Long Citing Poems
Long Citing Poems. Below are the most popular long Citing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Citing poems by poem length and keyword.
When thinking of me,
I find myself of two distinct minds.
When thinking of me,
I don't know which to listen to.
One is confident, filled with strength.
I take care of myself,
so that I may take care of others.
I spend time the way I wish,
with those whom I wish,
and where the group wishes.
One is pathetic, filled with confusion.
I have no idea why not one
will let me take care of us, of her.
I spend time imagining spending time,
with one who shares my thoughts,
one that my heart desires.
When a soft song plays
and I imagine what could be,
I wonder at why I can't seem to pair
two minds into one.
Whether those be my two minds,
the strong and the sad -
or whether those be mine and another's;
both seem beyond my ken.
It's difficult to reconcile
one half that feels as though
I'm doing everything right,
continuing to be me, to live -
with the half that feels as though
I've never figured it out;
my longest liaison a matter of months, in twenty long years -
who am I to know or speak of love?
Part of me knows 'tis only occasional melancholy,
and yet it rears its head more often these days.
I've never been truly alone,
friends and family always my guides - and yet.
I know I treat passion with reverence,
and a lover with great respect - and yet.
I know I work to compromise and hold on,
to enchant and live every moment - and yet.
Poetry is said to melt hearts and connect minds,
and yet even that can't surmount whatever I face.
'Tis directly from the soul, the spirit, the everlasting,
'tis the greatest beauty I can create - and yet.
Electrifying and terrifying,
amazing and terrible, it ranges the spectrum.
I see awful men abusing but still possessing it,
and I've never been called an awful man.
And yet.
The first mind wonders why it's even a problem;
live your life, and she will come, or she won't.
Thinking about it causes naught but worry,
worrying about it naught but sadness.
And yet.
My friends say they don't like
seeing the second mind rear its head, not one bit;
citing me bringing a smile to others' faces,
and how I should be proud of that, at least.
And yet.
I know I should enter the blanket's folds,
a new, perhaps better day waiting at the other side.
After a night of dreadful thinking and painful writing,
a respite, a relief, a required and rightful rest.
And yet.
We were extremely delighted when we picked up the keys to our brand new house and starting at the front door, we made slow anticipative steps desirous of testing the key making sure it was correctly made. But to our utter surprise, it did not fit in the keyhole, and we were left outside our new house like house-citing strangers admiring all the landscape and beautifully designed exterior. Although my wife was calm and patient, I was steaming hot in the dead of winter sending out smoke signals both from heat and cold with unspeakable emotions which were overwhelmingly joyous just seconds before. What now and what was I suppose to do? How does one go from 'cloud nine' to free-fall far below the clouds in milliseconds? Not only did the key not fit, but I wondered if there might be some other surprises waiting for us on the inside. Although I pretended to be at ease, my wife was reading the 'waves of intolerance' forming inside of me. My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a quick peek through the key hole never imagining that I would observe such disappointing craftmanship.
That peek filled my emotional cup to overflowing and left me angrier, devastated, frustrated, most utterly confused, and my imagination grew more bewildered when I considered what it must really look like beyond the peek hole. This entire venture of home building was supposed to fulfill our quest and life-long dream of a brand new home, but it appeared that our dream was rapidly turning into the greatest nightmare by the aid of a peek hole. We wondered what revelations lie behind curtain number three or the fourth peel of the banana.
My wife suggested we get another peek from the back, and you guessed it, "The beat goes on". In our view from the front peek hole, we only looked toward the walls and ceilings, but instinctively my wife looked down toward the floors and the nightmare grew bigger. My already painful headache took on 'jet propulsion speed with the beat of the wildest rock band. Water was every where because the furnace had been left off causing the pipes to freeze and brake. Smiles and peace were nowhere to be found as my lovely wife began to cry. The beat goes on but .......
12312018PoSoupContest, Slap The Muse And Turn It Loose, John Lawless *Fictitious Narrative
I also feel blasé today February 19th, 2024
Linkedin to being lax,
and shirking house cleaning tasks,
which negligence cost us
(yours truly and the missus)
a golden opportunity
to relocate to Hillcrest Village
in Boyertown, Pennsylvania
another HUD subsidized property
under the aegis of Grosse and Quade,
one of the larger residential
property management firms
in the Delaware Valley.
Physical unwellness
(insync with racing heart) arose
because Kathleen Bergen
the new property manager
here at 2 Highland Manor
voiced absolute zero positive feedback,
upon taking lock, stock, and barrel
of appalling living conditions,
her blistering vocalization
(from wuthering heights)
translated as a foregone conclusion
against our hopes
pinned on moving into
two bedroom apartment
referenced above topmost lines.
Said plummeted disappointment
(courtesy blunt admission
out the mouth of
(humpty dumpty sat on a wall)
frumpty recent hire
identified in a previous poem
as new warden)
verbosely predicated upon
gross appearance of living space
immediately dashed cautious optimism
citing unkempt state
within no crater than
moonwalking unit b44,
whereby we wished to skadaddle
far away from obligation
to be mindful of rules and regulations
codified within a binding lease.
Unlikely home ownership
will ever come to pass,
nor the lesser prospect
to rent more spacious domicile
larger than a one bedroom apartment,
no bigger than a bread box
den me and the missus,
(a hen pecking spouse)
might befriend Bugs Bunny,
who might guarantee
adequate sized rabbit hole
constituting large enough wonderland
receiving stamp of approval
courtesy Alice in Chains
subsidized lodging money back
plus additional warren tee
granted by Mister Michael Fox,
who took me back to the future,
when the pace of life
plodded along at leisurely rhythm.
Only within outer limits
realm of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
inch along edge of night
(while two thumbs and index finger
belonging to separate good sports
grab hold the furcula
(or wishbone) structure
formed by the ventral fusion
of the right and left clavicles
and the median interclavicle
silently mouth invocation)
holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena
moored, harbored, and docked
awaiting lucky recipient,
whose merrythought bestowed
upon he/she, they/them.
Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse:
The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were
killed.
The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860.
To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!”
The Ill-Fated Lighthouse
The towering light that threw
Its friendly beams afar
Over the foaming waves,
The sailor’s guiding star,
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms
Where late it bless’d his sight,
As homeward bound he came
In the dark hour of night.
The thundering surges swept
Over the rocky bed,
From which the lighthouse rear’d
Aloft its flaming head.
And lo! They bore away
In that mad fearful hour,
The work that man had made –
The tempest’s rightful dower
And yet a richer freight
The heaving billows bore,
Than wreck of perished Light!
For tossing to the shore
The drench’d and lifeless forms
Of youthful dead there were,
Two brave and manly hearts
That sadly perish’d there!
Farewell ye faithful ones!
Your memory shall live,
While feeling hearts remain,
Pity’s sweet drops to give,
Or any to recount
The terrors of that night,
When the drear sea engulf’d
The hapless beacon light.
And you, ye rushing waves!
Sweep – foaming, sweep along,
And ever as ye go,
Lift high your noisy song;
For thou, remorseless sea!
Maketh all things thine own!
Then send aloft your tune,
And madly thunder on.
Nine lives removed from royal dignity
Five days after
getting acquainted with darling cats
pampered like queens courtesy
thee eldest daughter
and her partner acquired as kittens
reminiscence occurred regarding
one particular four footed feline
my late mother doted over.
Lion eyes hide predatory wage
sharp retractable sharp claw
never did the late Sage
exhibit talon nor ferocious jaw
even when getting his nails clipped,
said gentle cat infrequently
sunk daggers into soft human skin,
but upon completion
of aforementioned onerous task,
he voicelessly, soundlessly, passively,
manly, joyfully did withdraw.
