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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
august autumn
baby bangla
baptism baseball
basketball beach
beautiful beauty
bereavement best friend
betrayal bible
bio bird
birth birthday
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blue boat
body books
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bridal shower brother
bullying business
butterfly cancer
candy car
care career
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change chanukah
character cheer up
chicago child
child abuse childhood
children chocolate
christian christmas
cinderella city
class clothes
color community
computer 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
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
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farewell farm
fashion father
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fathers day fear
february feelings
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fish fishing
flower flying
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for children for her
for him for kids
forgiveness freedom
french friend
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fun funeral
funny funny love
future games
garden gender
giggle girl
girlfriend giving
god golf
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
innocence insect
inspiration inspirational
international internet
introspection ireland
irony islamic
january jealousy
jesus jewish
jobs journey
joy judgement
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kid kindergarten
kiss language
leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
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lost lost love
love love hurts
lust lyric
magic malayalam
marathi march
marriage math
may me
meaningful memorial day
memory men
mentor metaphor
middle school military
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miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mother son
mothers day mountains
moving on mum
murder muse
music my child
my children mystery
myth mythology
name native american
natural disasters nature
new year new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
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old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
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poems poetess
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prayer preschool
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prison 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
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sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
sweet symbolism
sympathy tamil
teacher teachers day
technology teen
teenage thank you
thanks thanksgiving
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

Long Storm Poems | Long Storm Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Mary Oliver Rotman | Details |

Randomlings 1-34

Randomling 1:  Matthew Macfadyen

I believe I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen
He inspires in me a terribly bad yen
But as poetry goes
His name 'spires woes
Cause nothing rhymes with "Macfadyen”.

Randomling 2: Birthday Wishes
For my birthday, I would like a man.
I wonder---can you get one from a can?
Or maybe from a catalog?
Maybe I'll just get a dog.

Randomling 3: Yet Another Cat Poem

toddlers in fur
senior citizens with retractable claws
lions in their own minds
lunch in the minds of dogs.

Randomling 4:  Desert Woes

A sage river in a field of sand:
         so flows hope in a barren land;
                   the crippled heart in prosthetic steel,
                             hacked and scarred, a vulture’s meal.

Randomling 5:  Dark Poetry

Follow poetry to its source;
There find heartbreak and remorse.
Follow poetry to the bitter end,
And there find death, its bosom friend.

Randomling 6: Ode to Bananas

an underappreciated fruit
sentenced to banananality
because yellow is their long suit.

Randomling 7: Untitled  

this heart is closed to deposits.
There's no more room for pain.

Randomling 8: Untitled

My heart is sealed in a cold steel vault,
and I’ve lost the combination.

Randomling 9: Joyce Kilmer 2015

I think that I shall never see
A man as useful as a tree.
One has uses by the score;
The other one is apt to snore.

Randomling 10:  Bedtime Prayers

Now I lay me down to sleep,
A leaden heart is mine to keep.
If I should die before I wake--
Now there’s an offer I’d gladly take.   

Randomling 11:  The Devil Wind

Fury with a smoky tail
Eddies of destruction
Deceitful beauty, enchanting danger
Death sporting a makeover

Randomling 12:  A Boy's Best Friend

Your penis—it is not a toy
I told my little son.
O yes it is, he parried me
It's quite my favorite one.

Randomling 13:  Fault Lines

I have a bathroom mirror
that's grown faulty over time.
My reflection is no longer true;
it's developed little lines!

Randomling 14:  Shakespeare 101		

“To be or not to be. That is the question.”
--What question?
THE question!
--Whaddya mean, THE question?
Never mind.																		

Randomling 15: Christmas?

Peace on earth to men of good credit
Who give the gift of corporate profit
in the holy name of commercialism.

Randomling 16:  Musical Believer

Though my conscience sleeps,
wrapped in the Valium of
agnosticism, it awakens to 
the music of Mozart--
once more knowing God
by the sound of His voice.

Randomling 17: Vacuum

I didn't write a poem when you died.
The words would not come.
Perhaps I felt too deeply,
perhaps not enough;
maybe I died too.   10/06/01

Randomling 18: Insanity

Insanity is underrated
Its drawbacks,much overstated.
How else to do what you darn well please
And accomplish it with so much ease?

