Long Category Poems
Long Category Poems. Below are the most popular long Category by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Category poems by poem length and keyword.
The soul is a complicated thing
It can be filled with joy and laughter one moment
And filled with a feeling of utter despair the next
It's the most mysterious of human traits
It can take the smallest thing to make the pendulum swing
Some happenings can effect our moods more than others
But we are strong enough to overcome them
I'm afraid I don't fall into the that category
My ups and downs can be quite extreme at times
Very extreme highs and very extreme lows
I try my hardest not to be too sensitive
But for people like me, it's nearly impossible
It's inherent in who I am
Perhaps this is what allows me to write
To express my feelings
I often disguise the true inner me with humour
It's my way of coping
But my life would be missing a major part
Without my friends to share my poetry
Thank you all!
© Jack Ellison 2014
dusts of attic enter my soul
heavy with old notes length- wise,
etching memories from burnt coal
as past chapters return for sighs.
And goodbyes flash across gray skies
seeking whispers this soul soon dwells,
in reveries of eve’s tossed dyes;
when time housed magical spells
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The Itty Bitty Contest Andrea Dietrich
*Hutain form: 8 Lines, mix of 7- 8 syllables per line with
rhyme scheme ababbcbc ( the more popular type)...
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Placed under verse category
Grace was born with Erb’s Palsy, it's a nerve condition,
Which means she struggles with her arm and shoulder,
But now she’s a rower LTA mixed cox four, Paralympian,
Coming from Sheffield, training at Caversham, boulder.
For her dissertation with the hearing University of Leeds,
She wrote about how the mass media portrays disability,
And so found out about a SportsFest which had leads,
A sports talent day which could forward her sports destiny.
The GB rowing team continually called Grace, contacted,
So she decided to give it a go ‘cos she was unemployed,
And in the Legs, Trunk and Arms category she was stated,
And has never looked back with all her happiness deployed.
With rowing mates sometimes of MBE holder Pamela Relph,
James Fox, Dan Brown, Oliver Hestor or Oliver James,
She enjoys the team challenge which gives her total health,
Also trains with Nottingham Rowing Club to make her aims.
In 2014 and 2015 at the Worlds in both Holland and France,
Grace’s team came in first position giving the primal scream;
In 2015 at the World Cup in Varese in Italy’s canal dance,
Her team returned with the gold and lived the envied dream.
And they did it again in Rio when they won again the gold,
Grace’s original coach was Dez Atkins, currently Tom Dyson,
She rises early to row in the morning waters extremely cold,
And so eats a 2nd breakfast of eggs from the chef’s kitchen.
BLACK AND WHITE
The skull and crossbones, in black and white
Recognised by all as pirates on the high seas
For many innocent victims, it caused a fright
Ordered on deck to get down on their knees
Sometimes, crew and others never survived
Booty taken and all such evidence destroyed
The pirates’ discipline was seen as contrived
With fair shares all round that they enjoyed
Then there was a new category of freebooter
With a royal grant to steal the enemy’s gold
But still, in the end, everyone was a looter
Some was kept for themselves, we are told
But in the first truly worldwide merchant fleet
That distinctive flag or ensign was an exemplar
Sailing under holy orders, and quite discreet
Vessels that belonged to the Knights Templar
What on earth is more important than love
Don't think you can name me a single thing
It keeps the old world spinning round and round
That's the way it is, that's the way it has always been
Can you imagine a world without love
It's surely not somewhere I'd wanna be
Ship me off to the heavens to explore other worlds
This would no longer be home to me
Always been a lover, not a fighter
But I guess it's part of the human condition
Good or bad, agree or disagree, it's who we are
We are either happy and content with life
Or we're unhappy and hate the hand we've been dealt
Thankfully, I've been blessed and am in the former category
I live and love life to the fullest every single day
Each moment is precious, to be enjoyed
Our final day is a mystery, it's unknown to us
Sure wouldn't want to know that day anyway
Could you imagine the feeling of dread as it drew near
The days dwindling down, getting fewer and fewer
That's when love is most important
To be surrounded by caring family and friends
That's when we surely would know
The all importance of love
© Jack Ellison 2014
With intention, I walk into the laundry room to get what was it now,
Let’s see, looking around ~ I know it will come to me somehow.
I’ll resolve this, so back to the kitchen, I carefully retrace my path,
It strikes me, I need some bleach, its like solving a problem in math.
Every morning I gather the newspaper and sit down to have a read,
Eagerly I open the paper, now where are the reading glasses I need.
After searching countertops, tables and finally deep inside my purse
I find my multi-coloured magnifying glasses as I give out a quiet curse.
I seem to be tired all the time but when I hit the bed I just can’t sleep,
Finally I drift off after a soothing bath, sipping hot milk and counting sheep.
No sooner I’m asleep when the pain becomes so intense, again I’m awake,
My hip hurts, my shoulder aches ~ oh someone shoot me for pity’s sake.
My conversations don’t include the word old any more because that’s me,
Feeling young but according to Denny’s I am a senior, in the upper category!
Caught in limbo with age, it seems somewhere between heaven and hell,
Pay full price for the bus and a movie, but I can eat for less at Taco Bell.
My knowledge and skills lose their relevance to my ever independent kids,
Along the way we’ve switched from teacher to student, we’ve changed grids.
Now retired I have time to walk and exercise but my joints limit the amount,
My metabolism has really changed, seems all food has a triple caloric count.
Are there benefits to being a senior, having to take drugs, I don’t condone,
Maybe being able to watch my family grow and mature with lives of their own
Because now, I am the storyteller, keeping the traditions of our family alive,
The elder who outlines what we stand for, guiding our history as we thrive.
Written July 28, 2012
For Nancy Jones’ contest
This is how life feels when you get to be my age
I can't explain just how
I feel.
I know my heart will never
Heal.
If you could see what I
See.
What just could never
Be.
I was a part of a
Whole.
Now I have a wounded
Soul.
My wound is not healing
Well.
There are things my mouth
Will not tell.
The mask I wear,
I try to smile.
Even if it's for a little
While.
I can see you in a
Crowd.
I holler your name out
Loud.
People stare and my smile
Shows the pain.
I could buy a ticket on the
Crazy train.
My laughter comes from a
Broken soul.
Being your other half made
Me whole.
My heart surrounded by
The darkness.
You're so cold and seem so
Heartless.
The memories haunt and
Torture me.
It's either depression or
Anxiety.
Mental anguish, my soul lives
In torment.
A Category five life changing
Event.
Turbo1904
Lost in a maze of dreams
where nothing is as it seems,
- but then again, it never really was -
My heart is held captive behind an image,
one
of ghosts past
why do you leave me,
so tangled inside
reaching beyond this reality for,
sanity and peace of mind?
Set these vines that bind
free,
release them from my soul
____________________
Author's Note~ I am not one to dwell in the deep and dark, shadows of nevermore. However, these emotions did touch my being many years ago. They held my heart.
Also, I was asked if I could post something here in this category.
September 1st, 2018. ~ Poem of the Day
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
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An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
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In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
It's a mystery to me. The meaning and identifying particles of DNA that ancestors passed along to me. It's been said we have many colors on our paint bed, but still I can't fit in with any that lack or have melanin. It's this weird idea I don't belong because I can't speak the spoken languages of any of my native tongue. I have never taken in views of traveled lands, that share any of my history's past blood relation. I don't piece well with many or any groups. I don't walk side by side with any race, no flag feels I am worthy to hold its place. No, my appearance didn't make the cut, why? It appears my roots weren't deep enough. No, my skin was never toned always in a category of pigmentation on my own. No classification to confirm is mine. I'm always cast aside, because I wasn't anyone's idea of a specific race representing its people's pride. I'm just a Mix. I can't figure out which bubble to pick, those questionnaires always got me sick, like who do you feel you most identify with? The truth is, No one. I have never. The fact is it's all rigged. Honestly, we can do better. Having a community that backs you, should not be based on color, ethnicity, kinky or straight edges attached to you. It's lonely on this color or should I say colorless grid. Sometimes I want to be one full bubble, but I am not, I am a mixed kid who can't seem to find a community built on open-mindedness. If only we were colorblind, and judgment free, the more the lonely and hopeless would have a sense of unity.