Long Warm Poems
Long Warm Poems. Below are the most popular long Warm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warm poems by poem length and keyword.
Underneath the overpass as I was passing by,?
Something in the shadows, a shape had caught my eye.?
I couldn’t tell just what it was—intrusive thoughts owned me,?
For once I didn’t understand the shape my mind did see.
I drove on down the interstate, the rain began to pour,?
Wipers rapping,
?Thunder clapping, ?
Storming at my door.?
Lightning struck around me—waking sights I can’t ignore.
Each flash of light revealed the truth I'd buried long ago,?
A cardboard wall, a tattered coat, a figure slumped below.?
The past came flooding in, a child behind the glass,?
Watching faces in the dark as nameless cars would pass.
I’d asked my mother then, “Why do they sleep outside?”
?She didn’t answer fully, just wiped a tear and sighed.?
“Some people lose more than they should. Some never had a chance.”?
And quietly, I mourned them, through my innocence-glance.
Now grown, I grip the wheel, my coat pulled to my chin,?
Warm coffee in the holder, dry and safe within.?
I carry bags of burdens, yes, but also food and flame—
?A roof, a bed, a blanket, a mailbox with my name.
And still it humbles me, this ache that never mends,?
To know some call the silence home, and cardboard walls their friends.?
That rainy night reminded me how fragile ‘having’ is—
?And how a heart can still break twice for someone else’s kids.
I wonder what became of them—that shape lost in the gray,?
The soul beneath the overpass I passed again today.?
Did someone see their shadow too, and offer them a hand??
Or did they fade into the storm, like footprints in the sand?
Did they find a place to rest where rain no longer seeps,
?Where hunger doesn’t gnaw at ribs and silence gently sleeps??
Or did the cold outlast them, as it does so many nights,
?Where sorrow tucks the nameless in and turns off all the lights?
I’ll never know the answer, though it lingers in my chest,?
This fragile, fleeting moment I cannot lay to rest.?
But every time I see that space, now etched beneath the sky,?
I whisper hope into the wind—that someone helped them try.
I often visited my grandparents when I was a child
then whispers of Grampa's death left me upset
Gran struggles with the garden, overgrown and wild
unkempt flowers and ferns won’t win a prize rosette!
I stay at Gran’s house during the long school holidays
we often sit outside on the porch until late at night
Jasper, the old collie dog, basks in warm sunlight rays
which stream through the glass roof, bringing us such delight
I help Gran clean the window panes in the front door
and dust the ornate staircase that leads to my room
then I pick pretty flowers with the sweet scents I adore
whose fragrance reminds me of Gran’s briar rose perfume
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Constance La France
07/18/20
We become empty and void like vast space,
aided by bliss mists that suffuse our form
and there remain no tests, we need to ace,
as we’re cradled by divine currents warm.
Mind-body a vessel, in which dwells soul,
which first descends, before upward ascent
but to fulfil thus its ordained life role,
it must first and foremost, grant love consent.
Opposites dissolve when love’s manifest
and cravings of lower mind too recede,
whereupon we breeze through life in light jest,
allowing bliss beat pulsations to lead.
Flame of innocence in our heart aglow,
breath by breath we rise, in staid stillness slow.
Breath by breath we rise, in staid stillness slow,
witnessed by presence, with a tranquil eye,
as shedding resistance we gently flow,
observing false ego wither and die.
We alone witness our transmutation,
near and dear ones remaining unaware
of our soul’s divine entwined flirtation
and though we wish to share, no one can pair.
Our stance is stillness, in silence we burn,
feeling hidden nodes within come alive
and truths transcending mind, in time we learn,
as deeper and deeper in bliss we dive.
We write on, although we cannot translate,
sublime bliss rapture that does not abate.
Sublime bliss rapture that does not abate,
reverberates within by day and night,
asking but of us to keep our heart chaste,
whilst teleporting us to zenith height.
Synced with vibrations of the universe,
delighting in each offered sensation,
essence of presence sings a joyous verse,
as our spontaneous meditation.
Illumined within, is our central vein,
being both immanent and transcendent,
at the centre of which, heart free from stain,
radiates our inner light resplendent.
With no goals to chase nor puzzles to lace,
we become empty and void like vast space.
It is in ponds, streams and rivers,
And also in lakes and oceans.
Sometimes it stands still,
But mostly it's in motion.
From the air, it will say hello,
From a dreary sky,
Showering you with love.
No longer you'll be dry!
Nothing is more refreshing
Than a glass of this wonderful water;
Even without sugar, lemon, ice and bubbles,
For which you'd have to order.
Waterslides and kayaking,
With water rolling over rocks,
Sometimes it's safe to engage,
Other times it's with feisty crocs!
The waves stir up emotion.
They impress us with their power.
Mighty, majestic and strong,
Their crash causes a foamy shower.
Water is also relaxing.
Think of that warm soak in the bath...
Water is used in playtime, for fun,
Squirting water at your friends - then you laugh!
Water is a force to be reckoned with -
Poetry in motion, as it were!
Its exotic reflection of the sky above,
One cannot help but stare!
Water can transform
Into a solid or a gas...
Let's top up our water vessels.
To water raise a glass!
Saturday, October 2, 2021
Coffee beans, a world in a grain,
Roasted and ground, a caffeinated refrain.
Born in the tropics, where the sun meets the shade,
A journey unfolds from bush to brewed cascade.
In the highland realms where the arabica dreams,
And the robusta thrives by mountain streams,
Emerald hills with leaves of green,
Cradle the cherries, a ruby sheen.
Harvesters toil under the sun's warm kiss,
Gently plucking the beans, pure coffee bliss.
Hand in hand with the seasons they dance,
A delicate choreography, nature's romance.
From the fields, the beans embark on a quest,
To the roaster's chamber, where flavors manifest.
The symphony of crackles, a transformation in heat,
Awakening aromas, a sensory feat.
Medium, dark, or a blonde delight,
The roaster's art shapes the beans' flight.
Aromas unfurl, as flavors entwine,
In a fragrant journey, both robust and fine.
Grinding whispers echo in the morning air,
As anticipation rises, a ritual to declare.
Into the press or the espresso machine,
The grounds prepare for their aqueous sheen.
Brewing, a ballet of water and bean,
A liquid alchemy, a potion unseen.
Espresso, pour-over, or a steaming cup,
A daily elixir, waking spirits up.
In coffee shops bustling, a caffeinated hum,
Baristas crafting creations, a skillful strum.
Latte art blooms, a canvas of cream,
A masterpiece fleeting, in each sip's gleam.
Coffee beans, a humble seed's legacy,
A ritual, a culture, a worldwide legacy.
In each fragrant cup, a story unfolds,
A journey in every sip, as the coffee beholds.
Line of Inquiry: We look at spirit not at form. Our touch is gentle, kind and warm. We but reflect God’s love and light. ‘Tis the path to which we conform.
She stood beside the crosswalk in the rain,
her coat drenched, her gaze turned toward the ground;
I almost passed, weighed down by my own haste.
But something in the storm—perhaps its whispered strain~
unveiled her spirit like a lantern found,
a quiet glow no weather could erase.
I offered her my umbrella, small and slight,
and in her lifted eyes dawn broke anew~
a warmth that mirrored God’s unbidden grace.
Thus kindness shaped the path my heart pursued,
teaching me form is shadow, spirit light.
--- Matamoros, 2:00p.m., December 6, 2014
I sit at this table
(as I have done many times)
wielding a ball-point pen,
with insufficiencies of
thoughts and words --
out of place.
All the while
the two dogs --
Guero and Princesa --
shower their affections,
licking and nuzzling,
in return for caresses,
pats, and gifts of food.
They respond in kind
to attention and gentle treatment.
A nearby train
sounds its horn,
blocks a street,
further clogging traffic
in this unhealthy border city.
