Long Elongate Poems

Long Elongate Poems. Below are the most popular long Elongate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elongate poems by poem length and keyword.


Pleasure Departs

A piece of music takes us by the hand
and leads us through its world from time to place,
from place to time by hand from land to land
within a vast expanse in which to pace.

But soon it's gone, has left my ears and life,
and moved its eyes to left, right, up and down.
It smiled so smugly as it gave me strife
and left me with these saddest eyes that frown.

Yet thank you, dearest sound, for being here
with notes and bars that aim to bring us pleasure.
We smile so hard to try to quell our fear
and try so hard to elongate our leisure.

This muse was swiftly here yet so soon parted -
yes, fled with speed. It's gone. We're broken-hearted.

(6 Jan 2023)
Form: Sonnet


Dreams

Darkness envelops a violet sky,
night ends the lighted reign,
stars elongate in a lucid haze
as a new world appears in the mist.
People and places hidden away in the dark
play to the crowd of only one,
in contorted scenes of yesteryear.
How I long to comprehend its meaning!                


Pictures arise like a sudden tornado,
twisting and turning endlessly;
unexplainable scenes intertwine 
in depths of unimagined presence.
A fast entrance with an even quicker exit,
all the players right on cue
make a drama every night.
How I long to understand it all!
       

The tossing and turning like a rag doll,
in rhythm with each sequence,
everything seems so close yet so far away,
but grasping to touch is sheer madness.
The scenes that come are mainly a mystery,
and the players change infinitely,
much is forgotten as the darkness fades.
How I long to dream again!
© George Aul  Create an image from this poem.

A Carrot Cake Tributary Visit

the fence is now made of rust
the patio now has a see through floor
the grass is now a mirror for the aging sun
the trees are now all skeletons in the unfortunate name of abandonment

the clothesline is still surprisingly intact
the clothespins are now weather worn and practically useless
the swing set is now a long lost distant cousin of the aforementioned fence
the doghouse where slacker used to chill is now a bathroom source for many a bird

a rabbit hops in here where life once was
she stares at me inquisitively 
i wonder if miss bunny has a poem in her head or a quiet opinion
well, i share with her the anecdote that i intentionally elongate
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Acceptance and Appreciation Despite My Personal Wants

at times i simply grab your feet and massage them
i make eye contact with you and flirt with you
i tell you that your hair looks nice and that you smell quite nice
you roll your eyes, but you enjoy the massage
i know that you will never say yes, but Prayer is Quite A Vibe
as i continue to massage your feet, i ask if you would like to watch a movie
you tell me to put in 'duel'
internally i cheer and click the appropriate button
i just want to elongate your presence in my presence
you roll your eyes again because you are used to my many slick attempts
i guess after x amount of years, one becomes predictable
you take back your feet and simply turn around and pint at your shoulders
now i roll my eyes and we just laugh quite boisterously
we make eye contact and stay there for a while.....flirting and wondering.....
the movie begins, and i again become your fleece throw blanket
this wise man takes it no further and appreciates A God Gift.....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

As the Foundation Sinks

the pantomiming madman squeals appeals
as tall gray shadows elongate along the wall
like black-hearted judges brewing venom
within their jowls bulging and anticipating
the reaping of tears and tremulous wails

the growl of steel-bars and the verdict of iron-doors
molds monsters masticating pheromones of trepidation
as the silent song of degradation infects ears of prisoners
dripping nightmares into their brains wading in masks
the jolting alarm of roll-call roiling disjointed curses

falling into the melody of servitude marching in syncopated
perpetual motion as granite guards grind their hard jaws
scanning with silver mirrors pupils expanding and contracting
inside hellish universes of the condemned fingering fissures
hemorrhaging light illuminating scales of a screeching snake…
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Human Disconnection

oh, the irony...

glued
to electronic devices 
designed to foster
connectedness, 
yet the yawning gulf 
between relationships
w   i   d   e   n
as a result. 
with technology overuse,
far too many become
increasingly isolated.
with lips pressed 
against cell phones,
fingertips
tap-dancing
on keyboards
as minutes 
elongate to hours;
we grow oblivious 
to the world around us: 
ringing phones,
ticking clocks,
chirping birds,
loved ones 
calling out to us
go unheard; 
undivided attention
denied
to acquaintances,
friends, 
even family members...
is it any wonder
we misspend time
electronically plugged in?
what has happened
to face-to-face communication?
what a world of difference 
it makes 
temporarily disconnecting
to r e e s t a b l i s h
the human connection.

