Long Captions Poems
Long Captions Poems. Below are the most popular long Captions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Captions poems by poem length and keyword.
We mint our saints in neon now,
Their cheekbones cut from screens and static,
Golden calves with fiber-optic veins,
Hoofed in convenience and applause.
They learn to glow before they live,
Learn to bleed without a wound.
Once, holiness arrived on fire—
A thorned voice cracking the ceiling of the skull.
Now it trickles through notifications,
Thin as milk diluted with promotion.
Even martyrs have brand managers.
Even wounds wear makeup.
I kneel before the altar of updates,
My thumbs in constant prayer,
Scrolling for a sign that still has teeth.
Every miracle is sponsored.
Every resurrection comes with terms,
Small print stitched into the shroud.
The dead are louder than the living.
We canonize in real time—
A tragedy, a candle, a trending hymn,
Then on to the next immaculate disaster.
Grief has learned to multitask.
Ash is archived.
Our saints no longer starve in deserts—
They starve in crowded rooms,
Feed on echoes, likes, the clean white crack
Of being witnessed without being known.
Their halos flicker in algorithmic weather,
Shorted by irrelevance.
I want the old ferocity back—
The kind that sears a name into bone,
That does not vanish after thirty days
Like an unrenewed subscription to sorrow.
I want a holiness that indicts me,
Not the soft-focus mercy of forgetting.
We write our sacred lives in disappearing ink,
Hagiographies that refresh and vanish—
Lives reduced to captions under flame.
We are all relics in plastic cases,
Handled without touch,
Venerated without trembling.
And God—if you are still here—
You must be exhausted by our mirrors,
By this choir of self-lit saints
Singing through glass.
Even you, I think, would crave
One unrecorded miracle.
Old ruby glasses
warmed the world to match my wish,
softened every edge.
Staining the panes guilty red,
with light beaming inside me.
I don smart glasses
to smooth away awkward things
with bright white captions—
names, prices, warnings, labels—
until all is declared shamed.
Yet nothing has changed.
The older glass and new code
serve the same old eye.
persuade the incoming light
to return what it answered.
A tree becomes mine:
memory, fear, weather, want,
all falling on it.
The lens never changed the tree;
The bark shows my fingerprints.
Once I took them off.
The world refused to explain
itself to my eyes.
It had yet to find an eye
that could see without glasses
Written: October 28, 2025
I press my palm against your shoulder,
dust-streaked and aged
You unfold before me.
Heat rises from the folds
between the tendon and the tender dough.
I savor a bite of the dough.
reminiscent of the stars I once folded,
now scattered,
akin to lost receipts
in a tempest.
I arrive with my stained skin, as a flyer
marred by hurried typos,
hastily printed
by a restless intern.
Here, I consume you wholly.
A vendor presents grief in palm-sized parcels,
with you wrapped in sensational headlines
That twists the truth.
I swallow every piece of you,
even the mustard staining the captions.
But then the rain begins—my likeness of you blurs,
my ink a wing in flight as a winged creature.
A man in uniform smiles and brushes
the sugar from my scalp
casting it into the tide, a final farewell.
Imagine a woman peeking out from the shower curtain…
Accompanying captions on the side appear
“I asked 100 women what shampoo they preferred?
The #1 answer to my survey was certain,
How’n blankety blank did you get in here?”
Managed perception creates confusion;
the picture plays a neat trick on the brain.
There was no survey, just a joke that's offbeat.
The words and the wordster are in collusion
like men who have an image to maintain.
What appeals to men is her ballyhoo.
Are they looking for shock, dismay or fear?
In the photo, she's a picture of "discreet".
"Survey" has nothing to do with shampoo,
when in doubt, turn his question on its ear -
"Why do they put directions on shampoo bottles?”
Abode of God is Heaven with His grace
Beyond the blue for beauteous worship-praise
Crystal clear midst radiant holiness’ rays…
Distinct against any defilement’s trace.
Elegant in precious jewels’ captions
Fortified by supreme sovereign functions
Glorious along golden paths’ attractions…
Heaven is God’s house with many mansions.
Illuminated by Providence-light
Jubilant forever with no more night
Kindling warm fellowship’s divine might…
Love-brightened is Heaven, flawlessly right!
Marvelous thru His Majesty so wise
Never tainted with deceit’s purest guise
Oh, Heav’n’s peculiar Eden’s paradise…
Perfect place for recipients of Christ’s price!
Quality virtues shine in His domains
Revivals there are magnificence-gains
Spirited hearts’ meeting gladly remains…
Triumph in Heaven* prevails since God reigns!
Dear God,
Thanks so much for loving me, giving Your Son, Jesus Christ Whom I trust to save and redeem me from sin's penalty, granting me eternal life, making me enter heaven and live with You throughout eternity. Keep me trusting in you, in Jesus' name. Amen.
*Nehemiah 9:6 Thou, even thou, art LORD alone; thou hast made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their host...
September 3, 2018
Rhyme with ABC form
4th Place, "Describe Heaven" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Faraz Ajmal; judged on 9/16/2018.
Lip stick and pinned up hair and filters. Pouting and peace signs. Toilet selfie and different floral dresses, the flowers unfurled and colours of passion. Forced expressions and emoji captions. This is what I see on social media.
Who can tell what is real about it, all the girls look the same and they look like girls. They go to the same coffee shops which are all equally unique and similar. They snapchat and show that they are social. The projections are their ideal I suppose and also their tangible reality. I don't know any of them. I met a lot of people in my life but I don't know the people in these photos. I feel disconnected.
I feel like they are trying to tell me something, or the world, or tell their world something. Show all their followers how they are active and free and happy and living and beautiful. Is this a paradox, living in a projection that you control and eliminating your whole self for these moments.
Did you want me to think about you? Do you want to be seen? All I see is lipstick and hair. I don't know you and that makes this feel intrusive. Why are you in my thoughts? You post photos of your friends, I don't know who they are, all I see is lipstick and hair.
Yeh maybe she is hot, and I do like that guys jacket. I was just passing the time pressing the screen of this phone which is a mystical portal to the world, my magical glass ball.
I don't normally pay attention to you. I am usually spending more time on my own projection, but I guess I noticed you today. It was the lipstick, and you had your hair pinned back. I would say hello, if I could remember your name.
The Mane Event - On The Catwalk
And now for something completely different! I invite you to experience this unique blend of music, where this dynamic video brings to life the essence of anthropomorphism, in an entertaining portrayal, highlighting creatures with human-like traits - a total figment of my fertile imagination.
Meet a lion 'With Attitude' so regal and fierce, as he prowls and sets the 'Catwalk' ablaze with his mighty roar, leaving a trail of awe, admiration and respect of the other jungle animals, and capturing the hearts of the lionesses. It's an auditory and visual feast, playing with themes of royalty, bravado, and humour.
Step into the vibrant spectacle of a jungle runway, 'The Mane Event'- On The Catwalk, a Blues Rock anthem bursting with charisma and wit, entertained by an elegantly dressed animal band and set to the gritty and soulful sounds and combines electric guitar riffs with stomping beats and deep, smoky vocals, inspired by iconic figures like the MGM lion. It combines realism with playful, cartoon-like elements set in a fantastical realm.
How does this bold and cheeky lion 'With Attitude' resonate with you? Could you see him becoming a legend on the animal runway?
Follow the lyrics on YouTube CC (closed Captions)
When we build
for everyone,
everyone wins:
The ramp helps
not just wheelchairs
but strollers,
delivery carts,
tired legs.
Captions help
not just deaf ears
but noisy rooms,
second languages,
different processors.
Multiple ways in
mean no one
stands outside
looking through
locked windows
at learning
they can't reach.
Every entrance
leads to the same
beautiful place:
understanding,
belonging,
growth.
Design from the start
for every brain,
every body,
every spirit
that walks
through your door.
Started crashing out
With your picture on the dash
There’s no way I’m catching up
blew my engine trying to get to you
I wasn’t fast enough
Should’ve read the captions huh
Should’ve kept a side piece to avoid the loneliness
I ain’t get no answer trying to count on you
It wasn’t adding up
Hope you stay safe
Ima stay dangerous
I do the dash when i trip
You ain’t hop out the whip
You a crazy ass chick
Im a fool trying to hit
When you pop out the mouth
I’m trying to give you a kiss
I do the dash when i trip
You ain’t hop out the whip
Miss me with that
You ain’t getting back
I can’t count on nobody
Blue faces green fifties
After the bag till it’s with me
The world could get tricky
I pour my heart with some henny
Why these people don’t like me
They always trying to fight me
They know where to find me
It’s always what I say
It boils down to what I sow
Get me off speaker
Tweaking out my destiny
Hang up the phone
Popping out your mouth
Our sex is something
like a ritual
Love me for who I am
And not for my potential
Seem so simple, trivial, these books but aren't.
Firstly, humans are picture people. Always been so.
Young minds forming memory, cognition.
Before kids can read, they can conceive images.
Just not speech or actual words yet.
Feelings, however, do register.
And mirrors do stump babies for a while. Ever notice?
Toddlers do show some preferences in time.
So Granna, ever the observer, was clever
in making up still photo books for each grand.
Thoughtfully captioning each picture for later on.
The books are child size, four by six inches
with clear plastic sleeves for about two dozen photos.
At bedtime, new parents will patiently sit
and read these books to groggy children fighting sleep.
They look and turn pages as parents talk away.
Seeing themselves in photos, they jump. Point. Giggle.
Seeing cousins, uncles, aunts and far away friends
is all important in developing little egos.
Not able to read a single word,
they "pretend read", mumbling. Mimicking.
Memorizing images, refeeling the feelings.
Soon the grands will request the books.
Going over them again and again.
Remembering fun days, becoming part of the tribe.
Once Granna and Granda are gone,
only in the books they'll live on.
Reciting captions, sharing times, places, passed faces,
always carrying the feelings, the indelible conceptions.
Sometimes it elevates to look so very close in.
Gently falling back into moments
when dust has been whisked away by time.