Long Content Poems
Long Content Poems. Below are the most popular long Content by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Content poems by poem length and keyword.
The artist is absent, i guess i killed her off. Built her, just to break her- like a ceramic cup in the decor. A sway and the pieces fall, broken down in chunks of her pain. In the story of everything, the art suffers- tight ship, bad weather- nothing helps. There's no shore to go to. You stay with the wind, flock with the waves like a clueless bird, hoping someday you'll reach a comfort of a place you get to call home. I didn't feed her soul- with words full of love, hate, sad, happy- all she can feel is a hole, in her life where the content used to be. Where the quill-and-ink rested along with a page, ready to be scribbled, ready to be filled with her mind's rage. The ink bleeds once or not at all. It's tiring, having to walk in the spring season, fresh air, new hopes different dreams and yet feeling like the fall.
Every step she takes, every mistake she makes, all the roadblocks that make her feel nothing at all. Carnations over her gazettes, no scriptures, no memories to recall. It has faded into nothing yet she bleeds it somehow. The writer is absent, I think I've killed her off. Clueless in her own world somehow.
Temple bells
Stillness speaks;
Calm allure
~~~~~~~~~
Sit still
Be at peace;
Mantra chant
~~~~~~~~~
Seize the moment
Be at ease;
Joy comes home
~~~~~~~~~
Scented wind
Freshness floods;
Rainy daze
~~~~~~~~~
Joy jumps
Love sums;
Wedding day
~~~~~~~~~
Seize then
Calm feel;
Wise worth
~~~~~~~~~
Sheer grace
Joy in place;
Face to face
~~~~~~~~~
Early rising
Sleepy eyes;
Blurry feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Portal tryst
Seeking light;
Daybreak
~~~~~~~~~
Small talk
Crispy chit-chat;
Deep content
~~~~~~~~~
Conscious feel
Observe duality;
Take no sides
~~~~~~~~~
Bliss sums
Explain nothing;
Love streams
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
11 November 2016
Singapore
Hitchhiking by blurred station generic
Gypsy Flora slips anonymous, gravel
Grinds her heart of garbage, barbaric
Buried skeleton stirred, further travel
Ticket to Keep It Secret
Scarred in fish guts grubby, harbour
Heaves its putrid out to sea, amnesia
Avails an arbour over bleak macabre
Mutineer hurled ragdoll dumb, seizure
Saline dreams Dali delirium
Draped clock face, Flora's flailing coma
Collides with shore, format felicitous
Ferocious ocean spews sweet soma
Segued fortunate Flora duplicitous
Digs over fingers scratching
Sea sparks zesty spirit, crystal clairvoyant
Clavicle thrummed during tumble turquoise
Touched pitching ceiling, delight buoyant
Blackened flotsam, frivolous foam destroys
Destined to nest content
29th March
Redefined
In chambers of the mind, we store each day,
Each lesson wrapped in wonder, fear, or joy.
What matters most will never fade away.
The smell of chalk, the light at morning's ray,
First bicycle, first book, beloved toy
In chambers of the mind, we store each day.
Not facts alone, but how they came to stay:
The teacher's smile, the moment of deploy
What matters most will never fade away.
Through neural corridors, memories replay,
Some bright as copper, some we can't employ.
In chambers of the mind, we store each day.
The brain selects what's worthy of display:
Love, laughter, fear, emotions that employ
What matters most will never fade away.
So when we teach, we must find ways to weigh
Not just content, but context to enjoy.
In chambers of the mind, we store each day,
What matters most will never fade away.
The tranquillity of the moment engulfs the chill of the night air, coating my skin in an invisible blanket of celestial blessing.
The hair follicles poke up on my skin, almost painfully pebbled as my breath blew a small puff of smoke into the stars. I sighed. A content, relieved sound ringing through my ears.
I was calm. For the first time in my tragic, calamity of a life, I was at peace.
It was an odd, unfamiliar yet vastly serene feeling. My legs dangled aimlessly, brushing the floorboard beneath me in soft, gentle whispers. The cold seemed to be the farthest thing on my mind compared to the utter boon I was witnessing.
I could feel my pupils dilating in the quiet hum of the night. A small bodily practicality, stretching the black to fit the significance of him into my view.
He was beautiful.
‘A hole of light,’ as some call it.
‘Just the moon,’ as others do.
But to me, he seemed like the sole answer to all the questions I never even had the aptitude to form.
Beautiful was a degradation. He was the sheer magnitude of my existence. He was the red in my blood. The colour of my eyes. The arch of my brow and the love on my lips.
He was the essence of my soul.
I find myself gazing at his craters. Small bumps, rocking the surface of his light. I wonder if my flaws reflect his. The silver of his illumination drowns me in a peace so profound it strips me naked. Until I am nothing but a simple, loyal devotee.
I close my eyes and soak in his attention; the harmony of his eclipse sings my name and he calls me home.
And I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Home had been an unfamiliar concept.
A house here, a house there. A love here, a love there.
The corners of my lips twitch in a soft, curling motion. A small, knowing thing, through a lifetime of oblivion.
My material resides on this Earth, with a hundreds of thousands of houses.
But my hue resides in the silver of the sky, with a one, sole single path back home.
In the coldness of the night as the soft wind blows,
White things cascading and glittering on my window,
Looks like diamonds with a beautiful glow,
Scattered everywhere, Oh what a Christmas snow!
In the darkness of the night,
As I step outside it serves as my guiding light,
Like a guardian angel leading me the right way,
To your heart that made my night merry.
A Christmas snow that God created,
Mesmerized by its beauty and my wish granted,
In the magical night of wonder, It's a feeling of great happiness,
As I touch it feels the coolness on my skin like a sweet caress.
Looking up the sky, pouring of blessings from heaven's above,
Thanking for this wonderful season of love with glad,
Spend my beautiful life with a joyful moment,
A Christmas snow for Christ is born and my heart is content.
November 29, 2014
Love a ...
To the lady that has came into my life,i am so content
to the lady i share my life with,our love is like cement
she`s taught me many things,that money just can`t buy
the lady that is in my, life is the apple of my eye.
She is so thoughtful,considerate,funny and caring
the thought of life without her,i cannot see baring
so as i stroll along in life,with this extra stride
i quickly put a ring on her,and asked her to be my bride
DEDICATED TO MY SKINBOB XX
... by Paul Beadnall
ASPECTS OF LOVE to celebrate my 100th contest.
SPONSOR . Brian Strand
Issued paper fibers mirror those of the straw bale,
The waters of the great canal through the morning sail.
In spite Venezia was tied, the chairlift was jostling,
Twisting its way through the small calli in haze whiting.
It's safe to say man has a qualm, despite his skin tone,
The Earth spins around, put your location out of zone.
Informal suburbs have been overrun by strange walls,
The laws of the rulers, custom breeds devotion calls.
It's amazing how people fall for lowering strife,
Then residents achieve bad habits and lose their life.
Identity loss roots our quiet closed eyes, curdle,
Teams were the source of hatred for every step hurdle.
Its clogged and stuffed bowel burst, the young boy died of filth,
They stole his liver, kidneys, and heart, killing his health.
Idle boy's heart beats in a guest's chest; mom's tear-soaked veil,
The boy is dead or lives couched in flesh tombs as was frail.
Its tearful child asks his dad, "where does sorrow stem from?"
The sorrow you get is the kid of joy, if not some.
It's not just the sun's rays that draw forth the elixir,
The Oceans create clouds and those clouds from storms austere.
Isn't the fragrance that lures butterflies, but the same scent,
The flower that would a lover pick for his content?
It's not the light shining on your flesh in the mirror,
The light chases the reverse side's shadow to shiver.
It's when you're glad, know that it cost others happiness,
That you're enthralled recall it's someone else's sadness.
Individualism fails in vain, that's a grouse word,
This may never know how your fault brings oddly well-augured.
It opens endless doors to be tough, profound, and strong,
Though no book or teacher can teach you a complete prong.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 23 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
1ST Place Contest Winner
Written August 30, 2022
Dot Your I's And Cross Your T's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
Verified and checked with HMS.COM, with 13 syllables in each line.
A quenching sparkle of water
vodka smiles up
from the bottom of the glass.
Paint me as this garden chair
with nothing in it
but a drinking sky.
Mind has wandered off
to roll around
under the bushy hedgerow.
The groundhog will bring it back
at eventide as the light
slips into its nightgown.
For now
my shadow has slipped behind the sun.
You might ask
where are my friends,
where is my wife,
children and grandchildren?
They are all nearby
on the rim of this glass,
we swim in the icy water
lay content on slices of lime
as the sun grace notes
our reversible hearts.
The day lengthens,
my shadow returns
like a sorry dog
that has roamed too far.
Honeysuckle perfumes
our reunion.
That night
I dream of old Lin Po,
a silhouette
hovers over his round tummy;
like a nightingale it sings
for those who drink
by themselves until the moon
calls time.
" ... full blast ...."
357 is a great tale to tell...
Tesla saw the steps
so invented his call
And then in the silence
of Olympian ground
"...I heard you rang?..."
Said d;Meter to them all....
"A cosmic gun" was just for fun
But He's challenged a.dove
To find her way home.
so here we go...
#masons #toolshed #cubit #numbers
N. TESLA
"Fragments of Olympian Gossip"
While listening on my cosmic phone
I caught words from the Olympus blown.
A newcomer was shown around;
That much I could guess, aided by sound.
"There's Archimedes with his lever
Still busy on problems as ever.
Says: matter and force are transmutable
And wrong the laws you thought immutable."
"Below, on Earth, they work at full blast
And news are coming in thick and fast.
The latest tells of a cosmic gun.
To be pelted is very poor fun.
We are wary with so much at stake,
Those beggars are a pest—no mistake."
"Too bad, Sir Isaac, they dimmed your renown
And turned your great science upside down.
Now a long haired crank, Einstein by name,
Puts on your high teaching all the blame.
Says: matter and force are transmutable
And wrong the laws you thought immutable."
"I am much too ignorant, my son,
For grasping schemes so finely spun.
My followers are of stronger mind
And I am content to stay behind,
Perhaps I failed, but I did my best,
These masters of mine may do the rest.
Come, Kelvin, I have finished my cup.
When is your friend Tesla coming up."
"Oh, quoth Kelvin, he is always late,
It would be useless to remonstrate."
Then silence—shuffle of soft slippered feet—
I knock and—the bedlam of the street.
Nikola Tesla,
........
and so I replied...
fragments of O
While listening on his cosmic phone
He caught the words 'Olympus blown'
A newcomer, being shown around
was guided there by way of sound
" she's listening " Archimedes found
to steps been laid upon the ground
Sir Isaac, while upside down
gave Albert a turn
saying "change that frown!"
Kelvin's finally finished his cup
and our dearest Tesla...
is about to wake up!
.
.
it's a matter...
of transmutable
#369 #vortex #74 #888 #1776 #1872 #577720 <-- oh yes, this one too.