Long Edited Poems
Long Edited Poems. Below are the most popular long Edited by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Edited poems by poem length and keyword.
My pain is not big enough
All around me other people lay their pain bare
Exposing their insides to the world
I witness, I watch
Learning only that
My pain is too ugly and not bad enough
Mine to bear alone
My pain is unfinished, unpolished
Who am I to lay claim to such distress
My pain is not special enough, not shameful enough
I perform too well, my pain hidden from view
My words are not adequately evocative or provocative
My despair is mundane, boring
Not worthy of attention
My pain is self made; my own worst enemy
Not deserving of pity
A self-defeating paradox, a self-fulfilling prophecy
Nothing to be rewarded or tended to here
My grief, unremarkable; my sorrow, too ordinary
The unbearable pain of my existence: an overused cliché
Nothing special in my brokenness - not broken enough
My pain is not bad enough - yet must be edited to spare others
Hide the depths of despair, the tears, the dark moments
Lest I be too much and simultaneously not enough
Too sensitive, not strong enough to bear the weight
Yet, strong enough to hold the pain of others
To bear witness, to soothe, to contain
A paradox of pain and self loathing
Poetry of self pity the only salve
Testa
Undone work
On a corner
Passing daylight
Timing in my afterlight
Caught between no canvas Pietro
Illustrations disappearance
Two see no other rain in sight
We passed true as our ghost lept
Fide et Amore
By faith in love
Fidelity as anul
Being Borrowed
For Film
By Another Woman
When We Come Aboard
A Military waited
In grasses tan, too low
Asnt in the future
Her return, ran from more
And in our time
All stood wide
Armed in rejection
Of a betters letters, above alls door
Oh stormy night
Dani Woodward,
Can we write tonight?
The nights editor
In The Times
Curtains of light kid,
Fall on my fold
Before you turn it in
Under the evacuation
She appears
It's easy cloth I fold for you lady
He's edited headlines besides it once
She's missed page before
Also why your wise.
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
Good Scene Sasha
Gracious engagements we now insist
Healthy bonding for friendship’s wealth gain
Allowing welfare’s peace to persist
Midst loving bliss and respect that reign.
Healthy bonding for friendship’s wealth gain
We do learn from each other’s wisdom
Midst loving bliss and respect that reign
Devoid of pride that stains good will’s freedom.
We do learn from each other’s wisdom
By partnership along helping mirth
Devoid of pride that stains good will’s freedom
Fulfilling God's aim for us in this earth.
By partnership along helping mirth
We accommodate varied delights
Fulfilling God's aim for us in this earth
While appreciating unique traits’ sights.
We accommodate varied delights
Aware of wondrous differences
While appreciating unique traits’ sights
In closeness where love* indeed blesses.
Aware of wondrous differences
Allowing welfare’s peace to persist
In closeness where love* indeed blesses
Gracious engagements we now insist.
*1John 4:7 Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.
May 10, 2020
3rd place, "Pantoum Rhyme and Personification" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper; judged on 6/13/2020.
Edited on June 14, 2020
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes,
Often Wondered.....
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
A pathos lurking underneath the saddest smile, she told me...
The flute was the only thing she had of her brother,
who, in their childhood, played music when she sang,
He passed away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
The other one clung to the tiny piece of memory he left..
A Symphony Of Love!
FIRST PLACE
Edited " Last Sigh" on September 24, 2021
For "P" Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
His monkey-fascination made him own a “monkeyrium”
There, monkeys and cousin apes in their gladdening crusade freely reign
Unlike the sea creatures in the imprisoning aquarium
The funny troops have liberty in their haven’s domain.
Those monkeys, midst animated cartoon characters, are my son’s delight
Their cheerful quirks, especially that of Chimpanzee Charlie, won his heart
How they perk him up with their mirth-oozing sight
Along their varied careening turns and twists of witty art.
Caring monkeys caught first his curiosity in the creation story
Then they amused him as musicians in Noah’s floating zoo
Now, their charm’s presence is felt in my son’s territory
As they showcase their loving ways like humans do.
Yes, the monkeys are pulling my son’s faith-string of glad disposition
Pushing him to stride during his therapy sessions midst his disability
Prodding his spirit to get up with glee for his prayer position
Prompting him to sing… even amidst obvious difficulty.
My special child’s “monkeyrium” is his wondrous paradise
With monkey-ape-stuffed toys he plays with, and can dearly hold
Thru them, I thank and praise the Lord Who’s good and so wise*
For granting my blessed boy great privileges he can enjoy and behold!
*Jude 1:25 To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.
First posted on May 21, 2018
Edited on November 26 incorporating the following words: Charlie, Cartoon, Characters, Curiosity, Careening And Crusade
2nd place, "Charlie's Cartoon Characters Curiously Careen And Crusade Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on December 16, 2018.