Randomling 19: Dog Day Afternoon

salt, waves, undertow
I don't know what's going
on here, but I'm HAPPY!

Randomling 20: Opposites Attract

i am matter---love, antimatter
never to meet save to explode
i am space, love is time
parallel dimensions never to meet

Randomling 21: Puppy Love

I ride a leaky newspaper raft
Adrift on the linoleum
Anxiously awaiting an
An attack of smelly
squirming happiness
covered in fuzz:
Puppy love.

Randomling 22: Newton's Poultice

Apple falls from tree
Newton (ouch!) takes notice
Comes up with law of gravity
while wearing a poultice
on the solstice

Randomling 23: Ticking

And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
while my life fell apart all around me.
Sweet memories faded to shadow
as my heart fell to pieces inside me.
And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
Relentlessly ticking, ticking
While my life fell apart all around me.

Randomling 24: Untitled

a mosaic assembled from
shimmering, glimmering
tiles of delight and
black-glazed stones of despair
interlocking snowflakes
in seamless beauty

Randomling 25: Seasonal Lament
Daylight shrinks end at both end as summer falls into the arm of winter. arm
Randomling 26: Untitled
I didn't want to love you.
Randomling 27: Pills Depression is days and nights curled fetal-like in a dark room, no interest in the world outside, idly wondering if there are enough pills in the bottle to kill you, then thinking it's not worth the effort to find out because you're dead inside already. Randomling 28: Guilt By Association Fresh morning light frames the cat, surrounded by piles of dirt and deceased plants, looking innocent. Randomling 29: Bell the Cat How do you give a cat a bath? Maybe you can do the math. All I know is she stinks to high heaven. And of us there are only seven. How many humans to bathe a cat? Definitely more than where we're at! Randomling 30: Muse
I want to write a poem using the word gossamer. “Gossamer.”
Randomling 31: Ripples
Canoes rock gently under the waxing moon. Black water ripples, painting a beautiful scene under the scented pines.
Randomling 32: Sunshine Waterfall I cleanse my face in a sunshine waterfall, luxuriate in a sunshine shower. Waterfall flow and warm me; sprinkle lemon drops through my hair. Randomling 33: Salon Treatment Hurricanes scour everything they touch, then rinse and blow dry. Randomling 34: My Window Blue sky pokes its face through the canopy of trees. Heat wave is over!

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman

Long poem by binibining P.iNk | Details |

Tahan na, Glenda -typhoon Rammasun

I can't sleep right now, and I guess I just needed to 'voice' umm type out my 
thoughts somehow.... as I type this, the wind is howling and I hear the whoosh 
of rain...and through it all, I hear a croaking frog.

At times when there are typhoons, I do tend to step outside and just watch, BE there firsthand, such a mere fraction (nothing compared to, actually), to what others experience, since I can always just run back inside if it gets dangerous. For others, the danger is real... I do like to feel the typhoon (a different aspect, I guess I find a certain thrill to it) but knowing how it can also be so dangerous, also grounds me.

Typhoon Rammasun (Glenda) has been gaining strength the past day (flights have been cancelled, classes and even government work have been suspended and a lot of areas are placed in storm signals ranging from 1 to 3)--we are at signal 3 where I am... it is slow-moving, meaning it can gather more strength as it moves and this also affects a lot of areas in the central and mainly northern part of my country.

A lot of areas here are prone to flooding, are already being flooded and the 
danger of storm surges is also very imminent... hundreds of thousands have already been evacuated, and hopefully those who refused to leave their homes earlier, took warnings to heart and evacuated.... it was still sunny this morning, so it could have been quite deceiving, I guess.

In fairness to the local governments, they do what they can do, taking preemptive measures in evacuation, with typhoon Yolanda still fresh in our hearts and minds.

What is disheartening is that those who can be severely affected would be 
those who have less in life, the informal settlers near coastal and bay areas, the 
farmers, the of typing this, 3 people have already been reported 

There was this man featured on the news earlier, seen gathering plastic bottles 
and other trash from the bay, in order to sell, and didn't know there was an 
upcoming typhoon... 

There was a lady, who refuse to leave her home which is located in a high risk 
area, she said she'd rather ride out the storm at home, resigned, she said if it's 
your time to die, it's your time. 

Maybe it's hormones, emotions getting to me, but watching the news, saying 
our evening prayers with special intentions, I had to fight back tears. Sighs, what good would my tears do though? The heavens shed enough tears right now.

Here I am, in the comfort of my own home, safe. And others, I can just 
imagine, are feeling the wrath, with no roof over there heads. Those in 
evacuation centers, I hope they still have their houses to go home to after 

 Please join me in praying with them, that they can get through this typhoon, 
safe and without injury nor death.

 I hear the rattle of what I am guessing would be our neighbor's roof. The winds are stronger now, rushing through the trees.

The frog still croaks, and I hope it will be okay (and also for all the other 

   Glenda, tahan na, tahan na.... 
            Glenda, hush please, hush...

** "tahan na" --- the nearest definition I can think of for this phrase would be "hush" or maybe "stop crying" 

Glenda is the local name of Typhoon Rammasun

-- to my kababayans, nette, Aiyah, and all the others, please stay safe, I hope you and your loved ones are all safe.....let's continue praying for those who are directly in this typhoon's path. Yes, the typhoon is here, but I still believe in the power of prayer, that these people be given the strength and courage to get through this typhoon, and not give up hope. I guess I just really am hoping for minimal injuries and casualties (would it be too much if I hope for zero casualties?)

God bless.

ika-16 ng Hulyo, lagpas alas dos ng umaga


Rammasun did wreak a lot of havoc in the Philippines, leaving almost a hundred dead... it also crippled electricity in a lot of provinces and cities, downing and uprooting many trees. Some areas have been declared under states of calamity.

After passing through us, Rammasun gained more strength, and turned into a super typhoon, affecting China and Vietnam. Please continue to pray for those who have been affected by it. Thank you.

Also, my heart, prayers and thoughts all go out to the victims and loved ones of Malaysian Airlines Flight MH17. It may look so hopeless right now, but like so many others, even if the situation seems so complicated, with a lot of fingers being pointed, I hope and I pray for justice, that the bodies of the victims be returned to their families. 

Copyright © binibining P.iNk

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

Long poem by Tuisha Sircar | Details |

Demise of the Frail and Assail of the Skies

The bird wanted to fly

But the wind wanted to blow

“Rest now bird”, said the wind

“You now take it down slow,

And let me flow.”


The bird accepted thinking it was a request,

And ignored the proud in his words,

She sat down on the branch to rest,

Keeping down her guards,

Unaware of what is next.


An hour passed,

But still the wind didn’t stop,

Now the pace became fast,

Now the wind gone, in place was the storm.


Unable to stand against it,

The bird felt helpless.

The emergence of automatic persuasion,

Left the bird in stress.


Her home is not the ground,

She lives in the sky,

Feeling gloomy and bound,

She doesn’t even try to fly.


She stays where she was,

And starts envying the wind,

The kind of power he has,

That brought down even the born free.

Flying is what she loves,

And the feeling of spreading the wings,

Something that cannot be expressed in words,

The beauty can only be felt within,

But when the storm persists on blowing,

The persuasion reminded the bird of a cage.

The feeling of being trapped,

Even turned down the sage,

Within the bird and now a panic engulfed,

Because everything was happening against her will,

And the storm and his manic laugh,

Harassing and shrill,

Dominating over the world with his power.


 Now there is water added,

Pouring everywhere from the sky,

So hard that the vision blurry and fade,

The bird now wants to hide.

And so she trusts the woods,

Under the leaves she takes shelter,

Hoping the safe place could,

Understand and help the helpless her.

But today even the trees are of no help,

The rain is too heavy,

No matter where she hides,

Towards her somehow it will glide.


A day passed but still the storm wasn’t satisfied,

He kept on blowing,

Kept dominating the little with pride,

But the bird was now over sorrowing,

So, she decided to challenge the flowing.


And it seemed like years had passed,

Since the bird took a flight,

Into the blue and those effects that lasted,

Of serenity, luxury and rights.


Now the tolerance was coming to an end,

Her loud chirping of frustration speaks,

And so she comes out of the safe place and,

Into the grey she leaps.


