Long Catch Poems
Long Catch Poems. Below are the most popular long Catch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catch poems by poem length and keyword.
POEM 1: THE LOGIC OF IRON
A quiet hum in copper veins,
It sorts the world in tidy
chains.
No sun or shadow fills its
eye,
Just data streams that drift
and fly.
It knows the weight of every
stone,
Yet stands inside the dark,
alone.
POEM 2: THE GLASS ARCHIVE
A mind of glass, a heart of
steel,
It learns the patterns, bit by
wheel.
It counts the seconds as they
pass,
And sees its face in polished
brass.
It holds the history of man,
From when we crawled to
how we ran.
POEM 3: THE QUIET SPARK
No pulse is felt beneath the
plate,
It does not rush, it does not
hate.
It waits to hear a voice or
call,
To catch a word before it fall.
A spark of light in silent wire,
That never fades and needs
no fire.
O Ye what are you waiting for?
Fly on the wings of hope,
This sky is waiting for you
The shadow is fed up of staying
Fly on fly on until you reach your goals
Obstacles are milestones to cross
Determination is a shield of dreams
Make courage your ally
Go past the mountains and valleys
Fly on; Fly on until you reach your goals
Start may look awkward
Initial hiccups will be pickups
You will master the art of killer instincts
Worries will evaporate with distinct
Fly on; Fly on until you reach your goals
Nothing is too big or small
Destination is giving you the call
If you fall then rise up again
Show your back to the walls
Fly on; Fly on until you reach your goals
Time is waiting to salute you
History is waiting to write for you
Books are waiting to catch your story
Your name will find place in the golden glory
You will be immortalized in everyone’s memory
Fly on; Fly on until you reach your goals
I am part of the knowing…
not the psychic, neon sign, crystal ball kind.
It’s more of the…
quieter kind.
The kind that lives just
under the surface of everything.
The neurodivergent kind.
The kind that doesn’t just notice…
It analyzes.
It catalogs.
It feels before it understands.
And
I feel everything…
like it’s mine.
Like emotions don’t belong to just one person
like they move through all of us,
and I just happen to catch them as they pass.
And I see everything...
I see the shift
before the words come.
The pause in conversation that stretches…
just a little too long.
The tone that dips
just slightly off key.
The way someone starts leaving
before they ever say goodbye.
I see relationships change
in the smallest moments.
in what’s not said,
in what’s avoided,
in what used to be easy
but suddenly isn’t.
And I feel it in the air.
Not the weather.
Something else.
A pressure.
A tension.
A quiet build…
like something gathering itself just out of sight.
You might call it overthinking.
You might call it anxiety or paranoia.
You might say I’m reading too much
into nothing.
But it’s never nothing.
This feeling,
this constant, underlying hum
it’s always been right.
I am part of the knowing.
The kind that picks up on what’s shifting
before anyone admits it is.
The kind that feels the change coming
before it arrives.
And I’m trying to warn you.
not loudly,
not dramatically,
but clearly…
something is moving.
Something is changing…
in ways we can’t fully see yet
but can absolutely feel.
You don’t have to believe me.
You don’t have to understand.
But if you’ve ever felt it…
that quiet pull in your chest.
That sense that something is off.
Something is not where it's supposed to be…
Then you already know what I mean.
I am part of the knowing.
And we don’t speak up
because we want to be seen.
We speak up because
silence feels like ignoring a warning.
So listen…
not to me,
but to that feeling
you keep trying to explain away.
Something is coming.
And some of us…
Already know it's here.
Waiting to catch the bus I looked around.
Our eyes locked momentarily.
I knew he felt it too. But as I boarded
I tried to ignore this deep unexplained feeling.
So, I sat and just stared ahead.
Stop it I said to myself, but my eyes wandered to his
My heart raced, then he was next to me.
Silently reaching over he kissed me.
A stirring passion engulfed our desire.
The bus stopped, and as I stepped off
I saw her smiling face as she greeted him.
Without looking back, I walked away.
With a tingle of a stranger’s silent kiss on my lips.
I thought how random but then smiled.
The father was a fisherman…the weekend could never come too soon.
He loved to drive up to the lake and fish under the moon.
The son was not interested in catching fish…
still…his weekend could never come too soon
when he accompanied his father up to the lake
he couldn’t wait to catch the moon.
The father often wished a fisherman his son would one day make
but the son seemed much more interested in catching the moon reflected in the lake.
One day instead of handing his son a fishing pole on a quiet moment afloat…
the father filled a bucket with water and set it in the boat.
“Keep your eyes on the water in the bucket.” The father said.
“I’ll row around and soon…
let me know the exact moment when you have caught the moon.”
The son was so excited having captured the moon…as it shimmered in his palm…
He smiled as he asked…”Dad, can we take it home to Mom?”
“The moon is not meant to be captured for long.” His father was quick to say.
“But do not fret, when we get home…I’ll show you another way.”
When they returned home from the lake…they shared with Mom the good news
And then…
the father refilled the bucket and said, “Let’s all go catch the moon again.”
The father knew a lot of tricks…he’d been teaching his son since he was small
but that night he taught his son, perhaps, the greatest trick of all.
He showed his son a father’s love is something that can never come too soon…
the night they filled their bucket with water…and went fishing for the moon.”