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
(as well mine eldest daughter's beau)
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives
a handy dandy clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued and Atlas
shrugged off kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nicknames)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humongous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Inuits accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek), he knew
practically every detail
incorporating page number, punctuation
plus citing word for word
never truncating, omitting,
nor jumbling... any lines,
and could track missing link,
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files
would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour,
cuz yours truly off
in a huff to bang a lore.
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Knowledge might at least try
to include the humility of Wisdom
as leftbrain dominant thoughts
co-arise rightbrain subversive feelings
We have not truly hoped
and actively prayed for wisdom
in our poured out words
as in our paltry anthro-privileged deeds.
They, on Othering hand
and wing
and side
and hemisphere,
demand and invoke more
more
more knowledge
to overwhelm with debate
about indecent deeds
using words like toxic weapons
of predation,
too often ballistic,
hate a nation.
We yearned
and burned to argue
for more cooperative education
systems for accumulating healthy principles
and first co-invested wealth premises
about primal naturally-spiritual things,
sterile when merely written down
and out of remembering
multisensory
regathering body
If not LeftBrain published
then less worthy
for creating seminal
culturally ingrained
unresolving win/lose ZeroSum
closed and traumatic
ecocidal knowledge
Compatible with narcissistic
nihilistic despair
and anxious feelings
echoing through closed anthro-privileged views
of Common Sense
for capitalism,
and patriarchal neglect
of Commons Health
and Earth-Safety Development.
Younger amused voices
citing wiser Elder choices
might win/win remember
our best and brightest peak experiences,
no less spiritual
for becoming sensual
and kind spirited
and passionately inspired
multicultural embodiments of Earth
and Sun,
empowerment
and enlightenment,
circulating blood and sap and waters
and bipartisan breath
Provoke deeper sacred vestments
infesting fertile co-creation,
wisdom of compassion,
personal knowledge passion
profoundly restoring peace
through unconditional warm
amusing mind/body
song and dance communication
Mentored
in co-invested Wisdom Schools
inspiring health-wealth pools
transforming unspoken feelings
Yanged out and revered Yin in
flowing mused brilliance
of co-binary thought/felt resonance
Invoking fused EarthTribe's
Wisdom Echoing School
for deep and widely skilled
amusing spirals
Planning polycultural
ZeroZone seasons,
ch'i balancing reasons,
root-systemic win/win legions
nonviolently communicating
co-enlightened green
organic
fresh found resilient
brilliance.
REGULATIONS
BY
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Two sources of laws that govern the lives of men
One’s called survival the other a stroke of the pen
Those from survival are easy to list
Food, water and shelter so we can exist
Those from mans hand are often not clear
A crime over there is legal over here
Man’s laws may be admirable at their writing
Later found questionable at their citing
Laws, ordinances , regulations or policy norm
With so many restrictions not easy to conform
Don’t forget rules they’re important as well
Am I acting legally or awaiting a cell
Take the sinister case of the berlin wall
Many tried to cross it only to fall
It had been prohibited to go to the west
Any attempt to flee would result in arrest
One night a defector was fatally shot
Hung over barbed wire destined to rot
Then guess what happened the very next day
Passed a law if you want to go west “ its ok”
An example of a law that caused men to die
An illegal extortion forcing free men to defy
There are needs for law and order to protect
Each new law tightens the noose on a citizens neck
The penalty for breaking a law way back when
Put the guilty in leg blocks or a public pen
Shame him in front of neighbors and friends
Humiliation may cause his lawlessness to end
The initial mandate of imposing a fine
Worked quite well for a very long time
Regulations(2)
It became so lucrative new laws were soon due
Pile on new charges, generate more revenue
A man runs a red light cops are hot on his tail
There’s so many charges he may not make bail
Want to change the house color from tan to gray
Need to get permission from a hundred miles away
Redo these doors on the inside of my flat
Got to submit plans and a copy of the plat
It just gets tougher each request causes a fuss
Easier for the government to keep a rein on us
To control the masses is an easy feat
They just add more laws just never delete
It’s easy to have contempt for so many laws
The enforcement of them is loaded with flaws
A girl with drugs gets years of incarceration
Drunken teenager kills four receives probation
Additional laws will make us quiet as a mouse
You’ll soon need a permit to leave the house
We owe it to our doctors
We owe it to our doctors…
The ones who took it to be part of Sun Pharma’s greater mission;
To prevent disease rather cure
Cure and control if that happens at all;
Defying comforts of air conditioned hospitals,
confronting heats and chills
of seasonal tones while sitting in villages;
A zeal to serve those in pain
having set besides the monitory gain;
A cavalcade of patients all round the day
Intense work, putting impatience at bay;
Educate and listen to endless woes
Mental, social apart from somatic;
What poverty jostled them into
have no means to seek medical care;
We doctors being the sole healers...
We do what we do;
Not for money, not for name
responsibility is an assorted game ;
Had everyone taken to hospitals
and been part of corporates that work for profit;
And Ignored distress of rural and slums
humanity would have scrounged to bums.
Words fail to say what we take back ;
The smallest salving touch
that makes the tender souls smile;
The tranquil looks of the patient
that soothes us deep down the heart;
A good night’s sleep
and utmost content above all,
Limitless goodwill, enormous blessings ;
No mathematics can compute,
no callipers could measure ;
Beyond the prowess we go ...
Meeting people to explore what more we could do
Take them to specialists, to the institutions;
Make them aware about Govt schemes
Involve volunteers from within the community;
Bridging the gap, reaching the unreached
Citing the logic, what cannot be preached ;
Although a tiny drop in vast ocean
but very tender and precious ;
However small the team we maybe,
We proffer colour to the sky
Imbue the aroma of empathy far and wide;
We can move mountains with a solo touch
and change course of feral winds;
With our staunch determination;
and incessant efforts;
Combating disease and ailment
Countering the social taboos;
We do what we do
and will continue doing so.
We doctors are warriors braving the front
Have our families accompanying in this battle;
We owe it to our nurses and drivers as well;
We owe it to our doctors !
Written Sept 24, 2020
© Dr Upma A. Sharma
If a book has footnotes, though it is fiction,
How do you classify it?
Historical fiction has made some inroads
To this chimera crossroads
But science fiction
Ironically, is behind the times
I’ve kept writing vigils like Virgil.
I muse ‘neath the stellar stars at night, I sure hope you do, too.
Perhaps a mix, writing while wundering under stars is next on my list To Do
I don’t mean to be egotistical
but I hope to revolutionize literature fictional
A melding of deep research and deep imagination is my objective.
Thank you for being part of this voluntary experiment. Collective.
To cross bloodlines of logic and creative
Though she personally likes them, this avocational teacher thinks
For students, textbooks and research papers can be dry
Entertainment is currently a current vapid like air
But rippling vibrant characters could add life and water
I’ve heard people say ‘no man is an island’
and ‘standing on the shoulders of giants.’
Reading and citing
giants’ thoughts are excellent.
You’ll tower among the peaks
And enjoy their “views.”
But you can create even
small things
with your equals, also.
Long distances of space and time are fine.
Someone who is dead- a slight seance
or someone on the other side of a screen.
But you can turn to the person next to you, also.
The “joyful burden” of creating does not solely fall on your shoulders.
If each “man is a universe unto himself,” two universes combining- how much larger are the infinities?
Yet, most celebrities’ songs are sing-ular singing.
Yet, most books have but a single author. I mourn for all the lost possibilities.
And as they yammer on with their plastic faces and artificial voice sounds
I can assure you, someone in your own classroom or neighborhood has written something more profound.
And, if you look, another person in reach could sing the pants off them, hands down.
Spawn beautiful ideas and solutions and skills and combinations of knowledge and rhyme.
Ideas spawn other ideas, ad infinitum down the line.
Chimeral caleidoscopic chords.
Form: