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
boy 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 daffodils
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
drug earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
endurance engagement
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion fate
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 integrity
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 metrical tale
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
perspective pets
philosophy places
planet poems
poetess poetry
poets political
pollution poverty
power prayer
prejudice 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
universe 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

Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.


Long Poems | Long Poetry

Long poems. Read long poems, search long poems, and filter long poetry by category. These are the all-time best and most popular long poems by poetic form, category, length, or keyword. See also long poem categories and Famous Long Poems

Minimum Length: Sort Order:
One Keyword (like pickle):   

12
Long Poems
Long poem by Judith Angell Meyer | Details

Rebuilding the Shed in the Backyard - Again



My son is out fixing up the shed.

Winter is coming on. Needed doing he said.

He had the time and the bound-tos.

Im not used to this thought process, Im not. Not from a child.



I watch him for a while.

Opening and closing gates as needed.

The dust, sifted into powder from summers heat, poofs with his steps.

The heels of his jeans dragging strings on the ground, erase the tread of his 

boots.



The shed is old. There is algae or lichen on the north side boards,

where the wood is splintery gray.

Some of the lichen florets are the color of sage, some the color of a bright orange 

rust,

Circled with gray ones and black, their life cycle played out.



He hammers nails and screws in screws while holding boards in place.

Sweat glistening where skin is exposed, making long dark stains in his black 

shirt.

Veins standing out against the strain, and

Muscles laboring to prove he can do the job well, without a mothers help.



While he works I think about his father and how differently they work.

His father preferring team work and orchestrated smooth motion

working side by side, no extra movements  and he whistled.

My son needs to prove his skills first  alone.



The shed is done and it will brave another winter, keeping the horses sheltered 

from the elements.

The wind, snow and horses milling about, will obliterate the trail of pant cuffs, 

Along with the memory of one cool day at the end of summer, 

When a man worked hard to rebuild their shelter.

Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer | Year Posted 2007

Long poem by michael romero | Details

lossing my ship.

Locked in my cabin I can bare to think

   turn to the rocks and let it smash and sink,

       our voyage's end seems to be on the brink,

           alas  a RAIDERS ship now turns to a mild drink,

"captain" a voice at my cabin door screams out,

    as I reach from my sward and stand firmly stout,

         " our ship lyes in the thickest of fog and without,"

               if I listen to the words they are words of doubt,

I steady my hand with a drink and my fate as well

    I open the door and the a crushing angry sea I smell,

        one step out and calm my ship sits still and without yells,

             looking into the eyes of the broken I see withered shells,

how could this be this is my ship and it escaped me,

     a tyrant in my days of old I sit calm speechless as a tree,

          no mutiny no sabotage only a crew unwilling to hear my plee,

              a ship over run by blind servants and disregard for my decree, 

the ski clears as the seas water turns blue,

     a smile from faces as if waiting for an accrue,

         a dead mans ships drifts on waters and starts anew,

               my body plunges into the sea and even at my death I knew,

the soul tamed by ones lovers kiss has no purpose,

      a mans word floats unheard willingly disregard and missed,

             and a captain can only rule until another strips him of his ship,

                   now forgotten and gone this ship floats lost and unequipped.  

  

       

              

Copyright © michael romero | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by William Masonis | Details

Get An Education

"The boy's got a broken brain!

- Fix him for me now,

I can't do a thing with him."



     - So I hear you say,

     Though he seems intelligent enough.



After all, he's smart enough 

To know the whys and wherefores

Of every deal that goes down on his street -

Every $ passing hands in the dark,

Summed and totalled in his head.

But Math - Forget it.

And you'll never see him crack a book for study's sake.



Perhap's that's because you broke his heart,

Long ago, though his face will never show it.

Because he bleeds inside,

Though to hear him talk you'd never know it.

You tore his shadoworld apart

Just by never being there -

You broke his proud red eggshell heart

Because he knows you never cared.



Perhaps this is why Rage is his religion,

And he only values Gain,

Why Payback is his Creed,

His only currency Pain.

This then is why he wears the shirt 

That reads, "Never Forget, Never Forgive";

This why he's unafraid to kill or die,

Yet terrified to live.