When the Pendulum Gravity Shall Fail

Every thought 
                    I had fought 
Is like each single 
                    I've ever mingle
As each cough
                   has been so tough
To cope 
                with when thinking of hope 

But it is true, 
               no one wish for blue
Yet in the end, 
              everyone becomes your friend 
When the plans 
              elongate your spans 
That you sing
               for joy like a king 

No one will see
            to the drowning sea
You had sailed 
             through lonely veiled 
In coils 
            of trouble projecting foils 
Which beautify 
             what memories testify

No one shingles 
                my thought in reggae with jingles 
Like Deborah 
               whose voice is auroral 
And can make florals oral 
                 when in quarrel 
With the breeze 
                to seize atmospheric freeze 

To ease 
        humans of an appealing sneeze 
And set all free 
            with her divine decree
But be it as it may
On this soil, I am still enjoying each day

Though it is certain 
No one can hold forever detained 
On this soil with his oil
Beyond liquidation of its spoil

One day, I will travel 
To the land of gold to unravel 
Eon; ever new Jerusalem 
And stopped the earthly pendulum 

So do everyone 
Be prepared 
Like a soldier without gun
That never have the loss declared
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Thought It Was Tea

I thought it was tea
it tasted bitter, different, unknown
I started feeling...something
Everything was slowing down
everything everyone said seemed funny
their mouths moved to every syllable
and each hair on a face seemed more detailed
I watched my hands grow, fingers seemed to elongate
everyone was wearing clowns feet, big floppy shoes
time seemed to move in technicolor and stretch
in a corner, a couple was kissing
they melted into the wall
the wall melted into the floor
the floor melted away
leaving me on the edge of something, unseen
a light was spinning, coming closer and closer
it can't be the sun, it's growing
I scream
darkness, sweat, a cold wet towel
a soft voice, are you alright
I don't know
I just had some tea


3/8/18 contest Hallucination

OVER and OVER AGAIN

Over and over again
I try to obliterate the stain
But every now and then
She fire me up with pain
Again and again.

Over and over again I tender apologies
Yet without considerations or remedies 
The more I try to unleash my good reasons
The more I got ignored like dry seasons.

Over and over again I got ignored
And my love for you is always questioned.
I give you love but you placed your ego above.
All of my efforts for you, you always remove 
From your ways and turn them into a cabbage in a gabage.

Over and over again you be-little me
Because your love has turned sour
Our relationship has no more power
Or a chance to see good weathers.
But no challenge, even without you I will
Sincerely cope and elongate my hope like a long rope.

Over and over again, I have forgotten 
You even as I am no more of you. 
But it you come back soon, the gate is still open.



         CHARLESMELODY EWACHE ONYILO
                        (Lightning Ink)
                    ---16/11/2023---
Form: Rhyme

Waiting For Acceptance

Now Buxton is the place to stay when hiking in “the Dales”,
But your schedule’s shot to pieces if you’re troubled by strong gales,
On a campsite in the Pennines the wind was blowing bitterly
I confided to the warden’s wife, “Next year I’m off to Italy”.

So I asked my boss for overtime and accrued a tidy sum,
My girlfriend don’t like pasta so she didn’t want to come,
I planned to see some galleries and architectural sights,
I borrowed several brochures and I booked some budget flights.

I met a waiter in a restaurant on a vibrant street in Pisa,
He’d offer me a holiday if I were not a geezer.
Could I shake off the tradition or am I wedded to my gender?
It’s a fashionable mission. Should I let him call me Brenda?

I like the foods of Italy, they’ve tonnes of tasty meals
But would I ever feel relaxed in a necklace and high heels?
Oh I’d return from Tuscany with fond romantic tales
Of operatic ecstasy and tall Italian males.

People shed their inhibitions, often break their wedding vows,
Would he buy me splendid dinners if I wore a skirt and blouse?
Could I elongate my lashes and step out in jewels and finery?
Is it time to leave this closet and declare myself non-binary?

Should I use the ladies’ restroom or still hang-out in the gents’,
Simply tell the folks around me that I’m sitting on the fence?
If I walked into the barber’s shouting "Rid me of this beard!"
Would he relish my exuberance, or think me rather weird?

I’d talk no more of football teams or the merits of real ales,
I’d think about nutritious food and the colour of my nails.
I would give up wearing neckties and my slacks would be less dismal,
I might sit at a reception desk, though the pay would be abysmal!

I might alienate mates if I keep changing genders,
Should I book into a clinic? - no the prospect sounds horrendous!
I still prefer to lead when I’m dancing down at gigs
And I’ll be auctioning my wardrobe full of brassieres and wigs.

My local mosque has two approaches, men and women are divided,
They’ll soon need an extra doorway, for committed undecided.
Subdivided laundrettes are another implication,
I think I’ll ’phone that waiter and decline his invitation.
Form: Narrative

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