Long Course Poems
Long Course Poems. Below are the most popular long Course by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Course poems by poem length and keyword.
Nothing collides with the world, but you
As time becomes much faster with a face
And love shared without hesitation is new
Soon it pours into a river of grace
No end seen in its colored covered banks
Flowers grow with birds gliding free above
As eyes scan horizon's sunset with thanks
This scene captured when the heart is in love
When the spirit's flame burns even brighter
And two follow the course of love's strong stream
Causing their stride to feel ever lighter
They'll leave the old world for one with a dream
To find a precious space filled in the heart
Reason enough, before life can depart
In no real sense is he alive:
a wind-up toy, personified.
A message bundled with a drive,
he neither eats or can divide.
Two hundred million like himself,
each one distinct, yet all the same.
Possessed of vast genetic wealth,
new life’s potential in this frame.
Like pointing north, returning home,
he has no eyes to guide his flight.
A haploid on a beacon honed,
attractive forces are his sight.
A mitochondr’al battery
will keep him till it runs its course.
For five days, if it matters, he
is driven by an unknown force.
That is to say, unknown to him:
the enzyme, ABHD2,
creates the urge to swim and swim;
there’s nothing else that he can do.
And swim he does! Five body lengths
traversed before a second’s passed.
If salmon-sized, this feat of strength
is fourteen miles per hour; that’s fast!
And not just fast, but also far;
a mile or two would be the rule,
approximate, but close, on par,
for swimmers swimming in a pool.
And now we know he does not flail
or thrash about while in the water;
a corkscrew does his path entail,
much like an eel or playful otter.
The journey’s end, target in sight,
the bodies littered all around.
A chemical and wondrous light,
a flash from zinc when they are bound.
It seems two things come with this flash:
the door is closed, he’s merged herein.
He does not care; his merry dash
fulfills the goal: new life begins.
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for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 21 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written 05/14/2022
(Based on a real incident.....)
In a whiff of salubrious morning air
The newly blossomed flowers looked all too fair
They had an unseen radiant gleam
And resembled the ones I had in my dream
In my garden they happened to bloom
After a rainy night of ever deepening gloom
In daylight, dazzling their beauty and glory
They seemed to narrate an enticing story
Those blossoms had a mysterious grace
That I thought of placing them in my vase
While I stood admiring them in rising ecstasy
I saw my neighbor looking at them in growing jealousy
With dusk fall, when I looked out into my garden
Those beauties were no more there to gladden
Someone had stealthily plucked them and was gone
And my poor heart in despair began to moan
To my dejection, I saw the mother plant cruelly pulled out
And felt a piece being sliced out from my heart
I guessed who had stolen it with their fresh sprouts
To confirm, I sent an unsuspecting visitor to her house
There it stood newly potted and kept hidden in a corner
My resentment grew stronger as I often suspected her
To be rude, never returning my gesture of warmth
That neighbor of mine, I decided to keep at arm’s length
And never to forgive, for I loved that plant so dear
Buying it at a heavy price, I had long waited it to flower
Then I heard a faint whisper from deep inside
They were words mild, but seemed to chide
“Why do you look all too down cast
Over a trifle, you have irrevocably lost,
What’s gone is gone and shall never come to stay
And the pain it causes has to wither away.
Forgive and forget, she will turn your friend
In due course everything shall come to mend”
The dictates of my conscience, I resolved not to thwart
And felt a heavy load being lifted off my heart!
June.27. 2022
Forgiveness Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Re-entered For Kai Michael Neuman's Poetry Contest
We now have six people with absolute power.
Is this really a victory or just our darkest hour?
Our God given free will is no longer in play.
Fifty years of progress has been lost to us this day.
Our laws can be changed behind a locked private door.
I guess the power of the people, and their vote is no more.
A new era is upon us, reorientation has begun.
Forget about your ballots, that’s all over and done.
What comes next, the chicken or the egg?
They are not going to stop with just an arm or a leg.
Their righteous morality on us they will force.
The next abomination will be Gay rights of course.
What color is your skin, do you think you are free?
They can put you in shackles, if that’s where they want you to be.
It's now the power of the kitchen, the closet and slave.
So much for our future, we’re headed back to the cave.
Than when he thought of his children
He wondered would this world be a plCe to nuture
Them who wished to procreate
Would those who wished to appear wise
Connect the invsible dots
And create the monster
They wish my xhildren to be
What assurances mind you
That the ambition of others might
Have them foresaked
What America stands before them
The one who might find value in creating a monster
Or the America that wishes non repetition or one
That changes the course to make exa ple and lesson
Of those they wish to apposse
He thought these things when he dated
He thought these things when he married
Consussly and subconcussly
When it easy to make villian of the advocate
The advocates enemies will find reason to opposse
Which these satans have created other satans shall
Agree, what then their is for me
But uncertainty and shame.
It is so hard to say goodbye. The end has come.
I knew it would . . . someday. Such a good cat;
for twelve long years, my Grumpy, always there for me,
wanting a pat, a lap, a snack to make you fat.
I recall our first meeting on a freezing winter day,
cold, unfriendly eyes of a stray, rejected by the world;
alone and afraid, hissing. Slowly a trusting friendship,
and eventually in my arms you were curled.
How can I endure this cruel world without my friend?
But of course, I must go on . . . I imagine you;
in a beautiful garden, lush and green. Sunshine streaming,
bird songs filling the air, and a sky azure blue.
You are busy grooming your shiny brown tabby fur,
amber eyes twinkle, a little pink tongue busy curling;
a paw, a face . . . something catches your attention;
you jump up to swat a passing butterfly whirling.
Rolling in the cool grass, you curl up for a nap,
with a sigh . . . and death came to you like a thief;
till I draw my last breath, I will hold you in my heart,
the price I pay for loving you so much, is grief.
But, I would not change one moment of our time together,
you were a gift from God, to last me all my lifetime;
never to be repeated . . . as you drew your last breath,
I whispered in your ear, till to heaven I climb,
and I placed you in God's loving arms in the meantime . . .
__________________________
Written at sixteen years old
Posted, April 27, 2017
Elegy/In Memory Of Grumpy Cat
Copyright Protected, ID 895903
Juvenilia
Ceclia Hopkins-Drewer
__________________________
"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small:
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all . . . ."
(Mrs. Cecil Frances Humpreys Alexander, 1848)
Just Desserts
How do I compare thee to a trifle
Soft as a jelly and quite an eyeful
Merry as sherry, in for good measure
Joy filled as the table's crown jewel treasure.
Sweeter than custard or madeira cake
Nutty as toasted, tasty almond flakes.
Much smoother than dreamy whipped cream by far
As for being fruity, o yes thou are.
Savouring delights and smacking of lips
A tasty dish, how'd one ever resist
Hundreds and thousands to top it all too
Tho' there's no topping quite as good as you.
Of course I am no angel of delight
In fact I'm not even a pretty sight
But I can whip up amazing desserts
What's more I'm ace at ironing a shirt.
6th January 2021
I wished you a Happy Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with merriment and laughter
and now I wish you Happy December 26 the less well known…day after.
(If you are from the United Kingdom or Canada…put this poem away
You have solved December 26th’s dilemma by celebrating Boxing Day)
But in America December 26 is a day that attempts to be brave and save face
for it knows it could have been a holiday but had to settle for second place.
Yes, I’m afraid December 26 in history is fated to remain unreckoned.
doomed to stand in relative obscurity with its neighbor January 2nd.
Today I celebrate all those days who because of their chronological lateness
are destined to travel down the path of history...one day away from greatness.
Do you know the name of the first man on the moon? Of course, everybody does.
But do you remember the second, Ed Aldrin, his friends and family called him Buzz.
We remember Edmund Hillary, the first to scale Mt. Everest, the first to find his way
but who remembers, Tenzing Norgay, the sherpa who accompanied him that day?
They climbed the tallest mountain in the world but the second is almost as high
Yet K-2 is only an afterthought, kind of like the 5th of July.
We remember Snow White as the first movie Disney brought to the silver screen
but the second, Pinocchio must take its place next to the innocuous March 18.
Everyone knows Amelia Earhart, her story is one of courage and devotion
She was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean.
The second was Geraldine Mock, at her even more accolades were hurled
for she kept going after crossing the Atlantic, and flew around the world.
Isn’t it funny how life works, for none of us could have foreseen
that Geraldine would be disregarded in history like the day after Halloween.
But such is the way the calendar unfolds from January to December
Some days, like people, are destined for greatness while others we hardly remember.
I think it’s time we change all that and give these days and people their due.
for I believe second places and day afters deserve a home in our hearts too.
So hold your head up December 26th…you have no reason to whine…
After all you could come around only once every 4 years….
my condolences to February 29.
Dear children, life goes quickly by, and so
suggestions I will leave you before I go.
Both happiness and tragedy you’ll find,
but through it all, the key is to be kind.
Of course, bad people you will come across.
Remember pearls to swine you must not toss.
As Shakespeare wrote – “To thine own self be true.”
Do good things. Make sure they matter to you.
Do not let people steer you from the light
or pressure you to do things that aren’t right.
Speak up for the oppressed. Be not afraid.
Sometimes even laws should not be obeyed.
Let God’s spirit guide you. If you’re living well,
I believe in peace, dear children, you will dwell.
The October night was dark and cold,
As the autumn sun was going down,
When I recalled the legends I had been told,
About this sleepy, little town.
There were tales about the haunted woods,
They say the wind seems to call your name,
I was going where no one should,
And if I survived, I'd never be the same.
I walked through the covered bridge,
As the harvest moon rose into the sky,
I had made it around the darkened ridge,
Just as I heard a lone wolf's cry.
I walked the path of the dark, gnarled thicket,
Through the fallen leaves of maple and oak,
I heard the chirping of a cricket,
Near the hollow, where the bullfrogs croak.
Then, I heard the "hoot" of an owl in a tree,
And the "caw" of a raven on it's perch,
The headless horseman I hoped not to see,
As I passed the graveyard near the church.
I told myself I would be alright,
Just as I heard the hooves of a horse,
But, I knew I would make it home tonight,
Because there are no ghosts, of course.
August 30th, 2013
(This was my tribute to "The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving.
I wrote it from the perspective of Ichabod Crane.)