Long Whimsies Poems
Long Whimsies Poems. Below are the most popular long Whimsies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whimsies poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a magical evening an enchanted fairy I happened to see
dressed in a fantastical dress with two dappled wings of lace,
she shone like the midnight sun;
I must confess, she looked rather whimsical
sitting there by a green wooden door, waiting for your lore !
stars glistened in the night as my heart beats rhymed
poetry bursting inside, revealing my yearning
as this beautiful silhouette of hope, danced;
reflecting all the joy, the wonder of a heart who could see
beyond the music, beyond the night’s grief –
into the enchanted that was meant for you and me.
Once, my dreams were filled with mystical feelings, passions
blessing away the nostalgic moments, freeing my fantasies
all the melodies of my soul, playing softly;
in the quiet, silence filling the moments with prayer
an atmosphere so rare – like colorful hues, glistening on the sky
melancholy breathing a kaleidoscope of feelings, blessings
revealing the night’s beating, rhythmic and burning
an ache of the spirit’s yearning, quietly flowing
arising on the hills, stories built by tones of grace
vibrant flavors of yesterday, where peace built her home
in the forbidding gorge of an endless realm
where the fairy lifted her wings to silence the chill,
resting her joy over the darkness of a cold, calm winter
world, where fires couldn’t bring the gentle kindness of hope,
warmed by the distant still, the flaming feelings
floating on air, like yesterday’s music, a song
restoring the hesitant glow of laughter,
the peace that comes from the night’s endless war
with a silent ache, the heart who just knows
even the fairy, in all of her fanciful elegance,
regrets the night who dims with fright…
even though faith can see past the hills, to the silence
poured out on the indigo sky
writing stories of grace, whimsies who can’t wait
abiding inside the souls who remember
what it was like before the cold December,
what is was like when, as a child, the feelings
bled light – such soft and gentle light,
caressing the spirits of those who see beyond the reality,
to the presence of another time, another dimension
where reality fades into streams of fiction!
Where the fairy just sits and listens…
Written: February 28, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mayhem prevails as calm dries and stirs rise.
A ruckus erupts as words and deeds blend.
Oh, the wrath, related storm, and squall size.
Building burning blaze, to draw in hearts trend.
Dance and bustle, spark the soulful lost fire.
Wrath symphony loudly incites the crowd.
Rumpus drew seeing their whimsies were dire.
Slashes and ripples, ruffled wings, brisk loud.
Cloud voices, balk colder, fire with purpose.
Cyclone whirl, heat, and mayhem hurl the mind.
Through life, wards meet in a stirring service
Spoons, fluff, defiance, and keenness behind
A spark of hope with all this lapse and strife.
Grief may spark split, but it can propel life.
the heart is a flighty thing
driven by whimsies and fancies
butterflies and crushes
you’re flying!
the butterflies are so buoyant!
but butterflies can weigh you down
the soft tender wings
crumbling
into something painful and heavy and
sickening
and the lovely flapping is incessant
and it’s too much
and skin turns green yet you
cling
because the heart is quick to bounce around
how boring
so it leaves
this doesn’t feel like “it”
so it leaves
but we are simple creatures
we crave attention
love
moths and butterflies aren’t very different
you’ve been eaten alive
inside out
upside down
but isn’t the lack of gravity
thrilling?
when the crush starts crushing you
and you gasp for air
it’s bruising and hurting make it stop
but it’s so bright
it hurts my eyes
the radiance is too much yet i will stare it in the eye
is this love?
it isn’t tender but it’s strong and bold
and i like it
i crave it
i want it
my heart has seen the mistake it has made
it didn’t fly away
and now its wings are gone
The first chirp of the robin near my shut window pleaded
The blackbird, song thrush, chiffchaff, and pheasant pleaded as well.
The sunflowers, cornflowers, and marigolds that needed
Prayed for his help; he was as silent as a silent spell.
Fishes, amphibians, reptiles, and weak invertebrates
Hares, squirrels, owls, puffins, swans, geese, and willow ptarmigan
Lions, leopards, tigers, elephants, and monkeys with rude traits
Prayed; the cosmos seemed as though curled. The sun's silence went on.
As playgrounds were snow-covered, in gloomy moods, children prayed.
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and cousins called. He said:
When I was shining, your minds seemed seismically swayed.
Can't you, when I am cool, with your inner warmth, march ahead?
Winter's whimsies play vehement games on the sun, so sure
Which element of nature, without him, can their wounds cure?
A newly shaped poem is composed
Of themes both rare and common.
The poet’s thoughts, it is supposed
Will flow to paper without caution.
Of themes both rare and common-
Candid expressions, as pebbles upon the water hurled,
Will flow to paper without caution.
Unstructured elements mingled together in a whirl.
Candid expressions, like pebbles on the water hurled,
First ideas spill forth uncurbed.
Unstructured elements mingled together in a whirl
Wildly unreasonable, ludicrous, even absurd.