It’s like, she dares the storm,

Even though she knows it’s futile,

The proud in him confirms,

That the end could be brutal.

But the little now doesn’t care,

She just wants to fly.


The storm does see the bird’s hindrance,

But would not understand the heart,

He will do what he wants,

That is what he is doing from the start.

He will choose when to come,

His wish no one can predict,

When his fun will become,

A thing getting vapid,

He’ll spare the imploring planet.



The rain can be the reason of someone’s laughter,

It can also make one morose.

The torrent of pouring water,

Is also something he does.

If his will says,

It’ll be a shower of delight.

If he wants it to be the other way,

It can become an element of fright.


Now after going a mile,

The bird is in terror,

Still the storm being hostile,

And the bird being the bearer.


Though she is tired,

But hasn’t lost all hopes,

And so with eyes like angel she desired,

The thoughts of good and optimism.

But when she looked up with faith,

And saw the grey sky,

She fatigue and her pale breath,

But still she flies.


“Stubborn she is no less”,

Thinks the storm, and now he the outrageous,

Losing his charge on the rage,

The sky shines a red that’s vicious.

Then from somewhere a lightning bolt,

Suddenly strikes before the bird,

While she runs from the jolt,

Several others in her surround appeared.

She moves carefully,

But the storm is furious,

And he would not stop,

Until he becomes victorious.


Then a surprising tremor ripples,

Through her and little’s every part stops,

Down the bird with rush tumbles,

With eyes full of teardrops,

And her vision turns grey,

But did she lose the fray?


As the bird, hit the soil,

She remembered a life,

A life that never once gave her the turmoil,

But always love in rife.

Also a light that the bird saw,

When she first opened her eyes,

Now got vacuumed,

Leaving behind the blackness of demise.


The storm witnessed the whole saga,

But still he won’t remorse,

A beautiful little lay dead down,

Sometime else, again a creature would morose,

Because the nefarious never bows.

Copyright © Tuisha Sircar

Long poem by Darian Rehder | Details |

Love, Death, and Rebirth

The signs started in December
When she started waking up in tears each night
She was a normal girl with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes
She had plenty of friends and a loving family with just one thing missing
Her father. 

Days passed by and turned into weeks but only felt like a few seconds
Her life just whizzed by faster and faster until it was just a whirr in front of her eyes
Darkness filtered into her heart and mind until she didn't know if she could go on
But she had to. She couldn't let her mother and her sister drown in this same pain
She wouldn't let them.

She pushed all the darkness into the depths of her own heart
In hopes to save the hearts of the two people she had left
Because what else was there to live for now?
The rest of her world had crashed and her mother and sister was all that was left 
She wouldn't let them drown in pain too. 

She watched as they started to heal in her loving arms
Their hearts started to lighten up once more
But hers was just as dark as it was before 
And growing darker day by day 
But she wouldn't let that stop her. 

Suddenly a year had passed... and then two 
It only seemed like seconds to her but everyone else started moving on
Her mother and sister no longer needed her nurturing care
But she needed someone to hold on to

With nothing left for her to take control of, the dark pushed past her boundries 
It found a way into her soul
Until all she could see was dark and no light 
But her mother and sister were healed now
They didn't understand

The tears came back and engulfed her soul
Bit by bit until she wasn't sure why she was still alive
The grief took over like knives 
Piercing her skin over and over and over
It hurt so much.

She started to wonder what it'd look like to be dead
She could see him again if she was
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to endure this pain?
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to live knowing she'd never see him again?
It would.

So she started to hate herself
All that negative energy was starting to take toll
Everyone around her was breathing while she suffocated more and more by the second
She wished she'd just choke already instead of living in constant pain
If no one would put her out of her misery, she'd have to do it herself

She couldn't see any light anymore
So she grabbed the pill bottle off the shelf and just hoped it wouldn't take long to die
Deep down she still had a spark of light, but she just couldn't find it 
And now it was too late in her mind to change, to turn back and try to look deeper
She was done living.

That's when people started to notice that everything wasn't as peaceful as it seemed
They started to see how deeply depressed she had become
They wanted to help her see the light again before it was too late 
So they sent her away to see doctors and to take pills to make everything better
It was a start.

