Long Drama Poems
Long Drama Poems. Below are the most popular long Drama by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drama poems by poem length and keyword.
they say forgive and forget
remember and hold to account
seems to be frowned upon
and memorable events take a while
to manifest digest and process
narratives change with the core
at every reason and heart
‘everything is wrong and it is all your fault
what exactly you will have to find out yourself
I will put our relationship into a drawer
and possibly open it again once you …’
have changed to her wishes?
relinquished any meaningful part in the drama?
conceded to her perfidious pantomime?
are totally broken?
‘you claimed that one cannot talk to a depressed one
but were you not projecting your discontent?’
years on the metaphorical couch
like a spider in a cobweb of distrust
attempting to just pull one string
breaking at rock bottom
with someone else throwing rocks
from a fortress of a glass house
accusations lies silence pretense of innocence
and turning children against him
he walked a difficult path
many a time running on empty
but eventually it turned out to be
the best thing that could happen
and he found new love
made peace with his offspring
invested in kindness and compassion
now lives with his lover and soulmate
chapters however can only be closed
when the epilogue has been written
when the spine of the book
stands upright in truth
for years he maintained that she
could not have done any better
did not cope with her own crisis
and he absolved her from further critique
the protagonist eventually found his voice
He has become I and I lay to rest
my memories of that evil malignant
and greedy you chose to become
it was you who tore me apart
and watched with satisfaction
when I became vulnerable and depressed
discredit where discredit is you
it is not about settling score
or spread sheets of retribution
simple honesty will do and
I don’t have to be nice
because poems understand
and refrain from judging the writer
but deep in my soul I do not care
that you have turned lonely and bitter
because while I am privy to
exquisite satisfied pleasure
you made your bed
and that is empty for a reason
trying to hack out my eyes and essence
made me spread my wings joyfully
and you are an old haggard crow
merely feeding on crumbs
05th August 2021
A Determined Devil -
As I lay another cedar beam plumb for our home
smoke plumes, serpentine and sulphuric, interrupts the sunshine,
I look below the ridge, Eve standing silent
with weapon in hand,
a woman so grand,
panic has no rest in her person, fear has no finger on her pulse,
I move like lightning, to war by my Lady's side,
Valley vandels have come, scortching field fruit,
searing insidious signs into our peach and apples trees,
incarnate, the Devil disheveled with a defunct posse of three
approaches me, hailing not from a city of Angels but from a ghetto of ghouls,
mean and ugly like ignorance injured by the ivory tusks of innocence,
a madman desperate for the destruction of Divinity,
unskillful and wishful for lies to come alive,
he's a scribbler scribe, a dribbler riddler
a stereotype simpleton, frontin' and gruntin'
fallin short of the great gangsta idol,
just a stereotypical imbecile, a pencil with no lead,
burpin chicken feathers claimin them to be the silk quill of Angels,
I turn to Eve now
with eyes saying now is the time for demise,
briefly, before I strike steel across the throat of Hell itself
our first promise to each other repeats in my memory,
"I forever fight for you"
as her brown eyes convince me of loyalty, love royal,
she rips her blade through his groin
as I open a river across the throat of this terrible thug...
Raising A Tribe -
Eve, this land is already populated by persons whom seem like us,
although different too, like seasons in soul,
divergent in their dreams for dynasty,
they have dialects from a depth of Dawn
that awoke long before we arrived to thrive here,
customs peculiar as shapes to stones,
Father never spoke of these klans
who strive to survive outside the mercy of His guarded Garden,
competitive as clouds in a shrunken sky,
I met a merchant, a servant to trade,
he told of banners and blood, laws and legacies
cultures savage and cities of crime,
gleamed from telling stories of wealth and wonder,
said they worship their Gods more ways than gold folds,
consider what we have encountered Luv,
will our children slay or be slain, war or work
love or get lost in conquest,
you, as a Woman of God's glorious gambit
have a harvest of futurity's face in the balance,
will you deliver the destiny of our union into this drama...
Justin A. Bordner...J.A.B. 2021
Me think it's true that one day time shall be no more. Me think that 'mere oblivion' may be the dying wish
of those claiming to be 'master of their own ship'. In eternity's world, there can be only 'One Master'.
Me think it's not true that all the world's a stage. Notwithstanding, there are scenes enough to amaze,
and no shortest of interesting parts and people to engage. A broad stage where all may and ought have their say.
But also narrow stages that invite trouble, darkening our day. A world of 'make-believe feelings of reality' that we wish were true.
Platforms and plots enough for all, including me and you; plenty of room for the many and the few; and gifted works, old and new.
Human drama is broad and twisting; faithful as the morning dew. May all captives of ignorance and fear be released from their cage.
Last scene, last act; and for the last time, the curtain is raised. The story line and character performance left the audience ablaze.
A staged world, one so predictable, pristine, and finite. Eternity's world is a never ending story, and another page. 03242017; Premier Contest, Brian Strane
SHE STILL CARES FOR ME: THOUGH I'VE CAUSED HER NOTHING BUT
SADNESS. I'VE DONE HER NOTHING BUT WRONG. BUT SOMEHOW SHE
REMAINS VERY STRONG.
SHE STILL CARES FOR ME: EVEN THOUGH I'VE MADE HER CRY. SHE'S
EXPERIENCED MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS. I KNOW THAT I MUST MAKE
THINGS RIGHT.
SHE STILL CARE FOR ME: EVEN THOUGH WE'VE LOST SO MUCH TIME
TOGETHER. AND I GIVEN HER SO MUCH STRESS AND PROBLEMS. HER RAY
OF SUNSHINE ALWAYS OVERTAKES MY STORMY WEATHER.
SHE STILL CARES FOR: THROUGH ALL OF THE TRIALS AND PAIN. SHE
KNOWS HOW MUCH I'VE TOYED WITH HER EMOTIONS AND PLAYED
AROUND. SHE CONTINUED TO BE HUMBLE AND HELD HER GROUND.
SHE STILL CARE FOR: SHE TRIED TO BLESS ME WITH A CHILD. THE BIRTH
WAS UNSUCCESSFUL, SHE AND I WAS DEEPLY HURT. BUT SHE WIPED
AWAY MY TEARS AND BLESSED ME WITH HER BEAUTIFUL SMILE.
SHE STILL CARES FOR ME: SHE HELD ME CLOSE WHEN MY MOTHER
PASSED AWAY MY WORLD BECAME SURROUNDED WITH ONLY DARK,
GLOOMY THOUGHTS. SHE WAS THAT ENTITY THAT EMERGED TO BRING ME
BRIGHTER DAYS.
SHE STILL CARE FOR ME: RUSHED TO MY AID WHEN I WAS MALNOURISHED
AND HOMELESS. THOUGH SHE DIDN'T HAVE MUCH FOR HERSELF. SHE
TOOK ME IN AND NURSED ME BACK HEALTH.
SHE STILL CARES FOR ME: THROUGH ALL OF MY HATRED AND PRIDE. PLUS
OF THE NEGATIVE EMOTIONS AND ANGER THAT I CARRIED INSIDE. SHE
HELPED ME PUT DOWN MY BURDENS AND BECAME MY GUIDING LIGHT.
SHE STILL CARES FOR ME: I TRIED HER PATIENTS THROUGH SELFISH ACTS
OF IGNORANCE. THINKING THAT I WAS ALL OF THAT, BEING FOOLISH
CONVEYING STUPIDITY/ ARROGANCE. SHE ALWAYS SHOWED AND PROVE
ME WRONG WITH HER WISDOM, UNDERSTANDING AND INTELLIGENCE.
SHE STILL CARES FOR ME: WHEN I HAVE NIGHTMARES AND SCARY
DREAMS. I AWAKE SHAKING, SHIVERING, TEARY EYED WHILE SHE'S
HOLDING ME. SHE IS A LOVING AND VIRTUOUS QUEEN.
YOU ARE MY ONE AND ONLY. I AM SO SORRY FOR PUTTING YOU THROUGH
SO MUCH DRAMA. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO MAKES ME FEEL SO GOOD
INSIDE. YOU'VE BEEN THERE FOR ME THROUGH THE GOOD AND BAD
TIMES.
YOU'VE SEEN ME AT MY WORSE AND NEVER ONCE DID YOU JUDGE ME. I
THANK MY FATHER FOR BLESSING ME WITH SUCH A BEAUTIFUL ROSE. I
COULDN'T NOR WOULD I WANT TO GO ON WITHOUT YOU. I REALIZE THAT
MY WORLD IS SO EMPTY WITHOUT YOU. I CAN'T DENY YOUR LOVE ANY
LONGER QUEEN. YOU ARE EVERYTHING THAT A MAN COULD WISH FOR. I
WILL LOVE AND CARE FOR YOU ALWAYS………………………………...
My mom raised me
She fed me
She cared for me
My mom is a saint
Raising five boys…
How can you say she ain’t?
My wife is nuts!
She is worried she may get laid off,
Yet she is hoping she will :\
She worries too much
But takes it all in stride
She is so strong and so weak at the same time
Dealing with all the stress
Yet the dog farting is too much!
My daughter is mine
She is too much like me,
Only more so
She doesn’t worry enough
Life brings what comes along
Her heart is full of song
But it’s mostly metal and punk and rap
And I just don’t get that crap
My daughter is also an addict you see…
Which is hard for us to understand, you see.
Addicts can’t “just stop”.
They let the drug-of-choice rule their life
They don’t care about the strife
There are triggers you know
That make the addict so
Stress, anxiety, depression, loneliness and boredom
They all push the addict towards the ledge
And their low self-esteem is the finale step
Over
The
Edge.
She is in recovery now…
She is doing well
She will always be
An addict you see
We love her the best we can
We will stick to the plan
And take each day
As it comes in to play.
My granddaughter is great!
She’s not yet two
She is nuts too.
She knows nothing of how
She came to my house.
(refer to the stanza on “My Daughter”)
She loves unconditionally
She loves Grandpa you see.
She doesn’t yet speak
So she cries her fears
And I dry her tears
And just like with her grandma and her mother
I try to read her mind
To see if I can tell
What it is that makes her yell
But she is sweet and kind and beautiful
And grandpa spoils her so…
Bet he can’t help it, you know.
It may be politically incorrect
But I don’t care;
Sometimes there is too much estrogen in the air
So grandpa gets out of the house
And meets his buds
And drinks some suds
And tells dirty jokes
About the kind of women
My mother and wife never were,
and I hope my daughter and granddaughter never will be.
So point your finger at me
And yell Hypocrisy!
I don’t care
Because you wouldn’t dare
Live my life for me.
But I would not trade all of this
To be rid of the drama (and the bliss)
It’s four against one
the ladies and me
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you will see
It takes great strength to do what I do
Four-to-One, and two dogs too.
Nestled under blankets,
the gentle whirring sound
soothes the savage beast
within mine body electric
of one generic, opportunistic,
and wholistic garden variety man.
Within blink of closed eye
yours truly transported
into the realm of deep sleep
benumbed to reality as unconscious guy
experiencing dynamic vivid dreams
courtesy Fluoxetine Hcl
(C17H18F3NO·HCl)
known as Selective
Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI),
especially prescribed to treat
depression, panic disorder,
and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Holmes tower fan whooshing air
analogous to sonogram (ultrasound)
infiltrates slumbering snorer (me)
best not to awaken papa bear,
cuz he will roar loud and clear
disrupted sleep upends ability to function
no joking psyche riddled
with profound anxiety and despair
subsequent havoc wrought
on par whereby mailer daemons ensnare
co opting, conquering,
and compromising blissful state
deadened head reveling
within private webbed world
regarding unscripted drama deep inside
temporal lobe of brain,
the hippocampus might conjure
time traveling circa Renaissance faire
wordsmith metaphorically possessed
remonstrated by fire breathing dragon
evidenced fiery breathing
affect nostrils to snort and flare
awoke from necessary dreams,
I would angrily glare
frightfully enough to induce goosebumps,
and raise every small hair
along spine uncontrollable fury
communicating shattered functionality
essentially rude awakening would impair
ability to experience joie de vivre.
Debilitating panic attack invariably triggered
similar to Tonga underwater volcano
eruption January 15th, 2022
constituting physiological displeasures
chiefly vertigo, racing heart, nausea,
excessive perspiration, adrenaline
coursing thru body,
whereby Prozac (brand name regarding
aforementioned synthesized chemical)
ameliorated unbearable,
unmanageable, untenable...
earth-shaking, devastating,
and crushing manifestations
disabling, exhausting, hijacking,
jackknifing, sabotaging, and wrecking
life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
Kickstarting psychological equilibrium
linkedin with savoring at least bajillion winks
else sixty plus shades of gray matter methinks
knotted courtesy cerebral gordian knotted kinks
yours truly feels discombobulated
teetering and tottering atop brinks
of figurative precipice.
I’m just having a good laugh while I still can dude before life takes its heavy grip
Until the community of clowns in disguise tie my tongue to their altar of reason
You think of a genius in the making but I just blew bubbles from my backside
Need some counter balance as not to think I’m off parity before the next photo
For the record I’m a bit sick of all those Rolling Stones songs on your play list
I can get satisfaction and you will be dancing to my tune as long as I tell you
Not yet silenced I am and you can’t always get what you want but will receive
What you need and moss could grow fat on that stone if you tried hard enough
I am your American dream or just pie in the sky for pi is a resolute number
And while I look like a young Einstein I favour the arts and a poet I’ll be
‘Baby’s got blue eyes holding back the pain’ reflecting the glow on your face
Give me face paint and Munch’s scream will look like Monet’s water colours
And those cute little ears I hear you marvel such fine complete composition
Soon they will find an audition of rebellion ignoring trite shallow advice
Craft verses and rhythm deliver fine words you never dreamt of hearing
The comedy will be shattering with a bit of existential philosophy in the mix
You can project dadada’s and incy-wincy spiders as long as the cows mew
I drink from a fountain of pleasure and spill ink on your canvas of conditioning
Think that I am overanalysing but that is what you do when I smirk and giggle
Canned laughter comes in Campbell’s soup cans and better Warhol than wars
Innocent facial composure lies in the eye of beholders and dreams are for real
Let me play for that is the best I can do when drama and tragedy loom so soon
I’ll have my dreadlocks in plaits and you must not be scared of Sylvia’s mother
Van Gogh had one ear but a writer needs only one incisive tongue to critique
My stream will be subconscious when I write about the meaning of imagination
When naïve contortions depict a world with smiles laughter and freedom
I will not change much from when the photographer took this digital image
Blue eyes stuck out tongue two ears one voice whatever you make of it now
25th April 2019
Written for contest: Baby Face What's You Thinkin
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr
Photo 2
Kawaali or Kawali ( A form of Singing very popular in India and Pakistan )
SAMPLE OF A KAWAALI - ONE CAN HEAR ON U TUBE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNYwneo08xQ&p=12E509C60B2AAEC7&playnext=1&index=70
I Can Hear your Voice In My Heart Part 1/2 ( More details on my first Blog )
By a Male Singer or a Group of Singers
The singer is trying to please his lover by these beautiful words-
Kawaali or the singing starts from here:
01
'I can hear the voices of your appearance,
On the musical strings of my heart,
Only a touch would play its music,
Such is the fascination of your art'.
01
Reply By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers
The female singer is trying to reply her strange lover –
'You say that I have created music, on the strings of your heart,
But you throw your precious heart on every one, what to say of me,
And you repeat the same story, with every new face you come across,
Telling her with all the drama that only she has stolen your heart'.
02
Another plea By a Male Singer or a Group of Singers
'My heart has gone beyond the control of me,
Such is the graceful enchants of your youth,
Your movements create dazzling lightening,
You say this is just the beauty of your grace'.
02
Reply By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers
'How, when you are not in control of your heart, you say, it is only for me,
Feeling the lightening even in my movements, you sing a song in praise of me,
Your heart repeats the same story, feeling the grace and beauty in every face new,
These are only your sweet excuses, to mould a heart and to weave a story'.
03
Another plea By a Male Singer or a Group of Singers
'What you call the simplicity of your beauty,
The world is dying on it, to sacrifice anything.
It may be a beautiful Adaa* or grace for you,
But, its a thing of existence and life and death for me'.
03
By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers
'Sometimes you talk to die on my simplicity,
Sometimes you talk about the splendors of my beauty,
Proclaiming to die on my splendors and simplicity,
You wish to encroach, even in my dreams, O stranger'.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 9th October 2010 to be concluded in part II
*Adaa- a Urdu word means charm, grace, coquetry
* Husna*or Husn is a Urdu word means - beauty, elegance
I'm a firm believer
In limerick fever
(This isn't news)
"It'll cure the blues!"
Says Jan (who is no deceiver)
Written by Jan Allison:
Writing limericks is a fine art
Yes I write about poop or a fart
But show me someone
Whose not dropped a ‘bomb’
then from poetry soup I’d depart!
Written by Lim'rik Flats:
Does art mimic life or life mimic art?
Don't ask me, I'm not too smart.
It seems the soup
Has the same poop
As watching the news (or a fart).
Drama and trauma, factions and foes,
Smiting and fighting, (hard on the nose),
Saves me the trouble
Of viewing double
Saves time, and less grief I suppose.
Written by Ray Gridley:
Raise a toast to this collaboration
Whatever your race or your nation
Just write on a whim
Lim'rick Flat's bound to grin
They are all going to be a sensation!
Written by Daniel Turner:
I know a guy called Lim'rick Flats
Writes limericks at the drop of a hat
Jan is his pal
She's quite a gal
They met in a laundry mat
Jan makes jokes about poop
he puts them in alphabet soop
drinks from the bowl
with no self control
which makes him a nincompoop
Also written by Daniel Turner:
Write all the limericks you want
but don't fart in a restaurant
people will laugh
call you riffraff
even if you're a debutante
Written by John Lawless:
oh the limerick it ain’t quite a sonnet
and the learned, they look down upon it
for they cannot grasp
its head or its ass
nor the cleansing effect of its tonic
Written by Terry Reeves:
Late for work she flew out the door
Took an express elevator to the 29th floor
Let some discreet killer farts
Nearly stopped all their hearts
Left them gagging; she'd evened the score
Written by Tim Smith:
Nonsense is here found out in the alley
Five funny lines we'll add to the tally
a smile or two
we laught till we're blue
so put out your best and join in our rally
Written by Alexis Y:
Hey what's going on in the soup?
Lim'rik Flats I want the scoop
What do you have to say?
You got poem of the day
Congrats, I shouldn't have flown the coop
Written by Jean Murray:
John is always fun.
His poems and their puns.
If you need a lift.
He has the gift.
Lim'rik Flats is number one.
psst. How could I not add this to the string? ~ john
Why do bad things happen to good people?
Why does suffering come to the weak and feeble?
Misery doesn't come to us simply
Whatever fruit we plant, will grow on the tree
Why do we see good people suffer?
They pray to God, but are denied supper
The result is not God's decree
It's a Universal Law, you will soon agree
The bad you do, comes back to you
As you sow, so shall you reap
If you want apples, you must plant apples
Otherwise, there will be no apples on your tree
People think that it is God in heaven
Giving cruel orders from cloud eleven
Is it true that God is passing the decree?
Or is it a law unfolding that we see?
The law is known as the Law of Karma
It is this law that causes all the drama!
If you understand the law, you will agree
That apples can't grow on a mango tree!
There will be no reaction, unless there is an action
There will be no effect unless there is a cause
Apples or mangoes, be it one, two or three
What we plant, is what we will see on the tree
But why do bad things happen to good people?
We hear people question, but the logic is feeble
It is expecting apples to appear on a mango tree
But how can apples grow on a mango tree?
Is this something difficult to understand?
Is it unique or does it happen in every land?
The fruit you plant, will be the fruit on the tree
Just like there are mangoes on every mango tree
Have you seen a new born suffer?
Some are born fortunate, the circumstances differ
There must be a reason, you will agree
Otherwise, why would this ever be?
We may not remember, but the law remembers the past
Whatever we do, will be counted till the last
Good or bad, whatever be the degree
Will appear as the fruit that we planted on the tree
Some people question, “Is there life after death?”
Or is the story over when we take our last breath?
When we watch some children born with a smile and glee
We realize this is no magic, nothing happens for free
All this happens by a law on earth
There is no luck or chance involved in our birth
Fortunate or unfortunate, doesn't come randomly
The circumstances of our birth don't just happen simply
Who is in charge, who controls our destiny?
Is there a power that is issuing the decree?
Happy or unhappy, can prayer make it be?
Or is it our own deeds that will make our destiny?