Long Entrant Poems
Long Entrant Poems. Below are the most popular long Entrant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Entrant poems by poem length and keyword.
Naked to Nurture. Naked, to Nurture.
Why not naked into woods?
We yank up gumboots.
Enshroud our piggies in wicking and itching sockbags.
Hoping to holdfast against the forfeiture of bought heat.
The city slickers in their shiny slickers
clasp and buckle, zip and bundle
before they trudge and trundle
into the Great Unlabeled, the alien birthright.
An undershirt, a tank, a tee, and then an overthing!
And this in Spring, in Summer. Winter's another thickening:
strappings wrapping trappings, coalgulable clottings clogging
scarf-shrouded and unceremonious cerements.
The gloves, if cold or wet. The hat and muffs, if blustering.
We insulate ourselves from the uninsulated.
Remove ourselves from that which we aim to enter.
To re-enter. To be received by. Naked as we came, now
at our peril, apparently apparelled in unparalleled antiferalelry.
Each civilized entrant into sylvan realms-
textile banished for fear of cold,
for fear of wet, for fear of dirt.
The mind must first give up its notions
of propriety to hope to slake the self in the
sunlit and secreted shimmerings of sanctity.
Be bare of sole, skin to wind.
Be bare of soul, Yin to begin.
Why not naked into woods?
they do, so certainly, come naked...
into us.
Duet between Omodele Oluwabunmi and Wems Henry Temmy speaks... cautiously
OmO
Mother, I forget not thy words
When I was a score and half a dozen
“My daughter, let your heart hold my teaching "
But my heart was weak; as time flies, it holds it not.
Then, the forest seems to be the road in my sight.
WHT
Please, be not mad to treat me like bastards
For how long shall we keep fussing...?
When no one wants to hear my heart breathing
Nor the running of tears so hot,
Though my acts are impolite.
OmO
Father, I remembered those five words
“receive instruction in wise dealing"
But my ears were on strike then
So it hear you not
For the dog that will lost won't hear the whistle of the hunter.
WHT
Teachers' blood may deny the nerds
But ethics will break the limit of advancing
Into making classroom turns Bullpen
Where no one fears swat
Meanwhile, each had become an adapter
OmO
I grew older to become foolish
The mouths that brought me up smell to me
The words that comes from it
Become the dirt I washed away
I become a foolish daughter of a wise parents
WHT
In my wisest choice, decision grows childish
Yet, can not change the mindset not to be
The box that harbor things just to fit
Into the folder of a permeable Cache
Like reasonable pride of deviants
OmO
I disowned the advice of my parents
Then adopted the advice of friends
My heart released the advice of my parents
But breathe in the advice of friends.
WHT
That in peers influence, I grew wings dissident
Beyond what an external check can blend
And with time; in tease, am an entrant
Watching how well I can teach myself as a docent
OmO
Now, my life is crashing,
And my friends are laughing at my calamity
Tears become my daily food
With no one to take away my tears.
WHT
For all I tried trashing
To shape life's conformity
Till all turned to be good
Only stress cure lane to gear repairs
OmO
Let the tears of the foolish daughter,
Flow round the world
Not to add more water to the rivers
But to teach the young ones lesson
WHT
And chase the wayward away from traps of the slaughters
With regards to take heed when situations whirled
What more are pro. drivers
If license and experiences don't winks when speed is to be lessen
©® OmO/WHT
As a contest sponsor
My vision sees both sides ~
The entrant and the challenger
And both have emotional tides.
From the perspective of the entrant,
There's much time and consideration
That goes into meeting the criteria set
At the sponsors deliberation.
There's the highs of works inspired
That I never knew were hiding in me.
There's the lows of receiving NA's
But that's not always meant negatively.
We as contest sponsors
Have our side of the story to tell.
If your result isn't what you wanted,
It does NOT mean that you didn't do well.
I have read excellent poems
That have not met the demands of the task.
How is it fair on the others
If you place high not completing what's asked?
As a sponsor I choose deliberately
To always run a standard contest
Because I want every entrant to feel
That it was worth giving it their best.
My aim is to bring positivity
To encourage the ones who take part
For I know that for most every word
Of the poetry pours from the heart.
