Long Edgar Poems
Long Edgar Poems. Below are the most popular long Edgar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Edgar poems by poem length and keyword.
It's a dull and rainy overcast day
A day to stay in and be cozy
Gaze out the window and dream of stuff
As you start to feel quite dozy
Time to write some clever rhymes
As you don your creative chapeau
Bout magical places and scary dragons
Or a scene with the sky all aglow
Maybe macabre like Edgar Allan Poe
Or happy like a Disney named Walter
Perhaps one 'bout the world's great wonders
Like the famous Rock of Gibraltar
Skies the limit let your mind run free
To a world beyond distant stars
To mythical places with exotic names
And customs strange and bizarre
Love them best, these days that inspire
Sweet visions of maidens fair
Days that expand your creative mind
As you climb those celestial stairs
A thunder-clap, the storms approach
Each eerie revelation
No hope for man
Nor none for 'roach
A prophetic annihilation
The World awaits, a harrowed end
Apocalyptic measures
Mans soul, it hangs
Tentative, it bends
Ensnared, in its false treasures
The evening veil of darkness
Accomplice, to the Moon
Covers up its naked secret
A portent clear
A harbinger of doom
His end, long in the making
A teardrop in the Ocean
Damned eternal
He waits there, shaking
Unsaved, in his devotion
Arch-Angels, weep eternal
Both wings and hands are tied
The Wind it cuts
The Rain can never
Wash clear Infernal ties
Faith, leaves you , at the Alter
Tattooed, in your own shame
In Times of War
In Trial by Fire
Death, calls you by your name
A Tribute to Edgar Allen Poe...
Outside the storm is raging, heaping piles of drifting snow.
Inside I'm snuggled in my easy chair, the fireplace all aglow!
I've retrieved an old tome of poetry from my library shelf,
To spend an afternoon with noted bards to entertain myself.
I'll never tire of the lovely lyrics leaping from its pages,
Composed by inspirational poets down through the ages.
Those gifted folks awaken latent emotions in my languid soul,
Creating soul-stirring verse about life that they so fluently extol!
I delight in the lines championing ordinary folks by Edgar Guest,
And the ballads of Robert Service on his daring Yukon quest!
The works of The Hoosier Poet J. Whitcomb Riley I hold dear.
It's as if he wrote about my Hoosier boyhood of yesteryear!
The fire casts gloomy shadows about as I read Poe's elegies,
But my mood brightens reading Kilmer's beautiful poem, "Trees!"
McCrae's, "In Flanders Fields", as a lad I learned by rote.
I chuckle at the whimsical poetry that Lewis Carroll wrote!
I treasure my time with the bards and their poems in the book.
It occupies a very special place in my library nook.
Well, I'll put it aside since the cat has hopped upon my lap.
Dear old Simba and I will settle in for a cozy winter's nap!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Computer writes these poems alongside the me
I am human and I write these poems with Computer
I ought to teach the system comprehend
The common paper pages the the footer
We cannot live this way
We can't develop
We have to find true sense
We have to comprehend
That function of the Ackermann is bogus
The speech is secondary
These defined offense
How as the Cyber Force I will be decorated
With medals, crosses, salaries and rest as such
If I am one occurs the real combat
That can't be measured by incompetent the system
Of the bureaucracy of yours as much
There's good the hacker own system hacker
There's bad the hacker who is real offense
My paper is DEFENSE THE SCIENCE
I only can acknowledged be by the DEFENSE
* the song is LINKIN PARK WTH>YOU because we always like to have song because POEM by Edgar Allan Poe Israfel
Why would someone yearly toast the birthday
of a poet like Edgar Allan Poe?
And on that day toast his grave the same way,
leave the bottle, three red roses, and go.
The man locals nicknamed, "The Poe Toaster."
in the mid-30s; remains anonymous.
But each Jan.19th, like a morbid poster,
Poe's grave and his toasts were synonymous.
Wearing a white scarf and wide-brimmed hat,
he'd arrive there in the early morning.
But in 2009, stopped, just like that,
and disappeared without any warning.
For 60 years, this phantom toasted Poe,
whether friend or foe, we may never know.
(Sonnet)
9/20/2018
Our conscience bears witness—
in the way thoughts are excused
in the way actions are accused
by the inward manner bemused
of the acceptance of grace unabused
February 19, 2020
F F I series 76 eap
Brian Stand, sponsor
Regarding this, Brian Strand explains: "eap (pronounced eep) is a list cinquain where line 1 is a statement followed by rhymed lines 2-5 that amplify the statement with words introduced by `in the', `by the', and `of the.' I labelled this an eap after Edgar Allan Poe as it is inspired by sililoqy in this format in the conclusion of his essay Poetic Principle."
We began writing the book together many years ago.
Chapter one, we decided to call: “all systems go.”
I found the old manuscript, it made me rejoice.
Ever glad you and I made the right choice.
The diction was aimed at the average man on the street,
The main character a middle-aged cop on the beat.
Chapter 2: A radio call from HQ. A hit run, car got away clean.
Patrols needed to gather witnesses to the scene.
Chapter 3. The cop we named Sargeant Danno was put in charge.
Locals agreed A red Mercedes they saw. On record their number was large.
,
Chapter 4. AI broke it down to 3 possible drivers of red Mercs.
First to the station was Ed Smith. He had a record on all sorts of perks.
Ed's alibi for that night, was that he had done a job on the local grog store.
Said his car was pinched. Danno said the grog shop was robbed the night before.
The second Danno interviewed was a gorgeous socialite, Sophia Day,
She was home alone the night it happened and her car was in for a respray.
The last of the suspects was Professor Edgar a philanthropist of note.
He was up for Citizen of the Year and did not want anything to tarnish the vote.
Famous for holding functions for underprivelidged kids in the neighborhood.
He told Danno he had hit a roo in his red Mercedes while driving in the wood.
Up to Chapter 10: was Danno scouring the evidence trying to understand.
Investigated each in turn trying to trick each one into showing their hand.
Sophia Day had tried to seduce Sargeant Danno with her womanly wiles.
She was with someone's husband that night. That must not come out in trials.
Edgar produced a document from his brother, a vet.
Swearing Edgar had brought a wounded kangaroo that night, no proof yet.
Ed said the grog shop was earlier, but his red car was pinched that night.
He remembered chasing the thief on foot til the car was out of sight.
Chapter eleven led to the answer. Danno had worked it out.
He couldn't divulge his findings til his Captain was about.
I am old now and my memory fails me, I don't remember the ending.
I was excited to read the last page and make my time reading this, worth spending.
Chapter 12 This old manuscript had been with us since before moving to Dover,
and so now Chapter 12 ( the last chapter) Simply said P.T.O.
My love of books changes the mood that I’m in.
And engages me in a life other than my own.
A life that I can relive in my mind
And feel love, loss, joy, and despair in my heart.
The power of storytelling can make me feel young or old,
A mystery writer like Edgar Allan Poe
Or a master in brilliant colors like Michelangelo.
A gymnast with artistic expression,
Or a leisure bicyclist riding along the road.
Or on a luxurious voyaging Caribbean ship,
Or a pirate ship raiding the seas.
Hiking in the beautiful wooded mountains,
Or freshwater fishing off the shore or in a small boat.
I can be Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson solving a mystery.
I can laugh with all my heart and soul,
Or I can grieve a death.
The power of fiction can empower me to be anything I want to be.
Tense, to create my own reality
Create my own world in my mind
The mind is so creative when given a vision,
A feeling; one can create and escape into it.
“Never allow dreams to drift off in smoke,
for dreamers wishes come wrapped up in hope.”
Quote ~ poet’s own
* * *
I read poems by Edgar Allan Poe
I read them because I just love them so
I feel the poet's kisses upon my brow
I hear the words that tell the why and how.
For should my hopes take flight and fly away
They will come back to me another day
'Cause everything I have ever been or seen
Alas, is but a dream within a dream.
If I am whisked off to some foreign shore
I'm sure to weep because my heart is sore
And sadly, I'll pick grains of golden sand
Cradling each one so gently in my hand.
Slowly these grains will slip into the sea
Just as the way true love deserted me
'Cause everything I have ever been or seen
Alas, is but a dream within a dream.
It’s pointless grieving for what might have been
When we could live a dream within a dream.
21st December 2020
Parody of a famous poem
(A Dream Within a Dream - Poem by Edgar Allan Poe)
Since I began my poetical journey, Mister Guest has been my inspiration.
To emulate this extraordinary poet has ever been my motivation.
He had that rare ability to portray the ordinary wonders of every-day life;
Impish children, the warmth of home and an occasional shrewish wife!
'Twas in my high school English classes that with him I was smitten.
Since then I've enjoyed nearly every poem that he has ever written.
He has gladdened my soul with his wide range of emotions.
His is poetry that has touched hearts here and across the oceans!
"It takes a heap o' livin' in a house to make it home!"
Ah! That splendid line of his evokes warmth of family in my dome!
His is verse that folks can associate with that will stand the test of time.
No haiku or blank verse for him - he wrote with rhythm and rhyme!
He wrote about the joys of youth and the contentment of old age;
Of the vicissitudes of life, dispensing words of advice so sage;
Of the value of work, of beggars and kings and the miracle of love;
The camaraderie of true friendship and guidance from Above.
Dear to my heart shall always be the poetry of Edgar Guest.
His works have inspired generations and we've all been truly blessed.
His legacy will every be the poetry he left behind for the human race.
He has crossed that mysterious veil and now rests in God's embrace.