Long Windle Poems
Long Windle Poems. Below are the most popular long Windle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Windle poems by poem length and keyword.
Our home feels very different,
Family life must still go on.
Caught in a void of shapeless thoughts,
It’s our faith that keeps us strong
For it’s the little things that hurt,
And the words that once were spoke.
No chance of consolation,
Gone forever up in smoke.
Do we ever know someone?
Or is only the veneer.
What beats beneath the surface,
Remains to most unclear.
In the choices that we make,
At the time seem set in stone.
As we go upon life’s journey,
More and more we seem alone.
What once were vibrant colours,
That makes up our daily lives.
As one season comes then goes,
One by one the light declines.
Eternal life is promised,
By our saviour and our friend.
In this ever-changing world we live,
There to meet us at the end.
N Windle © 2017
The hours tick by before my eyes,
As I lay tucked up, in my bed.
Even Bo peeps sheep have now returned,
And still the lack of Zzz’s.
Pounding seconds tick away,
Seem to echo in my brain.
Back and forth and back and forth,
Reminiscent to coaches on a train.
Oh, what I hear myself reply,
As the shock begins to bite.
With blood shot eyes that settle down,
As the room now fills with light.
As a foot now stumbles on the floor,
Now lurching from my bed.
In a bleary haze that follows,
From that workman in my head.
A vow to become teetotal,
For at least that what was said.
From the dark roast coffee granules,
To raise me from the dead.
What a happy sounding chappie,
From the airway’s morning show.
Why should he be feeling cheerful?
With five days of drudge to go.
Now boldly going forward,
As through the door I trek.
Filled by last night’s antimatter,
From a star ship what the heck.
© N Windle 2020.
Sweet rapture
With every breath I still rejoice,
On the coming of a brand new day,
Filled with hope and expectation,
Inside, still the child at play.
Come forth the summer,and those salad days,
With skies in sapphire blues.
To run bare foot over dew tipped grass,
In a land refreshed a new.
On my face, give me the warmth of sunshine,
To hear the sounds of a running stream.
As I bathe in its crystal waters,
And lay on its banks of green.
The choral notes, can be heard from a blackbird,
As they float on the evening air.
My senses now in sweet rapture,
Lifts my soul on wings, without a care.
? Nicholas Windle
Morning breaks
A farewell twinkle from the morning star,
As darkness leaves, on fleeting wings.
The driftwood left of yesterday,
As life anew begins.
My eyes drawn to the cliffs above,
its granite outstretched hand,
Mighty proud and awesome,
As they push up through the sand.
Never ending with relentless zeal,
The sea is pounded at the stone.
carved and weathered, in crevice deep,
as a blade that’s now been honed.
The rolling tide she beckons,
As I walk the morning shore.
Waves cry out like a sirens song,
As she enchants all, with her call.
For upon breeze it seems to say,
Come join me if you dare.
A trance like state that draws you in,
So all out there beware.
As sparkling water laps my feet,
The sensation of sand now warmed.
A shimmering sun now rising,
Signals the coming of the dawn.
With the idyllic beauty of a painting,
On which the brush still wet.
As tomorrow now becomes today,
A new canvas we shall get.
N windle
© 2016
I see you
When sad and feeling down,
These words I like to say.
For sweet lord beside me in my life,
I fear not, come what may.
Lord I see you.
In the cotton clouds,
That floats on high above,
I see you.
In the gentle breeze,
And the snow white turtle dove.
I see you,
As the skies grow dark,
As colors contrast against the grey,
I see you,
In the warm glowing sun,
That makes up the summer day.
I see you,
As the mighty oceans rant,
There waves crashing on the shore.
I see you,
On the ice cold tips,
Where the mountains start to soar.
I see you,
In the colour flora,
That covers mother earth.
I see you,
Through a child eyes,
And the precious gift of birth.
For all these things my heart gives praise,
That makes up are waking lives.
The lessons learned and I travel home,
And reborn again reprised.
© N windle 2009
Form:
Before golden opportunity
(goes no argh hue mint
the way of Long John Silver)
doth fade and dwindle
not necessarily cuz the missus
did (NOT) bribe and swindle
an ambition (for nor rhyme nor reason)
arose to kindle...
Affectionate communication
employing (figurative) gambol
probably testing your patience
to decrypt me trademark ramble
essential crux of matter after
ye prune thorny verbiage,
metaphorical berry good bramble.