First ideas spill forth uncurbed
A tumult of hysteria, an outburst of facts and fantasy
Wildly unreasonable, ludicrous, even absurd,
Until (like magic) the figment’s purpose becomes reality.
A tumult of hysteria, an outburst of facts and fantasy,
The dreamer slows her crazed word play,
Until (like magic) the figment’s purpose becomes reality
And the poet’s whimsies an elemental form displays.
The dreamer slows her crazed word play.
The hard work now begins.
And the poet’s whimsies an elemental form displays,
Time to focus on imagery, sound, and rhythm.
The hard work now begins.
From the jumble, selected words must “pack a punch.”
Focus on imagery, sound, and rhythm,
Tone, diction, and structure -must consider much.
From the jumble, selected words must “pack a punch.”
A newly shaped poem is composed.
Tone, diction, and structure -must consider much.
Intentional placements- lines and phrases transposed.
It’s been an entertaining afternoon
Playing with a Pantoum
Michelle Waters
Nov. 27, 2023
How then shall I sleep and dream,
when I close my eyes those scenes stream unabated clip by clip
from memories of the times I wasted?
Youthful follies say the wizened old
who lived in times of long ago when paths were certain
with well-planned markers paved upon the way.
Dreams were simply monsters pushed back into closets
and hidden under beds;
prim and proper ruled the day and eschewed the night,
forgotten whimsies used to frighten wayward children.
Obligations interfered when the storm of you came rushing in
to crash against the breakers on the beach of duty to my class,
with walls of aristocracy preventing breaches ~
There is no room for pauper poets in those mansions
far above the stormy shore.
Glory prizes abound
when your heart shines like the sun.
But let's not get too gushy here.
Or cheesy. Or tacky.
Let's get real: you are your own best motor,
pluggging along towards a fostering joy.
These are facts not whimsies.
(I speak of whimsies in earlier texts,
when I observed fairies clinging to your earlobes
[if you only knew!].)
it's been a warm summer day in Seattle, sure,
and yes, I HAVE been in the garden most of the day,
cleaning gutters and pulling up grass
my girlfriend isn't a fan of.
These labors lie along a path that leads
to a happiness.
The grim grime and flat-out guck,
you find it between the beauty.
You raise it up and tops it
into the big green bin,
amazed at the path you've found
right outside your doorstep.
*** In Simple Lines Poeetry Comes ***
(“You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life…” Walt Whit an, “Leaves of Grass”)
My lines —
My life…
Riding moments,
Raising poetry
Like Beauty feels
Glorious
As Mother Nature is — when her winter here ends —
Brought on to her time of re-birth —
Sprouting life on toward the sun
From and within layers of earth
As Springtime’s newest whimsies grow
Dew-tipped on all and dawn vibrant ‘tho ephemeral…
Words of import
In simple combinations
Phrased memories come
To waves of fields of grass —
With their repeated reciting
Of Poetry’s honored lines’ past
And then, in sequenced words,
Time has amassed
The little aspects of me —
Presented and quite apt for pennings of similes,
Or for drawing on some imagery —
In my heart —
My simple lines were found
Stemming from radiant peace
Or ardent hours,
With persistence versing inspirations
Into my simple lines.
With all attention closely given
To reverberating echoes of a quintessential metaphor
From melodies ‘oft playing unnoticed in the air
Always
Some distance from just so close
By the fields of Spring’s fresh grasses —
Lyric-tipped all
Invite…Await
Wandering poets with thirsty pens.
E——————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 1/21/2023
Thanks be to God…
Tinted glass whimsies
Seductive slowly spun
kaleidoscopic pairings
changing in illumined awareness,
tinted glass whimsies
“How far can you bend the light?”
Sculpting temptation,
seeking colored fancies
in cylindrical designs
consistently different
“Do you dream in color?”
Mosaic contours flow,
prismatic burst of joy,
variegated vivid visions,
not alike another
“Is your heart the variable?”
Passion is vibrant
intensely hued brilliance
ever changing within
twisting and turning patterns
"Did you know sunsets could dance?"
Painting evening heavens
amethyst shades,
moonbeam reflections
woven in stardust eyes
“Nothing ever appears the same when you are in love”
Good night Soupers
To be swept higher and higher
On the breeze of a pink-salmon dawn
Troubles and cares? Swishhh
All gone!
And what’s this?
I’m neither young nor old
I’m eternal and glowing
Ecstatic and bold!
There’s a poor,
Huddled family with no food on the shelves
But—Viola! Here’s your banquet.
Now, don’t stuff yourselves!
I see an old man in grief
His life’s nearly done
Presto-chango!
You’re young, so go out and have fun!
This New Year’s dream surely can’t last
The time for childish whimsies has long ago passed.
But—I’m still soaring with glee in a world so enchanted
My Covid 19 New Year’s wish
Has really been granted.