The day goes on, time elapses slowly.
It is very warm.
I exchange minimal phrases
with the occupants
of this house.
The owner has just
returned from visiting
his dying elder brother
at the Social Security Hospital.
We leave to visit
an acquaintance in the countryside.
A random fragment
from a life.
o there is a place that dwells deep within
it makes warm the sun as new days begin
wellspring of essence that found me beguiled
each wondrous footstep I took since a child
deep shines that spirit, alight as the day
noonday bright luster to fluster the fray
two feet on my path from sunup's first spark
scattering shadows to burnish the dark
it sees me thru day as sun 'cross the vault
shelters thru darkness and fear, to a fault
it lets heaven’s weep give life and inspire
and thru winter's cold, I warm by its fire
but …
like lovers in moonlight, stories and friends
life stays so precious cuz one day … it ends
daytime is joyous, drenched sweet by the sun
yet … moon and stars only beam when it’s done
I pray that one day my words dance on the sky
staining each sunset when evening draws nigh
when, like day dying to set twilight free …
my soul, with the sun, slips into the sea.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Completely Your Choice 3, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Completely Your Choice (3) Any Theme Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Slipping Soul Sunsets Into The Sea" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
From the beginning of May,
I had tried to stay away,
That was how I found another place,
Luckily, it has a piano to occupy me.
Then, the incident of breaking in my property,
Tied me and you to repair it,
That was when we did the project
"Putting lipstick on the pig".
It took 6 weeks to complete.
You were quite sick of doing it,
While I enjoyed being with you without excuses.
You stayed the evenings in my place.
The weather freezed us apart,
Your hands were cold and could not get warm,
Despite the oil column heater was on,
I wanted to share with you, my own heater generator,
But, it would too embarass to both of us.
Then you mentioned guacamole,
Which created another food tasting relationship.
I went shopping, preparing and cooking.
You told me about ajvar,
A very different relish dish,
I was crazy to make it,
You became upset when I used plastic.
Quickly I overcame the issue.
Then, mixed salad and Potato salad came on our menu.
That was the end of our three meals.
I travelled around, to ensure
I was not at your second home,
I was crazy about you but I had to let you go,
Came along the 7th month of lunar calendar,
The ghost, devil and spirit month really set us apart.
You found and enjoyed new project,
While making up excuses,
About not wanting to be part of the dirty system.
All these 6 months, you knew I was on a government scheme.
You were with me as part of my own system only.
It was you, who wanted to end the friendship,
But had to make up hurtful excuses.
It was not your projects stood between us,
It was you who isolated yourself from the real world,
Barricaded yourself away from me.
Never mind B66,
Enjoy whatever and however you want your life to be,
I will survive whatever left of me.
We were like two peas in the same pod,
But unfortunately, we had finished in different pots.
Thank you for being friend with me,
However sweet and short, lovely and painfully it could be.
Goodbye B66.
I know you warned me not to call you BB,
But frankly my dear, I loved it.
Each morning when I wake up I give thanks for all the big things in my life
My friends, my family, my children, my grandchildren and my wife
I give thanks I have enough clothes to keep me warm and food to keep me fed
that I have a house…a car…and at night…a comfortable place to lay my head.
When I take a walk I give thanks for all the big things that I see…
The sun, the moon, the ocean…every cloud and every tree.
And I never forget to thank the Earth for all that she is giving
from all the beauty she surrounds me with to the air that keeps me living.
When I’m finished thanking big things I start to thank the small things that catch my eye
A loving smile, a kind hearted wave…a bird…a butterfly.
A ladybug landing on my finger, the crickets making their nightly sound
A leaf that gently floats upon the wind as it flutters to the ground.
I spend my days and nights like this thanking things both big and small
And when my day is over I realize…I haven’t thanked them all.
But that does not discourage me…that I didn’t thank everything on my list
Because I know tomorrow I’ll have another chance to thank those things I missed.