Long Drew Poems
Long Drew Poems. Below are the most popular long Drew by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drew poems by poem length and keyword.
Anglo-Saxon rulers were interned in the Orford castle.
Its polygonal edges secure the town's harbor from dazzle.
Many tallies of feral men caught in fisher webs hassle.
In 1826, Joseph Turner intended a hardcover poetry book.
On his trip to England's East Coast, he was led to the fort look.
Turner drew it with a pencil tracing.
He used a deep stain on a blue rag to add raging.
Orford's fort was veiled by red twilight in a verse hard coating.
Written: February 04, 2022
http://collection.imamuseum.org/artwork/49383/
A Strand (1069) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
From far North Vikings came in ships,
to plunder the church's gold
and monks in fear were ill-equipped
only peace since days of old
These Vikings came to English soil
brought death and shattered bone
with horns to blow that cause turmoil
as misery was at home
To the forest dark twelve monks had ran
to flee the Viking pain
A lonely Knight would make a stand
no question of monk's shame
Firm and fierce as death comes toward
he stood on sacred ground
with prayer's wish and sharpened sword
he drew his blade around
An axe in Viking hands convey
a fear within the church
The evil came without delay
to vanquish peasants from the earth
With blood, they rid the church of gold
left dead across the ground
and body of a Knight so bold
before they cut him down
With a sword upon his chest, he died
to save the monks who'd run
The honor did his anguished cries
attends the setting sun
Within the burning English walls
did lay a virgin bride
In her last breath, she grasps the hand
of her Knight, who bravely died
contest Form B
12/18/16
My narrow hands made minarets
Of castles in the sky
The phantom figures that I traced
Were but for just my eyes
I did not draw upon the sand
For fear the rising tide
Would devastate the effort
And then – what left – have I?
I did not sketch in quarters
The public would review
For fear their introspection
Would taint my simple view
And what my slender finger drew
Upon the canvas blank
With such utmost authority
Took just my breath away –
Alone I viewed my handiwork
Took stock of every line
Internalized the ephemeral
Nature of the rhyme
Which set the spirit of the thought
Which grasped the shades of earth
And shaped my castles in the air
In minarets of verse –
Launched my modern home, I drew,
a Star to be the brightest.
Twinkling the construction crew,
blueprints to my universe.
Shuttling every two by four,
neutralizing nail to floor.
A stellar constitution.
Continuum fascination.
Adds a boat with loads of color,
coming as a rushing river.
Splashing moist lemons, via,
chartreuse, (light green), lips, cherry-fuchsia.
It kissed a beach of panels.
Sharing, in the light of candles,
and darkness, in packs of Camels.
A dab, a splash, or light touch,
part of me, surrendered much.
Furnished all with harmony,
ivory, and ebony.
Musical chairs, desk of joy.
Table sings, a bed is coy.
In and out, grows a garden,
laughter poured out from hoses.
Flower beds giggled when done,
smiles coming from roses.
Blossoms stood to be amused.
Elders wilt, were being excused.
Smiles were growing everywhere,
none was built to put on airs.
The sounds of hammering heard,
creates a fluttering bird.
The final nail enters in.
Breaths held, speechless, it makes them.
Entertains the hearts, it does.
Enlightens minds, added plus.
Soothes the soul, molds the spirit.
Gave their all, now it shows it.
Is it great, or a wonder,
Just our house, though none other.
As the head Centurion was supervising his men
Occasionally he'd look upon Jesus now and then
And as he was instructing his men as to what to do
It was closer to this Man Jesus that this centurion drew
And after the Cross was raised he then stood on guard
This battle worn soldier whose heart was now so hard
Hearing his own men as they cast lots for Jesus' clothes
A compassion, which he could not discern, suddenly arose
And as he watched Jesus for three long hours in agony
It was through this manner that his heart began to see
This man who was there the whole time at the Cross that day
In seeing Jesus suffer he knew that this Jesus was the Way
He had watched in so many other men being crucified before
But it was this, Our Lord, who changed his whole entire core
For this Man was different as He suffered in all complete Grace
Asking His Father to forgive us as Blood ran down His Face
I couldn't pinpoint the moment
When my movement changed
The current continued onward
So how could I know, underneath,
......my waters rearranged
As time carried on, and I along
Bubbles rose to the top, bursting
The still, calm, peace, gone
How could the River of Life
.....become so thirsty
I wanted to go South, but no
You drew me straight into your North
West and East not even considered
Where the rushing of tides
....working to bring LOVE forth
............into the glorious light of never ending day
I have desires, I want...something
I play it out like a genius playing chess
The movements and choices made by eternity
Who am I to make a willful play
....a fool bouncing out a well informed...guess
I once did all I wanted, secretly
Knowing that none wanted me to prosper
I found safety in you, releasing my flow
And at the exact moment I saw a form
......I lost HER
The woman you made me to be
Is flowing in you, finally free
Yet unison seems far from shores
When I pull back, again, to hold my moors
......securely in time, rushing toward eternity
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03/10/2020
She woke up early that morning, opened the window that had a view of a blue sea, just in time for the rising mellow sunrise.
The fresh cool wind blew gently on her face as she drew the white linen curtains to the sides.
A ray of the gold sunrise revealed, an already prepared breakfast on the wooden table.
The wind blew off the candles as the smoke smoldered aimlessly through the room.
The fragrance of flower pots by the window filled the room with the familiar aroma that comes with blooming white roses.
The radio was playing and the birds were singing.
She was humming along and together the melodies sounded like waves of fresh waters by the seashore.
The routine interpreted all its greatness to having a caring and loving Mother;
A Caring, and Loving Morning star.
He watched them from a doorway sitting on a pavement step
cuz when it came to social graces he was hopeless quite inept
when the choir started singing something loosed way deep inside
it was an Easter morning hymn that broke his torment stride
hungry, broken, and impoverished, he was always left behind
in a church now full of empty, only Jesus - drew his kind
when the light spilled forth in darkness he fast huddled on a bench
hunched and frozen, cold as iron, no one there to claim the stench
stained glass windows pure of vision beaming down upon his crown
there beneath the bench an egg from a child's hand fallen down
slowly peeling off the wrapper he did chew with wonderous smile
Christ had given him a chocolate, he was feeling quite worthwhile!
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2018
John 2: 1-12
21st Century King James Version
2 And on the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there;
2 and both Jesus and His disciples were called to the marriage.
3 And when they lacked wine, the mother of Jesus said unto Him, “They have no wine.”
4 Jesus said unto her, “Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.”
5 His mother said unto the servants, “Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it.”
6 And there were set there six waterpots of stone, according to the manner of the purifying of the Jews, holding twenty to thirty gallons apiece.
7 Jesus said unto them, “Fill the waterpots with water.” And they filled them up to the brim.
8 And He said unto them, “Draw some out now, and bear it unto the governor of the feast.” And they took it.
9 When the ruler of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, not knowing from whence it had come (but the servants who drew the water knew), the governor of the feast called the bridegroom
10 and said unto him, “Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine, and when men have drunk well, then that which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now.”
11 This beginning of miracles Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth His glory; and His disciples believed in Him.
12 After this He went down to Capernaum, He and His mother and His brethren and His disciples; and they continued there a few days.
Look at verse 3 and 5 again. Read it several times. Think about it. Ponder on it. Why would His mother tell Him they had run out of wine? What had she seen and heard from Him from the time even before He was born? Had He performed miracles all His life? Did He only start performing miracles at age 12? Did Jesus' mother know that Jesus would be able to handle the situation no matter what? Think on these things and come up with some of your own.
I packed a few belongings in
a knapsack, my journey to begin.
When my mother gave me a goodbye kiss,
I never expected Barovia's mist.
But I didn't think to count the cost,
and now I'm all alone and lost.
I wonder if I'm even missed.
It seems I'm stuck in Barovia's mist.
Often, I look deep inside my being,
but this fog always clouds my seeing.
Do I even really exist
as I languish in Barovia's mist?
Frustration and anger grip my soul
as I struggle to maintain control
and clench my seething fist.
I must escape from Barovia's mist.
Every time I collapse in despair,
wishing I could clear the vapor in the air,
I find I can't resist
the dark powers of Barovia's mist.
One day, my senses were strangely jarred.
A white-haired lady drew a Tarokka card.
Who knew that she was in my midst
as I wallowed in Barovia's mist?
Said she, "You don't know what's in store".
(Lady Eva was the name she bore.)
"You must keep trying and persist.
Don't surrender to Barovia's mist.
For, in this land, we never know,
as Castle Ravenloft, above, and we below,
await an unexpected twist,
in the mysterious Barovian mist."