So go get an education -

 Start with a hard look at yourself -

You that schooled a nation

In the politics of Greed,

Builders of the conflagration

Of burning, unmet Need

Now threatening to consume us

As it climbs into the skies,

As it whispers warnings to us

From his vacant, coldstare eyes.



You broke his heart,

A wound more deep

Than I alone can mend,

I, just one beleaguered horseman.

Cannot set it right again.



You must help put things back together,

If you want our nightmares to end.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Details

An Ode to Turkeys

An Ode to Turkeys

     By Dane Smith-Johnsen



I

There was a time, year one thousand A.D

U.S. turkeys faced a brand new plight.

Usefulness seen.

Native American's hunting delight. 

The white meat of a turkey is quite lean.

So much healthier than man knew before,

Nothing one ever could say,

In any way,

Would make Americans free turkeys anymore.



II

Thanksgiving comes and goes.

Wild turkey gobbling slows.

Ben Franklin watched their plight.

Nominated, though laughter did flare.

Turkeys beneath the moonlight

Were beautiful out there.

Ben suggested, turks as the nation's bird.

But eagles know, it was not so.

And turks in history endured this nations birth.



III

Although wild turkeys can run fast and fly,

Toms might in spring be found.

Fluffing, dancing around.

Caruncle and waddle shiny, bright red

Courting the hens, showing off, prancing, not dead.  

Although turkeys fly strong,

The hunters by day kept watch in the fields.

Until, Old Tom, no more sang passion's song

And hens under bushes sat on eggs long.

When chicks hatched out and played their mother shields.

But on Thanksgiving Day...

Run away!





Note: Carolyn, thanks for the video suggestion.  It is very funny.  I decided to post the link 

here.  The HISTORICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1213z9KHNs  

(TIME HEALS ALL: We do LOVE you, MOTHER ENGLAND... from you we were BORN.)

The HYSTERICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnLyqBtU_F8



ENJOY the FUN!

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009

Long poem by Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Details

WAVE DANCER



<em><center><b>WAVE DANCER</b>



In

the 

stillness

the sun smiles 

spanning wide her

golden yellow teeth

blowing wind is shadow quiet

she is waiting     waiting   waiting....

Waiting and feeling..



slowly the stillness trembles!

It is disturbed...

little waves begin to creep and crawl..

Unabash! She goes!



Brave and graceful to take the ride...

Daring and excited to play with the waves...

Up. Down. Left. and right sways...

A rollercoaster along the foamy surface of sea 

She was not taken aback by what she lacks...

An arm bitten by a stark sharp shark long ago

Instead,  

She pursues the waves

Fearless to  stand - tango with the wave curves!

a ballerina with a surf board moving ahead..

ahead 

ahead each tunnel wave...

balancing on side and top of the wave..

power hugging made by the currents..

mind blowing love affair with the tides!!!



her missing arm not forgotten

but 

a precious welcoming history

in embracing the world 

with her inspiring story

of not ever ever quitting!

of keeping the faith afire with each rough tough situation!

of trusting Gods' reasons and purposes to everything..

of making the most even when something is lacking!!!



a conqueror of weaknesses!

a wave dancer of water tides and beyond!

She is BETHANY HAMILTON!!