Tortured by iniquities’ guilt
My soul was condemned toward everlasting wrath…
Defenseless against penalty of sin.
Gripped with hypocrisy in the guise of meekness
My self-righteousness dominantly towered…
Defensive in alluding to human nature’s flaw.
Lured into materialism’s plunge
My carnality succumbed to worldly enchantment…
Defending flesh cravings for convenience-comfort.
Redeemed by the Saviour Jesus Christ
My spirit He quickened, granted with everlasting assurance…
Defenseless no more against death and grave.
Transformed to exalt the Lord* Almighty
My heart now worshipfully exalts His name…
Defense at work is the omnipotent Holy Spirit.
Strengthened for blessed service
My faith ascends along faithful stewardship…
Defensively vanquishing doubts and skepticism.
Blissfully basking in triumphant serenity
My life I devote reaching-out with love while yielded to Christ…
Defender Who deserves the best from empowering the defenseless.
*Psalm 94:22 But the LORD is my defence; and my God is the rock of my refuge.
February 17, 2020
Edited on March 14, 2020
1st place, "STRAND CHOICE G..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/16/2020.
I long to hear the wandering creek
its gentle song as it bubbled past land.
in its whispers, we could hear it speak
words only children can understand
gentle music we now often seek.
Beside the creek, a magic meadow
grass was so high it reached to our knees.
We ran and laughed hiding from shadows
midst four o'clocks and lost apple trees,
and the creek's soft, iridescent glow.
Like the creek, reaching end of its run,
Childhood vanished overnight, it seems
Could it be but a fairytale spun
when we ran happily chasing dreams
So long ago, when daydreams were young
October 25, 2022
Edited October 17, 2024
EMBERS and SNOWFLAKES
Wood may turn to coal
through ages, stepping stages.
Timber coal burnt to
embers glowing hot, sparkle,
or splinters burst in luster.
Cloud droplets resting
on saturated air mass
through super cooling,
may freeze on dust particles,
forming snowflakes: Ice crystals.
Charred fire-hot embers!
Fragment from fiery fire.
Chilled icy snowflakes
Too hot, too cold, two extremes.
Embers spark, snowflakes glisten.
01/03/18
Edited on 09/11/20
'Completely Your choice (7) ' Contest by Brian Strand
Met what I thought was a fellow poet online
The poet was a she, and things were feeling fine
She complimented my work, I gave it right back
Two minds in the rhythm, staying on the track
But she kept talking ‘bout a student she’d had
Taught him how to sext, taught him how to be bad
She had an interest in "True Crime" and the dark
I played the "bad boy" just to keep that spark.
Is this just an intellectual "Only Fans"?
Built on ghost stories and half-baked plans
A New Jersey girl, smart and confused
Leaving the poets battered and bruised
I told her too much, I let it all out
Now I’m left wondering what it was about.
She complained about an author she used to sponsor
Paid his way, played the role of the monster
She edited his words, she paved his road
Then he dropped her like a red hot coal,
I’m told He found another chick and left her behind
I played her word games, trying to be kind
She never said what she wanted from me
But I was happy for the replies, happy to see.
Then the screen went blank, the page went white
She deleted her soul in the middle of the night
The last words on her profile, a bitter goodbye
Just a "slag off" beneath a digital sky
I guess the men on here are just on the chase
And the women poets are looking for a face.
So here’s a word to those who read what I write
I’m pulling my shadow back into the light
I’m only saying "Thank You" from here on out
I’m clearing the room,
I’m clearing the doubt
I don’t want a groupie,
I don’t want to sext
I don’t want to wonder who’s coming up next.
Don’t sponsor my book, don’t be my muse
I’ve got nothing left that you can use
I’m all full up of crazy,
I’ve had my store
And I don’t need a single drop more.
No, I don't need any more.
Enter, this way,
don't mind the dank shadow-crawling tunnel,
nothing has lived here for years.
Antechamber ahead, no need to crouch now.
In this chill hall you can admire a black moon
pinned to an even darker sky.
So far, you have just been reading my thoughts,
now you may discern my mouth and one bloodshot eye,
fear not, I am just a patchwork poet,
other parts of me are buried here and there.
In the next room you can talk to your own ears.
There is a musical box in the corner
where the sullen arias of snails and puppy dog tails
are endlessly edited.
Enter now this shambling duplex apartment, here
there are two of me, both leading a double life.
All available light can be controlled by a
dimmer switch. You will know where to find it,
it is implanted between ecstasy and loathing.
Relax, I have provided a bed of bones for you.
Unfortunately, moles have ravaged my writing tablet,
I can only scratch poetry on mole hills now,
however, the upturned earth is still rich and loamy,
and the little creatures tirelessly check my spelling,
even though I can hardly see my words anymore.
Please note, that these musings have been sent
by those supersonic bats that translate for us
a whole world of silence.