Long fiction Poems
Long fiction Poems. Below are the most popular long fiction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long fiction poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: December 11, 2023
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Intricate depiction of a being?
That a single hand could create
Beneficial matters can be evanescent
When built out of yielding clay?
Molded into fiction, scales, and tails
In terms of creative process,
Ground and airborne entities
Morph into unthought-of shapes.
A refined intellect creates ephemera
Quickly under a gentle moonlight
I'm floating in the swaying elevator
Regarding heavenly breezes.
Hair converts into poet-trees from poetry
Yet untamed ideas are captivated
With the spirals and knuckles
Brilliant sculptor's vision and decision.
lifting our minds into untamed sight
Those who grasp this routine are lucky
And the beholders of moonbeam dreams
Pursue the path that moves the heart.
They were one pulsar away
From obliterating all of humanity.
I had eight armed and activated lasers
Attached to my cobalt helmet,
Augmented as it was,
With enough meta-metal
To take me and the FHN
Into a Super Worm
(What we now call worm-holes
Light-years in distance.)
The AI unicorns flapped their metallic wings
Through the non-air of space,
Zip-zapping their own laser cannoned cones
Towards the Floating Human Nursery,
The last of humanity.
I loaded my one and only
Particle Incinerator
Into the back of my helmet,
Jet-thrusting into position
So to spray the evil unicorn robots
With enough sub-atomic destruction
to send them to Kingdom Come.
I pressed the button
Inside my helmet.
(Nothing.)
Damn technology.
Plan B:
I activated the karaoke mic
On my side holster,
Breaking straight into, "O Holy Night..."
Thank God for the unicorn's emotion chip.
They all hovered languidly about
In their deeply moved throng
Crying unicorn robot tears,
Buying me just enough time to route
The floating orb of baby humans behind me
Into a far-off universe
Where they'd have a fighting chance
For survival.
Once my song was sung
And the moment fell away,
Each robot unicorn, in perfect unison,
Tilted their cones to my direction,
and pulverized me.
Only my ghost is left now
To endlessly retell this space tale,
As I float through the distant nebulae
Forevermore.
From the poems point of veiw
in each and every aspect
it's the writers obligation
to create and ochastrate
to provide indepth and create
interestit's ones aspect.
like a song with great dtail
and hreat sounds
and lyrics
the right performer
the right song
and situation
details the whole perspective
it was a fiction that united us
with a lack of details that divided
our interest
it's as sutle as a toothache and as
tame as a fluffball
did you hear the story of the guy who gathered
fluffballs and told the world it was his pet
the ball got so big
it ws something we could never forget
the fluffball would roll it was cute whenit
was small
but the bigger the fluffed up bvall got
the harder it would roll.
well one day while packing new fluff to the ball
the ball rolled
the guy could stop it it was to big and to tall
it squished the guy
there he laid underneah
until his wife came home and said
c
good greif
she pushed and pushed
suddenly the ball took a roll
it rolled over the floor
and then through the wall
I guess you get the understanding and point in such detail
control your passion
use good sence
let your charcter provail
Written by
The Poem
Scoop dew we e boop!
4/29/16
Life and death
No and yes
More or less
The worst and best
Failure and success
Happiness and stress
Cleanliness and a mess
North, South, East and West
Wide awake or getting rest
Slow and fast
First and last
Small and vast
Fiction and facts
In the front and back
Falling apart or intact
The future and past
Treasures and trash
Used and stashed
Metal, aluminums and glass
Nowhere near or finally here alas
The whole thing and half
Above the dirt and ash
It'll melt and freeze
Among the land and seas
Here and there
By itself and in a pair
Common and rare
Clueless and aware
Not ready and prepared
Uneven and fair
Brave and scared
By: Dalton Ogletree
So who do you look up too?
Wishing you could repeat their acts of daring do!
Dying to escape your self build shell,
Dreaming that you were like Constantine in the realm of hell.
When real life is getting you down.
Day dreaming you were Spiderman webbing up the town.
Reality the daily struggle we face.
Faster than the Flash trying to get ahead of the rat race.
Truth is stranger than fiction.
Have faith in the strength of your convictions.
Know that no matter how small we feel.
Everyone is going through their own ordeal.
So remember every day be strong.
Swimming through humanities daily throng.
Heroes they need heroes too.
You're a hero to me I know thats true.
I met a creature at the park
that I did not recognize
in the dark
Its eyes glowed under its chin
and its schnozz looked broken
Its mouth was upside down
one-half smile, one-half frown
A mushroom hat covered its head
while its body was teeny-weeny
like Charlie Brown with a beanie
So I said 'Hello,' nice and relaxed
-- and sloooowwww
At once the creature fired back
'Do not eat the yellow snow'
At which point I decided
where the hell N. Ed Dibble AI can go
It exists firmly in the realm of fiction,
Where time travel is bantered back and forth.
While allowing no control or direction, it might
Easily end up East or West, or down South or even North.
As a dimension, science is fully supportive,
Since Einstein formed the merger to those of space.
Bringing gravity along to bend it further, so
It's curvilinear, not just straight to retrace.
Here the mind seeks to warp the curvature,
When the math becomes circular in the end.
This leads to the question as to whether,
We can seek the past or the future, when we spend.
Mankind's journey is of endless curiosity as
We seek to understand our place in the universe.
Through this exploration, we come up on the theoretical,
That blends with hypothetical paradoxes to disperse.
The essence of time will be continually pursued,
By wondrous minds in physics and beyond.
One can only hope that our imagination shows wisdom,
And we don't breach the fictional boundary as a vagabond.
You were always my best friend,..
Even if we didnt see each other as much as we did
Ever sense the day we met in 5th grade
I knew you were a great guy upon that day
You were a Leo and i was a capricorn
Together i felt we could conquer the world by storm
You were like my twin brother,
So many things we shared in common
Your humour though was better than mine, I admit
You had a way of making people laugh and smile
And you could sing man..
Your voice was awesomely sick
I dont understand why you took your life when you did...
But i just wish i could have helped you..
I didnt know it was getting bad for you too..
The news hurt my heart hard
like a lightning bolt that hit and hit
So many conversations and memories we shared
My friend i remember all of it
And you i while deeply miss..
You were the first to read the first chapter
of my developing fiction novel
I wish you lived to read the rest of it..
And for you someday it will be finished
il dedicate a character in your likeness
And forever you will be apart of me..apart of this
And whoever reads my book as they ponder and sit
Its hard to believe your gone my dearest friend
And harder to stop mourning
As my eyes burn into the morning
In my heart ..
Your spirit will forever be roaring
P.s.
I love you man
Please be in a better place..
Because when it's my time..like i know everyone will have..
if i have to go to hell and pull you out..
You know il do it
Il fight until there is nothing of me that exists
Love you my friend. Memories us i will forever cherish
There once lived three devoted and wonderful pastors,
who labored diligently to build and maintain three
great churches*.
One pastor served The First Church of The Holy Spirit
in the city of Aston, Tn. The second pastor labored
at The First Holiness Church in Panhandle, Fl. Pastor
number three shepherded The First Center of Power
Church in Panhandle, Tx.
Each of these pastors was well trained and sincere
in their pursuit of God and in their desire to faithfully
lead their flock. In addition to their sincerity, there
were two other things that they shared in common.
They were all evangelical, and believed that The
Holy Spirit lived inside of the church of God on earth.
However, deep inside and behind their holy mask was
what some Christians called, 'a latent fear of falling
off the deep end'.
Each pastor wanted to fly and teach their people
how to do the same. But deep inside, they themselves
had a fear of flying, not in airplanes, but in flights conducted
by The Holy Spirit, because they worried about where The
Holy Spirit would take them. This dilemma weighed so heavily
upon them that they began to question their own calling. They
wondered if they were called to be 'pilots' aided by The Holy Spirit,
or commissioned to be 'controllers' observing and directing traffic.
090321PS
*Fiction
His exuberance overwhelmed all that met him.
He was joyful every minute of every day He loved life and everything that beset him.
The missing rabbit that the neighbors bought their daughter for her birthday, was found snuggling with him in his kennel keeping the bitter winter winds away.
This was one yellow Labrador that was simply adored by all especially me. His name of course was Happy.
Cancer overcame our beautiful dog when he was nearly thirteen human years old. Eventually he began to suffer and the drugs didn’t seem to take hold. For the first time in his happy life his eyes dimmed, and his tail stopped wagging. It was time to stop his suffering, to stop the pain from nagging.
My son rushed out and bought him a double whopper burger and a chocolate chip muffin. Dear Happy lifted his head and munched his way through the burger. My son breaking it in pieces for him, while the vet waited, holding the syringe. This made me cringe.
Marc went to give him the muffin, I exclaimed “No, chocolate is bad for him!”
The looks from my family made me realize that I was dim, and that Chocolate chips couldn’t hurt our Happy ever again. He ate it and crossed the rainbow bridge to his new address in Puppy Heaven. Still love him after all these years – still shed tears.
But that’s not what this narrative is about.
Leaving the Doctor’s rooms, trying to keep my wheelchair straight, guiding it slowly to lessen my pain, I was going home again. No more hospitals. The diagnosis wasn’t really a surprise, and when it happens I want to be at home. My happy thought, was that I could now eat all the chocolate chip muffins I want to!
The End
( Well no, it’s not quite the end, I still have time for a poem or two and a few muffins yet. So my spirit is soaring. I also have some messages to send.) X
Non Fiction.