______________________________________________

Best free verse poem - Poetry Contest

Sponsor	SKAT A

~~~7th Place~~~



Olive Eloisa Guillermo

3:04 am, July 18, 2014</center></em>





















Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Verlena S. Walker | Details

APOSTOLICITY

<center>APOSTOLICITY 



I stood at the peak of the mountain and shouted  <b>This is our time Lord.  Glory is thou name</b>.

The sun was shining brightly.

My words came as the breeze in the wind.

I knew the Lord was beckoning me to do his earthly work.

I sanctified my purpose to evangelical.



I walked under gloomy cumulus clouds thinking about my next step.

That perfected step that would take me closer to the Lord and his intellect.

The day became glorious but a depressing state remained.

I knew the Lord was beckoning me to take a stance.



Once I made it to the home front, I retrieved the Holy Scripture and began reading The Book of Isiah.

Chapter 14 Verse 27 bellowed these words:

<em>All the forces of darkness cannot stop what  God has ordained</em>.

I paused in passage to scribe. 

This is what I wrote about - SECOND ECCLESIASTES: LIVING A RIGHTFUL LIFE .



<em>The Lord gave me a voice to apply in or to life.

If I am not for right, who am I.

Wrong is not a just God.

Second Ecclesiastes is about rightful means bring rightful things.

Second Ecclesiastes is about wrongful ways abominates.

Like Prophet Solomon in his day and time via the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament, I seek wisdom.

Gainful knowledge received throughout living a rightful life in a perilous world</em>.

 

<b><em>Apostolicity is defined as of or characteristic of an apostle</b></em>.

|____________________________________________________|

 Penned on November 08, 2014!</center>

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by liam mcdaid | Details

Making You Happy My Precious Love

Upon the winds whispering so gently a love story unfolds

Under soft beautiful clouds with rainfalls splashing love

With two lovers holding, caressing, and kissing one another



The radiant azure sky fresh with recent rain and a rainbow

Gives way toward evening to a cold moon face wishing to 

Take the two lovers to a faraway special place full of sunshine



This magical place is where the sun shines forever beautiful

And the feelings, desires, passions, and emotions of love are 

Always together true as ONE of a much bigger love portrait



This young man and woman walk hand-in-hand very much in 

Love while listening to the far distant echoes thundering from 

Surrounding cliffs while near the ocean dream seagulls cry aloud



As the man opens the gates of this paradise with his special lady

They both experience at once blinding tears of warm joy, and he 

Just wants to fulfill immediately her every wish to be happy in love



The young man tells his sweetheart with a most earnest passion: 

 Dearest One, I want so much to make you happy my precious love!

Our love My Sweet unites our bodies and souls so complete and whole



These two lovers have found their paradise fulfilling their dream of being

Together always walking under a wonderful star-filled sky dazzling pure

Sharing their love and seizing their very destiny nowTwo now as ONE  



Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid  A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © 

All Rights Reserved (January 11, 2015) (Unrhymed Tercet)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Funom Makama | Details

Dont Ascertain When You Dont Know

<center>Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia

and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning

the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned

and assumptions simply made real and absolute



Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that

the banana and plantain are the same

a superior race surely exist

leg size has a great correlation with the males genital

the measure of ones success is solely factored

in his accumulation of wealth

and money is the root of all evil.



This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points

Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas

bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind

women are subordinates to men

and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe



This mind can even tear its clothes to rags

in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as

Sydney is Australias capital

the earths evolution is the cause of day and night

Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange

morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee

and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space



Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams

and having global captions mixed with daily breath

assumptions such as these are nurtured

religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance

the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one

who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn

so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.

Oh sorry! The American futurist

</center>

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by ezer agyin | Details

My Mystical Black Rose

<center>Did I tell you the story of my mystical black rose?

Well let me

In my troubled nights I took comfort in the scenery of my old window

One tiny sparkle always shone its way through the darkness, embracing my sorrow

Till the night I decided to visit my sorrow's whisker in the belly of midnight

I wrestled through the bushes sacrificing my blood on the alter of their sharp leaves and thorns

Till my eyes was paralyzed on this black rose that collected drops of dew in its petals and lightened them with the moonlight; that mysterious sparkle now lay bare in my eyes and in my reach for the first time.

I'd never seen black so beautiful, but as much as I wanted to pluck it for myself my heart wouldn't let me, for I was not in love with just a black rose but everything else that made it sparkle my sorrows away; the moon and the dew.

As I left with doubt clouding my mind, I saw its sparkling drops trickle down its petals.

Can a rose cry?

For I live now never to see it sparkle again ever since that night.

I'm different now, beyond need of sparkles for my nights but I always walk to that old window waiting for my mystical black rose to reach my heart again. Even though I might see myself a gray haired man starring in my old window, I'll wait, just patiently wait, for my black rose to come alive again. And this time, just this time I will not think twice.</center>

<em>Read more poems and short stories by The Writer, ezer agyin, here http://ezeragyin.wix.com/the-writer</em>

Copyright © ezer agyin | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Redkite In-Flight | Details

Hypocrisy of the Village Flock

<center><b>Hypocrisy within the Village Flock</b>



As the seasons of my life changes, glorious it may not be!!

Valley bells summons the flock to chapel.

Heavily polished Pews squeak, as Village flock take their seats.

Distant ghostly voices ring out with such shallowness.

Chapel roof raised with such false faith

No attention paid to the sermon.

The congregation floored by jealousy, as each man mirrored by his own status.

Women competing, against their hats and frocks.

Jealousy worms weaving through their gowns,

feathers in hats, quivers as the coven moves through the vestry door.

Minister excited to the jingles of the collection box whilst being passed around and around.

my soul lays upon a bed of thistles.

Whilst the thorned crown compresses the thoughts within my head.

Lurking within the shadows of the cross .

Whilst the gruelling over the sacrificial lamb

So-called reputable men  that should not be

The pitch pine pulpit, creeks with despair.

Parishioners best clothed with shiny shoes,

all hypocrites congregate here!!

Layer upon layer of blasphemous faith,

create a stain on uneasiness upon the so-called sacred walls .

Each Private hymnbook worn by sweating hand,

fidgeting tell- tales of fear through ware.

Each before God and un- easy to what conscience they happen to bear!! 

  If this is faith, then I want no more,

All false faces glance, finally and for the last time.

I exit through the memories, OF that stained chapel door. </center>



Copyright © Redkite In-Flight | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Clementine Hope | Details

Show me your land, my Irishman

Show me your land, my sweet man.

Show me the green, the fertile landscapes, 

the emerald dreams.



Hold my hand, walk by my side,

kiss me deeply until it is dark.

Hug me and protect me from the cold.

Paint in blue the grey of your skies.

Be the sun I will need,

and become my treasure 

at the end of the rainbow.



Show me the cliffs,

where the blue sea is deep down.

Make me feel safe,

hug me by my waist.

Make me trust you 

and never let me down.

I don't need any four leaf clover,

if mine is your heart.

I'll be the luckiest woman,

even if for me 

this is a foreign grey land.



Show me your land, my sweet man,

show me the castles,

tell me their stories.

When it is cold,

let's entangle our bodies.



Let's create our very own fairy tale,

slashing dragons,

you may become brave.

Not all are battles, not all are fights,

my sweet man, there are also golden days.



I want to see the green of your land,

in your healthy, tasty plates.

I want to see the blue sea,

every time when I wake up 

and I stare into your eyes.



Caress my hair while we watch the sunset,

whisper in my ear sweet secret words in Irish.

Kiss my nose and tell me what those words mean,

I dare you to make me blush.



I will count your beautiful freckles,

while I kiss one by one.

My love, is this paradise?



Let's skip the yellow lands.

Those look arid, and my heart,

for a long time has been dry.



Show me your land, my sweet Irishman,

but remember that my home is your heart.

Copyright © Clementine Hope | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by romeo naces | Details

The Da Vinci Mode

                                  Uncouth, unschooled in art, 

                                          that's what you'll say of me,

                                  You know, I've tried so hard, 

                                          but I still have to see

                                  da Vinci's Mona Lisa's mythic, 

                                          mystic smile

                                  bewitching folks allegedly 

                                          even from a mile.



