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.
Recruit Division
I never applied to join the Army, a nice man phoned me,
He said I was the type they liked, with a steel certainty,
Plus he happened to mention the nurses on the way,
And the simple matter of doubling up my pay,
I signed.
So after having passed some sort of fitness tests,
I puffed quite a bit, but certainly tried my best,
I found myself, as many a medic knows,
To the town of Ash Vale, near a certain lady rose,
I’d signed.
Now as I walked, fashionable hair dishevelled,
There ahead of me, was a soldier whose back was upright and level,
So I called out, ‘Sorry to bother you mate, is the way for the Keogh camp gate’?
And the RSM made it very clear, that I would find it and him, certainly quite near,
Now I’d signed.
Within the breath of a watching gnats eye,
My hair was gone, no time to wonder why,
Everything seemed to happen with rapid and specific shouts,
Part of me was now wondering, a modicum of doubt,
Why I’d Signed?
Over the months to follow, each day a tired tomorrow,
I learnt about guns and bangs and running for fun,
Whilst far out on the expanse of the drill square,
A Russian yelled ‘Moy Et’ with a certain disposition,
Signing was my decision.
Now behind that drill square ran the main London line,
So we would be doing things, everything looking fine,
When the London train would pass, thundering on time,
And I tried not to grin at the phrase, ‘I left you in this position’,
Glad I signed.
I discovered a new world of dead fly biscuits,
Often so hungry the compo was worth risking it,
And how far a bed could fly, without seeming to try,
Or how proud I was as my bulled boots, not asking why,
I’d signed.
There was the nine second rule, certainly a gas,
Although they’d not mentioned they would take off the mask,
As each of us fit and healthy blokes,
Laid on the grass, throat burning chocked,
But I signed.
Finally a day arrived, escape from the camp,
Helping my granddad walk up the ramp,
Parents watched on as their son stood up,
Second best recruit, but no second cup,
Proud I’d signed.
Andrew Carnegie, Reminiscing Aldershot, 14th Jan 2017.
Why do I write poetry?
I am sure some people here wonder just why I do!
For my poems were once described as ‘simple’
And to others they are a pile of old pooh
I have learned so much since I started writing
Now I am flying as free as a bird
Despite the ups and downs in my recent life
My poetic ‘voice’ will still be heard
I started writing just two years ago
Now I realise it was a form of stress relief
Since joining soup I’m like a kid in a candy store
A ‘pick n mix’ of poetry - I want to learn more and more
I’ve discovered so many new styles, which one do I chose
Limericks, haiku, rhyme, sonnets
Fabulous fun footles
Alliteration, Abecedarian
Nonets, cinquain, couplets, to name just a few
I can’t believe there are so many forms me to dip into
Many poems have been written to express my emotions
Some works are happy and some are extremely sad
I have a vivid imagination so fiction writes flow from my pen
I might throw a twist in the ending every now and then
Lots are factual poems of things that have really happened to me
An example of this is my run in with that pudding made of sticky toffee!
I endeavour to try and entertain and amuse
But some writes are penned with anger and frustration …
When I’m about to blow a fuse!
I relish the challenges set by the sponsors
I’m more confident and spreading my wings
I love the site of which I am a member
To students at school the site’s praises I loudly sing
But I don’t like the current undercurrent of bad feeling
Now its no names on the poems you’ll see
I’ve never liked names on the contests
But others will strongly disagree
Let sponsors judge the way they feel
We ALL get high or low placements, but let's not make a big deal
The most important thing is that my poems get read
(But of course I like winning, I’m such a bighead) (joke)
Some say my poems are simple
Others may think they are a load of poop
But let me SHOUT this loud and clear
I won’t be leaving poetry soup!
Contest: Why do you write poetry
Sponsor: Jerry Curtis
12~21~15
There is times in my life, that things seem Like nothing matters, when you wake up to darkness your eye's seem like nothing matters. Lightness is the strength of our mercy. We think everything around us is like gold, and find out it is all a darkness that lays in our heart. Attitude come from the person that don't understand you..Confess is something that justify our thought that we carry with in our self..concern is strengthen the person that you step on hers or his feeling and laugh, suffer not that your chance is going to come in a dream that define the feel that makes you powerful from yourself. And others,popular is everything around you that seem like a dream...wake up and see what is around you, and suffer not that we are fighters, and givings. Communication is hard to understand when you are only communication with yourself, how can someone tell you I love you and steal the glory from your heart, confronted everything that blows in the air. And lands in the sand.. and get step on like the parts in the earth that you can't see.. open up my friend and say why me because you are the little one in the earth that no one can see so I explode in the air..help me can you see me I am here crying you said that you are the man and you are just a life that I can't see. Unlimited times that God gave me...battles, are something that we physically experience in are heart..hell stop forcing wounds in my heart, Vengeance is unlimited combat is a opportunities some of us don't get, thousands weaken on earth, peace is what ever one of us cry for..some of us are terrified to say help stop the pain that comes over me. Fighting is something that falls deep with in yourself, stop,look,walk in the light yet you can't reach opening the heaven, and recognize that there is another way, appearance is what we all fight for. But we do not understand why it weakens when you have the power of life..Be silent but you are to loud to be heard. Accept me for who I am forgiveness for those who know life,vengeance is something that each and ever one of us knows.
Tis cold this night so love clear starry sky behold rainbow around moon above so bold The walk in snow tis bright no path not yet we talk frosty vapors intwine in flight then caught The fire from hill come sleighs children bound to conspire the mood now dire first kiss to weigh transpires
The chase!
A dream career
Purpose, prepare, pursue
Be the best you can be, plus more
Pause, rest
Now, full speed ahead, lay your claim
Believe and assume not
It is your turn
Take it!
042820PSCtest, Let the Pens Flow - Butterfly Cinquain,
Jenish Somadas. 9 lines. Syllable count of the lines -
2 / 4 / 6 / 8 / 2 / 8 / 6 / 4 / 2
A shaman priestess
Is deep in thought
Engaged in Meditation
on the fate
Of the earth
She is deep in the cosmic woods
In the world between worlds
Where she is communing
With the spirits of the universe
Who listen to her tale of woe
She tells them
Of the rise of the neo fascists
And the refusal to address
The possible end of the world
Due to run away climate change
She prays and prays
And finally
She receives an answer
More a prediction
It is all up to humans
She has two visions
Of a possible future
Two contrasting visions
One a dystopian nightmare
The other an optimistic vision
The first
The neo fascists
Seize control
And usher in a dystopian nightmare
That ends with utter destruction
Nuclear war
Nuclear winter
Ends climate change
As civilization ends
And mankind retreat to caves
And it happens
In a blink of an eye
In less than five years
The world will end
Game over civilization ends
The second vision
The optimistic vision
Humanity wakes up
From their collective night mare
Throws off the neo fascist cabal
And begin to change the world
Making the economy works
For all of us
Not just the corrupt 1 percent
The so-called masters of the Universe
They are overthrown
In a people’s power revolution
All over the world
People wake up
Demand change
And slowly the world
Begins to recover
And overcome
The dark hours
Of the present age
The shaman priestess
Returns home
To spread the word
It up to us
To choose our fate
The end is indeed near
It is darker than you think
But it is not over yet
If we choose the path
Of the cosmic light
And overthrow
The neo-fascist cabal
And restore democracy
And peace will break out
And all will end well
If not
Well she says
You have been warned
The universe has spoken
So, mote it be
april 16 poem for April Poetry Challenge
AMERICAN CINQUAINS
Poems
in shapely form,
displaying syllables
or stresses in a versatile
refrain.
Created. by both Adelaide Crapsey & William Soutar
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT-a quintile(LINKED cinquains)
We had
met and conversed,
a rapport on first sight-
a chance meeting to a life's time
delight
that
Summer
evening silken,
long..an encounter of
initiations together
explored
as
Desire
welled within-
words became a promise
so sublime,to love now and for
all time.
MY FONDEST MEMORY
My love
Beguiled me,with
Soft sensuous lips,sleek
Long thighs with rounded hips,twinned heart's
Enlaced
with
Eyes closed
As lips caressed,
Mouths joined,impassioned
Tongues explore,in our love's embrace,
Time-framed
in the
The warmth
Of love's invite
Encompassed my desire,
In two soft whispered words of love,
Be mine !
ANOTHER QUINTILE
Long days
Of August sun
Where nature blinks and shrinks
The dying grass,yellowed in sleep-
Held fast
as
Oat grass
Tinted old gold
Shimmers on tall green stems;
On a clear warm light of evening sun-
Back-lit
the
Brimstone
Awakens,then
From each flower hovers
On the drying wind of the breeze-
Sun-lit.
CINQUAIN EPIGRAM
Beauty
free from above
embedded in our heart-
His loving-kindness ..ready to
impart
THE TRIO
These be
the keys to life,
faith,hope and agape,
love,the greatest gift of all three-
to thee !
L1 is the opening line to TRIAD
the American Cinquain by Adelaide Crapsey
MISTAKES
Hurry
Takes its toll as
In our daily stroll,we
From deepest ruts of blind alleys
Quicken.
THE CINQUAIN untitled
How slight
The petal of
A poppy,flowering-
So much like us,beautiful,yet
Fragile.
Remember those LOVE tunes I sang to you?
Wait, I know we need to talk
Don't leave stay in my heart.
You know we both said things last time we wish
We could take back
We don't need to chat.
We need intimate conversation.
You were jealous when all I did was say HELLO.
We still have each other.
It seems so long ago, that first time.
We met in the hall after jazz class.
You blew me away with every word you said.
We can be there again.
You said We'll probably love each other to much.
With just a gentle touch
This is so INTENSE.
I'm asking you to stay and experience more
Intensity be more entranced with me
Simple tear drops from lovely eyes she cried.
We are two lucky people.
What we have is SENSUALITY
A lust for love
Lovely as she does slay me
With her passion
Just a little so and so and a touch of some such and such
Don't rush this love
Wait .....stay.....
Maybe it's changed between us
Love means something different.
Should we risk another chance?
On Any other day the answer would be
"For our lives sake each mistake and we forgave.
Remember that jazz
Never had To save our love for other times
You know we relate
You know if you Run i'll catch you.
So i figured you want more than love
Now a-Days love comes with rules, I can comprehend that
Its a relationship set on cruise
I promise i won't forget the love rules you've set
I swear you wont regret being by My side
Stay....don't Walk away Stay......and we'll listen to
Some Thelonious Monk, Chick Corea or any you want.
Take my hand baby, let's find out what we really mean to one anthers
I'll bath you in Jasmine scent replay
Please stay my heart adores you
Stay
VIGNETTE FORM an example
In the base motor pool
See an off-limits card school-
A scheming Bilko takes the pot
Hoodwinking top brass was his game,
Fast talking his claim to fame.
Vignette=a 5 line light verse that tells a short story some further examples as below
VIGNETTE-ALL OF A ZITHER
Across Vienna's old town
In a sewer underground,
They tracked down..Harry LIme,
A Third Man in a crime-
To music so sublime.
VIGNETTE -ON THE BEACH
Prone,lying side by side
Lapped by an ebbing tide,
Together upon passion's ride-
In love's embrace enlocked
This watershed,no longer shocks.
ADELAIDE CRAPSEY-IMAGIST
A well travelled lass named Adelaide
Innovative and never staid,
Unmarried,single but no old maid-
A short life,latterly full of pain,
Her epitaph,the American cinquain.
Tribute vignette to Adelaide Crapsey,the American creator of the Cinquain form
VIGNETTE- STRINGS & HARPS
A vaporetto upon the sea
A love departs that could never be-
Tears trickle down face,
Mahler played at his slowest pace,
Langsum,adagietto-slow.
Scene from Death in Venice
A EULOGY-VIGNETTE
William,lived and died in Perth
Buried now in Scottish turf-
Diarist,poet extraodinaire
I do declare...lived a life of pain
Yet..lasting fame lies in his cinquain
tribute to my favourite Scottish poet -William Soutar note
my book of over 100 of his cinquains FLOWERS OF LIFE (isbn 1 903203 473)@ 25$ remains available to buy
Vignette-FILLED WITH THE SPIRIT
Immersed in the Jordan,flowing fast
In readiness for an awesome task
The Spirit descended like a dove
This man here is my beloved-
He still baptises from above
Full story at Math 3:16/17
A month ago I fell into a kettle of soup that was hot.
Many chefs to stir the broth, and I've met quite a lot.
I grew curious about what made the soup so unique
So I thought I'd get busy reading poems to take a peek.
I'm used to my native gumbo, which has a thicker base,
but this soup is simmered with ingredients from every place.
I've sampled and I've tasted and I'm loving all the flavor
Of so many wonderful writings that I'm learning to savor.
I'm impressed with the meat some good cooks throw in here.
There are a few who'd like to add too much spice, I fear.
Sometimes a little pinch of salt is tossed in for good measure,
and it's beginning to have an aroma that gives me pleasure.
It's said that too many cooks will often spoil the broth
But I've not seen the evidence of a mouth oozing froth.
I have witnessed those who one might consider flakes.
Come on, where's your sense of humor...for goodness sakes!
I discovered forms of poetry, the likes of which I'd never seen,
Cinquain, tanka, and those that fit somewhere in between.
I'd like to try my hand at them before going to my grave.
It would mean leaving my rhyming zone, to which I'm enslaved.
Maybe I should just make up a new form all on my own.
I need to take a Zen moment, for my wits I'll need to hone.
In addition to its name I'll need to determine how it goes.
To rhyme or not to rhyme. Will it be free verse or maybe prose?
I'm open to all suggestions from anyone within the loop.
Let's find a new form of poetry to sweeten our Poetry Soup.
No suggestion would I ever consider too outrageous or too silly.
So lay them on me, Soupers. Do you think I'm serious? Really?