Long Arrange Poems
Long Arrange Poems. Below are the most popular long Arrange by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arrange poems by poem length and keyword.
Slipping away,
then hands tuck you back in
arrange your sheets in the dark
while you float
connected to dank viaducts
that drain your body
only to feed a conscious
plasma back to you.
It is almost beautiful
this slipping away and returning.
As flotsam you are part
of a humming communion,
momentarily you belong
with those others
who have drained gently away.
The reappearance of yourself
brings with it a vision,
an unknown hand holding yours.
Though you cannot now place her,
it is beautiful how she knit you together
from a few threads of life
with just a lingering touch.
Stayed with you
amid your coming and goings.
You want to know her name.
to kiss her like a lover
or a mother
but no doubt
she will not even remember,
or maybe she now needs you
and you don’t miss her enough?
Ideally yours truly prefers
a she/her who never got prosecuted for a felon,
yet who most deaf fin knit lee
possesses sound blinding killer instincts
think miracle worker Anne Sullivan
signifying rendering phenomenal success
with one female named re: amazing Helen
exhibiting discerning admirable qualities
constituting intelligent witty male
despite his/him sports haunch size of a melon.
I gently beckon inspiration
for dalliance with mother tongue
English Language, each
singular lettered manifestation
familiar to yours truly symbolized
by panoply, sans twenty six letters,
whereby this patient wordsmith
luxuriates, when writer's block
yields sudden gush,
nee burst of creativity
dissolving impenetrable wall
mental log jammed impasse,
discourages literary ambitions
dashed exerted forcefulness
'pon cerebral terra incognita
counterproductive grip locks
figurative drawbridge begetting
utmost frustration allowing egress
and ingress constituting obstructed surge
temporarily disabling free and clear
transmission between damned fount
barricading abundant bajillion ideas
silent at loggerheads clangor and din
analogous between unswerving enemies
prepared to fight till the death,
exhausting mental energy expended
attempting armistice with futile results,
hence quixotic oft repeated
time tested metaphor
i.e. deliberate pressure foisted
upon seat of aging cerebral matter
inadvertently coloring fist sized organ
at least fifty shades of gray,
versus unexpurgated brainstorming
linkedin with unfettered restraint
breeds favorable prodigious ideas
jotted/ typed stream of consciousness fashion
modus operandi favorable to engender
receptive access, asper (gas) excellent see
i.e. entrance untrammeled leeway
with minimal clash of opposing
titanic invisible entities
thus, aye abandon battering ram
to experience positive outcome
giving good n plenti profuse flood
unstoppable geyser spewing
plethora of appealing material
to arrange into cogent affinity,
energy, magnanimity and synchronicity!
Start with the fracture -
the splintered thing lodged in your ribs
that no cough can dislodge.
Call it "inspiration" if you must,
but know it is just hunger
with a prettier name.
Next, the bones:
a rhythm tapped absentmindedly
on a diner table,
the half-heard melody
of a stranger’s laugh,
the way your childhood home
still hums in your teeth
when you say its name.
Now, the bloodwork -
verbs writhing like minnows in your palms,
adjectives that stick like burrs to your sleeves.
(Here is where you’ll bleed.
A poem is not a wound,
but the salt rubbed into one.)
Arrange the fragments on the page.
Watch them refuse to fit.
This is the part where you learn:
a poem is not a puzzle,
but the hand that shakes
as it forces the pieces together.
Finally, the lie -
the smoothing, the sanding,
the pretense that this
was always the shape
you intended.
Sign your name at the bottom.
Walk away before it cracks.
At the end of each day these modern-day parents,
Wait impatiently in line,
For their latest up-dates on their preschooler's day,
As they check for bags,
Lost socks,
And notices,
As they watch the time,
The traffic that is building,
And what to do about dinner.
At best they will be given some quick highlights,
By their child's main caregiver,
Usually wrapped up in political correctness,
And a reminder of unpaid fees.
More often the main caregiver will have finished their shift,
Been off sick for the day or left for greener pastures,
Or as is happening more and more,
Left for unspecified reasons,
That can't be talked about,
Except through the Rumour mill,
But will be on the front page of the local paper the next week.
But take heart,
Any information about their children if slightly edited,
Will be only second-hand memories,
Or if another family member is picking up the child,
Third hand memories.
What's that you say,
Not at your child's daycare,
Which is just perfect,
And the staff wonderful.
Indeed you may be one of the few lucky ones,
But even then your memories will still be second hand,
And some information will have been put in the best light,
To protect your child.
Some of us can still remember when one or both parents,
Were there to witness first hand important milestones,
In their child's life.,
Like their first steps,
Their first tooth coming through.
So, where to from here?
That is not my call,
But can we not,
Arrange to replace even one second hand memory,
With an actual first-hand experience.
(I was an early childhood teacher for 30 years)
as I was nearly sixty, my life would change once more
I was made redundant from my job, this had happened once before
the chance of finding new work, was down to zero, nada, nil
the jobs I did apply for, I didn't quite fit the bill
the length of time I'd worked there was nigh on twenty years
the day that I was leaving, was filled with goodbyes, hugs an tears
not seeing my workmates every day, my life would seem so strange
just another of life's chapters that I would need to re-arrange
I was chatting to my husband and then he turned to say
get a job in care work, it's what you do with me each day
I applied and got a job, it's with a home care company
they said the work was permanent, not like with an agency
but the hours were so unsociable, and the travel costs, too high
and I needed to earn money, to afford to get us by
when on a zero hour contract, your worktimes vary from day to day
one week you're paid a fortune, week after, no hours, no pay
once more I'm out job hunting, as I need a steady wage
with our income and expenditure, there is a balance I must gauge
at last I found a job, in which the hours were set
that meant I could be sure, that our financial needs were met.
Presidential Debating
By Franklin Price
9/2/2016
Presidential debating
Will be a little strange
Only two to listen to
Not many to arrange
Just Hillary and Donald
Throwing lefts and rights
The only ones left standing
After the preliminary fights
We the people will be lucky
If we hear some substance there
In politics as love and war
All and everything is fair
One's a liar, one's a fool
Neither one of them's correct
Too bad we can't recall them
For unrepairable defect
Hope I'm wrong about all this
Hope one can rise above the fray
Hope one of them will be worthwhile
Hope we don't have to rue the day
I am not hardened by your strong sense of will
And i am not weakened by any fragility of spirit
I am not stood still, awaiting my becoming – i am flowing
And no longer do i fear the ingrained teachings of which you still hold dear
I have retreated and enveloped in shadow — far too long
Once entangled by your distorted webs i could not see coming
And then at night i lied latent, a lingering state of questioning
Cocoon of unease-full sleep in the woven bed you had made
A saga of indifference used to evince itself in plenty an instance
Namely, i wore clothing of poise and purity to gratify your expected modesty of me
And hid behind prayer and knelt to save me from the art of unsanctioned vulgarity
Would you now say i have plucked from the garden of forbidden fruit
Since i fail to follow the faith leading to your promised land?
False promises have propelled me forward towards honest grace
And sincerity now speaks to me in spirituality, my sacred space
I do not need to succeed failure to gain my attention nor to silence any dismay
And i do not feel urgency to stray away from my intrinsic gateways
I am not frightened by your close attention to detail
Pertaining to matters of me and the ideas i adopt to be true instead
Nor do i bother about your views on my newfound philosophies
Considering i feel seldom incomplete presently, so i can reason with you now
Alas, when i used to cry i could not turn to you
But my forgiveness touches places accessible to you these days
I can see beyond our diverged paths and welcome you all the same
For even if shame rouses, i shall not place the blame onto your heart spaces
You have taught what you’ve known and rightly so
I just pray and hope you can accept a version of me who’s changed
Since i feel earthbound without the cloudiness of what you’ve tried to arrange
So are you convinced that cherubs await those in disbelief of your deity in parade
Or did these unleashings persuade you further into your religious and lawful ways?
I watched the moon in the sky sailing through the clouds and speaking my thoughts aloud. A strange phenomenon is gleaming in the sky, and the moon with the courage to live or die has rushed through the gate. It has taken on a life on its own, and it is leading to me where Destiney is bound. Look for the stump in the ground and it will open up a whole can of worm. The moon has a twin shape, observe it carefully before you open the gate, it doesn’t reveal itself to everyone, but only to those who understand. I spend hours gazing at its light, and the satellite in the sky orbiting around the sun has a mission to use the final gun. Barriers have fallen over in the street, and the engine is moving with the keys; there are no more cards to play, except to live your own truth and reminisce the days of your youth. You must not delay for you don’t know what is coming your way. A moon is a shelter for thee, and it is spreading all over the Caribbean Sea, arrange to have an urgent dialogue with me so that we can cast the moon on the other side of the sea.
'Self-belief is a great relief.'.... A Poet
SELF- BELIEF
I am always proceeding on strong self-belief
Life is not flower bed, but uneven thorny.
My faith and will power bringing utmost relief.
I carry confidence advancing on journey.
Path of life is full of pebbles, not at all smooth.
Fair chance to tumble over at any moment.
I must admit it as absolute ruthless truth.
Sometimes to walk happy or sometimes to lament.
Life may be tensed, tortuous or turning tragic.
Get prepared to accept your life as a challenge
Haply miracles can happen showing magic.
Yet have faith on self to struggle and to arrange.
Accessing success sharp or failure to endure.
Grief and joy are outcomes of probability.
Not to lose faith on self for progress to assure.
Self-confidence to overcome adversity.
I am always proceeding on self-belief.
Path of life is full of pebbles, not at all smooth.
Life may be tensed, tortuous turning tragic.
Self-confidence to overcome adversity.
12/08/20
'My Created Form Rhyme 4 Mix' Contest by France La Constance.
Oh do move on, Summer - it's time for a change
I've so many seasonal chores to arrange!
Whilst you, my dear sister can laze in the sun,
For me there are serious tasks to be done.
I have to ensure that the hedgehogs remember
To stock up on food at the start of September.
Then trigger celestial cues as causation
For swallows' onset of long distance migration.
Blithe, frolicking squirrels must forfeit their play
To stash bereted nuts for the next rainy day.
And whilst I remember, the trees need a shake;
A gentle reminder their leaves to forsake.
A new coat of paint is applied in a rush,
A kiss from my lips makes the blackberries blush.
I’ll crisp up the air and leave everything stark,
Ensuring that nippy Jack Frost makes his mark.
Then tickle the prickles of sweet chestnut shells
Till, sides split with laughter, their treasure expels.
And last but not least, I've the pumpkins to swell
And harvest to gather, folk's hunger to quell.'
Flamboyant and frisky, in colourful dress
The glory of autumn can't fail to impress!
02/09/18
Early Sept 2018 Standard,Any Form,Any Theme,Upto A Max Of 20 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
'Colourful Fall' Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
15/09/18