                                  It looks to me she parts 

                                          her lips so daintily

                                  to let a drunken hiccup out 

                                          so gracefully,

                                  or stop a vulgar burp, 

                                          hyperacidity,

                                  or hide those nicotine-blackened 

                                          teeth artfully.



                                  But honestly, nothing in her 

                                          mouth's symmetry

                                  remotely resembles a smiling 

                                          mystery,

                                  perhaps she's toothless, some 

                                          dental deformity,

                                  believe you me, I took up 

                                          ortho-dentistry!

Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by Audonus Taylor | Details

If Only I (Song)

The end was growing closer

I could feel it all around

Before you said it's over

from all the times I let you down

As I lie beside your pillow

It's getting hard to sleep at night

Every single lonely tear knows

That I did not love you right



If only I,

Could turn back time

with the words of a rhyme,

I'd be someone instead of me,

I'd show you something new to see,

Girl I need you in my life,



If only I,

Could live when you were mine,

And learn to let love shine,

I'd show your heart a better me

And be someone instead of me,

To keep you in my life,

If only I....



The last thing that you told me,

Before you walked out of the door,

Baby you never hold me,

How can I make you love me more,

I wish I would have listened

To the thing you tried to say

If I would have paid attention

Maybe then you would have stayed,



If only I,

Could turn back time

with the words of a rhyme,

I'd be someone instead of me,

I'd show you something new to see,

Girl I need you in my life,



If only I,

Could live when you were mine,

And learn to let love shine,

I'd show your heart a better me

And be someone instead of me,

To keep you in my life,



If only I, could have been

what you needed,

Since I hurt you,

our love's bleeding,

Out of time

and out of sight,

If only I could

make this right...



If only I,

Could turn back time,

when you were still mine,

I'd be everything that you need,

And give your heart a better me,

I miss you in my life...

If only I...

Copyright © Audonus Taylor | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Robert L. Hinshaw | Details

Shell Phone

Strolling the beach one day, a magnificent shell I happened to see.

I picked it up and held it to my ear - just out of curiosity -

To see if the old wives tale was true that it could speak to me!

Behold! 'Tis true! What fantastic tales it spewed forth from the sea!



I heard waves lapping gently against a sailboat as through the sea it tore,

And the mighty roar of breakers crashing upon a distant shore!

I eavesdropped on a pod of gossiping whales cruising at their leisure,

And I could swear I heard phantom pirates arguing o'er lost treasure!



I heard the battles' roar of mighty armadas in their quest for victory,

And the screams of heroic men slipping 'neath the waves to spend eternity!

I heard the groan of majestic ships breaking apart plunging to the deep.

I even heard the final SOS of the Titanic before it took its tragic leap!



I heard the chanting of old sea dogs as they plied the bounding main,

And their pleas for God's mercy as they sailed his treacherous domain!

I heard the wind shrieking through the rigging of the dashing Cutty Sark,

As she sped through the Roaring Forties, those straits so very startk!



I was startled to hear sergeant major fish count cadence as if on parade,

And the amorous beckoning coo of a charming, yet illusive mermaid!

Could it be that these mysterious things I heard were just an aberration?

Perhaps, but what a change from my boring cell phone communication!



Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by frank halliwell | Details

Dorry's Ridge

                              Dorry's Ridge
                                                                     Frank Halliwell

In the fading days of summer; in the early afternoon,
We climbed the path that winds to Dorry's Ridge..
Where the crispness of the autumn air fortold a snowfall soon
On the rolling hills beyond the Springtown Bridge.

See the reds and golden yellows of the woods up on the hill
Where the maples stood all summer dressed in green.
Can you feel the breath of winter in the early evening chill
With the north wind stealing down the lake unseen?

Does a sense of wonder fill you, when the wild geese fill the sky
As they start their yearly journey to the south..
And the strung-out chains of emigrants call loudly as they fly
Past the rocky point down by the river's mouth..

And when once more it's silent, and our world is still again,
And our geese have disappeared beyond our view,
I'll lead you down the ridge, along the pathway from our glen,
And wander back along the lake with you.

On Dorry's Ridge the snow lies deep, and up along the hill..
The maples stand forlorn; their branches bare.
The lake lies deep beneath the ice; caught tight in winter's chill
The fox is sleeping soundly in her lair.

But one day soon the spring will come, the land will blossom then,
And life will wake again, as nature planned.
We'll climb the long path to the ridge, returning to our glen,
And watch the geese returning, hand in hand..
                                          o0o

Copyright © frank halliwell | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Details

The Solitary traveller

Down the endless road I 

Walk.

The road of life or you 

May call it the road of 

Torment-but know I the 

Name.

Along I walk,the trees 

Whistling as I journey on 

With gentle breeze of the 

East caressing my worn-

Out body.

Down I walk,meeting the 

Hurdles of life.

I tarried,struggling and 

Fighting my way;lo! Am 

Stuck in despair and 

Dissappointment.

Hoping for no hope to 

pull Me thru.

Suddenly,I cried,then a 

Saintly hand pulled me 

Thru.

On the endless road I 

Journey,I saw and heard 

Shouts,sounds and smell 

Of powder pervading the 

Atmosphere:people 

Running in confusion.

The sun turned red,the 

Theatre bore death.

On my next turn,I heard 

Moanings and sounds of 

Pleasure,one beckoned 

Me,icame I and took part 

In the ecstasy-i realised a 

Folly it was,went I on.

Passing through 

esker,my Body chilled.

Then I reached a dry land 

With scanty huts,wetting 

My throat in a hut.

With a scorced feet,I walk 

On this endless road,I 

Witnessed a 

gathering,Legs moving in

Rhythm and hands on 

Drums,I ate and moved 

On.

Came I to a serene 

place,I wondered as I 

sojourned,the speechless 

Mouths and hands 

restraining one another 

To join the "lonely"body 

Below.

I passed a crossed 

building;hands clasped in 

Gentle procession.

Moved I to pace of 

Sustainance;the noisy 

Atmosphere,hands 

Exchanging needs.

On and on I walk on this 

Endless road,when will I 

Reach my destination, 

When my knell of old St 

Antonne tolls?

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Seren Roberts | Details

Santas many helpers

Santas little helpers were busy having fun

Wrapping and labelling the presents ready for the Xmas run



The reindeer had their coats washed smelt of lavender and things

The sleigh had been revarnished was now bright and glowing.



The reigns were now polished as a surprise for Santa Claus

So he would look the kiddy not a drab old droopy drawers



The presents were in the sack, in house order for delivery

Santa admired his reigns not realising they were slippery.



He jerked the reigns  as a nod for the reindeers" 

To start their pulling then it happened, oh dear



The reigns slipped through Santa's fingers reindeer were off at speed

Luckily thomas was out with his tank engine knew he had to try and stop the steeds



He puffed along the track shouting  at Santa to hang on  tight

Then disappeared into a tunnel giving Santa such a fright



The minions were out in their millions pulling on the reigns to stop the race

While batman flew in voicing his opinion that a race at Xmas wasn't the place



Said to the minions you want to help, Santa is exhausted not in the mood to yo ho ho ho 

Deliver these presents off you go but be quiet those children mustn't know



But if you peeped and saw yellow Santas Instead of the usual red one

It's the minions helping out until the presents are all gone.



Santa is snoring now he has had a stressful day

Think before you do more than help it sometimes doesn't pay .



Penned 26 November 2014





































Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Mike Hauser | Details

Bubbles

I was flabbergasted when given the chance

To join the renowned Roscoe's Oddity Of Circus

With no actual talent to speak of

I was pretty much dead in the water worthless



But Roscoe in all of his wisdom

Put me in charge of the Bubble machine

Low and behold people

Turns out...Bubbles is "ME"



I started out with simple patterns

Blowing one treasure at a time

As things progressed rather quickly

I soon had Bubbles dancing in Mumba lines



There wasn't a Bubble imagined

In which I could not achieve

But like I said at the very start

Turns out...Bubbles is "ME"



I even perfected what I like to call

The "Fantabulious Bubbles De jour"

In the Bubble circles in which I blow

I've become quite the Bubble Lore



My Bubble forte soon became

Floating Bubbles of Super Stars

I'm not one to "POP" Bubble names

Suffice it to say you know who they are



These days you don't have to go to the Circus

If you'd like my talent to see

I'm the one who does those Bubbles with the tiny words

In the Sunday comics you read



Why I've even been to the U.N.

Where the "Big Cheese" was highly pleased

The way I blew name tags and place mats

For all the visiting Dignitaries



But my favorite pastime after all these years

Even with all the fortune and fame I've found

Is relaxing with my Circus buddies

And blowing Bubbles of "Bubbles the Clown"



Just think when I joined the Circus

I had no talent in which to show

Who knew all it was that I needed

Was one good bubble to blow

Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Nicola Byrne | Details

Rainbow Blues





<em>Once upon a brightly shaded bow,

       

              She sought, wearily, to find an end.