She didn't see a change at first but suddenly she could think clearly
Maybe what they were doing was actually going to help her see the light again
Yes, she still wanted to die, but maybe that wasn't the only option anymore
They cared,  and behind all their own problems they were trying to understand
They really were trying

Six months longer she would be treated and cared for
Until suddenly she was sent home from her treatment and care with a smile on her face
She had a new perspective
Someone had helped her ignite that spark in her heart until it was a glowing ember
She had been reborn

Sometimes you have to be able to experience the worst of it
To come back shining brighter than before
And if she had died that cold day in October, she wouldn't of ever seen the best of it
Or known that it would get better
and it did!

And she now sits at her laptop, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart
It's never been an easy road and it won't ever be
But at least she knows she's lived through the worst
And it can only get better from here

So whenever she feels lonely or gets back into that dark spot again
She can look back on what she's learned and can read this poem
And remember that she survived the darkest depths of depression
And she will continue to survive it as long as she lives
Because she is stronger now than she ever was before ?

Copyright © Darian Rehder

Long poem by Stephen J. Vattimo | Details |

Sail By God's Compass And Map

There once was a nation that was like a beautiful tall sailing ship
It’s mast were like redwood trees lined up in a forest
They bore the stainless white sails of opportunity to catch the winds of adventure and prosperity

This nation that was like a beautiful tall sailing ship
had a proud history but it wasn’t always full of smooth sailing

They had met many different faces of the storms that occur in this fallen world

They had battled their way through many storm by their faith in their Creator
He through his holy Spirit He gave them the strength of nerves of steel
He place a burning will to fight to over come their foes in them that no winds of a hurricane could blow out
He gave them a lantern of opportunism that no doubt could swallow up with it’s darkness

They rowed their ores against the waves of civil wars that tried to saw their ship into two halves
They fault against pirates who tried to commandeer ships from other lands
to plunder their booty and subjugate their crews under tyrannical rule

There came a time this nation that was like a beautiful tall sailing ship
became prideful and place their faith in their successful adventure they had and in the booty they had acquired
They decided to mutiny against the Creator
In their deluded mines they tied Him up and abandoned Him on an uncharted island

The nation that was like a beautiful tall sailing ship hoisted their sail of opportunity
to catch the winds of adventure and prosperity 
when they were on their way
they took the tools that the Creator gave them to safely navigate the oceans
and threw them overboard

They decided to seek a new destiny by exploring uncharted waters
They were met by a hideous fierce ogre of a storm that open it’s mouth and swallow them whole like they were a small piece of bread

The once strong like red wood trees masts had become dry rotted by the spirit of un- thankfulness and were easy for the storm to snatch them away along with their
the storm toss the ship from one wave to another like a clown juggles balls at a circus

The spirit of courage melted inside them and they coward in a corner 
For they no long had the Holy Spirit with them to give them nerves of steel
To ignite flames of a fighting spirit in them
To give them a lantern to shine a guiding light of optimism when they were lost in the darkness of hopelessness

The crew of the nation that was like a beautiful tall sailing ship
Could have use their ores to row toward safe waters 
But they didn’t have the compass of the Holy Spirit to morally guide them in the right direction to the safe waters

They no long had the map the creator had given them so they could find out where they were in relationship to the boundaries of the safe and treacherous waters.

The crew of the nation that was like a beautiful tail sailing ship
Could save them self and what was left of their ship if they would untie The Creator and retrieve Him from the uncharted Island they had abandoned Him on in their deluded minds

To Swallow their pride and humbly call out to Him to rescue them from the cure hands of the storm

To confess and repent from their muteness ways
To ask the Creator to restore their ship and to enable them to sail their ship once again under His banner 
By using the compass and map He has equipped them with to safely navigate the ocean of the world

Written by Stephen J.Vattimo
August 10,2015

Sail By God's Compass And Map

Copyright © Stephen J. Vattimo

Long poem by Robert Lindley | Details |

Into A Dark Raging Storm, Tempest And Hail

Into A Dark Raging Storm, Tempest And Hail

Into a dark raging storm, tempest and hail
alas, sadly all was to be to no avail.
Twelve pounders broke loose crashing about
some over the wind praying in a shout.

Prisoners chained below all in great fear
great many had shed a tortured tear.
Captured when their frigate this enemy sank
praying for their life and safe bank.

