Long Clear Poems
Long Clear Poems. Below are the most popular long Clear by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clear poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s a brand new big idea
The banned country of such size
So I want to make it clear
Either way it looks unwise
Wasn’t Germany at war
In Bach’s time, and wasn’t France
Fighting England till the score
Levelled up by circumstance
But they never used to ban
Scholars travelled, merchants traded
Painters painted, music men
Wrote their stuff while the crusaders
Fought their sacred wars whatever
The high goal was pursued then
But it didn’t seem too clever
In the past, to put a ban
There’s no other meaning to it
But revenge, to make the foe
More outrageous, and they knew it
Now it's what the wars are for.
There was a painting offered as inspiration for this contest. I'm sorry I'm not able to include it for lack of a premium membership, but I hope I've managed, just a little, to set the scene with imagery.
Moonlight was diffused by a shadowed sky
Thunder hammered with the power of Thor
Sullen clouds released a deluge in downpour
Something about the night had gone awry
There was a flash of lightning; a blaring scream
With heart wrenching sobs, a woman wept
Her raven tresses billowed, wild and windswept
She appeared before me as a specter in a dream
I hesitated to call out, in fear she'd run away
but I could not ignore another mournful wail
Her arms were thin and she was ghostly pale
She shivered, trembled, and began to sway
She was frightened as though chased by death
Words were mumbled, but none of them clear
Her eyes searched the night, panicked with fear
I spoke calmly until she regained her breath
Her last memory was that she had gone to bed
and was having a nightmare about being stalked
Quite a distance from her home, she had walked
when lightning's crackle woke her from dread
I helped her home, sidestepping puddles of mud
She still trembled, not interested in conversation
She thanked me, but I had a moment of hesitation...
The porch light revealed she was covered in blood
August 6, 2020
Be Inspired Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
This pen is cracked and broken but luckily it still writes.
The ink is almost at an end
low, down in the point, barely visible.
Did you ever use a pen to its very end
from start to finish, the very same pen?
Interesting.
Pens are so disposable
unlike thoughts,
unlike feelings,
unlike emotions.
Memories are like pens holding our pasts
full, clear and thick in the beginning,
then draining, fading with the years,
then skipping, missing spots with overwriting.
The important things though tend to last
held fast, like permanent ink
kept safe, recorded,
written in our hearts.
WHEN LIFE BECOMES FALLOW
The still frozen nothingness ancient
Transformed into the universe nascent
Matter formed from the fringe of silence
The creative core of cosmic sense
The depth of voids in all things’ essence
The creator’s unique space they represent.
Within everything that exists
The universal voidness still persists
In the depth of the living mind
Of the evolved race of mankind
Filled to the brim with emotions blind,
Life gets attached although conscience resists.
The full sky hangs its clouds low
They melt in storm, make the sad sky hollow,
Happy trees green in the spring
Don’t hear the birds flying near sing
When in fall the dry leaves grow wing
Life plunged in barrenness turns fallow.
Lost in wasteland the clouded mind grieves
Molten emotion drains in tears, emptiness it leaves,
Let the soul clear the delusion
From the mind captive in seclusion,
Free the mind, open the devout clear vision
Know how peace from emptiness life retrieves.
February 10, 2018.
Christmas days with loved ones, surely blissful
Carol hymns reign, awesomely delightful
Merry tunes of “O Come, All Ye faithful”
With “Joy to the World,” very beautiful.
Resonating loud is orchestra’s praise
“Our dear Saviour’s birth” of glad tidings’ grace
Bringing peace midst God’s compassion embrace
“Upon the midnight clear,” bright with hope’s rays.
Choir belts out “Hark, the herald angels sing”
Exultant, “The first Noel” expressing
While jubilant to share gracious blessing
“Glory to God* in the highest” stressing.
Can I forget Christmas 2018?
There in ICU**, on God I did lean
Grateful, "Fall on your knees," I sang ... serene
Dad wondrously smiled; oh, lovely; yet remarkable scene.
*Luke 2:14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
**Dad was in the Intensive Care Unit from December 22, 2018 until he went home to heaven to be with the Lord on January 2, 2019.
