Long Blank Poems
Long Blank Poems. Below are the most popular long Blank by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blank poems by poem length and keyword.
The story of the young Jesus
Jesus was sceptical of his tribe as a trainee carpenter
he was lousy, could even make a bookshelf, he was bullied for this.
Jesus took umbrage and criticized the establishment of bootlicking priests
whom the Roman occupiers had given them power?
He took to hanging out with a group of radicals of the day
and since he was good with words soon became their leaders.
The groupies, one of the Magdalene, were for the pleasure of the flesh,
although Jesus was fond of this woman, he didn´t show it openly.
Jesus got big-headed thought he could take on the establishment
like when he chased money lenders out of the church.
He was wrong!
He was arrested mocked, and given a thorn crown, but he insisted
he was the proper leader of the people.
they crucified him, but women come to the rescue, healed his wounds
and sent him and Magdalen, the despised tart, to France.
He had seven children and ended his days as a valued goldsmith.
A Grand Design
Through nature’s symbiotic grand design—
They share each other’s gifts in perfect plan;
The honeysuckle’s offering of thick
Sweet nectar which the butterfly consumes,
While pollen carried safely will transfer
To other blooms—create new life in turn.
The vibrant flower colors draw it in
To feast, while hidden pollen waits its fate.
Oh butterfly, earth's gift of renewed hope
Transformed from dark cocoon to work of art,
Bright fleeting beauty dancing in the sun
With perfect symmetry of form and grace—
A painted flutter, splashing joy through space,
With grand design that sparks new seeds to life.
Like butterflies I fly through light of day
To propagate my gifts of art with grace.
And glowing honeysuckle kissed by sun,
Sweet nature’s palette splashed with red and gold,
A symbol of a heart aflame with love,
Unselfishly to offer sustenance
Of life within uplifted cups that hold
The treat for all that come to rest and drink.
With outreached hands I offer nurturing
To those who seek, my heart aflame with love.
Sandra M. Haight
~NA~
Contest: The Butterflies Among Us
Sponsor: Skat A.
Judged: 08/18/2015
.
Black Friday
So here we are again
My reflection and I
The worst of friends
As we’ve always been
Surely nothing could be better
I am a happily married man
With a beautiful wife
And a lovely child
But something has grown
Out of the unknown
A latent energy
A mysterious
Creeping and suffocating
Loneliness
The reason for this
I can’t attempt to analyse
When I try, I cry out
With surprise
But I am surely mad
You may say
It can only come to bad
You may say
And yet it is there
A lurking, choking, mysterious
Loneliness
So here we are again
An evening full of pain
When all my work is done
When my wife and child have gone
And where are you?
Waiting on a wet Friday night
For your lovely child
To finish her dance classes
Surely something could be better
For an unhappily married woman
Returning to her home
Waiting for her drunken lover……..
Don’t get me wrong
No indecent proposals
Only a wish to share a common feeling-
Loneliness
Monika – this is just one moment
And we have to think of our lives
Our responsibilities.
But can I dare ask you -
Despite my religious restraints-
Despite the fact that my carnal desire
For you may seem like playing with fire-
Can I dare ask you-
Knowing that we are cautious adults-
Can we one black Friday night-
Share our loneliness together?
Maybe I’ve misread the signals-
Maybe I don’t know what I’m saying-
Don’t get worried about my suggestions
In an age of obsessive sexual insinuations-
I repeat one last time tonight
Can we share our loneliness together?
Melancholy
This is a blue day it is like having a ring
of steel pressing against my head.
Nothing matters there is no outlet and I want to go home,
anywhere, to get away from myself.
I sit on the terrace look at the view it is ing boring
bloody sea like I shouldn’t have seen it before
after thirty years as a mariner.
This morning I saw athletic people running along the promenade
I sat in my car looked at my considerable stomach,
so that is what has become of me a fat old man sinking into
the woollen atmosphere of self-loathing the hatred against
the world only a loser feels.
Sexless, useless old age has made me a eunuch whatever this
means I might have got the wrong spelling of the word and
my own poetry is not uplifting, too harmful to be read by anyone
who isn`t contemplating suicide?
it all I will write no more, go sit in a bar till they throw me out.
two islands and dynamite
There are two islands in the stream, one is big
and called the new island the other is small and
called the old island, the pair is linked to a bridge.
I crossed the bond to see my girlfriend, who lived
on the old island, in a shack, all houses were shacks
the fishermen lived there in suitable poverty.
I knocked on the door that cracked, letting out
a light which was good, the steps to the house were
made off rough unfriendly stones.
Her mother opened I didn’t like her smelling of beer
she had three teeth left and spoke like a whistle.
She hated me for being a cook at a tourist hotel
work she thought was for skulkers men with soft
hands incapable to do a proper job, like fishing
mackerel for a living.
She has gone with her new boyfriend on his boat
he is a skipper, to Denmark, and with that,
she slammed the door shut.
On the news, a bridge crossing Crimea to Russia
has been blown up; when I crossed the bridge to get
to the new island, I thought of doing something
in that vein, but having no knowledge of dynamite
I let it pass.
Good to have realised
but I already did,
that friends and people
pass and go,
but still;
the water walks alone.
Magnificent you suddenly appreciate
but I already grovel,
at the foot of the Earth
at the foot of your being,
but still;
the water walks alone.
And I keep seeming to give
impressions
that you all own me.
Some snare in the rope,
but it is mine!
I want the echo's
to stand up hairs on your belly.
But still;
it's only boxed water.
My blood and love despise me.
and I never understood why
I am unforgivable.
Perhaps it's just nature.
Sanding away my skin
drinking in suffocation
drowning out...
Streaks of anguish like drooping trees
Entrap pale hours across nightscape ,
Then crushing low upon my feet
Each leaf's motion reflects one bid
In neutral shades when moon withdraws--
That all around, on pine and lake,
My flame of hope enkindles breath
To glint beyond November's chill,
Awaiting a young son's return
From war-torn grounds cold as hoarfrost:
Till leaves form a halo , renewed
Adorning yard its lambent sheen,
Through colored tints which now imbue
A promise blest, of new life's course!
Hope, Old or New Poetry Contest
For Carolyn Devonshire 1/07/2019
~ New Entry
The contests offered on PS are great-
providing 'food for thought' to stimulate
new poems that will meet criteria
of themes, we shape with our well-chosen words.
And soon, they're judged and read by poet friends,
with comments offered, do uplift our hearts.
But then, they fade away on that long list
of poems, we have written through the years.
Once in a while, some sponsors do allow
an old poem be entered from the past,
which brings on stage a late write most forgot-
to take a bow as it is read once more.
A unique sponsor uses this viewpoint
to offer contests, using our old writes.
They fill up fast, are judged, quick- more appear
where poets resurrect their cherished words.
Monopoly on contests- I think not;
perhaps another chance to have our gems,
which we worked hard to polish in the past,
be shared with pride- to take their stage again.
April 12, 2020
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: Monopoly
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Judged: 04/18 /2020
( Cancer as well as the treatment for it take a terrible toll on the afflicted. At the end of the day either or both of them have a debilitating effect. Often, it is the battle field of the body which has to rise above itself to come out a winner)
The battle lines are clearly drawn
Armies arrayed in fighting forms
Caduceus with wings, serpents and staff
The Rampaging, unruly, hordes, which teem.
Lancet, venom, and piercing rays
Cut, poison, burn body and soul
Devastating, scorching all in their path
The vile corruption to eliminate.
Yet in this war the one who's lost
Is not the Asclepian might
Nor the vile, evil minions of the Crab
But the frail field of human flesh and mind.
Fertile fields full fallow laid waste
The loser none but afflicted man
His life, his joy cut short, cruelly maimed
Sad victim of Caduceus and Crab.
But there be some tenacious fields
Which fight and rise and bloom once more
To lead a life more complete than before
Their war - won with indomitable will!
Deep, deep, deep like the old closed cold cold grave
Down in a dark chamber of loneliness
Resides this horrible and constant boredom
Never is there a slight filling this need
Romance disappeared like misty morn fog
It was clinging wrapped like very wet tee-shirts
But slowly dried and left me wondering
What in the world has really happened here
Was not like tsunami with deadly waves
More subtle like soft splashing gentle waves
Those of low tide on a very calm day
Romance gone__disenchantment here remains
Contest:"I Am Bored With____"
Sponsor: Linda-Marie
Written by:Sara Kendrick