Long Alphabetic Poems
Long Alphabetic Poems. Below are the most popular long Alphabetic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alphabetic poems by poem length and keyword.
One day I'll write some thing
That will make this planet sing
It may not be perfect
For anybody, even me
We'll have to wait and see...
If the blue sky fungi
Sail below the window
Of my jet airliner
You'll know I wrote something
That made this planet sing!
One day I'll be King
And someone else will sing
Songs I weave from words
Like an alphabetic artist
Who lights up the darkest.
When the blue sky fungi
Sail below the window
Of my jet airliner
You'll know I wrote something
That made this planet sing!
One day wearing nothing
I'll wander down in spring
Dance the night sky nearer
Guile her with guitars
Then sprinkle her with stars.
Now the blue sky fungi
Sail below the window
Of my jet airliner
You know I wrote something
That gave the darkness bling!
Acrostic Memory
Acrostics introduced in fifth grade on a rainy winter afternoon
Careful crafted choice of words written in lyric cadence hues
Rhythmic flow like music class - songs of skaters waltzes spin
Out of tumbling imagination’s chaos form corrals intention’s whims
Shaping thoughts that rumble ramble like errant spitball pests
Teacher’s encouragement gentle walks through rows of wooden desks
Imaginations set on fire with a powerful surge
Crafts of poems like spelling bees in alphabetic order emerge
My favorite teacher – Miss Daly - guided my awakening muse
Emerging in wide young eyes - life’s enigma puzzles to deduce -
Many her gifts wrapped in surprises of creative lines, the prize
Often I remember her stern but loving eyes
Reminders to remember her guiding hand for wordsmith potential
Yet I always wonder of her life’s acrostic in questions reverential
12-8-20
Contest: Nostalgia
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Anna is the name that's mine
Banana is the witty rhyme
Clever was the one to find
Different words that sound so fine
Ending every other line
Flowing, they become Devine
Glowing as they intertwine
Helping to make up one's mind
If they will stand the test of time
Just in case, your ears are blind
Knowing it, should ease your mind
Limits help you, to align
Many thoughts, you must assign
Numeric, alphabetic, or by rhyme
Options vary, but are confined
Poetry must be defined
Questions answered, every time
Riddles only some can find
Stanzas, group several lines
Take it from the grapevine
Unique wording will spellbind
Vulnerable souls, when combined
With poetic thought, behind
X marks the place in time
You find the niche where you shine
Z was predestined to end this rhyme
Alphabetic yellows but you would melt my hairs should haze
The dim contour leasing the pounding in my breast
Would a war by all fragile ward fragility to lick your smoke at the corners
Of your mouth to which then French and frenzy make an ocean wider
Green, green is the blackest grass of long twisting cobras told unknown
Gallant as a child holding on to frays of reeds and a bite of snow
Nothing contained in the deaf phlegm of white light
The skill of work in the hot bloods of the thickness imagined
Weaving in the wives room and again to the lantern
To rub the brass and alleviate the dead petals in conquest by the fresh
The very tongue rials twisted as wires chill the season
Unlikely arrivals of the two by shy flaunt
Then veering is the roads aghast by ghastly refuse
Some do become lovers neath the sun ware the moon
But do others weigh the scale of surmise
Pocket
People like to
Put things in their
Pockets
Perhaps it is because they are collectors or they are
Paleoanthropologists who
Pick up anything to
Prove theories about
Pterodactyls who might have existed in the
Permian age while working on their
Postdoctoral theses. Then again, they may be having
Pseudohallucinations from all of the
Phenylpropanolamine they are taking to
Prevent
Post nasal drip from occurring when
Postulating on the latest
Patella that was found in
Patagonia when the dust from the dig kicked up all the
Pyrazinecarboxaimde. Or maybe it is due to a
Psychophysiological reaction to
Propionibacterium generated by oil
Paintings in the gallery next door from untreated
Pallets used by
Postimpressionists. Well, I am sure you have seen enough of my
Psychosomatic ramblings. Here comes my
Psychologist with a dose of
Phenobarbital to help calm me down before tomorrow
Prompts me to write another alphabetic
Pronunciation.
“Abracadabra, brass candelabra”
Bright, white light, to dark succumb
Ring the ears, trip tongues to slur
Annul sight, dim cornea
Cast your magic, mayhem, havoc
Advance enigma, elude stigma
Danger-gravid, power-avid
“Astral blast, come” cast penumbra
Blunt sweet senses, dense and numb
Rot and blot, aurora blur
Addle brain with morphia
----------
for The A's Have It Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joseph May
written on 09/07/2022
key:
Starting letters: abracadabra
Ending letters: abracadabra
“Alphabetic”
Alliteration
Rhyming
Rhyming and alliteration may overlap
Last word of 1st stanza rhymes/near-rhymes last word of 3rd stanza
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
My, my, my meteor
Rocks me to my core
She stains the sky
With shooting star fire
Beside the Milky Way
Only far, far brighter.
She rides rainbows
Seesaws on sky scales
Sits and smells grass grow
Sees the songs of whales.
My meteor’s a metaphor
Soon you’ll see what for
My metaphoric meteor
Rocks me to my core.
An alphabetic artist
She weaves song after song
With word worms wriggling
From her all day long.
I’ve seen her climb clouds
Both hands behind her back
Then move moonbeams
To lay down a light track.
My meteor’s a metaphor
Don’t you know what for?
My metaphoric meteor
Rocks me to my core.
She splits the silence
With her spaced out symphony
They spin sound sparks
Into streams of money.
My metaphoric meteor
Shook me off the floor
At all the gigs I rocked to
On her global tour.
My meteor’s a real rock star
She lights up the night
Then she crashes down, down, down
To be my meteorite!
My, my, my meteorite,
You are still my rock star light.
23rd April, 2016
"When the Grim Reaper asked for my spirit,
I told him to take my poetic pen.
He walked away smiling, leaving me illiterate."
In the mystical wilderness of virtual poetry,
surrounded by metaphors that mystify my mind,
I've become a shadow of the poet I once knew.
Insecure with egotistical lame labels,
tormented by attention seeking tags,
irritated from imitative compliments.
Exhausted eyes sting, bloodshot from
reading an overuse of mumbo jumbo jargon.
On the edge of personification,
symbolic syllables burn all desire to scrutinize.
Sometimes there can be too many words,
sometimes not enough,
yet we veil the true meaning of our thoughts.
I guess there is an art to pretending,
yet I watch my artistry fade.
We weave webs turning the internal into external,
but I question whether I was ever a poet.
Pondering if my poems served a purpose.
I have lost patience for personal prose,
rhymes without rhythm sound so revolting,
the soul is sick of old fashioned sonnets.
as iambic pentameter has always been my enemy.
I hear alphabetic patrol sirens,
their ignorant judgment is a mockery to the bilingual.
An assassination of alliterations,
is causing a massacre of my muse.
There is a void in my verses,
which prevents me from roaming free.
My soul feels like a starless supernova,
a moonless sky drifting into a black hole,
as fatigued fingers become a mistress
to simple scribbles.
I yearn to be forever silent,
with no motive to write for a legacy,
so I've imprisoned my muse in an asylum.
I have lost passion to spill the ink from my quill,
so I no longer tend to the petals in my poetic garden.
I've found peace in the solitude of a blank canvas.
Silent One
15 February 2022
Oh my beloved
unlock yourself from my mind
and appear before my eyes
whenever I think about you
so that I can see you
when I long to be near you
When my mind's stream of yearnings
starts pouring out like a waterfall
and flows as a river of romantic verses
that I write only for you
oh! how much I wish
that those words of love
that my muse sprinkles in a blank paper
gather themselves on their own
to sketch an alphabetic portrait of you
so that I could keep gazing
at your charming face
When fate, like a monster, separates us
All I wish is...
To just be the last word
of your most inspiring verse
that you already have in your mind
and yet to write in pen and paper
To just be an unstressed syllable
of your name
whenever and wherever
your name is called out loud
to honour you
To just be the faint flickering light
at the end of the dark tunnel
of your dull dreary days
Date: 01/30/2023
Writing Challenge - B Word Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France