Long Cabin Poems
Long Cabin Poems. Below are the most popular long Cabin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cabin poems by poem length and keyword.
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if mine duke's one
digit's thick
stroll'd
yourn short long
'pick'er up linez'
notwithstand'n
mine think be
"tonight
you are in mine
abode
cabin
hut
shanty
purlieu lady"
tap
Early rain falls gently
like your fingers
running softly through my hair
in our cabin down the valley
The wind breathes lightly
like your lips
treading kisses on my neck
as I keep humming merrily
Crimson poppies bow in silence
whilst I walk down the lane
I cross over the bridge
to cross over again
I watch the Tuscan sun
set down beyond the prairie
I dance in verdant fields
where once met a pink fairy
With eyes full of love
I follow fluttering wings of tiny fire-flies
which glistens in night sky
like little lantern lights
I pass through fragrant vineyards
which pour perfumes of wine
I walk distance and moments
in memory of time
I hold on to a star
which leads me somewhere far
to cobbled winding streets
to wherever you are
To the end of glowing moons
to the still sound of your cry
to a forgotten kite
which keeps freedom
soaring high
To the well of your thoughts
to that soft tender part
to the cascading passion
in the alley of your heart.
...“De people of de modern world
tink dat no rules apply to dem,
dat dey’re too advance for such tings,
dat dey will face no consequence.
“But dere’s always a price to pay,
nothing in dis world can come free,
dere’s sixty million baby souls
who are rising up, and are angry.”
Alex fought to breathe at the words,
part of him still claimed this was mad,
he said, “If I believe your words,
how do we prevent something bad?”
The old man’s face frowned where he sat,
he shook his head side-to-side,
“When de spirits seek deir vengeance,
it is rare dat dey’re ever denied.
“I’d tell dese women dey should pray,
ask God to tell dese babes their regret,
only His power can stop dis,
but most will not hear dis just yet.
“I wish I could tell you good news,
but da pride always leads to a fall,
dese rules were not just suggestions,
now I fear it will claim dem all…”
The old man looked down in his cup,
Alex didn’t know what to ask,
but then a thought occurred to him
and he leapt up to his feet fast.
He remembered an old story
that his mother told him one time,
about wild days in college,
and a baby she chose to decline.
His frantic eyes met the old man
who seemed to know just what he feared,
“It’s to give you a chance to save her…
dat’s why da Big Man send you here.”
Alex tore out of the cabin,
saw his friend there on the air boat,
cried, “Billy, turn the motor on!
There’s no time now, we’ve got to go!”
I know it's hard please grandchildren
standstill
You should have gotten tired after climbing
the hill
to my friend Minerva's country cabin.
Please say hello to her, Althena her little owl,
And her friend Dawn the deer.
We want to make it clear
that we are all thankful for this opportunity
on this spring evening to see the books that
are now open.
We will be the first humans who get to see
the flight of dragons. It won't be much longer
until they will go soaring out of the door in to
the night.
This only happens
When there is a crinkle in time which comes
when the lunar color is ultramarine
giving off an eerie light.
This event won't be a minuscule scene.
It will be shards falling which you will get a
glimpse of as they shatter the older dragons
will replace them with their bodies which will
bestow dust particles of themselves on to the
cascade of raindrops moving in
giving them a gorgeous color of gold.
This will then spread in to a magnificent
ribbon giving us a perfect sunrise
showing us their untimely demise.
As the sun comes up the earth will reflect
before the sun goes to scarlet.
This was the old ones debt
that they paid off for the youngins.
Minerva says this is how it has always been.
I am often underused and often underestimated
a zing of a thing that often goes unheard, unseen
ginger beer is a tonic unlike me it can't be grated
a powerful root so astute, they bring from overseas
The captain gives his orders but I see you Mary Lee
sitting in your cabin drinking tea and writing poetry
flotsam and jetsam are marked on the ship, but me
I float above the rest and so I heal you, Mary Lee
The imp skipped merrily hugging his Jack Daniel
the sun was too hot so he knocked on every door
looking for a bed for him and his invisible Faneuil
she opens it a peep and finds him on the floor
Mr. Gargoyle tie askew in dire need of ginger root
"Oh Dear!" says Miss Lee, your drunk but very cute.
not for contest
I saw a ghostly galleon as it sailed under a sailor’s moon.
The night was a ribbon of darkness, drawing a veil over a sea of
gloom.
Her sails were tattered and torn, her rigging in disarray.
Her watch bell hung in an eerie silence and on a windless sea she lay
The decks were littered and dirty, her rails in disrepair
The cabin door was rotten and broken and left to the ocean air.
A crew of boney sailors and a phantom captain at the wheel.
She sails on a sea to nowhere, a ship whose fate is sealed
We passed her on our starboard side as I felt myself began to fall
Did I really see her, was she really there at all?
Beneath the amber dawn and autumn hues,
a cabin hides where forest touches shore;
its chimney breathes a puff of whitish blue
a sign of warmth behind its worn wood door.
The lake reflects the calm of autumn’s sphere,
as early morning mist hangs in the air;
and ripples, echoing the fading year,
sedately disappear as if not there.
Within the timbered walls a peace resides,
a place to gather thoughts as seasons wane;
I reminisce the dreams my mind confides
and pen the moments of my life’s refrain.
So let me dwell where autumn’s breath is slow
and write the rhymes no summer song could know.
October 21, 2025
Flying ….love or loathe?
Personally….I am a loather
From the beginning to journeys end
I just want it to be over!!
So much waiting is involved in flying
Waiting, waiting and then some more
Great patience and time is required
Just to walk through that plane door
There are passengers who strife to get ahead
Though their seats are going nowhere?
Have half a house in hand luggage
Shoved in overhead compartments everywhere!
Being squashed in between two others
Wedged in a narrow little seat
Desperate to go for a wee in the stinky toilet
Can’t get out as next door is fast asleep!
The cabin air has only two settings
Freezing-cold or Hot-stuffy…..no fresh or breezy
Turbulence is random
Motion sick, scared and oh so queasy!
There are always the general ferals on planes
Nose pickers and those completely without manners
The coughers and splutterers
“The absolute delights” who love to drop silent clangers!
Finally…..the plane is on solid ground
Whole body completely stiff and sore
Brain fogged, weary and feeling quite gross
“Can someone just please open that exit door”?
“Get me out” of this confined germ filled capsule
So I can stand up , stretch, breathe real air
Every flight I swear “This will be my last”
“ I will NEVER again fly anywhere”!
~MyTOPIA~
A sip of tea in my Magic Cup.
A fancy bowl for my little pup.
Faraway from a world corrupt.
I found reason and meaning to reconstruct.
By day I live under the perfect sun.
I relive a life where unhappiness~ is undone.
From the time I opened this door my life slowly begun.
I unlocked the purpose that unites us* all as one*
By night I isolate my dreams in my log cabin.
A pillow case made of, worry free feeling of satin.
My harmony keeps me from thoughts so devil-in.
My moon shines in the river with beautiful waves of medieval Latin.
My island based entirely on reason, of insanity hassle.
A sweet paradise entwined by the meshed flower tassel.
My own fantasy surrounded by a flawless pharrell castle.
Governed by my own golden state temple Utopian idea vassal.
by;p.d.
The snowstorm done, I venture out
from here inside my rented space-
a cabin near the mountainside;
I'm lured by beauty, all about.
How still the air- such quiet calm
the dim-lit moon and stars provide.
But, shadows add a warning sign;
I must respect my inner qualm.
The woods around still beckon me;
snow-laden trees, their limbs consign
a sense of peace, for without doubt-
state of quiescence, guarantee.
Whose woods these are, I think I know-
this sacred bliss, God did bestow.
I wish to venture in- but no!
For now, paths hide beneath the snow.
February 16, 2020
~1st Place~
Contest: Lines To Awaken Your Muse
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 03/02/2020
Inspired by prompt 4:
"Whose woods these are I think I know" - Robert Frost
Required Rhyme Scheme: abca dced feaf hhhh