Long Wordsworth Poems
Long Wordsworth Poems. Below are the most popular long Wordsworth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wordsworth poems by poem length and keyword.
Gangly Longfellow walled in Thoreau and thru...
Well stocked with
wordsworth lxiii numbered yesteryear
born as predicted by
bubba's zayda longtime seer
while in utero premier
ultrasound detected
smudged embryonic fetus
whoosh auditory proto language unclear
surprisingly enough sounded analogous
to murmuring... huh yepper sonneteer
vaguely resembling, yes
William Shakespeare
though burbling, gurgling,
requiring absolute zero noise to hear
kickstarting, reverently warbling
difficult, diligent, distinct yawping,
nonetheless reckoned as dérailleur,
viz swiftly tailored
inchoate anatomical gear
hurriedly and harriedly styled
pièce de résistance
yours truly born with silver dictionary
in his mouth, I f***'* swear
unusual biological phenomena
drew pediatricians far and near,
which (no surprise) determined
English major as academic career
matriculating upon immediately
exiting birth canal whip smart derriere
i.e. (ŧ§), spread like wildfire, where
media hounds blitzkrieg stunned to stare
not at me but bare
naked lady in no mood...ready to tear
away sophisticated audiovisual equipment
understandably on verge going nuclear
furious, (this told me later in life as here
say), she quickly (albeit groggily)
curtly demanded fair
remuneration, and milked
infant me as cash cow profiteer,
her eyes aglitter signaling,
shining, seeing... gold
let whoever sneer
earning money with initial gasp of air
freeing parents to live
within lap of luxury
world wide web sightseer,
yours truly received
royal carpet treatment everywhere
crisscrossing the globe
accoutered with most
expensive designer babywear
obliviously prattling, jabbering, gabbling...
invariably drawing throngs
across entire northern hemisphere
broadcast as podcast across atmosphere
all across the universe hoodwinking
convincing many of "FAKE" poetic story
concoction courtesy adept fictioneer.
I love breakfast. It is the best~an open window, the glory of God's sun shining in! Just walking in gratitude houseslippers across a shiny, wood floor.
Wondering.....in what small way, I can make this world better today?
I do know small actions, truly pave the way, I always ponder!
Gratitude is a must on the floral table!
That Candian bacon is just the best. Eggs and English muffins,scrumptious.
And French coffee, is a must!
Writing poetry fills my soul. And I am sure, yours!. It is my passion, my
way to communicate. Then, I can read yours.
Also, I read favorite poets of note. For me, it is EE Cummings and William Wordsworth. Add the sonnets of Shakespeare.
Do wish that you, my friends from PS were here! How I would love to hug each of you.
You know very well who you are. If I could I would fly on my own to meet you! You have impacted my life, forever! Thank you.
"When you let your mind float untethered: there is a state
of pure awareness; and all separations and boundaries cease."
Quote by _Constance
There are videos, books to read and view,
but non dual awareness is hard to construe
and to simply achieve;
thoughts spontaneous, dissolving:
arise, subside and revolving
vibrations to perceive.
Me and not me, a seamless unity,
the see'er, that is me seeks importunity
and to find sweet oneness;
to find a whole in what I see:
and think- letting go to just be
finding my awareness.
To live in the precious moments of life,
in reality with no division or strife
aware of views and thoughts;
arising, subsiding, swirling:
and know how to stop the whirling
to unravel the knots.
Now, I know pure consciousness has two parts,
a balance- like a wild bird that no longer darts
who is serene and calm;
I will breath floating clouds and trees:
rivulets dancing and the breeze
it will all be my balm.
______________________
July 19, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Vibrations to Perceive
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1474-625-19
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Rhyming pattern - aabccb ddeffe gghiih jjkllk
Syllable pattern all stanzas - 10/12/6/8/8/6
Inspired by the rhyming pattern of William Wordsworth
Written for the Premiere contest, Non Dual Awareness
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 08/14/2022
Second Place
'I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud'
by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a child
That missed the gold and rolling hills,
When suddenly a crystal sea
A host of silver stars to fill
Behind the moon, below God's knees
Sparkled like glitter above the breeze
Continuous as God's love sublime
Smiling down upon our way,
Those twinkling eyes, watchers of time
Majestic rays of other's day
Awed, I knew there was no chance
That this was merely happenstance.
The moon within the sky was grey
But glowed a smile down on me
A poetess, though child may
Feel not nearly so lonely
A gift was given; to be taught
What glorious wonders had I seen not
Though I grow old, I will not lie
When in a dark depressive mood,
Within my heart appears the sky
Forget not what was understood
Again, my soul and heart stand still
An upwards gaze to heaven's will
All My Children
by Michael R. Burch
It is May now, gentle May,
and the sun shines pleasantly
upon the blousy flowers
of this backyard cemet'ry,
upon my children as they sleep.
Oh, there is Hank in the daisies now,
with a mound of earth for a pillow;
his face as hard as his monument,
but his voice as soft as the wind through the willows.
And there is Meg beside the spring
that sings her endless sleep.
Though it’s often said of stiller waters,
sometimes quicksilver streams run deep.