                    When, suddenly, came a wild tornado:



                         To the start, once again, she did descend...







<center>Anger now grossly consumed her -



Little strength, had she, to start again;



She looked for definition through a blur,



No gold, could her weary eyes see then.





Tired and weak, she tenaciously bore



Her heavy heart to reach a futile goal,



And trudged on for many miles and more;



Till the glowing amber warmth caressed her soul.





Now mellow, had become her rainy mood,



As more apparent, came the brilliant light,



Some really bright ideas had accrued



On how to carry on this endless daunting fight.





She began to grow envious of songbirds



That periodically flew across the sky,



She grudgingly sang her lonely words



And hoped that soon, she too would fly.





Conquered by calming rainbows blue,



She smiled as she was almost there;



Long-lost powerful ambitions grew



That would free her from repeating this despair.





Through the airy vend of violet haze,



She witnessed beauty begin to grow;



Intoxicated by lavender's scented maze



She knew it was the end of Hues rainbow.





She gazed back at the manufactured prism



Realizing it was all a big disguise;



For she had been trapped within a prison



Colour-blinded by a love, built on lies....</em>





22nd January 2016</center>

Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Line Gauthier | Details

Love My Reflection

I often catch a glimpse of my colours and curves in that mirror hung at the back of the room

Im graceful and charming and I see that Im attractive and people like me

They dont know or dont care that theres more to me than my pretty veneer 

As they briefly pause, give me a quick look and walk on by 

Never taking the time to scratch the surface and get to know the real me.



Only my creator understands the depths and layers of me

Often gazing with intensity into my eyes as if looking for answers or maybe even questions

Half talking to me, half to herself, she holds her empty canvases

And decides the world doesnt need more pretty pictures to feed the many blasé eyes

Art used to be fodder for souls to interact and come alive

People have turned deaf to the symbols and dont pause for that inner dialogue anymore



I get the distinct impression that Im passé and need to make room for a new style

Im told Im just an illusion and distraction

The world doesnt need more pretty pictures to feed the many blasé eyes 

Those blank canvases will somehow to destined to send less subtle messages

And remind people that they are all on a spiritual journey

Here on earth to learn about living with each other

Searching within for answers and needing to be kind



Whatever, I hope they never do away with that mirror hung at the back of the room



WROTE SPECIFICALLY FOR... BUT FAILED TO SUBMIT due to technical error... for contest PERSONIFICATION OF A PLANT on August 19, 2017

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by James Edward Lee Sr. | Details

HOW CLOSE IS MY GOD

how far is the moon

woo, Oh

the moon is two hundred thirty-eight billion eight million fifty-seven miles away?

it is two hundred thirty-eight billion eight million fifty-seven miles away?

HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN, HOW FAR IS THE FLOOR

THE FOOT TO OCEAN FLOOR BLUE IS FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET

TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN DEEP

THE FEET TO THE OCEAN FLOOR MEASURES FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET

is this right??



how close is God He's bigger than it all

how close is God He's right here, right there

How close is God to me

I can feel Him when I breathe

Just let us all open up our hearts and receive

God is closer than the skin to our nerves system

closer than clouds are to rain

how close is God He's bigger than it all

how close is God He's right here, right there

How close is God to me





what's the distance of the equator?

woo Oh!

God is much bigger than that

What's the distance from the earth and the sun

How far away is it

the sun is ninety three million miles away?

what does distance got to do with it any way?

HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN, HOW FAR IS THE FLOOR

THE FOOT TO OCEAN FLOOR BLUE IS FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET

TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN DEEP

THE FEET TO THE OCEAN FLOOR MEASURES FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET

is this right??



HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN, HOW FAR IS THE FLOOR

THE FOOT TO OCEAN FLOOR BLUE IS FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET

TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN DEEP

THE FEET TO THE OCEAN FLOOR MEASURES FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET

is this right??



9/27/14

written by James Edward Lee Sr.

Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by A. Kathy Moss | Details

Among Elk

Up before dawn, a feeling has drawn 

You into the mountain and trees.

Till the silence within, upon the whispering wind

A chime of bugles tease the breeze.

That majestic call, that is heard each fall

Since before our forefathers birth

And for those who take time, through rim ro