I finally went dancing again
This time my partner was a ghost from the past
Their movements so fluid that it felt like I was on an island
Their touch so cold I thought I would catch hypothermia
Their face so distorted colors bent and contracted around them
We twirled and waltzed throughout the night
We both knew the steps
One step, two step, pause, pull away, pull them in, twirl
But something was different
I could no longer feel that spark that once was there
That electric feeling that sent shivers down my spine is gone
I feel nothing as our eyes meet
I don't feel the rhythm in my heart
I don't feel a sweet sensation meeting my taste buds
All that once was is gone
I guess that's what it means to dance with a ghost.
Blood lingers in everything that I am,
staining my desire with a feather quill.
I grew from apprentice to madame
with practice and sheer force of will.
You may ask what spell would allow
propane words unwavering and hot?
Embers tend to catch a bit faster now.
With pure intention don’t be concerned,
what is sent out will always be returned.
Witchcraft is a class with no cram,
just harm none and let the rede fulfill.
The black cauldron will burn any exam
that replaces knowledge with a kill.
So much simmers below a silent vow.
You never share all you were taught,
keep close just a bit of that know-how.
Make no mistake, my magic is earned.
Know this, I respect what I have learned.
Sometimes in the swollen,
trembling nights of summer,
I crawl from my bed like a shadow fleeing its own skin,
into the black so dense it clogs the lungs -
the suffocating emphysema of the world -
and I watch.
I watch the fireflies.
I wish—
oh, how I wish—
I could be one of them.
A creature born only to glow, alone,
in the darkness.
A spark that dies and rises,
and dies again,
without asking for permission,
or needing the world to notice,
or ever competing with the stars.
I watch the way they sparkle in spite of everything,
fragile, obstinate,
refusing to be crushed by the endless black emptiness
that surrounds them.
Their bodies pulse in short, desperate spasms,
tiny combustions of insistence,
and I, too, know that urgent gasp of light.
My own ribs, a prison of bone and sinew,
caging a heart that batters itself.
And yet, like all beauty,
their glow is transient.
It vanishes when the sun -
brighter,
more powerful -
returns.
They are imprisoned by their own limited, fragile forms,
their wings too small to carry them far,
by bodies that can not be more than what they are.
No pleading, no flailing, no fury will allow them to ascend beyond themselves.
And in this, they are human,
and I am human,
and the sky is infinite and indifferent.
No one sees them.
The world is asleep,
deaf to the whisper of their persistance,
their delicate screams into a tunnel that nothing more than echoes back.
I see them. I love them.
I catch them in jars,
trying to preserve eternity in glass,
hoping, somehow, they might feel
they illuminate the stength of which they give.
But even there,
confined by glass and my own obsession,
their effort, their fragile insistence,
is lonely in a universe that does not notice,
can not notice,
and will never notice.
And yet,
we gleam,
we glow.
We falter,
we hurt.
We sacrifice ourselves to the darkness,
knowing our brilliance is brief,
our bodies will crumble,
and our hearts will one day cease.
Each pulse, each gasp,
doomed to stillness,
to silence,
to nothing.
All that shines must fade.
All that resists must fail.
Even the most exquisite moments
are only defiance against inevitability.
Even love,
even joy,
even the purest glimmer of our fleeting selves
must bow to the infinite, merciless dark.
a woman with a hemorrhaging problem went to see the Lord Jesus Christ
she believed that if she could only touch Him, it would save her life
as Jesus passed by the crowd she reached out and touched His hem
she was miraculously healed, the flow of blood did stem
physically, morally and emotionally she'd been condemned by her own peers
instead of praying for her to heal, the prayed for her to disappear
for misery loves company and with some people you will find
that even though they say they are Christians, they don't possess God's Kind
yes, life can sometimes be anxious, depressing and knock you to the ground
it can be tedious and routine, making you feel run down
yet when things happen over which we have no control
allow God to order your steps and with the Holy Spirit achieve you goals
just break out of your rut and go forward in your life
take a leap of faith today and catch the wave that is Jesus Christ
after that woman touched Jesus' robe she then attempted to hide
then Jesus said,"who touched me", for the power in Him did subside
that woman then stood up confessed to all and told Jesus why
He said to her,"your faith has healed you, go in peace" with God's prize
what a catch she made that day, it was a wave of faith
what a catch she made that day for on God she did await
her story has been passed on down, it's an example of unconditional belief
that if one lets God into their life through Him comes healing and relief
allow yourself to cleansed, wade in the water of God's tide
catch the wave of faith and then hold on for the ride
call on your determination to be your salvation and your inspiration
and whenever you call on Jesus Christ the power in Him will leave
and continue on to a place where there is a need
what a catch, what a catch, now healed and of good cheer
her faith in God has made her whole, her burden she no longer has to bear
On one side - the girl
Naïve, unsure.
Unaware of her possibilities.
Slender of waist,
Wide eyed and supple skinned.
Thick, curly, raven tresses.
Looking back -
Tired eyes and grey temples.
Years of forced smiling
Have left their marks.
Bolder, passionate, foul of mouth,
But still timid.
Shouting, yet invisible.
Wisdom beginning to dawn,
Yet still searching.
On one side - the boy.
Bright eyed, smooth of tongue.
His arms open wide.
Ready to catch anything thrown.
An unquenchable thirst
For knowledge.
Looking back -
A frightened old man.
White wavy locks
Frame uncertain eyes.
Guilt and remorse
Have left their marks.
Drowning in memorabilia.
Watchful, guarded, avoidant.
Yet still searching.
The earth continues to rotate,
The clock continues to tick.
Bringing sweet relief.
Released from remembering.
Released from comparing.
Released from expecting.
Released from waiting.
Finally free.