Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
aubade august
autumn baby
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
beauty bereavement
best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boxing day
boyfriend break up
bridal shower brother
bullying business
butterfly cancer
candy car
care career
caregiving cat
celebration celebrity
change chanukah
character cheer up
chicago child
child abuse childhood
children chocolate
christian christmas
cinco de mayo cinderella
city class
clothes color
columbus day community
computer confidence
conflict confusion
cool corruption
courage cousin
cowboy crazy
creation crush
cry culture
cute love dad
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
earth earth day
easter education
emo emotions
encouraging engagement
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion father
father daughter father son
fathers day fear
february feelings
film fire
firework first love
fish fishing
flower flying
food football
for children for her
for him for kids
forgiveness freedom
french friend
friendship fruit
fun funeral
funny funny love
future games
garden gender
giggle girl
girlfriend giving
god golf
good friday good morning
good night goodbye
gospel gothic
graduate graduation
grandchild granddaughter
grandfather grandmother
grandparents grandson
grave green
grief growing up
growth guitar
hair halloween
happiness happy
happy birthday hate
health heart
heartbreak heartbroken
heaven hello
hero high school
hilarious hindi
hip hop history
hockey holiday
holocaust home
homework hope
horror horse
house how i feel
howl humanity
humor humorous
hurt husband
hyperbole i am
i love you i miss you
identity image
imagery imagination
immigration independence day
innocence insect
inspiration inspirational
international internet
introspection ireland
irony islamic
january jealousy
jesus jewish
jobs journey
joy judgement
july june
kid kindergarten
kiss language
leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
longing loss
lost lost love
love love hurts
lust lyric
magic malayalam
marathi march
marriage math
may me
meaningful memorial day
memory men
mental illness mentor
metaphor middle school
military miracle
mirror miss you
missing missing you
mom money
moon morning
mother mother daughter
mother son mothers day
motivation mountains
moving on mum
murder muse
music my child
my children mystery
myth mythology
name native american
natural disasters nature
new year new years day
new york nice
niece night
nonsense nostalgia
november nursery rhyme
obituary ocean
october old
onomatopoeia pain
paradise parents
paris parody
pashto passion
patriotic peace
people pets
philosophy places
planet poems
poetess poetry
poets political
pollution poverty
power prayer
preschool presidents day
pride princess
prison proposal
psychological purple
quinceanera race
racism rain
rainbow rainforest
rap raven
recovery from red
relationship religion
religious remember
remembrance day repetition
retirement riddle
rights river
romance romantic
rose roses are red
rude sad
sad love satire
scary school
science science fiction
sea seasons
self senses
sensual september
sexy sick
silence silly
silver simile
simple sin
sister sky
slam slavery
sleep smart
smile snow
soccer social
society softball
soldier solitude
sometimes son
song sorrow
sorry soulmate
sound space
spanish spiritual
spoken word sports
spring star
stars storm
strength stress
student success
suicide summer
sun sunset
sunshine surreal
sweet symbolism
sympathy tamil
teacher teachers day
technology teen
teenage thank you
thanks thanksgiving
thanksgiving day tiger
time today
together travel
tree tribute
true love trust
truth uplifting
urban urdu
usa vacation
valentines day vanity
veterans day violence
visionary vogon
voice volleyball
voyage war
water weather
wedding wife
wind wine
winter wisdom
woman women
word play words
work world
world war i world war ii
write writing
yellow youth
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Long Imagination Poems

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

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

SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                          SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                            (HER STORY)
                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Through 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 his face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                           Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                             Such a heart must be attached--

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

                                                   She stalked his dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed by thoughts
                                                          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
                                                       he moved toward her, 
                                                           then 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 tugs him
                                                                   Worlds...
                                                                     Seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous--
                                                            tho hard to place--
                                                   She's the tune he can't erase.
                                                               
                                                              a love so fierce
                                                              
                                                           Each night they tryst,
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                    grant them every lover's wish
                                                       
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him--
                                                           encased and blessed
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by cassie hellberg | Details |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details |

Light On the Devil's Chord - The Challenge

My hair bristled in the crisp breeze
Excitement spreading throughout my body
Even the sudden cold amused my fingertips,
Tingles spreading through my hands and up my arms
Soon I would be there too. . .
In the murky shadows of mysterious malice
To see the claws and talons of humanity’s greatest foe
The Prince of Darkness—the Saint of Woe

The great seal remained closed as I stood before it
Not a peep was heard from inside

“Knock, and it will be opened to you . . . “

Lightly, my fist clunked three times upon the great seal,
And a horrendous echo resounded like muffled shrieks of suffering
Black ooze leaked out of the seal as I lifted my fist
A great closed pot of tender meat and chow boiling over,
The spicy hot substance steaming the long grass surrounding the well-like prison

Then a voice, like Queen Bee birth resounded,
Stinging me fiercely, body and soul, having me sway…
To a familiar song
I had listened to long ago:

“Iiiii… ain’t got no-booooooody…. 
And no-body cares…foooor meeee…”

The song continued as the seal opened fully,
As I began descending into the restless night of his voice
Both lulled and perturbed
The sumptuous layers of shrieks, his background band
Gurgles of thundering bass,
And strums of laughter from throats long wailing… 

“Aaaaaaaand.. I’m sad and loooooooonely… 
Won’t some-body…come takah chance with meeee..
Owhhh…?” 

In what seemed like an eternal moment,
I had landed in the very bottom of the boiling ooze
The music ceased, and the great seal slipped over,
Blocking the view of the stars. . .
Yes, above. . .now only darkness
As if heaven, to Satan, was hell. . .

He turned to me slowly, knowingly
A smile creeping on his filthy face, from ear to ear
A charming set of teeth, freshly sung mouth
Arrogant brow rising in mock surprise. . .
A gruff laugh escaped his lips as my heart beat faster
And I thought to myself,

“What have I gotten myself into?”
. . .
The words popped out of my mouth before my mind could object,
And he exploded in a fit of charming guffaws
I heard a sea of laughter follow his own
Even Death, in the far corner of prison, winked. . .amused

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years, 
Dearest Daughter of Eve. . .  I’m impressed . . . really, I am. . .”

“You are?”

His smile faded and his expression grew grim and cold
“Well . . . are you?”

I remained silent, and took a deep breath
What shall I say to the Devil himself?
Am I clever enough? Brave enough?

“Impressed, I mean. . .well?
Are you? 
I know you will not lie to me,
You wouldn’t dream of it. . .
You wouldn’t dream nasty dreams like times in your past days. . .
Or. . .would you. . .Daughter of Eve.
Would you dare. . .dream of me. . .”

I felt a claw hit me on the back of my neck
I remained still, my breathing cradled by the silence. . .
I moved closer to him, never blinking,
As his coal eyes burned deeply into mine

Suddenly, he was furious
“You dare give me silence, woman!?
After my years of devastating . . . tormenting my own, 
Just to see and hear them screech and tremble. . .
Of no aim but to crush this criminal quiet,
You…a woman of no power…or little to show, 
Come down to me, ME. . .whom you know hates you all. . .
You come down to me, The Almighty Devil of Hatred,
With your dull . . . infuriating . . . pathetic, disgusting. . .
Silence……?”

I sighed. . .
“I. . .I don’t know why I am here. . .with you. . .perhaps it is a test. . .a lesson. . .
But I do know what I want. . .”

His claw dug deeper into my skin. . .
“Oh, that’s a new one. . .
But you. . .hm, hard to play with. . .? I doubt it. 
Easy to trick. . .surely. . .
If there was a point. . .”

Deeper the claw dug into my skin, but my flesh refused to break

I smiled at him softly, and this seemed to disturb him completely
He looked at me numbly, an impassive stare
 Devoid of feeling and emotion

And I said to him,
“I want you to sing and play us a song you have never sung before,
Prince of Darkness. . .”

His grimy skin rippled at the opportune challenge. . .
His eyes drew out all confidence and pride swirling in the shadows
His smile, big again, fresh, and repugnant
He smelled of all things dead, and all things putrid

“Plug in the bass, Death.
I am going to dissolve this fluttery woman right where she stands.”

I stopped him, possessed with an idea
I bit my lip and removed his claw from my neck
Taking his hand for a moment, and pushing it to him

“One more thing, Devil.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. . .what is it?”

“. . .I’m singing with you.”

The demons roared in hilarity, as Death, 
Silent as always kept his composure

Satan tilted his head at me as the laughter died
He no longer contained his surprise
“You. . .want to. . .make music. . .with me?”

“I’ve got 40 days and 40 nights. . .don’t you be a killjoy.”

He smiled at me, fury and lust in his eyes
“Angel charms will not work down here, babe. . .
I rarely play fair. . . .but I never turn down a challenge.”

My strange purpose had surfaced at last
“Quit your stalling then, and turn up the music.”

--------------------------

Song reference: “I Have Nobody” specifically sung by Leon Redbone
**Please tell me what you thing guys! If you haven’t read the other parts, it might explain things a bit. This is going to be a major work, and I’d loved all the advice I can get. I am aware that collaborating with The Devil is a tricky feat, and I’d really love some input. Thanks for reading. Lots of love! –Oh, and also, I am thinking of changing the title of the work as well. Not sure what yet!

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

Poetic Encryption Like Ancient Egyptian

Poetic Encryption Like Ancient Egyptian

This terror and threat to poetic clarity,
Becomes a pet rock for some poets.

Words do count for sure, but so does
Clarity unless poets put a mask on.

Encryption can be used to mask 
Certain vatic pretensions that poets
Harbor, at times, when waxing eloquently
About some trendy theme or some idea
Or notion deemed as avant-garde. 

If hieroglyphics were to be readily used
In our now advanced world of modernity,
Would they be viewed as:
A rifacimento? A renaissance? A code?
It all could be plain nonsense too!
Or maybe not . . . 

In T. S. Eliot’s, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,”
He enchants and captivates his readers to a rare and
Flavorful taste of vers libre, if one might be so bold, 
That is selectively sparing, and yet, well-calibrated,
With intermittent sprinklings of superbly crafted 
Visual imagery and eloquent tonal alliteration—
And varied meter, rhythm, and rhyme.
 
“Prufrock” is palpable with emotion and metaphor, yet—
Detached from a ready explanation of the delicious
Power of the words with which Eliot mesmerizes his
Readers with the devout cleverness of a Pied Piper.
 
One could see the eternal Footman
And hear his snicker—and be afraid;
One could roll one’s trousers;
One could dare to eat a peach;
One could walk upon the beach;
One could hear the mermaids sing;
But will the mermaids sing to him?
Only Eliot really truly knows . . .
The real Prufrockian mien here.

Are not such metaphors there . . .
To make us think?
To enchant our senses?
To play on our fears?
To be emotive?

And, yes . . . 
To tantalize our passions?
And, yes . . . 
To excite our psychic yearnings?

Yes . . . Contemplation is always vital!

Some poets speak in a self-tribal code.
Sometimes artful obfuscation is the real goal,
And sometimes—maybe not.

A cacophonic scramble of
Demonstrative and passionate
Words, thoughts, emotions.
All so pure and all so real,
And all in the poet’s mind!
All so exact and all so real!
 
Some, like the legendary Sylvia Plath,
Bring the reader to a forlorn world of
Lost faith, utter despair, and loneliness
In the midst of such a sad dream world.
Plath’s lyric poem — “Edge”
Summons readers to the brink;
Occurring one week before her 
Untimely suicide.

The power and symbolism
Resident in this, her final poem,
Point toward . . .
A perfection, A completion,
A tragic tribalism.

Plath’s symbology is both
Intense and compelling;
Forming its own sense of
Encryption while embellishing
A supernatural aura of immortality.

The redoubtable Ezra Pound in his
“Hugh Selwyn Mauberley,” and in
Many other of his complex poems,
Personifies a certain form of encryption
With his use of symbols and metaphors,
A mix of foreign languages, and a definite
Convulsion of syntax which makes for an 
Intellectual “Rite of Passage” defying, at times,
A clear analysis and ready understanding.
	
Pound in “Mauberley,” writes on various
Levels begging much pre-knowledge from
Each reader while amply teasing us with:
His gnomic predilection for novel themes;
His thirst for the unexpected and unusual; 
His formidable knowledge and language forte;
His array of uniquely woven word tapestries;
And his referential flair for striking aphorisms.

Pound does all of this so magnificently . . .
All the while forming imagery challenging
A reader’s sense of understanding:
Leaving a sense of syntactical encryption Writ Large!
Always challenging and never ever dull!
That is, if one’s cup of tea is reveling in the complex!

There is a profound literary sense to what some may say
Is Pound’s Janus-faced proclivity for genius and madness.
Pound will not disappoint you regardless of which bipolar
Face you ascribe to him.
Although, contrast and comparison are very important . . . 

Yet, I proffer that deep thinking and sometimes actually
Being confused at times . . .
May result ultimately in a true epiphany,
Leading each of us to a spirit of greater understanding!

I end with John Keats, who has left all of us, as poets,
With his immeasurable sense of naturalistic Humanism.
Keats’ pursuit of metaphor, nuance, descriptive imagery,
And sagacious symbology reflect the highest degree of
Poetic mastery and a strong sense of perspicacity obvious
In all of his works!

Keats also uses a type of poetic encryption—
With his diction, imagery, thoughts, and verse syncopation;
He’s quite elegant with his varied and fluent thematic reveries.
They’re always a joy to decipher, while leaving us to bask in 
Their powerful sense of clarity and persuasive meaning!

Many of Keats’ works reflect this form of encryption . . . 
“La Belle Dame Sans Merci”
Particularly comes to mind in this instance,
As well as his famous “Ode” narratives;
And his superb Grecian epic fragment: “The Fall of Hyperion,”
Presents the reader with a veritable smorgasbord of contrasts
And imagery, and an imaginative view of the classical conflict
Between the Olympians and the Titans! 

Divining the complex, chaotic, and unpredictable
In our world of arcane symbolism and imagery,
Reflect the modern world we live in today.
Poetic Encryption is indeed . . . 
So like Ancient Egyptian!

Hieroglyphics, after all, form their own
Sense of imagery and word pictures . . . 
Analogous to what we do today with the 
Words, images, metaphors, emotions, and
Symbols in our poetry!

Poetic Encryption is so like Ancient Egyptian! 
Amen! Amen! Amen! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
April 25, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Laura Loo | Details |

Ella and Lucky

Write a Children's story short Poetry Contest
Sponsor: The Seeker

Once there was this little girl…
She had big doe brown eyes and a beauty mark on her upper right cheek. Her name was Ella Rose. One day she was walking down by the creek searching for her friendly frogs. Little did she know they were looking for her too! She didn’t see them anywhere and thought to herself, “Hmmm… I wonder where silly Squeaker and Scooter went?” She searched long and hard for her little guys.

While searching she stumbled upon a fluffy white bunny. “Oh my fluffy wuffy aren’t you the cutest bunny in the world!” Ella said as she slowly walked up to him hoping not to scare the hare. “What is your name? Is it fluffy? Because you are the fluffiest animal I’ve ever seen!” The bunny said, “my name is Lucky.  I am sad today because I am lost far away from my home. Maybe you could help me?” “Of course I will!”, Ella said excitedly. 

While approaching a forest it started to get cloudy in the sky. Grey clouds with no more sunshine to help lead Lucky back to his home. All of a sudden, “BOOM! BASH! BOOM!” the thunder was starting to roll in, which meant rain was on its way! “What should we do Ella? I’m so far away from home already and now I’ll never find my family!” Lucky shed a few tears when Ella said, “Oh Lucky it’s ok, don’t carry a frown on your face, I promise I will help you find your home as best as I can.” They started feeling tiny sprinkles of rain on their heads and shoulders. Oh no! It was raining! “Quick Lucky, follow me!” Lucky hurried over to her for shelter and she covered him with her jacket. Together they ran as fast as they could. All of a sudden Ella saw an old cabin towards the outskirts of the forest. “Come on Lucky, hurry it’s starting to lightening!” They finally made it through the door and found refuge. 

After they walked in they both dropped on the floor from exhaustion and fear. “Whewwww…”, said Ella Rose, “that was a close one!”. “What should we do?” asked Lucky. Ella Rose pondered and pondered for a few seconds then she said, “I know! We should play a game!” Lucky said, “Cool! Can we play hopscotch? We can use chalk on the cement floor. I was born to hop and hop and hop!” Ella thought to herself…”hmmm…Is that really fair? He’s a bunny and he is way better at hopscotch than I will ever be. I wonder if he would like to play a rhyming game?” Ella said, “hey Lucky do you want to play a rhyming game?” “What’s that?”, Lucky said. “It’s a fun game my mommy made up when I was only 8 years old. First, I say a three words and you have to try to rhyme it with your own three words.” Lucky pondered and pondered. Finally, he said, “Wow that sounds like a lot of fun, let’s do it!!”

Ella took the first turn. “Ok, are you ready?” Ella’s first three words were, “I flew a plane”. Lucky immediately said, “I am insane”. Now it was Lucky’s turn. “do humans snore?” Ella shook her head up and down and said, “yes…on the floor!” Ella said, “you are funny!” Lucky said quickly, “Well…I’m a bunny!” They both laughed!

By the time the game was over the rain had subsided and the sun slowly peeked through the window. “Now is a good time to leave and go find your home”, said Ella. About twenty minutes later they walked past the creek again. I heard, “ELLA!! YAY WE FOUND YOU!!!” Ella said, “OH MY GOODNESS! SCOOTER AND SQUEAKER! I FINALLY FOUND YOU!!!”  She picked them both up and jumped with excitement. Now she felt much better and could fully concentrate on finding Lucky’s home. All of a sudden they saw people walking towards them not too far behind the frogs. “She looks familiar”, Ella said. All of a sudden Lucky’s eyes got so wide, looking like his head would explode! “IT’S MY FAMILY!!”, screamed Lucky. He hopped as fast as he could and before you knew it he was in the arms of his favorite little boy Joey. Ella thought to herself, “hmmmm…they are not bunnies at all! They are humans!” She said, “I had no idea you actually meant your home was with a family of people, not bunnies!” Little Joey was crying and said, “Lucky, please don’t hop away ever again, I love you so much!”  Ella said curiously to the mom, “you look so familiar to me. Do I know you?” The woman said, “Yes! The second I saw you I thought I knew you too! My name is Marie and you walk down to my pet store, Pet Haven, all the time for crickets for your froggies.” Just then it hit Ella. “Now I get it! Squeaker and Scooter went looking for me at your store. That’s when the frogs found out your family was already searching for your white fluffy wuffy bunny.” “Well isn’t it a small world!”, said Marie. 

So after a long day of running, playing and searching, Lucky was finally home with his family. Ella too found comfort in finding her little guys. 
From that day forward, Lucky, Ella, Scooter and Squeaker became friends. Ella walked up to Pet Haven at least three times a week and would hang out with Marie and play with all the little critters in her store. The frogs had a new favorite game…THE RHYMING GAME!! 

“Hey Ella, don’t forget lucky!” Ella replied, “always stay plucky!”
Ella said loudly, “life is sure good, huh?!?” They played together all summer long...

***The word "PLUCKY" means brave***

Date Written: April 22, 2016 

Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Debbie Duncan | Details |

BY THE SEA

PART One,,,, as she saw it.


The mountains and the meadows were always so beautiful this time of year.
 It seemed as if a fresh new world always came to life. The high cliffs turned sharply downward.  As I sat listening to the ocean tides smashing against the walls of the mountain below. There was a mild breeze blowing from the south. The grass in the flower covered meadows moved with the breeze. The sun shined so brightly I thought it would melt me at times.

As I stood up from the log where I was sitting by the emerald forest, the breeze pressed my dress against me. It formed to the soft round curves of my breast, down through the curves of my waist pushing against my yielding hips. As I blinked from the sun, I saw him there in the distance. I had thought I was alone. But there he was,  starring straight at me. What would I do and where could I turn? I knew what kinds of thoughts men had, my mother told me all about them. I saw that he was beginning to move my way !

 I saw him there as he saw me. I was paralyzed, not knowing what direction to move. Though as I watched him from afar, he did not seem dangerous as my mother always warned. Still, I could hear her words like a tape recorder in the back of my mind.
               
 Should I dare take my eyes from his? I could see his eyes were dark, maybe brown, or even midnight blue.  What ever the color, I could tell they were smoldering with restrained passions. His hair was long to his shoulder blades. I knew that because it moved with the wind.  He had broad shoulders with long legs. I knew I must not let him reach me. If his arms entangled me , surely I would never get loose. And, I'm not sure I would want too. Even though I heard the words of my mother, running in my head.
 I could feel the tiny  beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I was not sure I should take my eyes from him as I leaned down to pick up the fan that had slipped from my hand to my bare feet.

PART ONE,,,, As he saw it .

  The winter snow had melted and yielded to the bright warming rays of the spring sun.  The bears had come out of hibernation with their  new born looking for food. The mountains and the meadows were born again, new, fresh and alive with life.  Everything was beautiful and as it should be. Birds singing, their mating songs blended with the crash of the surf against the steep cliffs of the mountain. Nature was at peace with itself, and I came here to share in this peace.  To be alone with the earth, or so I thought.  

I found a place to sit on the grass hidden among the flowers in the high meadows.  So I could enjoy the gentle breeze blowing while watching the forest animals. The warm sun caressed my body and warmed me. It was a prefect day, yet something was missing. A day like this needed to be shared with someone, someone special.  Stretching,  I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye, just across the enchanted forest. Of a beautiful women. It couldn't be possible as no one knew of this place. I had come here for years and had never seen a another person before. Yet, there she was. Dressed in a dress the wind made love to, pressing it to her body. Clinging to the sensual curves of her breast, down to her firm waist and full inviting hips. I suddenly felt drawn to her and stood up. I knew she had seen me as she was starring back at me, as I stood staring back at her. She was a vision. And I was afraid she would vanish if I approached her. Yet, she seemed to be smiling, calling to me as I started walking towards her. I remember the stories my grandmother had told me of the enchantresses that lived in this forest, but I did not hesitate. I would give to her anything she wanted, anything she desired.

As I approached her I realized she was real. She seemed to be looking at me, daring me to come closer. All the stories of the enchantress my grandmother had told me flooded my mind with a warning. Yet, she was so beautiful, so inviting  and I couldn't take my eyes from her. I was slowly losing control with each and every step that brought me closer to her. I knew I was lost as I felt the heat of my desire to be with her, starting to take control. It was a struggle not to run to this beautiful creature , with the golden hair, and angelic face.  As I came closer I couldn't help but notice her sensual breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She seemed to be smiling, challenging me with everything that made her a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman this sensual, this beautiful, this desirable was surely the enchantress, and I was hers. As a bee is drawn to the flower, I was being drawn to this women.

Suddenly she reached down to pick something up. It was just then I noticed she was barefoot.  As she bent over to retrieve what she had dropped, the sun reflected off her spun gold hair. and radiated a golden brightness that was almost blinding.  Her dress shifted  allowing me to see that her body enhanced her dress, rather then the dress enhancing her body. She would look beautiful in anything she wore.  The heat of my desire for her was beginning to consume me with it's fire. I felt the beginnings of ,,,,,,,,,,   

   

   Nov. 18 1992,,,, Short story I started to write, A friend ask if he could write from a males point of view.

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by J. W. Earnings | Details |

My Robotic Fantasy

Livin’ in filth…
Flippin’ out on everyone…
Pow! to my head. Pow! to my head.
Hand me a gun…gun…
Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

I put my mind into my work
Sorry for acting like a total jerk
That’s so abserk
Stressed out
Dry as a drought
But, I fought the battles that were wondering in my head
The attitude of gratitude drench me not with dread

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy 
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a…
Livin’ in a-a-a-a…
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy…
I speak in rhythm
I speak to them
A sweet talk of non-insanity
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane
On another lane…

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Nervous reaction…I talk with no action…
My dreams will be fulfilled with satisfaction…
Give me a fraction of your satisfaction…
GIVE ME A FRACTION OF YOUR……….satisfaction…..
Satisfaction…
Shun out the light of the moon
Happiness will hunt me down soon

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy 
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a…
Livin’ in a-a-a-a…
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy…
I speak in rhythm
I speak to them
A sweet talk of non-insanity
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane
On another lane…

Society splintered my hope…
I was addicted to you like people hooked on dope

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Decorate me with the finest gold
I am young, yet I have a mind of an old, old
Man, why does this pain drive me into insanity?
Can I be free for once in a lifetime?
Fairies dance before my eyes…
Flowers bloom before my eyes…
The grass is greener on the other side…
Stay by my side…don’t subside from my side, my beautiful bride
I’m crucified by these scars on my body…
Everybody stares at me…………….me…………me……….
Put a stop to this sorrow in my heart…
It’s ripping me apart…and I’m drifting in the death cart
Breathe into me your sunlit glee
Breathe into me your bittersweet envy
Breathe into me good traits from the Lord
He struck a chord within me…an accord I can’t afford

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy 
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ in a…
Livin’ in a-a-a-a…
Livin’ in a robotic fantasy…
I speak in rhythm
I speak to them
A sweet talk of non-insanity
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane 
On another lane
I’m sane
On another lane…

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Was livin’ my dream
Once in a great while
Was dyin’ in reality
Run just one more mile

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?

Drive this pain away from the scars I have on my skin
Shedding awful thoughts of suicide from within

*whisper* I want my own family
To smile with them gladly
Prescribe me happiness from up above
I’m 17 years old and not acting my age…fly away, dear beloved dove
Nervouscited as hell’s fire, coursing inside of me again
Drowning in my tears again…let the journey of life begin
Getting rid of golden….desire….
You dumped me in the trash bin…let the fire
Burn your soul to the ground
Like ashes, you fall without a sound

Livin’ in a robotic fantasy
Livin’ a robotic fantasy
Relivin’ God’s way of life
Forgetting the past’s strife…
It slices me open like a knife

*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie…
TO MYSELF!?
*whisper* What am I s’posed to do?
Sit there and cry?
Why am I sick with dem luv flu?
Why do I lie? Why do I cry? 
Why do I hide from my obsessions of plenty?
Don’t you see the roaring sea?
Please, God, hear my plea………
My grief-stricken, faithful plea……..
Heal me
Steal away the pain
I was the thief in the night
I was watching the scenes of temporary lust –
The pornography of life turns to dust
My heart yearns for You alone
Don’t gnaw at me like a dog with his bone 

Hold on, dear friend
The pain will have its end

Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Emma Willden | Details |

Crown of Sonnets - part 2

Yet there in the mist is the stories tusk
There full of the hidden secrets of men
The men and fairies who are full of lusk
They do hide them away here in the glen
Here they are hidden away in this place
A place so full of both the spies and lords 
We shall find the women adorned with lace
Yet they so clueless to the hidden cords
As here men or faires that walk about 
Hiding the truth or them in your plain sight
Yet here I do create a stage of doubt
As men of faires care not for the right
Looking I find I can't be overthrown 
Oh wait, I find you sit upon that throne

Oh wait I find you sit upon that throne
You try to create, rule that which is mine
Waiting and watching as you take the zone
Creating something of your own design
Waiting I watch you as you take control
You the character seems the master now
You do dance away you do take your scroll
Down and about you do start to bestow
From afar you do grow and develop
Yet  soon do I learn I do not create 
You leap out over land to envelop
Now only a king can control your fate
Fighting to create I find in your eye
So high, so mighty  you feel you might fly

So high, so mighty  you feel you might fly
As you the master of your mighty fight
Seem to be in the line of that dark sky
You seem to think your fate is not a knight
You choose to dare and to defy my words
Transforming my words to air it doth seem
You reason with the story not as a byrd
You discover that you do like that stream
You follow that twisted path to the north
You go not alone but so full of those lies
The lies and spies of fairies that do go forth
Out ,about your followed by silent cries
You wrote a path yet if  you could of known
Yet you do not know that I in the zone

Yet you do not know that I in the zone
Can still control this path if I so choose
So don't you dare try to cry or to moan
You do choose to ignore those hidden clues
Oh dear character of my heart, my soul
You did leap, bound farther than any before
Although far in mystery here is the troll
That you did not see upon your dark shore
As here I sit counting down those long paths
That will lead you to my desired one
For inside I do fight that wicked  wrath
So free and loved you do think you have won
After a battle fought I stand nearby 
Can create the path that causes you to die

Can create the path that causes you to die
Quietly I do watch you be so mighty 
Totally unaware you feel so high
You do sit, you laugh feeling almighty
Yet I the writer is spinning this tale
You see you did catch me when unaware
Although I did figure out that it was frail
It that was my idea I’m  in despair
As those hidden small words did launch so far
Off this silk pen and down this blank white page
They did land to create something bizarre
Hidden and unknown they did upstage
That plan I had is now in a debate
With my passion and love doth I create

With my passion and love doth I create
A character that of his own design
who was a knight did design his own fate
Now on that throne you're all but intertwined
The writer had believed to know it all
As the seconds fled upon a lost thought
To find that only you who was so tall
You could conquer all that was so distraught
There in that place you were so far of path
Following your mind fate did lead you to
That path I had fought with a writer's wrath
Here in this end we sit long overdue
I the writer now do open that gate
My world so full of stories that doth await

My world full of stories that doth await
It is full of those things only in dreams
Things created by those who don't debate
Between that which is created by schemes
If only I the writer had only known
That a character of such strong design
Will not be made to be only outgrown
But shall develop into that which will shine
To shine like this brave character of mine
Is something we all seem to all but lose
When we the writer choose to cry or whine
We then take a risk at being confused 
Yet here I chose to choose and then apply
I created in the blink of the master's eye

Doth create in a blink a master's eye
Gold painted not for the eyes to behold
So beautiful created not with dye
 My words they seem to create something bold
 Something that I shall spin upon the moon
As the fairy doth dance into the dusk
that I create a story of a loon
Yet there in the mist is the stories tusk
 Oh wait, I find you sit upon that throne
 So high, so mighty  you feel you might fly
 Yet you do not know that I in the zone
 Can create the path that causes you to die
 With my passion and love doth I create
 My world full of stories that doth await

Copyright © Emma Willden | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Conversational Ecstasy

I believe SuperEgo bicameral comprehension
functions, forms, and flows organic
ecotherapeutic integrity;
I believe balanced Left-Right consciousness
orbits toward ecstatic psychology.

I've got nothin' to say
And I'm gonna keep it just that way
'til my mean old SuperEgo
lets me go outside to play.

Imagine with me for a moment,
if you would be so generous,
god as not only love
but also the most joyful joy we could be,
cooperatively networked together.

And why do I want to play this imagination game
with you
or even without you?
What is this joy of which you speak?
I know peace in silent music
and wind and surf,
but is therapy of sound this joy?

Perhaps not quite enough,
maybe only halfway here.
We grow toward pregnant Now becoming being joy
with you.

While I assume this will not be news
I need to remind you
that your presence does not always feel like gift,
source of joy,
not so much really,
sometimes more painful to my drift.

Yes, I know.
But, it brings me joy to recall
in our more dissonant crash
that I feel precisely the same suffering way
about your sorry ass.

Perhaps you should find a different therapist.
One who evolves less sure of god as graced-love
and much more joy,
one not so sure your God is humor,
Eco-ing DNA's RNA CommonSense.

If I understand your cynicism
I might write your song,
"I've got nothin' to say
And I'm gonna keep it just that way
'til my mean Ol' Dad
lets me go outside to play."

Your issues with remembering who I am
rather than who you thought I would be
seem not too distant clarity
or even acceptance,
but your troubling habit of editing my opera
into your joyful musical comedy,
this tangles our melodic frequencies
and harmonic function.

"How can I reach heavenly you
when all day through
you bind me to 
your flight toward unEarthy game wars,
your fear of losing rich rewards,
blockade toward joy,
your life your toy
to blindly scream away?"

How could I throw away this toy
you never game me?
My defeats,
static surrenders to right-now desire,
or lack thereof,
steer me far clear of your enchantment
with ecstatic joy.

What is your purpose
when Earth's becoming
is your wise Being,
if your Being
is not also Earth's meaningful becoming?
If you are not part of Earth's mindful nature
then Humane Being cannot naturally co-arise,
develop,
regenerate.
Your becoming cannot be not Our becoming,
my Being fades when we are not We
together.

What is this to me
your wilting Earth
and flat-line monopolistic dark comedy?
My joy turns tragedy to operatic outcomes.
What you label Oppositional Disorder
I hear as contending Cognitive Dissonance,
hoping for a Draw someday,
someplace away.

What you find unnaturally cacophonous
confuses my spirited silence.
Your values are not Ours
on my side of your Oppositional Divide,
my values are my own,
and I am free of Win, Lose, or Draw cultures
and economic gamesmanship,
Our Truth as Consequence game
contains our Tug of War.
Imagine with me
in this Eternal Moment
your Ego filled with endless joyful joy
as you pull all Earth toward finish line
and you are confidently winning
your Boddhisatva Interdependent Challenge.
Even should you not choose releasing survival's course rope,
you have full faith that We are winning
and this joy will never end.
Your Being has become,
your response fulfills your stimulus of birth,
your effect regenerates your course's cause,
your What Ifs? echo and mirror your What Are We?,
all Earth recreates your joy.

I've got nothin' to say
And I'm gonna keep it that way
'til my mean ol' life pilgrimage
through dissonant pathology
let's me go outside to play.

That does indeed sound operatic.

Right, and not so much joyful joy
this side of my playground.
See ya.
Wouldn't wanna be ya.

Oh, but you are,
except your opera damns divine divas,
weeping and shrieking  in off-stage wings
of perpetually-coming purgatory,
while Earth's musical comedy,
reenacts all that drama on your Win-Lose playground,
where Her Sun ain't bringin' no bad news
all eternal day.

Why do you always need to have the last word,
the last line?

We have a shared last line.

No, you just did it again,
with the We thing.

Yes We did.

I'm closing the door now.

Yes We are.

Hopeless.

Joyless.

Can I maul your head?

Our head.

My head.

Imagining with We 
brings joy.

LAAAAAAAAAST WORD!  HA!

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

That 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…

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Long Poems