Methinks yar psyche slid into funk
cuz usual upbeat gregarious disposition
of late (June 26th, 2020)
analogous to reclusive monk
whose nonverbal body language
shrieks "LEAVE ME THE ƒµ©* ALONE"
lest recipient (in this case yours truly)
receives judicious suckerpunch
finding him landing - ouch
on his buttucks - kerplunk!
Nevertheless as one
mister misanthrope to another
who could pretend cavorting
as asinine make bull heave brother,
(or undergoing extreme makeover,
and stretching imagination voila
one garden variety generic beastie boy
rendered into... yup, your grandmother.
Hoop fully no unpleasant memory
doth suddenly unfold
linkedin to said very old
boot (moost likely)
long deceased family member
turned to dust commingled with auld
Lang syne amidst weathered tombstones,
markedly intact skeletons absent
any flesh o'the rear
some etched with hands folded in prayer
mausoleum enshrining even in death near
(think grim reaper kingly leer)
still provoking jeer
profligate (yet prolific) paperback writer heir
housing generations ghostly forebear
comprising your family tree, once... dear
father, mother, sister, brother, et cetera
who profusely guzzled beer.
No intent to induce fury if playful banter
loosed psychological trip wire
merely harmless ambition to deliver mirth
lobs strike out as decided
by just now summoned umpire
on the ball punning away without tire
greatly flattered if literary antics inspire
ye to pen memoirs,
which become New York Times
bestseller, thus countless clamoring demands
to serve as ghostwriter hire
prompt ye with fame and fortune
before thee doth exhale last breath and expire
when moments prior,
I while impersonating a squire
wished ye a cheery bon voyage.
Final thoughts.
Oh mighty sun you rise once more,
Bringing forth a brand new day.
A shimmering causeway of golden ray’s,
To another world now seems not far away.
My bones grow weary for on the beach I sit,
Before an out stretched sea.
Caporal thoughts of the conscious mind,
Start to fade now on the breeze.
Lift me like the seagull soars,
For now ecstasy consumes the soul.
Just the calling waves now answer,
For here will I make my home?
All earthly bonds and shackle,
The rat race now has been run.
Now in the bosom of sweet nature,
For with you Im now at one.
© N Windle 2009
Form:
A silhouetted lengthen form,
Came from out the morning sun.
As my eyes adjust to its savage glare,
I knew you are the one.
Though mortal in my quest am I
Fair maid I love thee so.
Smitten as the moth to the flame,
A pure vision to behold.
In trepidation of things to come,
Free from my lonely cell.
Heart beats like fluttering butterflies,
As from her lips, she chants her spell.
For I am but a simple fool,
And what can she see in me?
For that, what can I offer?
Except selfless love and loyalty.
For it is said love conquers all,
And for me I’m but a boy.
For what do I know of true love?
But in these words I try.
Nicholas Windle 2009.
Form:
Oh, mighty ISIS.
Embers fanned that once burned bright,
Merge within the twilight sky.
Now turn to dust as all things must,
As another day passes by.
Shadows lengthen their ghostly form,
Feeding off the failing light.
For one by one to be consumed,
With the coming of the night.
Your face to touch without stretched pose,
Childlike to hold its light,
For beauty doth betwixt us so,
in your robe of pearl white.
Reprised once more the shadows rise,
Again, to walk this land.
they too seem captivated,
Your soldiers to command.
Your wonder still amazes so,
As you glide among the stars.
That pale and gentle softening light,
Bringing hope and love desires.
For whom all to see yet silent,
You sail the river of the night,
Oh, ISIS of the sleeping hours,
Please guide us with your light.
© N windle 2019
Upon the webs that once were spun,
As natures breath now forms.
For tis so she weeps for summers past,
That fills this autumn morn.
Look, for can you see them,
For they dart from tree to tree.
Sprites and woodland spirits,
Splash colour for all too see.
In a token bash of tributes,
The garlands of the past.
In rustic reds and copper gold,
Leave impressions it might last.
For the lake it looks so silent,
Its waters dark and deep.
Yet it yields up no reflection,
Its secrets so to keep.
Ethereal in its presence,
The falling mist lays low.
Across the scrying glass of nature,
In the half-light morning glow.
A yearning of the things we miss,
Becomes an enchantment spell.
For what seems a dream of those unseen,
Beyond that darkened veil.
For its in our heart there lays a spark,
That fills our very soul.
And makes us whole before we go.
The life circle now restarts.
© Nicholas Windle 2020