Long All poetry Poems
Long All poetry Poems. Below are the most popular long All poetry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long All poetry poems by poem length and keyword.
Yesterday afternoon on March 22nd, I had the paramedics transport me to the Emergency Ward of Swedish Hospital in Edmonds, Washington. And I was diagnosed with Lymph-edema (swelling of the legs) But I praise the Lord for there being no leakage! I did request prayer for me and my family on All Poetry!
If you access this, please pray for my family and for me.
I have to make a followup appointment with my PCD (Primary Care Doctor Kapil Gangwahl) when my home care worker from (Cathletic Community Services) is able to take me on a Thursday. Her supervisor is going to instruct her to take notes from my appointment. But both of my workers are going to try and walk around the building with me.
I sincerely hope and pray to God, our Heavenly Father in Jesus name, will heal my family and for me! He has already healed me from an ovarian cest on my right overy and from Calcification of my left breast! "Let all that has breath, Praise the Lord from whom all blessings flow!" "There by the merciful grace of God go I!" more latter on 3/23/21
(thank you All Poetry, Facebook, family
Poetry Soup,... et cetera global friends.)
A network of cherished kinships allied
forged, and linkedin analogous
to union of groom and bride
thru electronic bonds engender intrigue,
nonetheless unconditionally accept,
no matter I chide
self, and reference mine existence
as if...this mortal already died
now more appreciative than ever,
cuz younger days witnessed
peers that did elide
me accompanied with relentless
teasing, snubbing, roasting
akin tubby kindled over a fireside,
thus...solitude shadowed me as sole guide
peopled with books
to escape and hide
from so called "real"
webbed world, yet inside
this former grievous
lad through alienation,
emasculation, and isolation no joyride
valuing myself less than a pawn on
chessboard of life
envying extrovert as kingside
station depriving, insulating, and
ostracizing yours truly belied
to Matthew Scott Harris
marginally functioning, and denied
him camaraderie, dating, enjoying
female friendships due
to lack of confidence and pride
and at the cusp of
pubescence...a slow descending ride
into the hungry (anorexic)
maws of suicide,
which ideations hammer psyche,
now aghast how I tried
(without success) to disappear sundering
mine complex edifice
into the wide
abyss of nothingness, hence to treasure
those electronic connections,
perhaps...totally no more'n four score
(and seven years ago)
all told of unbeknown village people
comprising worthy chums,
sans human league roar
ring (okay pardon the hyperbole),
but letting this foo fighter explore
a greater range of interpersonal
(no matter virtual), but each
unnamed cyber buddy worth more
than simple rhyming galore
words express, some
or all those who sprung
from Earth, wind and fire,
viz cosmic toreador
this poet would their
physical presence adore,
who realizes genuine experienced love
second best option
communicated thru the Internet...bonjour,
hence please accept at the least
(even thee lovely cousins,
daughters, sister Shari por favor,
a hug emanating from within mine
integrated central processing unit core!
all poetry begins with presumption
should you expect anything different here?
I would not hold a full lung's air too long
would not bust a bronchial capillary
in the waiting for its novelty to find you
my preconception is that you get me
my scents of sandalwood and burned cedar
smoking off my ungenerous rolling bones
each night in the dicey flight to catch eyes
each rheumy sighting a spotlight on me
validating stares as none found in my mirror
yes, yes, yes, no need to agree on everything
my shadow already has that on employ
it follows me everywhere, the generic niceness
of compliance even when sun and day
have curled sidewalks in their closing grip
of hands' contracting reflexes
of keeping time to explain its mess
of squandered hours and no farther
into the telling expressions of understanding
it is such a misunderstood word, slippery
is at best the slope, understanding is a double
black diamond downhill careless championing
can-can-can-do attitudes are known to accidental
you into a good decision as swiftly
as a bad choice is unchosen, in revision
is it a history of when and how it's all written down
upbraided as if it is the same as having settled
scores of a game whose name we've now forgot?
Year of the Goat meets year of the Pig
I was born in the year of the goat
my wife
was born in the year of the pig
a perfect match
according to Buddhist fortune tellers
a man born in the year of the goat
loves luxury and loves spending money
while a woman born in the year of the pig
is a genius at making money
the man enjoys the wealth
his pig wife creates
for his enjoyment
and that is the perfect match
and so it has been for us
as I enter my 65th birth year
I find myself richer
than I ever thought I would be
richer
than the legendary Cronus
richer
than Midas himself
way more money
than I could ever use
all because I married
a golden pig
all poetry horoscope contest
What can I say about poetic writing
Refreshing, wonderful and awe inspiring
Creating beautiful words upon a page
Ink to paper because that’s your stage
Now on poetry soup all are heroes
Dreaming on their fairy-tale pillows
Touching people with love and expression
It seems these heroes are on a mission
There are so many poets on here I like
Beginners and skilled are such a delight
Writing poems with so much passion
Using their words they craft and fashion
All poems are gems in their own right
And inspire others to read and write
Paving the way for the next generation
This might be you with great imagination
Some of the poems are sad but true
Some emotions really touching you
Everyone adds their own magic touch
On poetry soup these heroes are such
So to all the lovely poets that flock
On poetry soup just know you rock
Creating poems with beautiful themes
Don’t ever give up writing your dreams
© Copyright K.C.Leake
23rd November 2015
All Rights Reserved
Dedication To all poetry soupers
So, what is a poem, anyway?
Should it have a fixed number of lines?
Should it rhyme all the time?
Should it be passionately romantic?
...As my lissome Latina lover
let the wild wind dance
through her fragrant hair
igniting my eager lips...
Should it be EdGyyyyyyy chIC O-SO A T Garde?
V N
A
maybethereshouldbenoformofpunctuationofanykindatanytimeperiod
And what abouty all those new forms? The haiku, the senryu, the question-ku
the Pantoum, the Rondeau, the Cinqku, the Cinquain, the Clerihu, not to mention that old Suessian special, the Horton-Hears-a-Who
And then there's always the matter of meter ... or is it metre?
Should a poem always have to feel like riding a horse?
Once upon a midnight dreary
While I pondered, weak and weary...
I thought that I would never see
A thing as lovely as a tree...
Well, my friends, were I an actual poet, I might answer your queries
But as one who merely dabbles, permit me to leave you with this:
In all poetry there is one common part
~ The beating of a very, very human heart
My epitaph writ large...
courtesy third person singular.
Mise en scène pour décès
pardon his feeble attempt at French,
a unilingual English language
quibbling, and scribbling mensch
strongly advises applying
left handed monkey wrench,
which custom designed tool
assigned impossible mission
to discern sense and sensibility
regarding following poetic thread
subject of a fool's errand.
Mein kampf witnessed, punctuated,
and evinced courtesy final breath
automatically triggering (tumblr
to activate) final curtain call
and unremarkable death.
As stipulated in the living will
cremation of his lifeless body
cremated into soft gray powder.
A prerecorded hashtagged obituary
downloaded to individual smartphones
and simultaneously appeared on
the following poetry websites:
COSMOFUNNEL, Hello Poetry,
Neopoet, My Poetic Side, Poetry Soup,
PoetryNook, PoetryVibe, Prose|
A community of readers and writers,
and All Poetry.
He hesitated and lost out
on game of life big time
even fumbling crafting reasonable rhyme
noshing, spending, and whiling
inordinate amount of hours
squirreled away in his bedroom
surrounding himself with reading material.
He amassed fountainhead of knowledge
quietly engorging cerebral gray matter
whereat noggin swelled up
rivaling globe, but Atlas shrugged
at him, whose head
resembled the first Chinese brother
who swallowed the sea.
Odd his voracious appetite
to buzzfeed with one
after another binary byte
zealous precocity to engross himself
with storied reading material
that does extremely excite
(at the expense of healthy socialization)
where his imagination took flight,
nevertheless myopic eyes of his
did glean insight
keeping his cute button nose
between pages of choice morsels
to appease hunger
keeping himself awake
drinking high test coffee
during darkness aided by jacklight
processing meaty material with might
experiencing abundant, exultant,
intoxicant, over-extravagant
joie de vivre day or night,
a balm, elixir, inebriate... quite
the panacea to abet emotional incapacitation
which entails crafting poems
oftimes spending efforts
with efforts undertaking rewrite
unwittingly garnering a fanbase
courtesy ideology doth unite.
for all poetry impossible dream contest
An old lion
Roars in his sleep
Recalling an impossible dream
In his dream
He was a man
Who was chasing a dream
Chasing an impossible dream
The man
Was haunted
By a dream girl
A girl who appeared
Nightly in his dreams
Beckoning him to join her
He searched the world
Looking for her
And then one day
She walked
Off a bus
And into his life
The lion woke up
From the impossible dream
Smiling at the thought
Then he went off
To search for his
Impossible dream
Dreaming still
Of being a man
In search
of a dream girl
King Leonidas 300 and Counting
It was 480 BC
King Leonidas with 300 Spartan warriors held Thermopylae Pass
Fought against the vast immortals horde of Persian forces
Lasted and endured the Xerxes army
3 days with 4,000 allied strong for Greece
Resisting the first 2 days in mighty battle
With only 1500 strong
The third and final day belonged to Xerxes
Leonidas lost 299 of his men to battle
His allies also perished
In the Persian wave of death that day
The Gate Awaits
Derivatives of angled forces bent on destiny
Armored warriors spears and shields in hand
In V shape lined to face the demon foe
With swords extended confront a morbid horde
Certain death to follow
They stream upon their vile inhumanity
Through history and to this very mortal day
Nourished ground with noble blood
To spring our civilization forth
That which flows through time forever in our veins
For freedom…. never sleeps…but pulses toward the light
That final perfect design which defines us
They are the souls of history
300 marched and died there in the sands
Xerxes in his promise to erase all memories of Greece’s fame
To destroy all poetry and poets (for that alone he should die)
Now sleeps, the demon that he is, forever
In an unknown grave
And even I cannot pronounce or spell his name
I like poetry contests, because it is terrific to imagine what is being sought.
I especially like the ones that have made up words, guidelines, and artwork.
they are a delightful challenge to me and they give me incredible new ideas.
I like seeing how many greens I get before a gold pop up, it amuses me.
I especially like All Poetry because I can run six contests at a time, and I do.
Comparing people’s poetry is like comparing oranges to clocks to boots.
They all have a different function, they are unique, and it is all about taste.
I usually know which one is going to be gold because it pulls my soul in.
I read each poem three to five times, and I read the winners more times.
Sometimes gold and silver are a toss-up, and I want to flip a coin.
But that would seem like cheating, so I force myself to do the best I can.
Poetry contests are fabulous if you ask me; I truly love both sides of them.