Long Brief Poems
Long Brief Poems. Below are the most popular long Brief by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brief poems by poem length and keyword.
This is not poetry
It is the rattle of a copper coin
falling through the ribcage of a cathedral—
a hollow sound that has never learned a hymn.
It is the salt-crust gathering
on the lip of a rain-forgotten glass,
the quiet residue of a thirst
that no longer remembers its own name.
Do not come searching for metaphor.
There is no disguise here.
Only the blunt geometry of a bruised knee,
the exact, indifferent weight of a key
that has outlived every door in this city.
It is the static between stations,
where the ghosts of dead singers
grope for the shape of a vowel
and fail, again and again,
into silence.
This is not wisdom, slow and sweet.
It is the cold engine of morning,
reluctant, unpersuaded,
turning over nothing but itself.
It is the ache sealed in the grain of an old chair
that still carries the memory of wind,
and the long pause that follows
when you understand the mirror
has never been yours—
it looks past you,
through you,
to the blank wall that has always been waiting.
If there is a spark here,
it is only friction wearing down its own bones.
If there is meaning,
it arrives by accident—
a brief alignment of light
on something that was never meant to be seen.
But this is not poetry!
I don't know what I'm writing for,
didn't start to find the cure
or rewind the cord
to find a vision true and pure
started to express distress
regarded as a mental mess
a brief relief and gentle ease
unheard words found release
polluted air surrounding ceased
clues poured spare with each piece
and every layer had an underneath
each more gruelling full of grief
an Autumn Fall turning every leaf
finding fitted Lego bricks but no design
a puzzle with no box
random pieces hard to slot
gritty echoes from sickening times
pulled from the rubble stock of my decline
separate scenes on one timeline
separated by my own mind
people, places, a point in time,
spaced through thought naive and blind,
this string of knots is one combined
not many which have got intertwined
each scenario more crazy
unlikely yet more maybe
cuz answers without knowledge
grew confusion ever solid, dipstick
gas clouds so thick in places liquid
fused and never flowing
just floating never knowing
expelling as I wrote,
clearing horror shows,
which emotionally and mentally stoked
could have turned, forget and go,
but in agony the ink flowed,
as though my pen morphed the gas
covering up my past, until at last
the understanding is grasped
understood and let it pass,
but the years are empty,
I've vented free,
so i guess now i write reinventing me,
and who knows maybe eventually
pressing on, willing, adventurously
I began because you didn't listen to me
Why did I have to commit?
Will I be well on the day?
What if the dark clouds roll in
And take all my joy away….
I don’t trust myself to speak
When I know I’ll just bring pain
I hibernate in my world
Until I am once more sane
I lessen the dose in fear
I won’t be able to cope
A little less every day
Reaching the end of my rope
I resign myself to chance
Some “friends” might just walk on by
Some will think it’s high drama
When I break down and I cry
There’s the gnawing pain of truth
That I’m not completely well
I’m either in paradise
Or plunged into deepest hell
Then to try to find the words
To explain this parody
That the smiling dancing girl
Is bedridden broken me
The words just die on my lips
For no one can really know
That the struggle that I face
Is draining creative flow
In silence I keep away
Until the sun shines on me
In those brief and sweet moments
I’m alive and truly free
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Looking at me from under the shades
of your eyelashes, will not solve the problem.
i see on your chin a stubbornness that is you,
you would say nothing, fearing it may lessen you,
neither will you let me say anything,
in fear it may lead to a path to friendship.
I know you have been hurt before,
yet no reason to live in an emotional prison.
there is perhaps some goodness still out there
to seek, to know, to make it your own.
in the long path to love and salvation,
there are many moments for wisdom,
that make our resolve stronger, the destination
easier, and further journey a pleasure.
looking at me with those beautiful yet sullen eyes,
only make me fall in love even more.
we are across a thick pane of glass
longing for an embrace.
we deny each other the friendship
we deserve, and yet I can only watch
and admire, with a resolve that at some point
the divide would shatter.
When one is in love, eternity is
only a brief moment in time.
The earliest spring begins to start,
As the final winter plays its part.
Perhaps the very journey's end of our brief days,
Where God denies death in a quiet maze.
Weaving through countless summers, autumn's grace,
Painting our lives across time and space
Into a watercolor, rich and deep,
Where all our painted colors wake and sleep.
We meet each other, souls of every kind—
Bright hues that leave our dancing feet unbound,
While darker shades sometimes conspire to throw
A deeper shadow where our spirits go.
Yet all the while, we fail to see
That light and dark were meant to be
No parting signs of bitter grief and pain,
But petals blooming in the sun and rain.
At last, the chilling winter makes its stand,
The final journey falling close at hand.
With God's last holy touch, a grand design—
The watercolor's masterpiece divine.
Before the Maker, wearing spring's first dress,
I stand stripped bare of winter's weariness,
And take off now, when all is said and done,
The final winter garment under the sun.
Take a look what’s before you, a look all around,
this city of people with lives crumbling down.
Take a moment to listen, a moment to stare,
a moment in silence and see if you care.
From the window I’ve looked out and done this same thing,
and for a brief time it was inspiring,
but the day called me back for my ways were off track
though I made a note “Pray when there’s time”.
Well, I’m sad to admit that it took quite a bit
before I remembered that line.
But I found it one day, so I knelt down to pray
and I spoke what came first to my mind
which was, “God send down angels. They’re needed you see”,
then I rose up, for I was behind.
Now I fully believed God would send down reprieve,
so of course, I was shocked when by chance
I happened to gaze from my window above
at the city and its circumstance.
“Oh how could this be! Things are worse than before.”
Perplexed by this finding I turned to the Lord,
and I prayed knowing well that his ear he would lend,
“God where are the angels I asked you to send?”
“The people, they need them! They’re starving, they fail!”
“They’re cold, they are homeless! They’re sick and they’re pale!”
Then it came like a breeze in the midst of my pleas -
t’was a whisper that cut to the core -
“I already have angels who look from above
through their windows and simply ignore.”
“Though I’ve given them all, they do stammer and stall
as they tend to their lives and their trade,
and few of them ever give much time to think
what a difference each one could have made.”
Then I sank in my chair with my hands in my hair,
for the weight of this thought pierced my heart.
When I rose, I resolved from that time I would try
to go out and act the angel’s part.
Take a look what’s before you, a look all around.
This city of people with lives crumbling down.
So many who walk to the beat of life’s drum.
So many who pray for an angel to come,
but none will they have til one answers their plea…
so come down from the window, an angel you’ll be.
In the dawn light a pulse of voice,
Hymn in sure sight fronts a clear poise.
Seek to feel more that ample flow,
From a deep core echoes now show.
Find that pure lot of succinct peace,
Purge play and plot and know sure ease.
Music wings high in aerial grooves,
Stop for brief sigh as fancy moves.
Round and round springs the precious feel,
New notes now fling strange waves that heal.
Waltz to the fate that waits for you,
You're never late to love on cue.
Trust love to find you with gracious wit,
Seize peace of mind that makes you fit.
Leon Enriquez
30 Match 2017
Singapore
Imitation of unmerited personality can be called
envy when its impact disrupts the daily routine
of an individual who's not happy for anything good
given to him by God: is it a mere lack of fortitude?
Find me a pure mind so unspoiled by sinful thoughts,
it's a surprising rarity to encounter one that matches
such a quality instilled into the obedient souls of angels
faithful to their Maker presiding over them with holiness.
Being born naked and innocent is as brief as a momentary breath,
years to God are minutes but eternity awaits us if we choose it
in our quest for salvation to discover other universes beyond it;
we aren't confined to complicated tasks relating only to our earth.
Your search among roving wolves can be a dangerous gape,
never be their prey, however incessant seems their frightening howling;
whisper the psalms that David wrote: they are your escape
from the trap set up by those malicious folks with an agonizing gnawing.
Should a pure mind so unspoiled by sinful thoughts swerve
from commitment: would it deserve harsh punishment,
or reprimand? Who oversees our conscience God or guilt?
Brace for fear and despair if nothing conveys deligence.
Summer food ripened
in childhood’s backyard
when small fingers
pressed plumped skins
for the first sign of give
in flesh when fruit
was ready to eat.
I could judge
the picking time to a day
when, under a hot sun,
sour turned sweet
and there was a brief glut
before birds got them
or they began to rot.
Only almonds lasted.
They tasted best
when outer jackets first
split and peeled back
to a pitted shell
and high branches
were whipped
with a bamboo pole
in a hail of manna
to crack and scoff down.
Locked in hard shells
they kept me fed
until winter damp
tainted their taste
and then there
was nothing more to eat
in childhood’s backyard.
I was a successful, fashionable florist, in mild green days of elegant gardens,
When an orange sun beamed its pleasure, like locales where lavender begins.
I formed arrangements for many occasions, drawing beauty lovers from afar,
As pretty planets arrange for a meeting, after wild rumors of the newest star.
And crowded hours were filled with summer, like pearly dews crowd morning,
Until ruby butterflies are playing tag, and gemmed damselflies are swarming.
Friends felt I might always be found, in some area of flush bloom fragrancies,
Like raven midnight's march to daybreak, with its warm, varicolored agencies.
Fond family held festive feasts, in fading hours of sparkly, fuchsia sun falling,
As whippoorwill songs clashed with red robin's, midst magenta stars gawking.
I lived in the house of tangy, saturated noon, when flowers were in full glory,
Like the most beautiful day of a woman's life, when a bride she's come to be.
Scarlet, saffron and other hues glittered, within the soulful sector of summer,
As starlings sang songs along my street, and sun rose and retired, a stunner!
Neighbors were nomadized at times, as honeydew moon nestles in new night,
When visiting me on eves of silk and satin, when fresh June was at its height.
Silver clouds were saddled with summer sun, in suddenly days of sweet rose,
Like grey encumbering smoke from autumn fires, when in plum mists it flows.
Raven noon was in green treetops, as the inarticulate ravens were squawking,
And fading time seemed to stand still, but ephemeral moments kept walking.
One day I woke to a gorgeous view from my window, daisies pink and yellow,
In the wide field right next to my house, glowing in the rich, sunshine mellow!
It put such a smile on my face, oh my! Like flocks of pretty blue jays going by,
And I kept seeing daisies everywhere I went, like a pearlescent moon on high!
I beheld African daisies and shasta, and pom pom-like chrysanthemum ones;
Along with fine lustrous gerberas, in all colors found, in wild green kingdoms.
I wondered at my strange, good fortune, in seeing beloved blooms anywhere;
Like the young, butterscotch days when Mother said, 'We're going to the fair!'
For awhile, I saw sweet daisies by day, and it seems I dreamt daisies at night;
Like a brief mystic spell of rapture, when hidden beauty's freed from its plight.