Long About Poems
Long About Poems. Below are the most popular long About by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long About poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s raining outside-
no, more than that.
The rain falls in blocks,
thick curtains that turn the world to ash and silver,
smothering it in the hiss of splattering drops.
Outside my old home
stood a bamboo tree, four meters tall.
On days like this
(when I wasn’t welded to the TV)
I’d watch its branches bow and sway,
like a fishing rod straining
against some monstrous catch,
the rain pulling, tearing,
heaving to break free.
It struck me, even then,
that I never looked at it that way in sunlight.
When it basked in gold,
reaching for the sky,
I barely noticed.
Even now,
I rarely write about happiness.
Like there’s some invisible limit,
a cringe-o-meter,
to how well I can make joy sound.
Perhaps we like
to lean toward the darker shades.
After all, who stops mid-laugh to ask,
"Why do I feel like this?"
or "Does any of this matter?"
Good times don’t hold still-
they fly.
And so the melancholy truth remains:
that ink flows faster under grey skies
He used to look at me straight into my gloomy eyes,
In his sweet words and kisses and in his lovely arms I felt so nice;
We were filled with gladness, with promises and future plans,
Until I’ve found out that he’s a sky and I’m just a piece of land.
He is a sun who’s shining brightly into the limelight,
While I’m a little star aspiring to shine both day and night;
He’s a prince who cannot eat without his golden spoon
While I use pottery in yeoman’s house who is forlorn.
How can a lard coagulate with water?
If lightning strikes as prominent as the roar of thunder?
How can it be the two of us if there are many barriers?
I’m crying inside and I need prayers to become stronger.
Everything about you will all remain in my dreams,
Those promises of you, I’ll sing always in my mind as hymns;
I want to blame myself in possession of this loving heart,
Which little by little is killing me in suffocation all throughout.
July 6, 2013 2.23pm
( a poem not posted before for a contest. a fiction)
NOT FOR A CONTEST
As I walk
through growing dusk
cold wind blows
scattering dry leaves
stones do lie
about my feet
hidden secrets
that I could see
if I would stop
and pick one up
what hidden treasures
might I find
a geode filled
with crystals bright
glittering gems
shining bright
a fossil from
a ancient day
memory of what was
now locked away
perhaps a jewel
there might be
just waiting there
for me to find
yet in the darkness
I do not care
I walk on
do not stop to see
so many stones
have I once held
too many stones
I’ve tossed away
in growing night
as wind does chill
continue I
just on my way
perhaps in dawn
of nother day
shall I search
and treasures find
The dog was driving fast when the light turned green
and drove as if the red was a light between.
He was in a terrible hurry for a party in a tree.
It was just about ten minutes on his clock that he could see.
He pulled up to a maple that had branches speading wide
and hanging from the first one was a poodle he had spied.
He asked him many questions to find others who were friends
and thanked him for his help as they spoke to greater ends.
He went up in the tree on an old rope ladder
and almost fell back down to a poor weak bladder.
When high attop the tree he could see quite far.
All his friends were partying hardy just above his car.
He was offered several drinks all with straws bright pink
and sipped them very slowly as the music made him think.
He talked with many friends as he shared a joke
and walked around on branches careful not to fall and croak.
As he watched the sun fall down and it got quite late
He remembered his long drive and his homeward fate.
So he said his many thank you's and goodbyes quite late
and headed for his car putting down his plate.
It wasn't very long till he reached his home
while remembering the day as his longest roam.
As he set his tiny clock to get up the next day
he knew it wouldn't be as the one today.
THE END
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~
Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~
Why am I attracted to certain types of women
The ones that display that indescribable feminine trait
Demure yet with that certain openness and lust for life
Those that send out those unmistakable signals
All men know what I'm referring to
It's a very feminine charm that beckons us to come hither
That says I want to know more about you
And we are all too eager to oblige
Hence the beginning
Stage two of this trial period happens
Engaging in conversation, we size up each other
And then it either ends at that point
Or it becomes the beginning of a relationship
With further exploration
More times than not, the relationship flourishes
Because the initial attraction was genuine
And is followed by a lasting affair
It is amazing how one's instinct
Usually steers us down the right path
Until we discover it, love is very difficult to define
It is all encompassing, life changing
The ultimate emotion, three cheers for love
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE!!!
I’m pissed
Pissed off that is
You think you can do as you please
You love me then avoid me as if I’m some disease
As if I’m going to infect you with something between the knees
You told me you want me
You love me
Want to see me
Want to be with me
What was all that? To make me make love to you?
Then you call me a liar someone you cannot trust?
Without a word, you disappear leaving me to stew
You think everything will go back to normal, that is, unjust
When I call or text, I get a short sharp reply
Before you used to say “Hello sweet”
Just tell me the truth, the reason why?
Now you don’t even have time to greet
But one thing I will not forgive
Is what you said about my son
You say you didn’t mean it
Or was it said in fun?
You tell me his nasty and keep your children at bay
Avoiding an arrangement for them to play
Well girl I have news for you on this day
I have decided that for what you said and done, you have to pay.
This I will make sure, before I fly away
I know how much you want to live here
And to build a home with out me my dear
But I don’t care if I loose everything
I know I love you and for me this was not a fling
I think you are cheating on me and keeping me on a string
So I open a window for you to make things right
This is a “What you said about my son fight”
Alternatively, the things I can think of wait and see, until then, love you, see you later,
goodnight.
Kathleen is a kind person who strives to be kind to even those who are not kind to her.
She is a musician who loves music and makes it a large part of her life.
She likes to laugh and even laughs at herself when circumstances warrant.
She is a poet, who often handles life by writing about both the pain and joy that takes places in the realm of life.
Cats make her smile in a way that is truly special and she has a very special feline in her life, as well as other felines that live nearby and brighten her days often.
She has two sons who are adults and are trying to find their own place in this big world. She loves them immensely and is there for them when needed.
She shares life with her husband of 31 years, who is truly her soulmate.
Overall, Kathleen lives a full happy life!
For Bonfire Night: Nov. 5 in England
Watch the rockets shoot into the sky.
Wave your sparklers till their sparkles die.
Watch the Catherine Wheel spin her delight -
whirls of red, yellow-gold, green and white.
Give the guy a penny, for he deserves no more.
Smoke him as you roast hot chestnuts giving him "what for"!
Lose yourself in the revelry of celebration’s hum.
As *cracker jacks are popping, recall where this all comes from!
11/28/16 for the Contest of Shadow Hamilton
*cracker jacks are a popcorn and peanut snack Americans eat at baseball games so I hope the definition I found for it is the one you mean, Shadow!! It was good to learn about this holiday. It's a bit like our 4th of July!
Since 1886 thousands of people have been traveling to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania every Groundhog Day to see if they’re in for 6 more weeks of winter or if spring is on its way.
Yesterday Phil the groundhog saw his shadow on his special day…predicting 6 more weeks of winter is about to head our way.
A fun fact: the German’s brought this tradition with them to America with one slight contradiction…In Europe they looked to hedgehogs for their end of winter prediction.
But they couldn’t find hedgehogs in Pennsylvania and, at first, were unsure what to do…
until they noticed Phil and his abundance of relatives and thought…groundhogs will do.
Since then every year people gather in Punxsutawney anticipating the news about their clime…it doesn’t matter to them that Phil’s gets it right only 39% of the time.
I mean come on people if you’re really want to know what nature has in store…turn on the your TV set...that’s what Doppler radar’s for!
No, we tune in to Punxsutawney on Groundhog day not for the magic but the mystique.
because in a world that’s constantly changing it is tradition that we seek.
In a world that’s moving not always in the direction we would like….but always much too fast…we return to our traditions and our ceremonies that remind us of our past.
Perhaps in Phil we see a simpler time, with less responsibilities and woe
when all we had to worry about was the an early spring or a little more winter snow.
As for me I don’t care if Phil is some kind of climate prodigy or if he’s not a weather whiz
Because I live in Florida and in Florida…no matter what Phil sees…
we have no idea what winter is.