Long Cinquain Poems

Long Cinquain Poems. Below are the most popular long Cinquain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cinquain poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member I Received Bad News Today, Reckoning

I Received Bad News Today, Reckoning

I received bad news today,
	Rather, the bad news I sought.
Thirty years ago, we played.
Attention turned; you walked away.
	Divorce ended, so I thought.

Love was stretched thin to forgive.
	You tried to ease me from my pain.
As friends we could never live.
Let’s start new and not relive.
	Better move on and try again.

I received bad news today,
	Rather, the bad news I sought.
I hoped you’ld be on your way.
But now I am sad to say,
	Your ambitions have all rot.

The news is not well received,
	Deep saddness from what I heard.
How will your children grieve;
How will your parents grieve; 
	The verdict is made and served.

Let’s pray for our reckoning,
	Before passing we are blessed
Summoned to God’s beckoning,
Humbled before our passing,
	And receive our freedom as promised.

I received bad news today,
	Or maybe it’s not so bad,
For the love in what we pray,
Might be answered someday,
	for blessings we never had.

Go in peace, 
Love and forgive.
Pray for His Mercy.
By faith in him so live.
John 3:16-21

Note: The greatest thing I ever heard came from the lips of an incarcerated felon accepting Jesus Christ who said: “I thank God for prison because now I am truly free.”

by,
Martin Braun


Stillness

Stillness
 that momentary pause resilient
  as all the world is drawn into a lull
   where the loud hush of being
simply is culled.

The quiet stillness
 when nothing stirs
  silence rides the trees
   and soft, kinder prayer whispers
haunt us in life's mysteries.

Stillness
 frozen moments in the night
  when dreams take over to be
    the ghostly images formed
live untouched longing to be free.

The quiet stillness
 where time still moves forward
  the hurried world rests in thanksgiving
   focusing on rest unaltered
release from the act of living.




My favorite word contest
for Chantelle Anne Cooke
Stillness 8/17/19
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Saint Peter's Ants

They couldn't have chosen a nest-bed more complex, or vaster. 
I lauded their industry (toiling through Sunday, no qualms!), 
and almost felt guilty for loitering by their pilaster. 
My wife was the hold-up. Those scanty straps were a disaster, 
her shoulders cold-shouldered! Here, there's no right to bare arms. 

Basilicas don't come mightier, or more splendid, than this one: 
Saint Peter's in Rome, High Renaissance, wide-fabled by poets. 
The great Michelangelo crafted this Christian Aswan: 
they've gathered its glories in guidebooks, so no-one need miss one. 
Those frantic ants scampered on legend, but they didn't know it. 

And isn't that rather like us? As we hurry and scurry, 
accomplishing little, accounting ourselves oh so clever, 
ignoring the story (except our immediate worries), 
deploring as boring whatever creates no quick flurry, 
we miss the magnificence dwarfing our petty endeavours.

Premium Member Conflict

conflict
                                          ego's outcome
                                         results in fallacy
                                  sequels to desolation and
                                               distress

       
                                               unsafe
                                       disturbed fervors
                                    craving for resources
                            avarice envelopes and makes
                                             grievous


                                              regard
                                        equal concern
                                brings about happiness
                              humanity unfurls wings of
                                             delight



Placed : 2nd

Traditional Cinquain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Date: 21-04-2023

Premium Member Wind God

Wind god
Boreas- god
Of Winter and North Wind
Swept down from cold northern mountains
of Thrake

He blew
Cold icy gusts
Of breath from bloated cheeks-
Hair and beard spiked with ice, wide mouth
Howling

Sometimes
Seen as horse-shaped
Purple-winged swift stallion,
He swept down on mares, early spring
To sire

Horses
For King of Troy-
Mated with Trojan mares
Fathered the swift, wind-shaped stallions
For him

Athens
Celebrated
Boreas Festivals
Praising him, the god of the cold
North Wind


April 14, 2023

Contest: Traditional Cinquain
Sponsor: Sotto Poet

(Revision of a longer poem posted 12/16/2014)


Premium Member A Sealed Soul

Written: October 12, 2023
Cinquain Poetry Contest                     Sponsored by: Ink Empress   
______________________________________________________

Guile gust
I grasp your gasp
goad grafts gently glowing
the gray grove greenery growing
glean grace

Skies Straight 
I snared your sight
Schizoid swing of Steward
sewn souls spewing as oxblood stems
stark stance

Wince, wight
I've weaned your whiff
the world-wedged wink was wrapped
while not washing down the wild waft
when whet

Froth flow
your frisk frame flits
follow fall foliage
freshly framed flimsy fruity field
faint flame.

Sand stake
of smog steam sieve
you stride in silence steps
by slamming a skulker-shaped slope
spread string.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Sears Tm

Great store,                                                                                               
I grew up with.                                                                                                                    The smell of roasting nuts.                                                                                                   The toy aisles that went on for miles.                                                                                 Closing. 

 

Date Written: 12/13/2020

1 Place
Trademark~~Quintain
Contest Judged:12/31/2020 6:25:00 AM
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick

Premium Member Nature's Great Gift From God

~Natures Great Gift From God~
(A Cinquain Chain)


Nature 
Great gift from God
Trees are nice, important
They give us shade, fruits to eat too
And more

And more
Many nice things
Trees give us paper and
Houses to live in and nice books
To read

To read
Learn everything
Nature is beautiful
All the flowers and plants grow too
In spring

In spring
See deers and frogs
Around forests and ponds
Butterflies dance bees get honey
All day

All day
And night gift from
The Lord winter summer
Spring and fall, beautiful nature
All time.



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012


December.07.2015

Premium Member CRAPSEY'S AMERICAN CINQUAIN exampled DIDACTIC 2

A. INTRO 

AMERICAN CINQUAINS Adelaide's answer to the Japanese haiku

Poems

in shapely form,

displaying syllables

or stresses in a versatile

refrain.


B.DIDACTIC DISCUSSION

TITLE  completely optional

FORMAT

FIRST LETTER OF LlNE CAPITALISED

line  syllables/stresses

1.                             2 Long days
2.                             4 Of August sun
3.                             6 Where nature blinks and shrinks 
4.                             8 The dying grass,yellowed in sleep-
5.                             2 Held fast




 EXAMPLE OF MINE -TITLED


PASSION

Eyes closed
As lips caressed,
Mouths joined,impassioned
Tongues explore,in our love's embrace,
Time-framed

KEY to this form- note how line 1 & line 5 make a  link couplet  & secondly the  'turn' 'surprise'  from  end of line 4  to 5.

My Irresistible Brown Coffee

MY IRRESISTIBLE BROWN COFFEE 

I will drink to your love. 
Start with my brown coffee some forehead kisses
just to show you my abundance of respect
till my lips hyperbolically becomes crested on it. 
I will drink to your love,
Taste the pureness from your lips
just to show my thirst for my coffee
and unify our passion for each other. 
I will drink to your love. 
Caress the shoulders of my cup
just to make her feel my touch 
as I feel her steamy warmth. 
I will drink to your love. 
Grapple like waffle the two points 
where sweet signals strikes sensitivity 
till I become hot or warm like my coffee. 
I will drink to your love. 
My tongue is made to taste it's succulence, 
as I ravel in the softness of your heavyweights
until our souls come in twain and simulate. 
I will drink to your love. 
Reach down to the paths that leads to heaven. 
And when I get to that heaven beneath, 
I'll drink the oceans till we both run wild. 
I will drink to the love of my Brown Coffee. 

Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP} 
Form: Cinq Cinquain 
Copyright© 3rd January, 2023.

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