Long Actual Poems
Long Actual Poems. Below are the most popular long Actual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Actual poems by poem length and keyword.
With my emotions varying like tremelo this morning,
I reach for my life companion
that has been with me since I was eight years old
while not physically the same one,
it is the one that serves me currently
Preparation doesn’t take long
Opening the case, I breathe in the
familar scent of the instrument that I love,
Wiping away the specks of rosin that cling
and applying new rosin to the bow hair
Where shall I go today?
Into the pages of the hymnal where
people for centuries have displayed
their love and awe of God?
Or into the complicated melodies and rhythms of
composers who are still revered today
because they left behind so many masterpieces
perhaps into the catchy tune of a new song I heard recently?
I have many choices, yet today the ache in my being
requires that I dig deep into comfort
to soothe my emotions and soul
so I leap toward an old favorite that is ingrained
so deep that actual music is not necessary
because it is engraved deep in my heart and brain
My whole body sighs when I play
and that part of me that only music
can touch leaps to life and sparks
the parts of me that need to be fed regularly
faith, optimism, root of all being, kindness
so many things in my life have their root in music
Moving on to the piece that I first conquered as a teen,
it is so different playing it at my current age
my fingers aren’t as nimble,
my hearing has deteriorated with passing years and bad genes
but my mind remembers which notes to play
until the difficulty of the piece requires that I stop and
work out the complicated pattern of notes
that doesn’t feel right, so I try again
Ah yes, that is it. Oops, wrong dynamics
I try again. Better but not there yet
I realize that I am tired and look at the clock
more time has passed than I realize
and the fatigue that comes with exertion finally
registers as I put my old friend away
until another time
smiling, I know we will meet again
soon, because I have a need
that can only be met
with the magic touch of my violin
7.
the leaf of jack-fruit is luxuriant
i can’t remember whether i ever notice
the portrait of your face on it
there are so many words
that are slippery
how much rustic is the dust of the legs
of the young person is known to the road of the city
daubing green on both palms
i call for rain …oh rain ..oh rain
and into that rain i let my wrist-watch float
thus the great rainbow unfolds its wise mirror
on the scaffold of bottle-gourd
from the bright cloth-end falling down
the odour of detergent
thus the applied mathematics of the diesel
is learnt to a greater extent
8.
behind the change of colour of the swelled wind
the samovar plays no role
though you know it you tear off tears
from your eyes
and the merry biscuits that are kept in the jar
raise a joint demand to serve them
after wrapping with new banana-leaves
and the funny thing is that no accounts is found out
of the expenditure on the lip-stick that was used
by the fishes in the aquarium at the time of illness
of the antenna
by the hands of the clock stretching their shanks apart
is it possible to know the actual age of a comb
either it’s costly or cheap
I don't think
that I have ever stopped~ I mean,
come to a full halt or rest
always been a habitual wonderer,
even questioning my questions
a times~ if that makes sense?
always a pencil and paper
on my bed-stand, for quick
access~ my muse also a light
sleeper...
seeming to me that many people
experience so they have something
to write about; while I am definitely
more inclined, to write about, and then,
perhaps, if and when so inclined
falter to re-experience, the already
written...when in less creative gear...
now wondering, into the wee hours,
if experience is, as much, or even more
the experience, before the actual physical/mental
experience, preceated by myself, for myself,
or mine created by others by themselves, but
not exclusively, necessarily for themselves~
the ripple effect of experience?
All of a sudden
It feels somehow ok to say i love you now
Whilst praying for the dying
Hoping death forgives live mistakes and misguided hates
The Rushes blow the breeze
While Pollen makes my eye's water
and nose sneeze
As a lawnmower scythes through woolen summer grass
The garden fence that keeps me up
at night when it rattles
Though looking at it i won't fix
Just another reason to complain
Like the noisy neighbours and barking dog
The fog never lifts on meadow field
In fact if anything i am causing it
You can't teach an old dog new tricks
The weather can't change it's spots
Drumming on a Toy Piano
Underneath cobwebs on filty curtains
Wishing to open unopened presents
Where the wrapping paper means more than the actual gift
Because it belongs to someone else
Sometimes love is like leading the blind
And everybody hurts
When others hurt you
So quiet
Shallow
Desolate
Shhhhhh baby don't cry
It's ok
Where getting out of here
Sad is all our yesterday's
We have paid our Due's
The Bible told us so
‘Sup?
-‘Sup?
Sit
Still.
Shhhhh!
Swear
Silence,
Speak
Softly,
Super-Secret. . .
Shhhhh!
Swear
Silence!
-Swear
Shhhhh!
(Softly
Speaks
Super-Secret)
(-Screams!!!)
Shhhhh!!!
-Sorry
Soulmate
Secretly
Sought
Sally!
-Selfish
Sadistic
Sot!
(Sobbing)
-Sorry
S'ok
-So
Sad
Swear
Silence!
-Swear!!
Shhhhh!
-Sorry
Sick
Slimy
Sarcastic
Slob!
(-Snickers)
(Sly,
Satisfied
Smile)
***
12/11/2019
Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with or sound like the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on Wattpad.com, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :)
Disclaimer: This poem is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. The names used are ficticious and were chosen to satisfy the requirements of the poetry form.
placing and spacing
my wooden mannequins
to visualize two though at this
point not sexualized
these are just for the pose
the position of a her and a him
all the joints move
moving to any possabilaties
even stretching it to
create perhaps not
actual real to life kind
of body bending movements
so i have two one
being me and one being
you (disclaimer it could be
anyone) inject
or interject your
self to be a figure
but i'm posing
figures for a scene
that would mean you
need to as
the sitting
figure bent all
but almost
past your lower
back so that it seems
as if you've been
struck but to early to
tell by who knows what
in this take
Jackie stay in
your seat and don't
dive back because
your husband's head
went backwards that
makes it
seem you
should be
looking
forward
because
he looked
forward to
a country
that...
echoes
echoes
Form:
A person’s actual name Victory
Surrounding story
Struggles after another
Each situation different from the other
Going from one chapter onward
Defeat moments felt a violent Thunderstorm
It seemed like a detour to nowhere
Darkness seemed to surround every situation
Trapped in uncertainty
Suddenly a turnaround
Circumstances an onward approach
Unstoppable
Pressure lifted off
There was a force of victory on a direct course
No more darkness just brighter offspring
Being a challenger to cut the barriers that wanted to bind
Victory unified
Winning in try
Victory was today, tomorrow and continuous
The story
The name
Victory meant to be.
I’m sitting here inside my daddy’s car.
I sure hope that the ocean is not far.
My mom and dad are making such a fuss.
Maybe cause there’s someone new with us.
It’s someone on my Daddy’s side who came
to see us. Dang it! I forgot her name!
I’ll listen close. Her name they’re bound to say.
Just what’s that mean “on Dad’s side” anyway?
Dad’s side of what? And how long will it be
till that Spacific Ocean we will see?
We couldn’t see it last time cause of rain.
Was it Spacific? Oh, my mixed up brain!
Mom made some salty stuff for us to eat.
it’s cereal – not sweet- yet it’s a TREAT!
It’s called Chex Mix. I keep trying to choose
the curly nuts in it. (Mom says cashews!)
They’re better than plain peanuts. What a taste!
I’ll eat it all, so it won’t go to waste.
We’re all squeezed in back here, but I am by
the window, happy for this sunny day!
But suddenly are clouds, and without a sound,
when the rain pours down, Daddy turns around.
We’re heading home. I hate the sudden bang
of thunder. We won’t see Spacific! DANG!
June 27, 2017 for Brenda Chiri's 'Three year olds thoughts' Contest
*This is one of my few actual memories from when I was three years old, but I used poetic license to fill in the gaps!
As a girl my dad was always my pillar
Making me always take centre stage
Telling me that just like a caterpillar
I'm young today but like a butterfly ?? I'll come of age
That once I grow up I need to own my glow
To always put my head up as I walk
That's why on the runway I flow
Like the words in this poem that also talk
He always told me that I don't need validation
That what I need is to believe in me
That for people to want to listen I need a vision
But all that can only start with me
For I know who the woman I want to be
And that everyone can only just watch
Just like how they watch when a bee
Does a dance round a flower across the porch
He told me not to be afraid to go forward
And speak my truth everytime
He told me that it might feel awkward
But they'll come a time people would make time
They'll make time to come and listen to me
And heed what I have to say
Cause all it takes is me
To go forth and make a way
A way so that all who will come after me
Find a society of women empowered
Women who just like me
Went through strife because they dared
They dared to take a chance to bring change
So that every girl gets to go to school
So that their can be actual change
For women to be great and not a tool
And one day as mother I will always tell my girl
Don't stop glowing cause the world says so
Go get your shine on girl
For you different and you know so
The PO£T
I just can’t get to sleep
Am so tired that I could weep
Can’t get this poetry out of my head
I have to get up when I’d rather be in bed
The words go round and round and sleep evades me
I have to get up, write my poem, have a cup of tea
Then I stumble back into bed
Leaving my poems to be read
I am beginning to seriously wonder
If this poem writing lark is a massive blunder
Should be in bed in my ‘difannyous’ nightie*
If you saw me in it you’d think I was flighty
Instead I’m sitting on my sofa
Looking like a bog eyed gopher
Pen in hand and scribbling away
I see night turn into another day
* this phrase comes from the British Comedian Ken Dodd
the actual word being diaphanous
Will not go into what I really wear LOL J
Jan Allison
28th March 2014