies but
Side by side we stood, united and determent.
How could otherwise be when we both wished our destiny to fulfill?
Now, my eternal friend, the circle of my life is almost complete.
The days for me on this planet are numbered.
How many more times are we going to salute each other is
Unknown to all but God,
So
Before we say our final goodnight, let me thank you for every
Sunrise and every sunset,
For all the sunshine and all the storms you have brought to my life
For
Without them, an empty vessel, without any experiences would I have been,
Useless to everybody and worthless to myself
Thus
When tomorrow you, my wise friend, come and unable you will be me
To awake, do not be disturbed
Since
Another dawn, brighter than yours, will have welcomed me into its arms for
To console me with her everlasting divine love and light!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 November 2021
*Due to the recent serious health problems that brought me face to face with death, I decided to edit and repost an older poem of mine with the same title.