Long Classics Poems
Long Classics Poems. Below are the most popular long Classics by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Classics poems by poem length and keyword.
He was debonair, full of flare
charm exuded here and there
but she was so unaware
and she let her heart to dare
poured out love and all her care
But he another love did share
There he stood, there he bled
he knew that she longed to wed
all this filled his heart with dread
for she loved the youth instead
This young rival he must shred
Take her to his heart and bed
Walked in rain then took a spill
Jilted, wilted soon fell ill
to live life she lost the will
Passion gone, there was no thrill
but her heart he longed to fill
His love was the magic pill
The she knew love has no age
his hand turned a brand new page
Now that in love she was sage
Rescued from falsehood's cage
Passion danced upon their stage
No one could their joy to gauge
Jade Celeste
This is the story of Marianne and Colonel Brandon from Sense and Sensibility. You should watch the version that has Kate Winslet play the part of Marianne. Emma Thompson is her sister. Marianne is in love with the young John Willoughbye, who is dashing and charming. She is passionately in love with him, but her heart is broken when he gets engaged to someone else. Colonel Brandon, played by Alan Rickman, is an older man who is passionately in love with her but doesn't express it to her in ways she expects. However, when she falls ill, he is the one by her side. He nurses her slowly back to health and wins her love. :) This story is written by Jane Austen. Oh how I love the classics. Sometimes it is the steady, deep, unassuming love that is truly lasting.
I've written a poem on this theme with a different twist: Scent and Sensuality. ;) I http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/scent_and_sensuality_474084
. Did you know that there is a place we can go
Enjoy some soup, Poetry Soup that is I love it so
All kinds of ingredients go into the pot to cook,
You don’t believe me? Right now just take a look
There is wonderful poetry some of it you can write
Places to learn about, so many that are out of sight
There's art from the classics see how many you spot
Stories are fun to read, some in rhyme, some not
All the forms of poetry, some short, some are long
All will tell you about your poetry what is strong
Competitions to enter so welcome right along
You can write short stories if you are inclined
Just sit back read great poems, to unwind
Important ingredient still one more
It will be your favorite I am sure
The one you come back for
It’s the friends you make
Combine it no mistake
Mix it with friendship, to bake
Bake slowly til tender and easy eaten
Take a big taste your life will sweeten
Hands clench stuck in a culinary trench with no French
Devotion can’t bench sensory commotion a saucy wench
Emotions wrench if no whiff on the breeze of cheese stench
Potions & notions quench..ocean lotions tastebuds drench
For a foodie bouillebaisse with timeless grace like Judi Dench
No dodgy Brigitte Bardot politics or slick card tricks of tarot
Go for Gallic garlic gall.. all will enthrall when in Gaul..Escargot
Choir of desire ce soir more beurre.. pot au feu.. boudin noir
The star steak au poivre or oeuvre as they make fresh tartare
Mussel frites hustle.. boozy bustle.. shellfish tussle of a bistro
Cassoulet with pomme puree then creme brulee classics spar
Foie gras a mardi gras or bizarre faux pas in brasserie bazaar
Pastry crew Michelin route could be choux or tasty en croute
Never hasty flavour douche a louche croquembouche maestro
Pouting fondue goo spouting fountains on mountains outing
Creamy tartiflette or steamy andouillette from piggy toilette
Forget Pret get a better baguette cornichons raclette touting
What’s more francois then petit pois or dreamy dauphinoise
Carbs shouting.. barbs flouting.. baked camembert scouting
No doubting dishes with calories sprouting diets are a routing
For some it’s foodie hell for me Heaven..my true blue belle
Fruit de Mer in that terracotta apparel has me over a barrel
Travel under the spell crustaceans relations you fell.. unravel
Shell fish fresh from saline swell my divine dell in La Rochelle
No askance glance at the chance for your palette to dance
In a trance at how they enchant stuff always buff & enhance
Know in advance their cultural stance.. revolution..the lance
Saw red aristocrats dead off with their head no longer prance
Instead perchance adored smorgasbord hoard vive la France
researching, watch the trailer, work in progress...
Screwtape Letters
31 Letters
Just notes
Consider this...
If you cannot yield to text and scripture
He cannot bare score
C L takes us where?
Two years. studies of Greek and Latin classics
What we cannot see in the spiritual world
Screwtape, Devil, The Father Below
in an ice cubicle
mans is all around him
To love or Not to love God
This is the choice He's given man
and it works for The Devil as well
His nephew Wormwood
Lower Archy must be taught!
The Patient, agnostic
does convert to Christianity
He can't see that spiritual side
not from the museum in its library
he is sensible
Togas and sandals? Ah!
Largely pictorial, anticlimax
Let-downs
Letter #3
Goal: Patient and mother
How to poison the relationship
Poison the mind of the patient's mother
Self-examination, can't you here yourself?
Perceptive, weakness's
malice for each other
the key here is to cause
both to be annoyed
inflame, focus on the soul (defects)
and not the pain itself
The devil is a liar, don’t believe Screwtape
Letter#17
'One human Wormwood guide'
Triful naive arguments
A dozen incompatible
Jargon not argument
Material things Stark or courageous
Argument lets God argue as well
Twisted thoughts occur
The Tumor
Last night, I watched a podcast
the man with the highest measured IQ
and I was pleasantly surprised
He looked and acted like a sane bloke
his views were an echo in my mind
best of all, he was like me, working-class
but had read the classics
his laughter was infectious
two hours well spent
His idea of God was how I think of God
there is good and evil in the world by
those who do not believe in the law of
nature and think they can ignore what
is fundamentally true
I woke up early following the thoughts
of the man with a high IQ and enjoying
my solitude, when the workers began
their day; those who are employed in
offices start their day at nine. nicely
dressed and in warm rooms
I had to see a cancer specialist at ten
Yes, I have a tumor on my thigh, and it
needs to be operated on
I accepted this news with calmness
befitting my state of mind, it is not
the first time a tumor has appeared
and dealt with through surgery
I liked the specialist and my doctor
no sentimentality, only facts, that´s
the way I like to live
Being a lover of the classics
my show would be classically true
all the great composers would play
to lift listeners hearts that I would do
Raise the profile of young and new
these future prospects would perform
grabbing hold of today's audience
showing that this music is the norm
From dawn to dusk on the air
interviewing real classical talent
Mutter, Benedetti, Bocelli, Netrebko
just a few to get classical pulses sent
So that would be my show
loving every minute of it all
to bring pleasure to the many
music at it's height supremely tall
AUTHOR NOTES:
Just some thoughts if I had the opportunity to have my own radio show
and what I would want it to be.
To bring a bit of happiness to my soul
I’ve got to sing along to a little rock n’ roll
Don’t try and tell me it’s all out of date
Elvis is still rocking, Eddie Cochran's' blues were great
When I need to bring rhythm to this body of mine
I listen to the soul of motown it sounds divine
Sweet soul music with a dash of R and B
It brings a smile to my face these classics of history
Just to sweeten up those memories of mine
I’ll play something soft that throws me back in time
Smooching to the music in pure harmony
Takes me to another place romantically
If I want to get funky and really get on down
I put on the Godfather yeah’ James brown
With lots of movements I start to swing
It’s a whole new dance a totally wild thing
Depending on my taste of musical tunes
I'll Play something to ease my musical moods
Because they bring life into my musical soul
I'll stick on that jazz by Nat King Cole
© Copyright KC.Leake
22nd November 2014
All Rights Reserved
The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that
resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla, was upon
us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black.
From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all,
like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved
to tie up before the dark body of windswept clouds arrived
trailing a wall of downpour and flickering, electric thunder.
Our study group had run over, as they tend to do. Most of the
members urgently moved to pack up (they’d be campus bound).
An unpropitious rumble and fierce flare of light, revealed that mild
twilight had swiftly faded to a darkest stormy night.
My pinched-pleated curtains thrashed before this tempest for
the almanacs, feigning a life they do not possess, like twin ghosts
stured to wrath.
“We can order in,” I offered, waving a menu from the downstairs bistro, as I closed my French, glass doors. “Why not eat here and wait it out?” I shrugged, “My treat,” I offered, “and I have wine.”
A pleasant embracement of relief and consent followed. What held
more power, I wondered, the society, natures coerce or the gratis fare?
Later. as we parted, a young man paltered, repaying me with a quick hug and cheeky kiss. The valueless touch, was itself rewarded with a small grimace of a smile, but the sin did not overset the mood.
.
.
Songs for this:
Riders on the storm by the doors
Stormy by Classics IV
Voices are low, and the pages unfold
Dusty worn jackets, on paper-back shores
Classics of old, or a best-seller's gold
Renaissance store, with a bent spinal core
Latitude shelves, heavy with multitudes
Autographed copies, fiction and lore
Chapters reread, opened with gratitude
Mouldy with knowledge, slumbering fiction
Sung once again, birthing new attitudes
Language and diction, viewed with conviction
I find new adventure, swimming through waves
Love's old persuation, claims my addiction
A place to spend time and stroll down a maze
find some conclusion, and leave in a daze
__________________________________________________________________
Terza Rima Sonnet #4 Philosophical
Carrie Richards
I feel like writing - the feeling is itch-like.
Perhaps something aesthetically unconvincing
to feed the algorithm or better yet, something
carefully designed to invoke irate criticism.
“You aren’t the boss of me!" I’ll be thinking.
It’s my understanding (ok, a 15 year old told me)
that younger GenZs go to dances and just stand around
because GOD FORBID someone takes a pic
of them looking stupid while dancing.
I’m genZ but I want to shake myself apart on the dance floor.
I don’t stand looks - I switch it up with..
“If you think I look stupid
- I don’t look stupid -
your FACE looks stupid. (I sneer)
I can stop dancing any time
but you’re stuck with that face.”
Of course, that's an old insult - as old as teens themselves
but sometimes you have to go with the classics.
.
.
A song for this:
Get Him Back by Fiona Apple
Cassandra by Florence + the Machine