Long Editors Poems
Long Editors Poems. Below are the most popular long Editors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Editors poems by poem length and keyword.
Rejection Slips 4
Editor's Notes
by Michael R. Burch
Eat, drink and be merry
(tomorrow, be contrary).
( and complain
in bad refrain,
but please, not till I'm on the plane!)
Write no poem before its time
(in your case, this means never).
Linger over every word
(by which, I mean forever).
By all means, read your verse aloud.
I'm sure you'll be a star
(and just as distant, when I'm gone);
your poems are beauteous (afar).
Less Heroic Couplets: Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch
pour Melissa Balmain
Whenever my writing gets rejected,
I always wonder how the rejecter got elected.
Are we exchanging at the same Bourse?
(Excepting present company, of course!)
I consider the term “rejection slip” to be a double entendre. When editors reject my poems, did I slip up, or did they? Is their slip showing, or is mine?
Ode to Postmodernism, or, Bury Me at St. Edmonds!
by Michael R. Burch
"Bury St. Edmonds—Amid the squirrels, pigeons, flowers and manicured lawns of Abbey Gardens, one can plug a modem into a park bench and check e-mail, files or surf the Web, absolutely free."—Tennessean News Service. (The bench was erected free of charge by the British division of MSN, after a local bureaucrat wrote a contest-winning ode of sorts to MSN.)
Our post-modernist-equipped park bench will let
you browse the World Wide Web, the Internet,
commune with nature, interact with hackers,
design a virus, feed brown bitterns crackers.
Discretely-wired phone lines lead to plugs—
four ports we swept last night for nasty bugs,
so your privacy's assured (a threesome's fine)
while invited friends can scan the party line:
for Internet alerts on new positions,
the randier exploits of politicians,
exotic birds on web cams (DO NOT FEED!) .
The cybersex is great, it's guaranteed
to leave you breathless—flushed, free of disease
and malware viruses. Enjoy the trees,
the birds, the bench—this product of Our pen.
We won in with an ode to MSN.
Keywords/Tags: rejection, rejection slips, write, writing, poet, poets, poems, poetry, internet, social media, society, culture, virus, viruses, viral, coronavirus, malware, world wide web
When the definition of Democracy
Comes negated at both the cost
and price of freedom of speech
And being told what we can and
can not say or do
That to me then becomes an
overreach and abuse of power
Unless you let it be known to the
voting people and general public
as well
And after doing that so to notify
the editors of the dictionary and Wikipedia
But don't waste your time telling
the so called free press or media
They never let the truth get in the
way of a good story and print and
go to press on behalf of there pay
master's
It's the reason why fake news has
flurished is the scourge , bane
and curse and is so prevalent today
A modern 1st World problem
invading our brains from all
directions with subliminal
messages
Otherwise why would would
corporations make such large
election contributions or feel
the need to advertise
Beceause at the end of the day
they are businesses after all
And who but they expect bang
for there buck and a return on
there investment
There are two side's to every
story and the truth is often
somewhere in the middle
Sadly for all of us we only are
told or given one side's version
of a story
And the truth is buried
middle deep in small print
underbeath the staples
Binded hidden from prying
eye's like a fire extinguisher
encased in a glass red box
With the word's written on it
break incase of emergency
When plausible deniability is
the only excuse that will do
and make any sense at all
When you have just used
up the last of your Nine lies
And it's now a minute to the
bewitching hour of ten
And as the age old saying goes
why on earth should or would
we wish to choose the question
The news and what we have been
told if it wasn't true surely that
would not be allowed
Otherwise that means it must
have been green lit by those we
placed our trust in and voted into positions of power
And who on earth of us would
rather prefer not wish or choose to
believe
When the lines between a lie
and reality have now become so
blurred
We simply no longer can not
distinguish bettween them
Do you walk around and wear Him as a vest and only reveal Him when the heat gets too much
Does His heartbeat, beat to the beat of yours
Is your blood infused with His and does it flow from within His veins
For when He hanged at Calvary He took part in the greatest blood transfusion ever heard off
Are you in Christ or is Christ in you?
Do you only use His name when it is suitable?
Trying to fit in with the crowd when in fact you should not conform to the standards of this world
Relying on your own unstable knowledge?
Formed from the opinions of editors of magazines, newspapers or news bulletin
Practically too afraid to refer to His word in case someone might miss-taken you for a bore
Does the term brethren only refer to you when you are confined by the four walls of your church building?
Cause the minute you step outside the gates you take salvation
Carry Him by the hand and hide Him away when you interact with your peers
Sneaking into clinics, thinking no one can recognize who you
Must applaud you, you’re a great actor
But be warned because the director in heaven has control to bring an end to the scene in which you’re acting
You see even The Pill couldn’t help
Masturbating with the idea of being saved
While Intersecting with your evil desires
Talk about gratification of the Flesh!!!
No concentrative can terminate the conception of sin
Which planet are you from
Venus, Jupiter or Mars
It doesn’t really matter for it was He who created all things under the heavens
Where have you ever seen the branch carrying the Vine?
If you are sitting down
With your mind entangled by this question
Distinguish this…
When you’re in Him, He takes your nakedness and shamefulness
And allows His glory to be the very covering
When you’re in Him, your flaws are eliminated because they are engrafted on the side in which He was pierced
For He is the very foundation of all things
When you’re in Him, He changes the very way in which you walk
Sometimes His wrath will have you limping back across the river just like Jacob – I mean Israel
Choose today in whom you will abide!
Are you in Christ or is Christ in you!!!
Form:
For years when my wife was sponsoring forensic groups
Tasked me with "judging" high school oral presentations,
[The most difficult thing I was called upon to do]
Each youngster gave it their best and all were very good
Rules said I was to hand out the high scores to the best
Writing critiques why they did not place--to all the rest.
At PS, I consider some poems from poets
Who present some exceptional, fine verses for me
In contests where I have laid out expectations, and
Waited for what would appear in my contest section,
I do not consider it my place to "judge" these works
To decide winners--the order I like from all the rest.
I lean toward pieces written to formats chosen
I am partial to the rhyming and flow of the lines
I put aside poems which do not follow the rules,
Poor spelling, poor grammar, inanity disappoints
The cream of the crop are left and, I am proud to say,
The cream always rises to the top--from all the rest.
Not personally knowing poets showing their wares
I know something about them by reading their verses
I am stricter on those who have great gifts of writing
More disdainful of those who fill their verses with fluff
If your poem shows not on my "chosen poem list"
Consider your presentation--then, from all the rest!
I like reading simple words easy to understood
I am not impressed needing dictionary at hand
I like brevity, not words scattered over the page
Good poems stand alone without fine embellishments
They must not ramble, cover more than a single theme
It is most successful if it rises higher than--all the rest.
I "judge" poems like editors are apt to "judge" mine
Harsh, if necessary, but honest, don't kill my muse
I know when I have sent out poems below standard
So, it is our mission to always present our best
Submitting pieces of writing--best will always do
If your poem tops my list—was better than the rest!
The Bible clearly states "we should not judge, lest..." I know
Truth is, we are judged ev'ry day, whatever we sow
If your poem doesn't list—it has somewhere else to go.
Written April 23, 2021
There was once a man.
He’d always wanted to write,
But his biggest failing was
That he wasn’t very bright.
Whenever he started
On a story or a plot,
Before he could pen it
He simply forgot
What he had thought earlier
And he wasn’t very wise
So all he wanted was that
The end be a surprise.
And he made up plots and tales
Funny, sad and intense
But in the end he found that
None of them made any sense
For follow as he might all grammar
He could never be concise
And what is more, the ending
Was never a surprise.
Yet he cherished dreams
Of becoming famous and great
Of writing beautiful stories
Of defying his impending fate
But, for all his boldness
He could never roll the dice
And his stories never ended
In a nail-biting surprise.
He told his tales to children
He tried them on every friend
But they never gasped at
The crucial part, the end.
He sent them off to editors
Of magazines of acclaim
But they all sent the stories back
Saying the ending was all the same.
He tried to write a book too
But in the middle he got stuck
And he wasn’t very clever
So he simply cursed his luck
Then finally he gave up
And wallowed in self-despair
He felt life was being hard on him
He felt it wasn’t fair.
Then one of his friends suggested
That if he really had to write
He needn’t just write stories
To prove his wit and might.
He could simply write a cookbook
Or an instruction manual too
Or a traveller’s guide to touring
A place like Timbuktu
Now the man wasn’t very brilliant
But he could recognise good advice
When he saw it, so he took it
Though he wasn’t very wise
And he wrote a self-help book on
Coping with writer’s block
It became a national bestseller
Every bookstore ran out of stock.
And he made pots of money
Because it was reprinted thrice
And he was always very glad
He took his friend’s advice
So now if you ask his opinion
He looks very condescending
And smiles, and says, “to write a book
Who needs a surprise ending?”
Form:
LINES
We LINE up in traffic, or clear out the door,
And there are BEELINES we make, to the seashore.
Get mad and we're "DRAWING A LINE IN THE SAND,"
He USES A LINE when he asks for her hand.
You're in A LINE OF WORK, it's where you can shine:
LINEBACKERS, LINE EDITORS, and TECHIES ONLINE.
You're in the CHORUS of a big Broadway play,
Or dancing in LINES with the CORPS DE BALLET.
I'll "DROP YOU A LINE," when you're on vacation,
Get there by CRUISE LINE to your destination.
Fly on an AIRLINE, but you cannot fly straight,
In crossing a BORDERLINE, COASTLINE, or State.
In HEADLINES, OUTLINES, or given the GUIDELINES,
We calculate "READING BETWEEN ALL THOSE LINES."
DEADLINES and TIMELINES we must try to meet,
In interviews for FRONTLINE of the man on the street.
She is dressed to the nines, with the highest HEMLINE,
And her jeans are drying on a breezy CLOTHESLINE.
The kids throw their sneakers to the TELEPHONE LINES,
They're outside and swimming, their TAN LINES are signs.
CUT IN THE LINE, CROSS A LINE, this may give you trouble,
Especially the LINES that are yellow and double.
You don't want to FLATLINE, when you become very ill,
But you will, when you see LINES from your itemized bill.
There are the Maths that are used for LINES X, Y, and Z,
And a BASELINE to measure what we're trying to see.
We may draw PARALLEL LINES with our ruler in place,
These LINES actually meet when they curve out in space.
Then there's games with LIFELINES, we try not to burn,
There's LINES FROM A SCRIPT that we try hard to learn.
LINES READ in poetry, played in music, sung in song,
It's the memorized beauty of the gifts passed along.
Whatever THE LINE IS, that we find most adoring,
It's NOT keeping the order we find so abhorring.
We humans are LINEAR in most of our thinking,
It's the CIRCLES and CURVES that'll drive us to drinking.
By Edlynn Nau
© February 9, 2016
I forgot who I was, almost lost myself
in a mirage of diffidence,
for a lingering stretch of time!
From the emotional age of twenty-one....
I switched to one role from another -
diverse roles, divergent responsibilities,
But where did the real me disappear?
Reading was my first enchanting love,
Creative writing followed soon…
emotional outpouring, passionately expressed
- from letters to pen-friends, to editors of newspapers,
from fantasy to fiction, and informative non-fiction,
but Poetry eluded me!
Many years had passed not knowing
who I was, who I dreamed to be!
Then...all of a sudden, as if my life
blossomed into a Tree of Hope, when you joined me
into the pursuit of a lyrical journey!
Aha! like a Spring, a life-giving source of water,
a fountain awakening from a deep slumber,
and throwing away all resistance, all hesitance,
all inhibitions, and embracing finesse and subtlety...
sprightly splashing with power at the coral rocks,
I wrote poems for you!
I am still writing!
Writing unwraps my soul…
But, would you love me,
As much as you do,
If I were not a Poet!
Seasons change…throughout the year…
From vibrant joyful colours of Spring, through deep and warm autumnal splendours of Fall, to white silvery jewelled trees in winter..I keep writing poems! You are always with me…by reading all my poems, you infuse inspiration into my mind, My heart beams and beats softly inhaling the tenderness of your love!
Would you love me…if some day,
I stop writing?! my imagination doesn’t create
the magical lines any more... images are blurred,
creative words abandon me...would you?
There is no doubt in my mind …you will.
Poetry will remain in both our hearts,
as our own-orchestrated, unfettered song…
like a transcendent melody spreading the
fragrance of an amazing life savoured together!
Now before we get started let me tell you this.
Twenty five years I've been out of school.
Not one single day of it do I miss.
My writing is mine & there are no rules.
My words are delivered with a lot of passion.
Every verse is straight from the heart.
I put it all together in my own fashion.
I've never considered myself to be very smart.
To get it out of my head and onto the paper,
brings me relief to say the least.
To keep it all in would be much safer,
but I'm searching hard for that inner peace.
Some of these poems may give you tears,
but some of them will make you smile.
Some are based on my biggest fears.
Some from when I was just a child.
I tend to get down to the nitty gritty.
Not really worried about what others say.
Don't want anything in return, especially pity.
Maybe someday I will actually get paid.
I'm not getting any younger, that's for sure.
One neck surgery, that's enough.
For getting older, there is no cure.
I'm finally admitting that I'm not so tough.
So a writing career is my dream.
Boy I should have paid attention in school.
I've always been a late bloomer it seems.
I have no clue about grammar rules.
In school literature was a breeze.
The semester of grammar was another story.
I read and wrote with joy and ease.
but my punctuation was downright gory.
Editors should all be millionaires.
They are special, there is no doubt.
They take your work and magically repair,
the mess you make of what you write about.
So here I go on my writing spree.
Something that i've always loved to do.
It has pretty much replaced TV,
listening to music and sleeping too.
I hope you enjoy all that I have to say.
Even though some seems a little bit dark.
Maybe I can get published someday.
Hopefully I have that special spark.
It was stupid of Walt
not to show it to Joan
before they got married
but he was too shy.
He had no idea
what to expect
but he never expected
her to laugh.
Not a laugh exactly,
more of a cackle
children might hear
from a witch on a broom
Saturday morning
in a cartoon.
Joan's laugh rang out
the first night
of their honeymoon.
Walt never got over it.
The marriage was over
even if it continued
for six kids in ten years.
Like many men, Walt
had no problem
copulating from afar
unencumbered by love.
It was dark in the bedroom.
Joan could have been
any woman.
Had he shown it to her
before they got married
and heard that laugh,
he would have left town,
embarrassed, you bet,
but there would have been
no wedding, no kids,
no divorce, no years
in a hotel room mailing
alimony and support.
After the divorce
things didn't improve.
Walt heard the laugh
in his dreams, in cabs,
on elevators, in diners,
everywhere he went.
He heard it after the kids
earned degrees,
got married, did
well on their own,
escaping the pyre
of their childhood.
At Joan's funeral
Walt told the kids why
the marriage had failed.
He said he shouldn't
have shown her
the poem the night
they were married.
She laughed because
she thought it was funny.
She knew nothing
about poetry,
nothing of his
efforts to write it.
This was his first poem,
the first of more than 500
published after the laugh.
Who'd believe a laugh
could end a marriage
before it began?
Over the years Walt asked
critics and editors
for their opinions
about the poem.
None found it funny.
The consensus was
the piece was tragic
in theme and imagery.
The experts were right
in more ways than one.
Donal Mahoney
Dear Oxford English Dictionary editors,
Please consider the following words for inclusion in your next edition:
Amazone - the addictive, ensnaring vortex of shopping online. "She's been on her laptop all day searching for the perfect wedding gown. She's in the Amazone."
Blump - One who sits around like a head with its chicken cut off (a portmanteau of butt and lump). "He lives in the basement playing video games all day, sitting like a blump on a log."
Cavitate - To move oneself towards items of confectionery. "At parties I always cavitate towards the bowl of M&Ms."
Dispepsic - Drinking Coca-Cola products to the exclusion of all others. "I've been dispepsic for a year now, and loving it!"
Flubbergasted - The overwhelming disbelief at gaining 25 pounds. "Why are all my pants super tight all of a sudden? I'm flubbergasted!"
Newbousness - Amateur behavior exhibited by a person brand new to an activity. "Dad's newbousness with his cell phone is so embarrassing!"
Puppulate - What mama pooch does with her suitor after dark. "Nobody puppulates the neighborhood like Princess used to do."
Twitterpate - Spending so much time on social media that one's head takes the shape and color of a blue bird. "My granddaughter's so twitterpated I barely recognized her."
Uncluded - Regarding necessary accessories that must be purchased separately. "AAA batteries are uncluded".
Wikipediatrician - A medical professional specializing in eye strain caused by non-stop reading of Wikipedia articles. "I can barely focus on long distances anymore... better visit my Wikipediatrician."