And there is Frankie, little Frankie,
tucked in safe at last,
a child who weakened and died too soon,
but whose heart was always steadfast.
And there is Mary by the bushes
where she hid so well,
her face as dark as their berries,
yet her eyes far darker still.
And Andy . . . there is Andy,
sleeping in the clover,
a child who never saw the sun
so soon his life was over.
And Em'ly, oh my Em'ly . . .
the prettiest of all . . .
now she's put aside her dreams
of lovers dark and tall
for dreams dreamed not at all.
It is May now, merry May
and the sun shines pleasantly
upon the green gardens,
on the graves of all my children . . .
But they never did depart;
they still live within my heart.
This is a poem I had forgotten for nearly 50 years until another poet mentioned "We Are Seven" by William Wordsworth. As I read Wordsworth's poem about a little girl who refused to admit that some of her siblings were missing, I remembered a poem I had written as a teenager about a mother who clung as tenaciously to the memory of her children. The line "It is May now, gentle May" popped into my head and helped me locate the poem in my archives. I believe I wrote this poem around age 15-16, or thereabouts. It is admittedly a sentimental poem, but then human beings are sentimental creatures.
Keywords/Tags: Child, Childhood, Children, Siblings, Brothers, Sisters, Sons, Daughters, Mother, Motherhood, Mother's Love, Grave, Graves, Graveyard, Death, Loss, Memory, Memories
"I wandered lonely as a cloud - William Wordsworth"
I wandered lonely as a soul
riven too soon from earthly form.
Time to have so cruelly stole
by act of duty to perform.
One more you made no call for
a victim of another's war.
A soldier, sailor, or marine;
what we have for our country done
no one of our age should have seen.
Matters naught if we lost or won;
I'll wander lonely as a soul;
Not here, not anywhere, not whole.
I did not ask to wander so;
in guilt for things that I have done
just a regular GI Joe
one time a mother's loving son.
Oh now! With blood spilt by my hands
soaking the soil of foreign lands.
Some who fought now live life afraid;
we are forever in their debt.
So, remember what price they paid
happen you see a tired old vet
Wandering lonely as a soul;
time to have; so cruelly stole.
Instilled flesh and blood of romance in poesy,
That, till then, looked a skeleton-like cogency...!
Gave life to Mother Nature who, once, was ignored,
From you on, in a new form, nature got adored...!
Physical and psychic growth of humanity,
You said, like nectar in blooms, secrete sanity...!
Should observe and understand nature's mysteries,
To give shape to true universal histories...!
With sole romantic soul, one should communicate,
Should, communion with the self and supreme create...!
Nature ever enlightens the humble in heart,
Inspires to bring out the best of creative art...!
The universal brotherhood of beings, forms,
When harmony with nature turns true cosmic norms...!
The truth comes alive in the heart through true feelings,
Peace and freedom must permeate human dealings...!
Wrote your life in poetic form as the prelude,
Your paths, midst happiness, often seemed rough and rude...!
Truths you said and did and lived full till reached eighty.
Got wrapped with nature with your entire entity...!!!
12 January 2023
Beloved Poets Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
A picture postcard for all to see
sits down in the valley to view
a small market town among the lakes
real beauty spot always form a queue
Hill walkers come from near and far
make it their base before they trek
it's at base of lovely Derwent Water
where you can sail around it's neck
So many beautiful fells surround it
Blencathra, Catbells, Helvelyn and Skiddaw
these only a few of it's beauty spots
many an artist paint what they saw
Many years ago living nearby
poetic gems penned by Wordsworth
drew poetic word pictures so fine
encaptured many hearts across the earth
Such a place of quietness and peace
enjoy a coffee and cake reading a book
so many eating places to choose
or make a picnic by lakeside brook
There's also a theatre by the lake
go and see a musical or a play
lovely gardens with flowers nearby
sit among it's beauty to spend your day
Here indeed is God's picture book
showing His creation on display
what a picture what a photograph
full of colour no sight of any grey
The gift was in a very huge package
Alluringly wrapped in the palest pink
Card attached was calligraphic in ink
Any gift from him was not average
When opened with much delight, the contents
Caused insecurities to tumble forth___
Joy? Fear of failure came from these presents
Taking out least feared __verse__William Wordsworth
The essence of the gift to him was good
The sum of the gift to her was fear
Excitement at this stage of life she could___
Not get a grip__on hold her life for years
Should she not fear but just try to use the gift
God had given her time now spared her life
A walk through the fields, the marshes nigh
Water risen steep along the banks
Swinging low a grey tailed hawk flies
To the girl's shrouded figure, stooping, it aims
She feels the swoosh of its wings, her ash curls caught
Entangled in a hundred claws
Oh Oh she cries with a fearful yell
The wind races the clouds' billowy bursts
As she struggles to try and free herself
She bends to the ground, though only for the worse
Blood splatters the grass and soaks the soil
Life gushes out, like lava at its boil
Winter buries deep, the snowfalls and the setting suns
Virgin white covers the silent and the frozen
And in the Spring, when new life has begun
Within the hug of her bones, a wing is broken