December 4, 2019
Honorable Mention, "STRAND SPECIAL 8..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 12/24/2019.
March field
snow patched scars
deer forage
green stubble flirting
the ground parsimonious
its fast food scarcity
Deer raise their heads
regard my presence, murky
Their eyes clear, deep, almond round
shaking something in me
solemnizing freedom
Nature's rated stature
flecked streamlined beauty
compact torsos
triggered taunt launching
A thought that trophy room plundering
could cut nimble hoofers
complicated narrative
the jagged edge of hunting
Deer holding my fixed attention
that slips from boxed corners
making space for reconsidering
to forego what's crushing
a blend to nomadic tramping
competing urges
Rippled cues of wishing
to know life in rhythmic movement
to singe bits of living
blurred escape
like deer in hurdle leaps
to flee,
light flickering vanity
that craves invisible spaces
Poem revised: April 22, 2021
If I let my mind meander -
like a river backwards through time -
past rocks and turbulent waters
and also through the calm times
when the surface of that river was smooth as glass -
I go further back to a time
when my life flowed like a stream,
less complex and rolling on with hope.
Always, though, I end up at the source -
at that place of splendid sweetness
where the water was a clear fresh spring
bursting forth to feed the passion
of a glorious waterfall.
And always I remember you, sweet darling,
as the shimmer of the sunlight
on that fresh and sparkling mountain spring.
April 2, 2017
For More To Me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Written: November 14, 2023
_______________________________________________
We ventured into everlasting words
Cast-off Calix of clear canvas
Each concept basks in sunlight,
Our souls are depicted in blood
Our views overlap on each page
Blooms in the orchard are sprouting.
Our fingers flutter across the keys
In this seductive word melody,
We morph into the cynosure
Forthwith faraway frigid fiefdom,
But now, just via our whispered secrets
Our spirits may finally breathe here.
Words are written in ink on a nebulous canvas.
Skillfully crafted tapestry of throe emotions
Such a syllable is a solemn stroke,
Stripes serve as strokes of sorrow
Where canorous whispers are the norm,
We design a vivacious home for hearts
The quixotic drawing is finally full of life
Our words earn such a glorious graphic
A saffron sun caresses each letter
With kindness and gentleness.
In a world of amaranthine ambition
We decry quiddity in syntax,
A haven for the pellucid and broken
An oasis amid a shattered sphere
With every hushed revelation
Repairs and revamps are what we do best,
Weaving countless love tales.
So let us sustain writing
The panacea of hushed truths,
Where our spirits entwine
And our musings live in perpetuity.
Inscribed on the nexus of history,
We decry solace in this space,
Discovering, deciphering, and divinity,
Secrets that echoed soft susurrus.
Conveyed by the winds of destiny
Show us where hearts can connect
Words have curing and stirring power,
They can ignite the flames of craving
Embrace the power of the pen,
As we pen our muttered secrets.
’Tis a fate and one to fear
Whenever it’s this time of year
I’ve heard the tales but where to hide
Don’t need a most delicious side
Don’t want to be this dinner’s dish
My bones to pluck and make a wish
So stuffed and full of bread and sage
There’s hell to pay and war to wage
I cannot face another threat
Another lottery to bet
Will I end up a centerpiece
A succulent and flavored feast
’Tis my fate and one that’s clear
The gunshots nearing, I can hear
My feathers ruffled, breast to sigh
Thanksgiving day, I’ll say goodbye
You are a commemoration.
You remind me of a once happy moment.
When everything else did not matter,
When for some time I felt a little bit better
All the words I thought you meant.
All the breathtaking texts you sent.
When you were there, when I required an ear.
During the times I thought your love was clear,
and your voice was the one I could hear.
Staring at each other, smile then eventually laugh.
For a moment we were happy, all that joy,
the love and happiness I never wished to destroy.
Wish I could say the same on your behalf.
When we both enjoyed the love and fun
While love stricken, under the spell of the sun.
Even though that is all in the past.
All memories did swear to last.
I bet, to cause more pain to my current situation.