Long Entering Poems
Long Entering Poems. Below are the most popular long Entering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Entering poems by poem length and keyword.
What was my reason
for being a loner,
for giving up on dreams
and for ceasing to exist?
There was eagerness
when youth began,
there's was no absence of cheer,
all was quite perfect!
Unexpectedly, hope grew with time
and I regained the tremendous loss of confidence,
and rejected the bitterness that I brought on myself;
being sad isolated me from others who knew
why did he choose loneliness and distance...
and stole glances of ownness from people without a clue?
Why he never understood that reality could have brought him low,
compelling him to deny his existence and be called a deriding elf?
And through his denial, all brightness was reduced to a glow!
What was my reason
for being a loner,
having no will to step outside,
but hide in a dungeon
without drifting air?
Was gloominess a wish...
something to chide,
or perpetual anguish?
I've lived the longest life and wondered
if death was a relief or punishment on our mortal kind;
and losing senses with an expiring breath meant
be no longer part of the living striding across the earth,
but entering a dimension where the body that became dust
couldn't transcend the naive perception that
immortality was not earned by cunning and stealth...
only the one who was able to discern it got this reward!
Velvet kisses for your longing lips
Ample treats I've lined on curve of hips
Luscious berries, chocolate tipped for taste
Each to linger on, not one to waste
Negligee of lace neath satin robe
Tempting eyes to savor, hands to probe
Intimate the setting, soft the light
None but me in whom your eyes delight
Every loving touch brings tremor sweet
Doting on your needs, each one I meet
Entering my haven, heady scent
Love has granted you her own consent
Idle wanton fingers now explore
Caught in pleasure's need to taste some more
Ardent is this moment, passions rise
Conquest of the heights, we reach the prize
Isolated there, we two are one
Ecstasy of night gives way to sun
Sweetest Valentine, you are the one!
Eileen Manassian
Dear Santa,
As you may well know,
it's tights and not stockings that are all the go.
So, with no stockings to hang on the bedstead,
would a pair of my bloomers be OK instead?
I'll sew up the legs so that there is more space,
can't have my gifts falling all over the place.
I hope you don't mind, as my wine you consume,
please try to be silent when entering my room.
I'm a light sleeper and at my age, which is quite a pain,
if I lose too much sleep, then it addles my brain.
You may kiss me sweetly if I'm in deep slumber
mistletoe on my pillow, plus telephone number.
I promise to leave you a home-made mince pie,
though the pastry's gone soggy
'cause the onions made me cry.
Myopia means recipes I really struggle to see
though onion in mince pies' is a new one on me.
But the pies are quite tasty as I'm sure you'll agree
and if you're still hungry, then have two or three!
There's a drop of fine whisky which you may try too,
bought by my late husband circa 1952
'twas in an old bottle I found in the shed
my hubby drank most of it afore dropping dead.
I think you're so special, dear old Santa Claus,
now here's what I would like you to leave in my drawers:.
1. A pretty box - so I may store my false teeth so neat,
so I can find 'em when I gets me something to eat.
2. A walking frame 'cause I am liable to fall,
and falling, alas, does you no good at all.
3. Some California Poppy, as supplies now seem so short,
if this scent can't be found I will smell like a horse.
4. A pair of big knockers, for front and back door.
A warm cosy nighty, don't need see-throughs no more.
5. Get me a back scratcher, please, if you can,
I can't scratch that itch since I lost me old man.
6. Also an emergency underwear kit,
as nowadays there's times when I don't quite make it.
7. If you have a big dog, leave it in the back yard,
I'll treat quite kindly, if me it will guard.
Thats all the gifts on my Christmas wish list,
but I'll settle for more Santa, if you insist.
I haven't been naughty for many a year,
when awaking, I expect all my gifts to be here!
Merry Christmas!
Looby Loo x
* * *
Christmas 2020
I write upon the agonizing war within
me, the war between my fear of Covid
and desire to see my mother,
who was in her death bed.
She chose to die at home, not at the hospital.
The home Corona virus invaded.
Saw her the night she was discharged, which I dreaded.
Entering the house with fear was brutal.
With shaking knees, stood by her bed.
Caressed her hair, touched her
face and arms and held her hand and in turn she did
hold mine and alone with her I stayed in.
Could not shake off my fear, qualm, angst while I was in
there for all, except one became covid
positive, including mother.
Minutes later, I said
"I love you" and left, although I had personal
protective equipment, home I headed.
2/2/21 My Invented Form - I Write Upon Poetry
Constance La France
Used: How Many Syllables and Rhymezone
Checked Grammar: PS
in the beginning, we may say
we dwelt in stupor of separation
awareness dulled, driven by desire
oblivious to the vibrancy of bliss elation
senses externalised, thoughts blocking surprise
somewhere we lost our childlike spontaneity
enmeshed thus in a web of our making
boon became bane, joy the fatality
upon reaching the point of exhaustion
we froze flow of thought, entering stillness
our attention internalised in the void of silence
we felt strange stirrings within of ineffable joyfulness
stretching the time continuum to deepen feeling
we melded therein by softening attention
dormant nodes within awakened
purring in blissful joy elation
we assign to our bliss no label
as the energy divine stabilised within
central funnel from root to crown radiant
cave within heart renewing throb of bliss ignition
the happening both fortuitous and miraculous
wherein our presence was but a receptor
marked not end but a new beginning
unveiling unknown bliss vectors
with lower mind vaporised
oneness recognised as vibration
sublime fragrance accompanying bliss
soft divine light white sporadic manifestation
13-February-2021
Hey, Lyric Man
My praise...don’t ban
Cause if you do
I’ll kick your can! ;)
You’re awfully nice
I’ll pay the price
to read your words
not once, but twice
Your thoughts you share
Tempered with care
You sprinkle sugar
Everywhere
You've got the beat
Each rhyme, a treat
I must indulge
a taste, so sweet
With heart and soul
You reach your goal
To make us feel
Complete and whole
So here’s to you
Hope this will do
To let you know
You’re special...too.
