Long Blocks Poems

Long Blocks Poems. Below are the most popular long Blocks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blocks poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Living In the Gray

Sometimes I find myself living in the grays
I stay there for days and days
My world lacks contrast
Shadows disappear 
I am somewhere that isn't here

My land is encompased in a virtual haze
A fog so thick it blocks out sun rays
I search and grope for different ways
I can't see forward or behind
Complacency has blocked my mind
No ambition 
I wonder why
I lack the desire to try

A finger tip and then a hand
Caressesing my face removing the bland
The light floods in
I start to feel
I can't get enough of this savory meal
Now I wonder was it just a dream
I start to move forward 
picking up steam

Colors so bright 
Now I realize
It was an internal veil that blocked my eyes
Sometimes all it takes is someone's hand
To escape from a world of gray and bland

A kiss a smile
Perhaps an embrace
A gentle hand lightly placed
Now the light and dark are clearly traced
All my gray has been erased


Premium Member My Special Toy

Of all the toys I have for play,
there's one I like the most- hooray!
They're square, and I can stack them tall
and laugh when they begin to fall!

And, on the floor in a long line-
a choo choo train, I build just fine!
I push the end so it can go
and roar the sound of horns that blow.

Then I can build a jungle snake-
pretend it's real and not just fake!
I'm not afraid that it might bite-
it's make-believe, so I'm all right.

My colored squares of wood are fun,
and I make sure that when I'm done
I put them back in their red box-
my special toy of wooden blocks.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member I'M Only Six

I'm only six years old as I enter his room
He sits me down as he makes me at ease
To settle my nerves as he tells me he'll help
And free my mind, and escape it's seize


    "Listen Melissa, please don't be afraid
    We will take our time, and determine these dreams
    Lie back, count to ten, into a deep sleep you'll go
    I will be here, what you see now is no dream"


It all started with scratching on the wooden floor
As I watched shadows appearing on the ceiling and walls
Hands, paws so grotesque as big as can be
Mimicking writing in confusional scrawl


    " Melissa, can you remember, anything bad from your past?
     Something that means, that it shouldn't be so
     Remember, your only six years old
     I'll let you go back further, let your young memory flow"


I'm, I'm, sitting on my bed, the lights flickering
Tears, I'm in tears holding my teddy bear
Watching my building blocks, move across the floor
Hands, paws so grotesque, I'm in frightened scare


    "That's good Melissa, your doing so very well
     Tell me about the blocks, what do they mean
     Is this nightmare your having
     Telling us more than it seems?"


From under my bed they crawl, making scraping noises
Reaching for some bricks, big and small
Their upside down I can't read them
The shapes are the same, as the ones on the wall

It, It, says daddy, it says my daddy
The blocks, that's what they say
It's now starting to appear, scratched on the walls


     With a snap of his fingers, so grotesque like paws!









Written - 11/6/2010 7:29:00 PM
me
Form: Quatrain

Illusion of Unconditional Love

Teary eyed trying to understand the hate in disguise
a energetic fear of abandonment help veil those lies
I am fed up with this frequency of control and hate
people are so prone to believe authentic love is a bait
unconditional love given they reject and distrust it
accustomed to conditional lovers with a kindness skit
honestly, love is universal and don't have a disguise
It don't judge, reject, harm, control or even denies
unconditional love will not have your heart like a yoyo
dealing with a conditional lovers playing Marco Polo
abused minds conditioned to accept what is given
limited; not knowing it's a bigger agenda of riven 
I know being mind, body, soul, and child of love
whether it is from below, mid-heaven or above  
embodying love with great intentions for self and all
spreading love no matter the circumstantial call
targeted because that's my mission in this lifetime
plenty of road blocks, but hate has pivot me this time
homeless staying in the cold, but I still offer love to all
help has been hinder/halted so I can stop, regret, and fall
my whole family abused me with many manipulated blames
I will always love them; not allow hate combust into flames
what ever force that uses vessels to instill hateful behavior
they are forgiven knowing controlling my emotions is my savior.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Beneath Celestial Wings

Life's struggles often lure me down dead end roads,
littered with dangerous curves and stumbling blocks. 
You, my Heavenly angel, remove the heaviest loads,
those burdens trying to keep me tied up in gridlocks.  

When darkness and temptation lay frigid fingers on me
my mind becomes shadowed with sorrows and fears
but your divine light shines bright so I can break free
from anxieties and despair. My trepidation disappears.

You are a gentle breeze, chasing gray clouds from the sky,
a minstrel of lullabies, singing a troubled sheep to sleep,
a butterfly on my shoulder when faith is in short supply,
my comforter in times of need, wiping tears when I weep.

In Scripture, God has written of your loving devotion.
In your gentle hands I picture you offering me His Book.
You are the righteous source of my spiritual emotion.
Dear Angel, may I always receive your approving look.

Under your celestial wings I find refuge and protection,
keeping me sheltered from harm and turning evil away.
You bring peace to my heart because you are a reflection
of God's mercy. I pray that near me you will always stay.


September 7th, 2017
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Game Changer

Fare thee be well to stranger and kin
Another story do tell of Universal Law them
Signal frequents sent in alternating from him
All in regards to glowing of little gem

She wraps her arms around the dark of the night
Encompassing in him and all around him is her light

Nine personalities there do be
All creating the one in thee
Understanding and hearing them all
Requires the one to build a proper wall

They be the building blocks in you
Seven see; A, E, I, O, and U
All be parts of the fellowship ring you

I – ntelligence Supreme supplying energy behind all steam
E- go driven attitude is mentally meant to allude
A – lpha has spoken and only heard by thee awakened 
E – motional feelings multiplying by floor and ceiling 
I – mpulse sensitivity senses all mirror double dealing
O – rigination of desires conspire or inspire both indeed start fires
U – nderlying seed does feed the one base need

Next side be side these two titans see
Thor or Asgard, The Thunder Hammer of desires origination
And, Thee lovable Hulk, Harmonic underlying seed lacking knowledge is base need
Thrust into battle they go 
These be their armies in tow
Having many different names though

Hulk and Thor’s higher and lower self
All four picked from amongst these
Blocks that be on the shelf 
Being amongst these ye can perceive
As well as retrieve 
Words that appear in tea’s leaves
These warriors do be
Constants these 
Armies all ye B, C, D…
F, G, H, J, K, L, M, N, P, Q, R, S, T, V, W, X, Y, Z 

Multiples of three
Be in rhapsody
Form:

Premium Member Seven For Chaos and Order-Tyke Didn'T Die In Vain

SEVEN FOR CHAOS AND ORDER-Tyke didn't die in vain


Elephant escapes Honolulu arena, and live circus in '94, trampling to 
death the handler, to astonished onlookers in the crowd. Then exits onto 
nearby streets,  for over  30 minutes, taking on 87 rounds fired, swarms of police cars over four blocks, before finally being gunned down and expiring.

In the aftermath of Tyke's rampage no other live animal show has performed since at the arena. Pressure from PETA prompted global awareness of elephant mistreatment. Numerous lawsuits from grieving onlookers were settled. 

connie pachecho

1/28/17
Form: Verse

Empty

When fear blocks your heart from seeing love,
It makes excuses and causes you to run,
Leading to confusion, you put yourself there,
The thinker overthought, yet he's so unaware,
Tell me who I am, yet your telling on yourself,
The mirror reflects back, putting the experience on the shelf,
His heart still pounds, his words are alive,
But pays too much attention to the fear inside,
He refuses to let his pride fall and open his heart,
His image is more important, so he lets it all fall apart,
Is he really happy with the decision he made?,
No, not at all...he drinks his life away,
Must we go through the vices of vicious torment and lies,
To find his heart drowning, still swimming for his life,
Sober fustration can't find the words,
For fear his heart won't be valued or heard,
The mirror with compassion looks better than the bottle,
Yet hes still swimming through the alcohol to get to the bottom,
Empty....

Premium Member Rocks nor Concrete

I feel best in nature far from city blocks.
Peace comes from viewing God's beautiful stages.
Medicinal are streams, trees and even rocks.
On natural land every sense engages.
I so love all of outdoors genuine sounds,
my happy inner child playfully abounds.
All earthly vistas mankind has not tainted
are heavenly views and feels that God painted.

Gray, gloomy and cold are the steel and concrete
of large, sprawling cities built to fulfill greed.
Clustered strangers press buttons to cross a street
and are dwarfed by buildings for which land did bleed.
There are blocks of humans from rich to homeless
where trauma and apathy leave hearts boneless.
Even in June, I loathe how cold cities feel.
I have no guess why to many they appeal.
Form: Rispetto

Singaporean autumn (DHR)

my wife begins her annual preparation for mid-autumn.
from the kitchen window the phases of the moon
count down for our children to ready cartoon lanterns.
she blends flour with golden syrup, oil, lotus paste into dough,
her recipe calling this a festival, although the seasons
have never learned the habit of changing here at home

there is no real autumn here, but this country found home
for a festival that arrived carrying another’s autumn,
a harvest remembered from places where seasons
announce themselves in falling leaves, while the moon
marks the fifteenth night after work in the fields, and dough
is how abundance is gifted to children beaming like lanterns

light has always been the symbol of hope; likewise, lanterns—
geography cannot take this away, even if far from home.
Southern Chinese migrants carried stories in their dough;
their ships crossed vast seas beneath an ancient autumn
carrying memory in recipe. generations after learn the moon
means celebration, even if they do not recognise the season

bulbs glow where candlelight once did for this borrowed season
while our children practise parading with lanterns
before the actual day when we will be beneath the full moon
along the common spaces linking the blocks we call home.
my wife chooses auspicious idioms to mark mid-autumn,
and imprints the words by pressing the mould into dough 

my wife preheats the oven, about to bake the dough
encasing lotus paste into mooncakes, for this special season.
cartoon rabbits and plastic moons may represent mid-autumn
but patterns of modern popularity are interlopers on the lanterns.
in decades, harvest became festival, then a tradition at home:
I regale the children with tales of Chang’e fleeing to the moon

my wife takes out the dozen of small imitations of the moon
from the oven, and cuts one to verify that the dough
has browned exactly right—an edible history, lovingly home-
made, for lamentation of harvest without fields, in this season-
less country; a lack of swaying leaves that perhaps lanterns
can replace; a longing for cool air that comes with real autumns 

here once a year, one full moon is when mooncakes are in season,
a sweet treasure of fillings in dough, accompanied by bright lanterns
illuminating the many homes pretending we have a link to autumn
Form: Sestina

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace