Long Drafts Poems
Long Drafts Poems. Below are the most popular long Drafts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drafts poems by poem length and keyword.
Touch brings a smile with ample joy;
Reach a deep dance that swirls and springs;
Embrace fond style to find sweet ploys;
Align with chance that beauty flings;
Sense a bold play that now unfolds;
Use time and space to etch sure gains;
Reap happy days in pleasure's gold;
Explore fine face in love's refrain.
Trust love to heal the stress and strain;
Renew the zest that labours squeeze;
Entwine sure feel with tact and gain;
Allow your best in easy breeze;
Thrill starts with heart that sculpts and drafts;
See cheer groom art in journeys rough.
Leon Enriquez
11 April 2015
Singapore
Decay gnaws at a country church.
It's homeless; it's lost its congregation.
Molting stones crumble, eroding away.
Mice nibble at the altar.
Winds twine through cracks.
Rain and dew drip through.
Roof slates slip down.
Each year it's more decrepit.
As nature slowly moves in.
Edges made to endure,
fracture, collapsing into rubble.
Plinths and buttresses
forsake their faith.
Agnostic shadows creep in.
As nature resumes,
its inscrutable ways.
Bells corrode into silence.
Tongues stilled in the throat of dome.
Hymns survive only as echoes in
whistling drafts through splintered rafters.
The pews sag like tired suspenders,
long unbent in prayer.
Rain scrawls psalms on walls,
scripted in mildew and moss.
Stained glass panels drop down
into the rubbish and weeds.
Crossbeams become bird-nest perches,
for swallows and doves, now the choir.
This homeless house of God laments
in the nettles, thorns and briers.
Seeking nature’s absolution
for its forsaken ruin.
A scar upon the land.
A desolate homeless being.
A blot on the earth.
Change the Time and Place
We're running, running forever, cross the beach, cross the misty field.
Where are we?
We don't care.
The damn daisy ring?
The damn daisy ring.
You kneel in the gravel, then take my hand.
This isn't traditional.
You change the time and place.
You shield the glittering lights of New York City.
We're standing on the crowded staircase in Times Square.
We're standing on the crowded staircase, everyone stares,
the 'yes' and the kiss must come next.
I liked the beach better.
At least the ring lasted longer.
The diamonds circle each other and gleam on my ring finger.
I feel trapped as the crowd cheers.
I've never liked feeling trapped before.
I change the scene and the location.
We're in a wooden house up in Maine, flushed from the sea-
a red striped lighthouse, all that remains are
digital photographs.
Not the caw of a seagull, the click of a camcorder,
nor the smell of fresh sea waves crashing to shore.
All that remains is a cracked phone and a swirling
mind and cocaine wrappers and traces of a
ring on a bedside table, the
ghost of love.
All that remains is a slammed door, a bottle of pills in a
bathroom, drafts of stories and a half finished podcast.
All that remains is the memories of the family I had when you were
the one.
I change the time and I change the place.
Alone.
*Image of Pearly Gates by DJ.
"The idea is to die young as late as possible," -- Mark Twain
Doomed: Drafts of the Contented
Unrestrained I thrive in absolution,
Heroic of what my morrow may be,
I rend the deception of temptation,
Restrict evil to grasp control of me,
Specific privacy hears my last plea,
A one on one relationship with God,
Pithily, pithily, I'd stand high, awed,
I function nor oversees what await,
Angelic advisors their staff and rod,
Recruited table ere the Pearly Gate.
2022 January 31
D Forms - Dizain
~~Constance La France
*HMS; 10x10=100
RhymeScheme; ababbccdcd
I reminisce I miss
remonstrate and misplace
in search of my narrative
dust off the shelves
smoothen around the edges
align what seems meant to be
Carefree strong winds of sailing
through the attic of past truths
founded in a basement of sense
when a candy apple was sweet
molten gummy bears on my tongue
liquorice swirling freedom’s taste
Relish for evermore pleasure
rebellion passionately unwrapped
not knowing the limits of flavour
pure twang of victorious delight
when a ball crossed the goal line
a couple of jackets for uprights
A cherished trophy in hand
muddy muck on scraped knees
and a soul without gaping scars
when youth knew no bounds
only I was my own referee
fighting for justice and team
The game’s rules have changed
have become more complicated
plans are mere drafts on my canvas
for better or worse I absorb
collect reminder and gather
impress vacant echoes in pain
At junctions of insight
when reason and feelings
refuse to kindly commune
I have to evoke the losses
clear the fog’s misty path
gather stones in my way
Seeking to disentangle
causes and resulting effects
dead ends on the highway
the tunnel of happiness
undergrowth and overpasses
fading street-signs I pass
when pot holes and drift sand
block progress and motion
draw me down in despair
a voice from deep inside calls me
to look forward and therefore
I miss I reminisce I miss
19th March 2021
How can I ever forget my childhood home of memories,
On a quiet tree-lined street, so peaceful and tranquil;
Mother had a huge tangled, wild garden that I loved,
Even now, still it grows, although the owner tames it.
Sadly, mother had to sell that house and leave it all,
With tears we walked away, we turned our backs;
Everything was fine, we had a nice condo in the sky,
Endless beautiful sweeping vistas from all windows,
Then, mother got sick, real sick, and then she died.
Home for me now, is a wonderful Victorian apartment,
Oh, the floors are crooked, there are drafts, and groans;
My heart loved it in a moment, it just felt like home,
Everything about it is old and comfortable and so sweet.
____________________________
January 28, 2016
Poetry/Acrositc/Home Sweet Home
Copyright Protected, ID 16-749-862-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Home Sweet Home Acrostic
Sponsor, John Hamilton
Sixth Place
The sun sets leaping in fierce golden shafts
As days shift shorter with Winter’s warning
We seek emblazoned fires from the chilled drafts
That glaze windows from iced winds each morning
As twilight falls stale dead leaves swirl rifting
Barbed smells of Pine and Tannin Oak scent streams
From forest floor fumes in brisk air hinting
Drab pumpkin, peach and tawny spiced Fall dreams
Sit quietly, watch dusk’s seasonal show
November’s clouds spangled in etched fire stun
When a portrait clad in sheathed splendor flows
A palette of Fall woods under brazed sun
That bring us grand tidings of this season
Where peace reigns and war has little reason
Dear poetry, my intrinsic ally,
Inaudible voice striving to be heard,
There’s a lifelong pact between you and I -
Crafting lasting legacy, word by word.
I have wild notions and an endless drive,
You mix the inspiration and the muse,
I pen the drafts, you spark them all to life -
You’ve got the final say I can’t refuse.
Respectfully I gracefully accept
The harsh rejection of a ruthless judge.
So when you deem my rough copy inept,
I vacillate but I don’t hold a grudge.
I posit we two share the ties that bind -
Literally I’m tied up to a chair.
Quid pro quo I reciprocate in kind -
If I don’t pen you, you haven’t a prayer.
Dear, you’re stuck with me, even if you try,
Unless you swap my sweatwork for AI!
August 30, 2026
*Image of A Boy and A Tree by Google
Harmony
Serendipitous, as
fresh fair's an occasion,
makes way o'er a nexus,
constant blue persuasion.
Callow regrets he sheathed,
confused youth still laments,
nightmarish surplus seethed,
raw noggin tossed events.
Sense calm is well centered,
looped in isolation,
patience and peace mentored,
promising supplication.
Warmth sorts duality,
polished snow layered sheets,
focused mentality,
boy drifts from noisy streets.
Yield revelations of,
abstracts issued on white,
expressed just like a dove,
drafts humbly in moons light.
Words scripted in the air,
sending his world away,
harmonies everywhere,
idyllic solved melee.
New sidekick faves a scene,
as nothing can still be,
part of their everything,
... a seed plants by a tree.
2021 September 05
*2nd Place*
''H'' Contest, New or Old Poems
~~Constance La France: Judged 2021 September 08
The springtime garden smiles at sunrise
From the flowers drafts of fragrance fly
The branch of the rejuvenated tree tries
To go up even higher in the cerulean sky.
Busy bees sense the scintillating scent
They swarm enticed from somewhere
Suck the flowers’ essence fully content
And prepare honey in their waxy ware.
The alluring branch of tree they descry
Waving in the wind the welcome arm
On the buzzing wings they whizz to fly
To build a hanging hive of honey charm.
In the surging storm the dusk sky breaks
The tree trembles hit by tearing thunder
The honey-trapping hive network wrecks
Succulent splinters spatter down under.
Flushed by shower the flowers lie reclined
Face the sunburst sky in the morning glow
On them honey smeared all over they find
That’s how nectar returns the bees know.
__________________
May 26, 2022
Contest : Bee Creative
Sponsored by : Matt Caliri