Best Long Poem Poems
The Life Is …
The Life Is …
When I was young, there was no pain,
The only pain was to complain.
When I was young, I did not care,
Just as long as my love was there.
When I was young, my life was great.
But I was there a bit too late.
A bit too late to know life was,
being young and having no flaws.
A bit too late to celebrate,
What I had then was called my fate.
Now it’s different, weather is cold,
I turned into a man that’s old.
The spring has passed, summer is gone,
Autumn at rest, winter is on.
I am too old and know it’s gone.
It is too dark to hope for dawn.
Now I know that a part of life,
It is old age and lives with strife.
Now I know that my life is not,
The perfect plan when I had thought.
The life is not the silken dress,
Unmarked from flaws, full of success.
My life is just a song I sing,
It is winter chasing the spring.
It is sorrow, it is laughter,
It is hope for morning after.
My life is just a long poem,
Had a young star; none would know him.
The life is just a shooting star,
It is so bright but can’t go far.
Blink your eyes; it’s all be gone,
I played this game like a faceless pawn.
I played so well; somehow, I lost.
You don’t want me to count my cost.
My life is like a field of dream,
Or maybe like a moonlit stream.
My life is like a drop of dew,
Waiting the Sun to say adieu.
My life is like the dew at dawn,
The sun will kiss; it will be gone.
My life is not to be just young,
It is okay to be unsung.
My life is like the morning breeze,
It can bring storms or bring you ease.
You are hoping for one more dream,
That wakes you up in golden gleam.
The life is like a candle’s flame,
It lights up love or burns to blame.
The games are on, and the moves are fast.
I do not know how long they last.
For some, it’s short; for some, it’s long.
Go have more fun; it is not wrong.
Remember now, it might get late,
Go play your move before checkmate.
10/2/2019
Haloo
Note: The painting is called “A reminder”; it’s acrylic on wood.
Note: This style of poetry is called "Masnavi"; it is the spiritual couplets. This particular masnavi consists of eight syllables in each line. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.
I'm making this brief
to spare you the grief
of having to scroll even once
You see by the title
that this here recital
ain't one of my long-winded stunts
It's not a long poem
there's no need to roam
all over the place for your fix
If rhythm's your need
you'll be happy indeed
that I tossed this one into the mix
Now I'm almost done
and I hope you had fun
with this humorous roadside attraction
So please hurry back
for a quick rhyming snack
and eat to your sweet satisfaction
3/10/19
I saw him before I saw her…(I believe she was holding the door.)
There was a far away look in his eyes as he shuffled his feet on the floor.
I felt a twinge of sorrow for him as he slowly labored past
Each step seemed so difficult…more challenging than the last.
I saw her next when she caught up to him and I thought how nothing could compare
with the smile on her face as she helped him to his chair.
She fixed his hair, she straightened his clothes with an ease, a tenderness…a grace
and as she tended to his every need that smile never left her face.
I did not know this couple whom I assumed were man and wife
but as I watched them endure the ravages of age I imagined younger moments in their life.
The moment hey first met, when they fell in love…when they lived in younger skin
I imagined them with friends and family…imagined all the places they had been…
A lifetime spent in love together was not difficult to surmise
I saw it in the gentleness of her touch…and in the sparkle of her eyes.
When our eyes met for a moment I saw how her smile was masking her pain
and I thought how the more her husband slips away…the more her love remains.
I believe when we happen upon one another…even momentarily in a day
from every brief encounter…we take something away.
It may be a look…a smile…a glance…a gesture from afar
that finds it’s way into our heart and reshapes who we are.
As I left my brief encounter and walked to my car in a misty rain
I thought about that moment…about how she smiled through her pain…
and though there was a hint of sadness as I drove home by the sea
it wasn’t her sadness…it was her love…I took away with me.
A love so beautiful…so everlasting…so quietly proclaimed
It made me smile when I thought of it…
knowing I’d never be the same.
In Asgard, kingdom of the mighty God Odin
A place awaits all battle fallen warrior heroes
It's in Valhalla where there is endless feasting
And an ending of all griefs and sorrows
The Valkyries, Odin's warrior daughters
Carry the fallen heroes from the battlefield
To Valhalla to join other fallen warriors
Where they are restored to life fully healed
Each day the warriors fight on Asgard's plain
Their battle skills to sharpen and maintain
Every evening wounds and injuries they sustain
Are healed and each warrior made whole again
They dine on liquor and fresh cooked meat
That is always in great abundance for all
Providing a delicious gourmet treat
At Odin's banquet in Valhalla's dining hall
July 18, 2014
Addition:
Here is the poem which aroused my childhood interest in the Vikings, and to
which I referred in my reply to Shadow. I would like to share it with others.
It is "The Sea King's Burial" by Charles Mackay. It recalls the days when a
Viking chief died and his body was placed in a boat. The vessel with full sail
set and a fire lighted, was then sent drifting out to sea. It is a long poem so I
am only quoting the first and last verses:
My strength is failing fast
(Said the sea-king to his men).
I shall never sail the seas
Like a conqueror again,
But while yet a drop remains
Of the life-blood in my veins
Raise, oh, raise me from my bed,
Put the crown upon my head,
Put my good sword in my hand,
And so lead me to the strand,
Where my ship at anchor rides
Steadily;
If I cannot end my life
In the crimsoned battle-strife
Let me die as I have lived,
On the sea.
.......................................
Once alone a cry arose,
Half of anguish, half of pride,
As he sprang upon his feet,
With the flames on every side.
"I am coming! " said the king,
Where the swords and bucklers ring,
Where the warrior lives again,
Where the souls of mighty men
And the weary find repose,
And the red wine ever flows,
I am coming, great -All-Father,
Unto thee!
Unto Odin, unto Thor,
And the strong, true hearts of yore:
I am coming to Valhalla
O'er the sea."
http://www.rampantscotland.com/poetry/blpoems_seaking.htm
Dreams and Reality
I met her in the Book-Fair, three days the fair lasted
And she was spotted on all days, browsing and buying my books
Eyeing me without talking; I could read her mind in her looks
As the tip of her lip touched my book cover image. The posted
Message on the wall of my heart conveyed her dreams and fixed
Them across my mind. So, I took the first step and blasted her diffidence
With a gentle smile, getting a charming smile with a girlish confidence.
That’s it; with ignited throbs we spent days; she then asked, ”What next?”
“A Long Poem in the pipeline and a pulp fiction in printing,”
She seemed bewildered. And we finished the day without talking more.
The next day, she was more silent, and then asked in haste, “What more?”
“A Mock Epic for my taste and a Romantic fiction to make it trending.”
I talked about books and more books as she talked with her looks; mere looks!
And we parted there, like crooks; realizing- life is more than books and looks!
(sorry, Tirzah, I could not do a nice long poem on horses.
I just felt like doing some silly limericks playing off expressions
for horses. Thanks for the inspiration!)
I Hate that Horse
There’s a horse that I so hate to see,
And at night sometimes he visits me.
His attack to my thigh
Makes me think I might die.
That Charly Horse acts horribly!
Horses Have Ears, Ya Know
“I could eat a horse!” hungry bob said
To his friends as he rode his horse, Ned.
Taking it the wrong way,
Ned reared up with a “neigh!”
Bob fell off and got kicked in the head.
Pony Up
“Pony up,” said the seamstress in town
With the new bride’s hand-sewn beaded gown.
But having no dough,
The bride cast her eyes low,
Saying, “Sorry, but my pony is down.”
In Our One Horse Town
We love ostriches. Haven’t you heard?
Yes, it’s true, and I give you my word
Just one old mare lives here.
Had no foals; she is *****.
So each cowboy just rides a bird!
For Tirzah's "A Horse is a Horse of Course" contest
Breaktime, I'll write something for you
Breakfast or lunch, I think of you
Birds outside the window, chirp at me
Birds of the same feather, follow me
Be it short or long, poem I write you
Braided or craze, your hair, I describe you
Below or over my head I scribble for you
Beaten or scrambled egg, I'll fry for you
Better late than never
Bread or butter I will serve you ever
Brevity in my poems I pen so tender
Bending or standing, I'll never surrender
Bright or dim lights will aid my bleary eyes
Blunder or sentimental, my heart for you never dies
A poet who was very late for a contest,
submitted a long poem on line, but
misspelled Zareba for Zebra!
Darn it, he was thinking of wild Africa!
Didn't it cost him points and a pain in the chest?
The Stripper..... By Peter Onyancha
Lately I have come to believe
A poet is a stripper; that’s the naked truth
Strips utterly and attacks your eyes
You are the ogling private school mate
No. No one should know what you know, you know!
Private – every portico private
Oh, it’s hard – Very hard to unveil
When the poet is gone, you groan
Imagine, you are left with fertile imagination
Infantile wisdom and you are fried
(This is the 1st stanza of a long poem entitled The Useleness of Poetry)
The willows have wept
Lancet leaves, tears in the creek
Dream in their prison of ice.
White sycamore roots,
Twisted and gnarled, form islands
And pools, a necklace of pearls.
The stream disappears –
Magic of karst – to emerge
Down valley, unexpected.
December 31, 2016
For contest: Form C
Sponsored by Broken Wings
5th place
The most intricate Japanese Poetry form is the Choka, or Long Poem.
The early form consisted of a series of Katuata joined together.
This gives a choice of form structures of ..... 5 - 7 - 7 - 5 - 7 - 7
.. etc, or .. 5 - 7 - 5 - 5 - 7 - 5.. etc.
Autumn Scenes As Nature Presents
The wild deer grazes meadows still in greens
And great red hawk soars in sunny blue skies
While the peacock struts and so proudly preens
Black crows resting, bellow out their cries.
Beavers are busy preparing for winter's wrath
And squirrels find and then store more nuts
Black bear silently walks its well trod path
Still yard-bound, the beautiful peacock struts.
Ravenous weasel scurries about seeking food
Secure in its defense the skunk moves about
Forest humming in this peaceful, serene mood
Valley below, farmers work bringing crops out.
In tallest pine on highest ridge eagle sees
All of man's activities so far down below
Now soaring in clouds above forested trees
Majestic high flying image puts on a show.
The wild deer grazes meadows still in greens
And great red hawk soars in sunny blue skies
While the peacock struts and so proudly preens
Black crows resting, bellow out their cries.
Robert J. Lindley, 09-18-2015
Note- Not written for any contest.
Written for the joy and pleasure in the writing and presentation only.
And because my relentlessly tough and stubborn Muse beat me into abandoning my new long poem on Hell's fires to bang this one on out.
It’s all one long poem.
Ephemeral love.
My evanescent queen
Seasonal spirit. Elemental creature
Sculpts creation; As we define dominion
The space has mastered us
Terminable yet eternal
This amaranthine ghost
A dimensional drift. Consciousness shift
Consumption and means to exist
float apart in a universal rift
I destroy families
Tearing apart
every home as I go.
This good Samaritan tending to
this loney neglected grave,
making it look as clean as it
had been in ages.
A tear rolls down his face, knowing
that too much time had passed by,
he should have done this many years ago,
then getting ready to depart he
says Dad, I'm so sorry, please
forgive me, I beg you,
I should have come home sooner,
but was too proud, but now
I'm home to stay; I will make these trips
back here each week and tell you many
things I never got a chance to speak with you
about, I want you to know, that I love you very much.
Written 5-23-11
I had my dad in mind when i wrote this, I have only been to his grave
one time, that was the day of the funeral in 1970 and again in 1990.
This was also the second part of Just a Lonely rose, which started out
as one long poem, but shorted for two poems.
But in this poem I am telling my dad, what i never got a chance to tell
him while he was living.
Forever so long
As warmth shows on rosy cheeks
and heart beats in rhyme,
Springs bloom in autumn
the nature teaches mime,
Red running in veins deepens
as fierce longings burn,
Etched abysmal in souls
memories treasured in time return.
Written March 16th, 2016
For contest "Famous last line" by Laura loo
Last line chosen from poem below...
Entwined
In pure love entwined
the knittings of a mother,
Through icy cold winds
embrace child's subtle being,
As warmth shows on rosy cheeks.
Tanka- 5/7/5/7/7
Written Feb 12th, 2016
For contest "Entwined" by Broken wings
6th place win
Forever so long poem written on March 16th, 2016
Now entered for "Old or new- 8 lines max" poetry contest by Rick Parise
This is a choka inspired by a magnificent solitary rock form I came across on my walk
through the woods this weekend.
(Choka Defintion
The most intricate Japanese Poetry form is the Choka, or Long Poem.
The early form consisted of a series of Katuata joined together. This gives a choice of
form structures of ..... 5 - 7 - 7 - 5 - 7 - 7.. etc, or .. 5 - 7 - 5 - 5 - 7 - 5.. etc. )
Solitary Rock
by Amy Swanson 2.8.2009
Cracked and aged with time
a solitary rock stands
solid, proud and strong.
If you could but speak
oh, the stories you could tell,
hidden in your past.
Tales of love and war...
children playing, lovers' spats...
ancient memories.
But you hold your tongue
speaking only to nature;
quiet reverie.