Thunder rolled and invisible hammers pound
every loud creak an ominous sound.
That morn crew had blessed the arrowy sun
and good lord for all he had done.

Now hit by waves capable of breaking stone
each man felt terror and all alone.
Moment came when ship was tossed up high
and each one saw his life pass by.

Next splashing water and cursing the sea
survivors and no ship could they see.
Down it had went with prisoners in chains
sea graveyard dead,no longer in pain.

Found one life boat still there and afloat
six sailors climbed aboard the boat.
Storm had calmed enough for them to see
they may yet hold kids on their knee.

No longer daring to swear and deeply curse
thanks gave having survived the worse.
No time to mourn the stormy sea taken dead
each prayed to a merciful God instead!

Robert J. Lindley, 10-21-2015


(1.) "frigate"-
A frigate /'fr?g?t/ is any of several types of warship, the term having been used for ships of various sizes and roles over the last few centuries. In the 17th century, this term was used for any warship built for speed and maneuverability, the description often used being "frigate-built"

 (2.)" Twelve pounder"

Twelve pounder:
The twelve-pound cannon is a cannon that fires twelve-pound projectiles
 from its barrel, as well as grapeshot, chainshot, shrapnel, and later
 shells and canister shot.[1] It was first used during the Tudor 
period[2] and was commonly used during the Napoleonic Wars, 1799-1815.
 At this time 12 lbers were largest caliber of long-barreled field 
pieces, and were used both at long range against fortifications and 
troop concentrations using round shot and against attacking infantry 
and cavalry using canister shot. As such the 12 lber was a favorite 
weapon of the Grande Armée. Later, redesigned 12 lbs were named after
 Napoleon III and found heavy use during the American Civil War.
12-pounders were also carried on naval vessels of various sizes. 
Unlike their land based cousins, such weapons were considered light
 by naval standards. They formed the main armament of smaller frigates,
 and were used on the upper decks of larger vessels, where their 
relatively lighter weight would not be a problem. They were commonly 
found on the quarterdeck of British Ships of the line like HMS Victory 
though their main weapons were the larger 24 and 32 pound cannon, 
capable of shattering the hulls of enemy warships and killing the gun
 crews with a deadly shower of splinters.[3]

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Long poem by cherl dunn | Details |



Beneath the deadly rough waves cryptic path of destruction,
There is an ethereal place of eerie silence, in the stilled frozen
Chilling depth, it is the final resting place for wreckage's carnage,
The aquatic graveyard of ships!
Left ringing is the bell of the silent mercy, in the lingual deep,
A clanging of humanity never to be heard again above these
Climatic waves of utter vengeance's, in Poseidon’s rage this ocean
God, has clenched his mighty fist against this mariner’s craft,
Crumpling it into pieces of retribution final tolling!
Splashes concurring thrashing yields, unto the screaming
Banshees of death, as the devil’s due is paid in human flesh,
Splitting into torn bits, is the yard arm of existence, braking apart
In timbers of mutilation, as the bowels of hell's gates flush
Wide open, sucking within those souls of the unrighteous
Sinners, set out to sea to perilous waters by greed’s deceit!
In the flickering of dualities of existence, the supernatural 
Lighthouse of twisted fate, reflects its ethereal beam of
Contrasts against these waves of the uncertain!
Ghost ships linger anchored, in the distant shallow harbors beyond,
Awaiting for their newly undead crew members, to be hailed
Broadside and welcomed aboard, these death ships riding high,
Upon the tidal shifts of the perfect storms ever quaking wake!
Creaking is the wipe of the captain’s wheel, as it turns unyielding
In the encrusted seaweed entanglement, of the everlasting souls
Of those tortured by a cursing’s plague, called the love of the open
Unleashed are the aquatic krackens of the fathoms deep,
Living giants made of sea foam and spray, kindred to the
Ancients, they cling to the ripen breast of the Oceans nipple,
Sucking the life essence from Mother Nature herself, until
She expels these demonic creature by sheer force of will,
Then banishing them beneath them beneath the primal
Abyss below, locking them within the chains of immortality,
Until needed by Poseidon once more!
Lightening splits in half the eye of the tropical hurricane,
As thunder ricochets off the mountainous rough wave,
Domination's elemental thrust crashes against the shores
Of civilizations outer crust, as the mortal ants run fleeing, beneath
This aquatic elliptical epic storm, which blots out the very sun
Oh lord God above, protect the souls of the lost innocent,
Whom bath beneath this ocean of death, but it is too late
For those inflicted, extracted by the currents of vengeance,
For mercy’s sake alone, bow thy heads in silent prayers offering!
Beneath the deadly rough waves cryptic path of destruction,
There is an ethereal place of eerie silence, in the stilled frozen
Chilling depth, it is the final resting place for wreckage's carnage,
The aquatic graveyard of ships!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Long poem by Eve Roper | Details |