Your words: a drug!
So, yes! Feel smug!
with words of mine....
I send... this.....hug!
Eileen Manassian
Echo poem and a small thank you for entering Hot Velvet, a tribute to me, in Silent One's contest. :) You rock, LM!
That's when it happened, I was just fourteen years old, and I
what I am looking for-
only that something inside me searches·
something that searched before·
Before the name my mother gave me‚
before the mirror taught me shame‚
before the world said‚ "this is you"
there was something without a name·
Not something I discovered later‚
Not something I turned on inside myself-
this burned before I was born‚
and it will burn after I die·
I've found peace in sacred spaces, and felt the warmth of a gentle fire.
let the smoke rise‚ and disappear‚
and felt behind the prayer
A silence no one can speak·
not empty‚ fuller than full‚
more present than my hands can hold·
The soul known to sages,
before writing in Sanskrit‚
before crossing the seven seas‚
before becoming me·
There is a boy in Fiji, he's wearing a uniform that looks really neat and tidy.
the badge glinting on his chest‚
carrying questions no test can ask:
who is the light that shines?
Not the eye--the eye closes·
Not the mind; the mind loses itself·
But something observes them both·
between sleeping and waking‚
it does not rest when I rest‚
does not dream when I dream·
Never awoke‚ never slept·
Never sought‚ never lost·
It contains both the dreamer and the dream
without needing to explain·
I'm looking‚ I'm looking outside·
in notes‚ in names‚ in being seen-
but the scripture whispers back:
the seeker and the sought are one·
So I look inside myself‚ frightened and light‚
a young soul before an open door‚
not entering‚ just standing there‚
trembling at the center of it all·
The eye behind my eye asks for nothing:
No approval‚ no title‚ no name·
Everything was a blur, and it felt like my whole world was crashing down around me, like it was all being consumed by flames, before suddenly, everything just started to fade away, bit by bit, into darkness.
And it will burn when all changes·
It simply is‚ and in this being‚
Older than my blood and bones‚
I was not found…
I was never lost·
I was never alone·
She lay on the bed
Screaming
The pain was expressed in the pitch of her voice
Nurses were hovering over her monitoring her condition
Her husband was banished into the corridor
He paced up and down as if attempting to form a trench in the marble
Her screams subsided for a brief moment
Then escalated, echoing through the hospital
He couldn’t handle it any longer
And burst into the room
Only to be ushered out again
He had noticed blood on the bed
For the first time, he felt helpless
His wife’s screams were like pins piercing his skin
He continued his pacing up and down
A doctor came to the door
Briefly stopped to check his bleeper
Before entering the room
Moments later the doctor came out
With blooded gloves
“ Your wife will be ok,” the doctor said
“ By the way Mr. Aims, congratulations, you have a baby boy.”
He raced in overwhelmed by the tears of joy.
* "HARVEST OF HAPPINESS" Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S. Contest*
An ancient ship
Black sails raised
They reach for any breeze
Ignored by Calypso
Feared my men and spirits alike
Lost souls wander the unpolished deck
Waiting in unbearable heat
As souls drift by on tattered boats
Screaming for release
Knowing they are bound for eternity
Some scramble aboard
Prisoner of time
Part of a decaying ship
Never able to leave
Watching the land pass by
Cool waterfalls
Lush green forests
Cool breezes blow from the white sands
They merely tease
Taunting their burning eyes
Allowing only a moment hope
Before entering the endless hopelessness
Leaving the light behind
The last glimpse of sunset
Says good be to the condemned
Before they start an eternity of nothing
An ever ending punishment
That not even death can end
Their satchels (twenty five) within auto-rickshaw seats dumped,
Same number (small and big; fat and lean; boys and girls) tight-clumped;
Some hanging; some stamping; some hitting and kicking each one;
The driver, gliding as though great battle won with pains none...!
June, in Southern-India, has been reopening time;
With south-west winds, monsoon sets in as a nursery rhyme;
Fun on way is complete and perfect only when there be,
Splashing water-mixed mud that looks like Kerala-milk-tea...!
Some walk, books (for not getting wet), hidden within their shirts,
They're poor government school-students; studying in outskirts;
Looking at rich-kids, anger aroused, they scream, yell and haul,
Each, yet, knows, at the very outset, fate is same for all...!
Entering within campus, for all, is crucifixion,
Soon begins, within their classrooms, teacher-student friction;
Each tutor (teaching science or math) claims to be perfect,
Kick-starting, with no intro, their vast wisdom they inject...!
Games, occasional; lessons much; Little mental vent;
Frustration of being within four walls, always ferment;
Mugging-up starts; rutting, tests and exams turn punishments,
Learning through experiments gives many embellishments...!
Getting out of those jail-like cells, is glad and heavenly,
Queries of the day, though, by parents, will start heavily;
From opening till closing, all know, they'd be shuttled now,
They're masters of mysteries, yet; will escape anyhow...!
29 August 2022
Back to School Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts