Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places

Long Fantasy Poems | Long Fantasy Poetry

Long Fantasy Poems. Below are the most popular long Fantasy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fantasy poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE

                                              
                                               FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE

  (HER STORY)

                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                                   an 
                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing


                                                               (His Story)
                                                              

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous
                                                            tho' hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase


                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                                      Glow--
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

My Daughter The Need A walk from the dark side, into the darkness

My Daughter

My beautiful Daughter, walks life’s paths alone,
She does so, by design – not of hers – on her own.
She travels heavily !, from place to empty space,
from space to vacant place – in what kind of race?
A race towards where ?, towards what I do not know,
for, to me – an  age and place beyond – she does not show
where it is, - where she wants her future  to go
if ?, going anywhere – accomplishing - is a guiding
force in her life, seeking out, chasing after lightening.

There are times, when I hear, in my words
the sounds of need, – empty in their experience –
looking for some of what has been offered.
What has been offered, I see, it is not meant for me.

The Need

I keep being dragged back into this nightmare,
a nightmare ?, so I am lead to believe, could it be ?
Within the stories, the tone, I hear, I perceive it to be
but have to wonder ?, is it ?, really but a dream
that can find no reality on this plane , never comes true,
therefore it truly is !, becomes the nightmare.
In the words that tell, I see, I hear, I feel
the sword that plunges deep, with which to defend,
to destroy the foe – the lover – a man not to know
yet not forgotten, not left alone, not let go of.
He - the nightmare – is always there, he doesn’t care,
he is a rotting residue in, a part of life’s moments.
He is your nightmare, in your dreams, in every waking hour!
These sad eyes see, these sensitive ears, in pain, hear the pain,
this old heart feels, but this useless blade, – a knife that hides
within my, closed mouth – seems not able to cut away at the ties
that bind you to life’s strife – to the nightmare.
Could it be unfulfilled desires ?, unrealized dreams ?

What has taken forty nine life times to create,
might be attributed to nature, nurturing or fate,
but may not be digested, accepted, understood or dissipated.
Regardless of the words, the meaning, what else can be stated ?
I know that in forty nine hour days, my thoughts my feeling
will never find a way to reach out and touch a solid ceiling
and so, in my many words, in my actions, I pray
that it all can be set aside, and all can be put away.

A walk from the dark side, into the darkness.

Little, to nothing could this impotent old man / dad offer
his Child, his oldest Daughter, in so much need.
Nothing could he bestow upon his Child, or his lover,
with her insecurities, doubts, his insatiable greed,
and so, escape not, she walks along with his need
as it has been something he has decreed.
Oh !, how remiss to leave them on their own, to agree
to their coarse, a course that could take them on
to complete the journey they started, then gone.

Time, enough !, distance is past 
Time to stop !, turn around at last
and face what the outcome will be.
Open eyes, a new beginning to see.
May I leave sun set’s path, face the sun rise
coming through that black velvet screen before me
with it’s spattered, day-glow dots, all aglow
opening inner sanctum doors, allowing me to know.

Thoughts for me, alternative for them flash before my mind.
What will they do ?, am I being so unkind ?
Will one, the other or both be bussed back to Ontario ?
As I walk back to the room, I ponder the scenario ? 
Will we ( all three ) carry on with our little adventure
into the canyons and gorges, the city of all nights lights
– the city where angels never sleeps – I cannot be sure ?,
sure if they will end their – for my attention – fights.
Will we see the city ?, where one man built his fantasy,
walk among dreams brought to life, a fun reality 
of cartoon characters, animated for the child in us
or in the end, to Ontario on a Greyhound bus ?
Will we see stars ?, stars on a walk, in the city of angels
At this juncture, what will be the story one tells ?
Will the Golden Gate carry us ?, will we ride the hills ?,
on their steel rails, tell tales of all our thrills ? 
Will we end these moments in gods country ?, 
the city of the British, the salmon run, a hollow tree,
mountains, bays, bears, a Princess, poetess gone to ash,
her rhyme, this forth cousin of mine, they did stash,
hidden from obvious view, in the woods of Stanley park,
where few knew, and for a hundred years, lay in the dark.
Many know not where Native, folk lore doth reside ?
In her books, hand in hand and side by side,
along with as many nationalities as there are nations.
In this place, women brought to life her creations.

Before I leave this bleak walk, in the arms of this black night,
My thoughts are, hope that all will come out all right,
when one of those day glow dots, in that black velvet sky,
all a glow, took off, streaked south, caught my eye
as it crossed the heavens, fast as the speed of light,
in the pattern of a Zed, then disappeared from sight.

( Strange !!!, this speck of star light, it’s unusual flight
as it star-ts out from nothing, speeds south on a 
horizontal plane, pauses a split second, reverses direction,
drops down vertically, on an angle northward, towards a point
where it started out, again paused for a split second, then, 
on a horizontal plan, zipped south before disappearing into star,
in the starry back drop from whence it took life, for a moment. )

This story, – twenty five years old – in rhyme, comes to life,
for a brief moment, from a memories hoard, rife
with so many stories hidden from sight 
coming from rhyme - into light.

B. J.“A ” 2
May 30th 2002


Long poem by Debbie Guzzi | Details |

Corpus delicti

Close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me for, as close as this, you may never get to God. What immortals have you hoped to see? What espirit de corp have you longed for? Who will guide your earthly plod? Kiss me for I have kissed the lips of Lestat, nipped and pricked, punctured and sucked to husks, occasionally with regret, but more often lust's ascot what once was I, reveling in your taste, your musk. As Louis, I beguile with tawdry tales surreal visages of plantation nights, horror of the color green, Letiche roaming creatures who our trails conceal, the true demons whose glamour goes unseen. Yes, I prayed for death, wrapped in the pain of lost kin but, by God I never wished, I never wished for Him. 2 But, by God, I never wished, I never wished for Him. Eternity alone is such a hollow thing, unripe, never, ever, feeling full, a marrow-less bone, scrim- shaw's sorry surface, a sperm-less whale to pipe. Such as this was He, when him came to me that mid- night, pleading, bleeding, ever feeding morbid life. A cameo on cowry shell, with skin which bid the touch of cheek on cheek to assuage my grief to fill the brother-less gap the lack of wife. This is how he lured me to the kill, the blood spilled how fire and innocence flamed when he arrived. Do not hate me for the fate his kiss instilled Surely, a family is the normal thing to long for alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp. 3 Alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp crestfallen at the lack of hearth and home, pride we hidden monsters kill what we adore, and more ... leaving us in marble crypts with no warmth inside. Then He saw her, the child beside the corpse of mother half dead, the pox upon her face, amidst the tears certainly to save her was His goal, what other? But now I think her savior - a most foul affair. Claudia, the child eternal, bidding, unformed blight, monster among monsters, her wee wicked formed unbudded curdled, curling ever inward, a trickster charming night stalker, dragging porcelain dollies by her side. Daughter mine? Temptress, maker-killer, unformed bride have you killed your father, dumped him in a swampy hide? 4 Have you killed your father, dumped Him in a swampy hide? Years you've planned and plotted, Lestat to defy and I absorbed in misspent fantasy with you; my fate allied. Damned one, poisoner, death angel, do you deny the desecration of the His unmoving vessel, fed to the fishes, the bottom feeders, oh but He made do ... absorbed recaste, laid in wait each hungry cell. We fled the patricide, you and I sought others of our kind. What gruesome, ill bred misfits the world held and so hardening the unbeating heart ... beloved to mankind we returned as if compelled. To the core of life and lore to Paree, to the bloody stage the Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage. 5 The Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage. Do you see them now? Four hundred years and Armand has not changed. See them lure the human meat upstage with laughter. Reality's the rage and oh the blood coined. "How gauche!" our petite Claudia sighs, the excess in gore and waste. But, the coven has my Armand's grace. For Claudia, Madeleine the doll maker dies, reborn to mother the horrific woman 'neath this childish face. A family formed again when Lestat steps in alive and the coven lets the sun take Claudia and Madeleine. I entombed, walled in, buried alive, if not for my Armand. Their ashes, oh my dears, in death entwined. I burned the lot of them within their caskets, burnt alive; the curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I. 6 The curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I. I could nor forget, would not forget, the fate of Claudia of which he was no small part, it was a small lust easily untied. Home was all I wanted, the damp, the swamp, the bougainvillea sickened of my Old World haunts, all I wanted was home. Never, never would I make another, a comfort I decline. Let the modern age wonder where it is I roam; penance unearned and ungiven in the shadows I hide. I can not live, I can not breathe, death's my only company my wife, my child, my brother, so many others. The living dead is what we're called, Vampire, do you pity me? Lestat "Do you see me? Your sight I dread!" West coast, golden gates Baghdad by the bay in the bars I linger where men are men, aren't they? 7 In the bars, I linger, where men are men, aren't they? I find you here, or you find me? I bare my soul to you of lessons learned, of men, of plays, ah cabarets. "What do you do, what do you say, you writer you ... two footed harridan of clay? You long for the eternal kiss as if the bliss of life was so very little to pay. Fool that you are ... not in life or death would you be grist a waste you are, a mortal led so far astray. No passion's left, no fond memories ... but her golden hair. Perhaps, I'll take a taste of you, foolish fop, and sigh; no immortal will I make. On the floor, I will leave you there refuse beside the pages, the sordid tales as my reply. As my lips close on your throat, heaven's absentee, close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me.


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

Moving on Part Two Part Three

Moving on ???

I have come to wonder – as time passes – why ?,
the lady brings tears to my heart – makes me cry.
This lady who took in hand, in holy of holies, in mouth,
resurrecting a dyeing old soul, then went south.

This lady who, with a little time, could raise,
the dead, and in that time, did vigorously praise
as she took a weeping willow, turned it into a mighty oak.
That was then, now, never comes back, not a word has she spoke.

I think of times, when beaver lips, kissing, did stroke
a fading son into becoming a mighty oak, at midnights son rise.
I do feel – maybe too much sometimes – that I have lost the prize.
Oh !, why ?, does she choose to ignore, to  leave behind

this old man’s limp, impotent, troubled mind,
a mind that feels, that senses, that is trying to find
out why it is that he seems so unimportant,
why ?, it is that this is all he can rant.

B. J. “A ” 2
July 26th 2003

Part Two

I wonder ?, - with your distance –
if we, at these moments,
are not closer than time will tell.
I wonder ?, - if you, as do I –
feel the losses in never knowing
a mornings glory, of never hearing,
knowing, telling a positive story.
I wonder ?, if our time has reached
out and touched an end.
I wonder ?, if you no longer look for,
need, no longer want me as a friend.

The naked winds of actions, reactions flow past these eyes.
They do not deceive, hide their meanings, nor do they tell lies.
What lies lie behind the eyes of the beholder, is in the telling,
is in their perception of the world, it is what their mind is spelling

out for them, and does not have a thing to do with cold
receptions, distances, avoidances or harsh words told
as moist air drifts across the bridge and it begins to rain
and with one’s nose, know what brings on the pain.
 
B. J. “ A ” 2
July 28th 2003

Part Three

A war of the roses, by any other name, was no sweeter !, 
as pre and post-midnight hours dragged on in battles waged, 
from both sides, where I experienced a clever, cunning, crafty, 
master manipulator, a shrewd, screwed, master of mass destruction 
that used words as weapons, breaking, crushing the head of the enemy.  

I have to wonder if I am the enemy proper ?, or that of a cracked mirror ?,
reflecting the many facets of your life’s experiences ?, and because of this roll 
– a docile, inanimate entity – it is easy to throw sticks and stones, darts, knifes 
and other keen, explosive, destructive projectiles that seem to flow with such ease.
Could this all be ?, because I have no value, no meaning, no relevance, no importance.

Are these the reasons for the twisted perversions of reality, of my phrasings ?, 
of my statements ?, my beliefs ?, my thoughts, thoughts that have come back at me 
in a barrage of hostility, at such a driving force, it could knock ones world of its axis’s.
I wonder ?, just how much of this comes from a lifelong habit, of defending against ghosts.
I wonder ?, just how much of this is your reality and how much of this is imaginary / fantasy.

I wonder ?, just how much of this might be – attempted one up man ship. 
I wonder ?, just how much of this might be – pure, unadulterated, game playing.
I wonder ?, just how much of this scenario might be an offensive / defensive mechanism.
I wonder ?, just how much of this might be the walls, the moats, the chasms that might hide 
whatever the reasons for you choosing / taking an opposing position – for taking the opposite side.

The choices made are the choices I have to live with – acceptable or not.
There is no possibility for me to be in control ?, especially if I am being controlled.
Being in control seems to be the essence, the heart, soul, spirit, the name of your game.
Being right, seems to be an aspect of your game, no matter if the evidence proves otherwise.
You are not the only one. I see many of these troubling traits in other areas of life on this plane.

I see it in other people, friends, relatives, acquaintances and professionals.
So too, with me, and so I must not place to much stock in how I seem affected 
by these behavioral traits, I have observe in human nature / nurture, for I am a big boy
and walk this earth, this plane, with both eyes wide open, even if they have been blackened
many times, swollen shut, along with my bruised soul, battered spirit and beaten, grounded ego.

But then, what ?, is a good friend if he cannot stand some abuse
still hang in there and remain a good friend that can be counted on.
Thoughts – few of the many – left in the wake of another battle, waged, 
in the war of the roses, that will never be able to release their sweet fragrance, 
with total abandon, freedom or true understanding and acceptance of what they are.

Without prejudice – Without judgement

B. J. “A ” 2
July 29th 2003 


Long poem by matthew harris | Details |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

My Beloved Disease - Satisfying Cure

*Chorus*

 That’s my satisfying decision…you’re an addiction
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day
Satisfaction is ours, baby…
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…I feel like I’m top dog 
right now!

Verse 5:
Beyonce: Mmmhmmm ohh yeahh…show me how to feel this satisfaction…
You know what I’m talking about…
Ooooooh yeahhhh…awww ooh… you know how to push my buttons, don’t yah? I 
need at least a fraction
I need a fraction of your satisfaction without a dirty, little doubt
Pinch me please…this must be a beautiful nightmare…
Pinch me please…I must be dreaming this reverie…does it ring a bell?
Pinch me please…this must be all a dream after all – I look at myself in the mirror
Pinch me please…I must be caught under your wicked spell
Rihanna: You took me out of the lion’s den ooh
I’m feeling incredible…so irreplaceable…as irresistible as chocolate cake…as fantastic 
and magical like a fable – you ain’t no fake or you don’t hide the truth under the 
table or sweet it under the carpet…you’re not instable like a broken, tattered table
Oh baby, baby – we met in a perfect place
This feelin’s so indescribable…so irreplaceable…so irresistible…as fantastic and 
majestic as a peace-abiding angel
It was a weird moment…when I saw your sundrenched face
(Beyonce: a surreal moment when I looked at your face no doubt about that) 
Pinch me please…this must be a beautiful nightmare…
Pinch me please…I must be dreaming this reverie…does it ring a bell?
Pinch me please…this must be all a dream after all – I look at myself in the mirror
Pinch me please…I must be caught under your wicked spell


*Chorus* 

That’s my satisfying decision…you’re an addiction
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day
Satisfaction is ours, baby…
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…I feel like I’m top dog 
right now!

*Verse 6*
Lady Gaga and I: You gave me vast grace…and now, I can run this race…if I keep 
pace…when you gaze into my eyes, I’m in a different maze…you’re not a waste of 
my time…you were my sublime, drug of delight..and yah made me take divine flight 
like a kid’s toy kite…you make everything seem alright…
Me: You are the illuminated night in my mind’s eye
Beyonce: I yearn for yah vast grace…vast grace…super fast grace…super de-duper 
grace…everything you do, you never left me without a trace – embrace the light, 
everybody! You make me shed happy tears – I don’t know why…but I’m so 
happy…
Me: oooh yeah – I wanna see your face…x2 Sparkling like the blue-green sea – 
your sunrays beam…and we’re singing with  sundrenched harmony… 
Adele: You’re not a disgrace x2
Baby, I love you to the core
Oh baby, how can I love you more?
Me: I loved you with a deep, deep passion
You gave me…yah gave me
Yah gave meee….beyond satisfaction…you serve as the best distraction, wo-man! 
You gave me pure…
Both: Satisfaction…and you’re my drug of delight…you’re my beloved disease and 
my beautiful nightmare all in one…you’re not a curse – you’re a gift and a cure 
(Lady Gaga: to my heart ache…for sure…you’re my ultimate, miracle-healing cure)
Me and Beyonce: I'm a believer...
And you're my dream weaver
You're my dream catcher
I can't believe what I'm seeing...
Rihanna included: Your spirit shining bright and beaming
Me: You make me (feel like a grand king) x2 ooh oh oh! wow...oooh wahahahah 
Beyonce: Pinch me if I'm dreaming...
Rih and me: Can you hear my screaming...?
Me: At least we’re healing and recovering from the love flu – let’s shout for joy and 
let’s shout with thanksgiving!
At least we are alive and well – no longer feeling depressed, anxious, rejected and 
insecure
I ain’t bleeding out no more – let’s express our gratefulness to have such a 
satisfying cure 
OOooh ehhh…eeeee…


Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

My Beloved Disease - Let's Dance to the Music

Verse 1:

P!nk: Ohhh mmmm… 
You’re beyond brilliant…
Me: You’re so extremely exquisite…you amaze me – you get 
the hint? Our love is a fiery rose…and like a daffodil flower, 
it grows
Hmmmm mmm…
Rihanna: All along, I was in denial…
Beyonce/P!nk/me: But I’m singing this lullaby with a touch 
of wildness and surreal style…
I’m going with the flow and I go wherever I go – that’s just 
part of it
That’s just part of me…so, don’t envy me 
Rihanna: Go where the wicked wind do blow
Me: I’m a victim to my alienated ambition
I see your true colors show and I glow when I see fit…
Beyonce: I’m going with the flow and I go wherever I go – 
that’s just part of it
That’s just part of me…so, don’t envy me 
Go where the wicked wind do blow
Me: I’m a victim to my alienated ambition
I see your true colors show and I glow when I see fit…
Your auras change color and it stimulates my eyes
Your truth ain’t tainted with abominable lies

*Chorus* 

That’s my satisfying decision…you’re an addiction
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day
Satisfaction is ours, baby…
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the 
wicked wind blow…oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…
I feel like I’m top dog right now!

Verse 2:

Katy Perry: I’m stingy to the core
But, I ain’t bore…or an attention whore
You tore up my heart…and yah broke it apart…you have no 
heart… Rihanna: Oooh…ohohoh you were my beloved 
disease – but, now you’re a cancer, growing in my heart
Rihanna/Katy: You hated on me from the start
P!nk: But, I (yah) gottah get up and try and try and try…x2
Oooh…ohohoh you were my disease
You put my heart, body and mind at ease…So please…so 
please…so please…
Don’t leave me brokenhearted…this scene won’t play
Hey! Hey! What do yah think you’re doing? Stop acting all 
stupid, ok? 
Oh oh! Aawww oh oh!
You put my heart, body and mind at ease…P!nk: So pretty, 
pretty please…so please…so pretty, pretty please…
Don’t leave me brokenhearted…this scene won’t play – stop 
being a tease – I won’t succumb to YOUR disease
Katy Perry: I’m stingy to the core
But, I ain’t bore…or an attention whore
You tore up my heart
You hated on me from the start
Rihanna: Oooh…ohohoh you were my disease
You put my heart, body and mind at ease…
Me: You’re my fantasy – you’re just that fancy & fantastic…
so epic…
Rihanna/me: You’re perfect just the way you are – you didn’t 
blow it and you’re amazing, so admit it – let’s dance to the 
music

(Lady Gaga:  UNSUPPORTED CODE  
Boom da boom doom da-doom boom! X2)

(all should chant this: Give me your all…your all…stand tall – 
give me your all! 
Give me your best shot…give it your your all…I’ll catch you if 
you fall!)

*Chorus*

That’s my satisfying decision…you’re an addiction
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day
Satisfaction is ours, baby…
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the 
wicked wind blow…oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…
I feel like I’m top dog right now!
*Bridge*
P!nk: Pretty, pretty please…so please…so pretty, pretty 
please…
Don’t leave me brokenhearted…this scene won’t play – stop 
being a tease – I won’t succumb to YOUR disease
Rihanna/Beyonce: Hey! Hey! What do yah think you’re 
doing? Fine – go ahead and do yo thang, honey…
Stop acting all stupid, ok, boy? You be cruising with your 
gang…
Oh oh! Aawww oh oh! You’re a funny guy! 
Beyonce: You’re interesting beyond reason and logic…our 
love ain’t plastic
You’re not another brick in the wall…you can’t fix what’s 
broken
Rihanna: Where have you been? Where have you been? I’ve 
been searching around for you – feeling this anguish 
adrenalin again and again
Rihanna: hmmm oooh… You were and always will be my 
beloved disease…
So, please don’t say otherwise – you put my mind at ease…
you are the blessed breeze…
Sweeping across my face…
Oh boy, you aren’t a disgrace…


Long poem by Terry O'Leary | Details |

The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land


Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

A Spark of Hope

A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came 
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way… 
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.

The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways… 
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…


Long poem by Genevieve Stevens | Details |

Val, the Valiant Little Witch

                             Val, The Valiant Little Witch
                                 by Genevieve Stevens
                   for my pretty, independent daughter, Valerie


                         Val was graduating from school,
                         Her grade point average was good-
                         Halloween night was her big debut,
                         A difference she’d make, if she could! 

                         She liked to study and read her books,
                         Straight “A’s” and nothing less-
                         The teachers bragged about her good looks,
                         And how her grades were always the best-

                         It did not matter what the class,
                         Broom flying, charms, chants and more-
                         She learned everything so lightening fast.
                         They sensed much promise in store-

                         The little witch enchanted them,
                         A bit of evil lurked surely inside-
                         She twirled and whirled and held a slight grin,
                         Knowing she had something to hide-

                         The final exam was about to take place,
                         Little Val was kind of afraid-
                         Her clothes were laid out at home, so she raced,
                         Then “goodbye” to her parents she bade.

                         She opened the door and went on her way,
                         A million things raced through her mind-
                         She had to think straight - for this wasn’t play,
                         Her secret, she hoped they’d not find-

                         Oh my, she thought as she returned to her class,
                         “I hope they don’t see me crying-
                         I pretend to be mean and I can harass,
                         But the inside of me is just sighing-“

                         “Okay” said the teacher, Let’s hit the town,
                         To show what each of you’ve learned-
                         Please, witches beware, if you can’t cast a spell,
                         Your diplomas you’ll have to return-“

                         So carefully, the class walked on out,
                         The administrators right by their sides-
                         Little Val, she wanted to shout,
                         But for now she’d have to abide-

                         The moon was full and shining bright,
                         The sidewalks busy with no place bare-
                         All-Hallowed-Eve’s night had perfect light,
                         And at all of them, not a soul stared-
       	            
                         There was chitter-chatter all around,
                         Costumes abound on this night-
                         Val breathed in deeply, not making a sound,
                         It was time to make things right!

                         The little witch was conniving, it’s true,
                         Now her powers were about to be tried-
                         She had learned many things in Hogwarts School,
                         Like, spells should never be misapplied!

                         “HALT,” said Val in a voice loud and clear,
                         “I have something that I must announce,
                         and it applies to everyone here,                                                                      
                         THIS WITCHCRAFT YOU HAVE TO RENOUNCE!”

                         Little witch Val knew she had to work fast,
                         And began quickly making her brew-
                         “From this day forward until your last,
                         Only good things can come from you!“	

                         The teachers were stunned and so were her friends,
                         Val was really quite clever and smart-
                         The real truth was, she managed to cleanse,
                         All the meanness right out of their hearts!


Long Poems