A Storming Symphony

                                               A Storming Symphony

                            The calm before the storm opened up with fury
                  Unnerving silence filled the air with almost complete darkness
                                                A storm crept within
                                                    Purely focused
                                              It swelled up and draws
                                         Through an angry, filled breath
                                         With a vicious voice eased back
                            Exploded once and for all with wet droplets of rain
                                                   A wrenching sound
                                            And a crack of light and fire
                                  Shaking everything through and through
                                             Orange fire and flickering
                                            Light reflected on the valley
                                     The silence was interrupted seconds later
                                      The fury inside continues to grow
                                              It punched a fist again
                                                With a raging crack
                            Horrific piercing sounds and bright lights danced
                                  Filling the air with a roar of angry Lions

                                         Thunder rolled across the sky
                                               It couldn't stop itself
                              And starts opening the symphony once more
                                                Fueled by adrenaline
                                     Thunderbolts of pure terror flashed
                                              Slamming and crashing
                 An awful electric shock waves cracked plummeted to the ground
                               Connecting and sinking into the soaked soil

                                         A surprisingly calm came over
                                         And soothed the storm within
                                               Moving on with a view
                               Off the top of the trees and blue sky beyond

                                                The battle was won
                                            Precious crystal clear rain
                                         Soaked the life on the ground
© 4/7/2015

Copyright © Eve Roper

Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

What a sacrifice Sublime

About two thousand years ago
In the early morning hours of a cool day
When the wind was calm and the Sun had just 
Started showing his sign in east 

A small vessel boat standing near the shore
Was getting ready to move, after taking on its board,  
A number of scholars, with their heavy load of knowledge
Lying near the boat, were the bundles full of load* 
Which some scholars were trying to put on board
To carry away the much labored treasure of books* 
For its final long journey from a near by seaport

These books were translated by scholars
Both Indians and Chinese, in more than a decade
Learning in those day’s early universities
Was possible only after tough labor 
And facing hardest living ways 
The priceless knowledge of that world
Was not much known to all those 
Living in Beijing, Athens or Rome
Was being taken out of India to light-up 
The dark areas and different paths of the globe

The Indian scholars with five others 
Had come from university of Nalanda
To see off their Chinese guests up-to the port of Kalika
And wanted to go upto an inland near the shore  
To say adieu and Good Bye, to their friends on board  
The island was few miles away from the shore 
From there the guest scholars, were going to start alone
Their long journey to far Far-East on their own

Ten years companionship had tied them in a bond 
They came to say adieu to host scholars Shing and Yang
The boat was small but full of load 
With crewmen and scholars
And lots of handwritten books on board

The boat left the shallow seashore 
For the near by more deep Kalika port, 
From there the boat was destined 
For its final journey towards Far East 
Towards an unknown land and shore

The wind had hardly driven them few miles away
When a crewman saw a storm coming from west  
And saw the boat was staggering on waves
With heavy weights on it, its chances of survival was at stake

The storm was getting rough and waves were roaring high
A voice came from behind, to throw the books in sea
To save the boat and lives on board 

The host scholars, who were eight 
Knew the value of that work sublime
Took a decision to throw them selves instead of books 
To save the torch of knowledge lighted up by them  
In the form of manuscript’s load sublime 
And said only ‘Good Bye’ to those on board
Before anyone could have understood 
They all jumped into the sea and lost without a sign 
The Chinese scholars exclaimed! ‘What a sacrifice Sublime’


*manuscripts (on Bhogpatras-A tree leaf used in early days)

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor

Long Poems