I personally benefit from entering contests
They inspire me when my brain cells are down.
They broaden my scope, they educate me,
They take me to poetry town.
The sense of achievement I gain from writing
Has always significantly outweighed
Any disappointment I know I'll feel
If another poem of mine is NA'd.
The joy and the fun of the challenge
Is exillerating and good for our sense of self.
And the poets who share in the contests
Contribute to our global poetic wealth.
Never underestimate the value
Of the amazing works that you all share.
Regardless of your position in the contests,
We sponsors are poets that care.
MAY
Entrant to May without bay, surely I will slay
Demons of doubt and crush fangs of today
To jettison the forced road of casualty
But so that I may believe I will triumph only
Without ire come what may
A day may never come so sweet in May
To show how costly summer was at hand for us,
Frustration may steam from daily endeavours
But whether I may quit or bow out,
Never an option instead I will sprout
Like the hope of a dead tree brought down
Left to decay starting from now,
Only to sojourn further in this May,
If I suffer yesterday its that I may succeed this May
And if I suffer today its to succeed tomorrow, nay,
Looking on to that May Day is eye on the prize
And the rewarding laurel pleasing to the eyes,
My own will dead and faded away like smoke,
Broke my Yoke for me to carry His yoke
(This' not a joke)
But I cleave to the mark of the High calling
Not concerned if anyone feels its annoying.
The fool multitude choose by show
And serve from the only folly they know
Not learning more than the foolish eye teach,
But I trade all to gain more,the end will preach;
Paid dues of past life intricacies,
The fire seven times more tried this,
Now refined is my silver this May which is
Silvered o'er again and so was this
Beautiful ravishing envisioned Marilyn May Leventis
Such that my shadow bask in bliss
That I may feel heaven and her kiss,
Again never to choose a life amiss,
And more until her demise none shall appear
By the time memories of May lingers here.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2016.
Rewritten: April 2020.
Naiveté wraps the child
until the chills slowly
begin to snuggle in,
smothering the illusions leaving
the residuals of sickness
and disappointment
that is man.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Fallen
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Entrant: Rob Carmack
Written: 11.29.15
Word Count: 25
My person was the entire human race. As a child, I viewed adults as ethically advanced and emotionally stable. Thought of world as an Utopia – the best trip I ever had. From this disappointment, I was given the contrast to appreciate forgiveness and those I found that are advanced.
It was a blithe wintry vesper
Strolled I, zealously anigh hillock.
The hillside's scenario was glimmering green
Perceived I, covey returning to nests
Gazed I, the ranting rill
That divulged towards creek
Clandestined the Sun in the west
Enrouted I, amidst clump of tress
The birds were twiterring on the trees
Akin to expressing obeisance to an entrant
Else, were they in invocation?
Only the Almighty knew it
Bees were humming around my ears
Was it to enquire about my arrival?
Squirrels those saw me at close quarters
Ran hither and thither on trees
Stood I, beneath the fig tree
By having my head in the clouds
Squirrels threw figs over my head
As though, I was in appetite
Hares were trooping around me
As if, they besieged an unarmed knight
Soon turned murky, the clouds
Strolled I, back to my home
On the way, squirrels, bees and hares
Stood mutely gazing at me
To be cocksure, as motionless as a grave
I am not gifted as them
To lead an innocent life
Soon heard I, an enchanting echo from trees
Wondered I, is it a cuckoo?
Nay, it was a sky lark
That expressed gratitude for my congenial arrival
To me, that hillock's scenario
Gave my heart and soul truce
I wasn't myself amidst the prolific nature
Willy-nilly crept I home, with pair of hares
Scale mosaic tail lays gracefully draped over rock
Sumptuous hip width to skin graduates
Saturated waist trailing tendrils touched by moss
Silk mermaid nautical languor eminates
Sorrow in inhibit, love's absence induces her sobs
Vanguard calmly addresses the depths with probe
Weaving seemlessly amongst seaweed
Gentle marina mistress, Clementine reserves hope
For a qualified merman, in love succeed
Tugged subtly by tides of princely promises flowed
Spell of solo exploration doesn't tarnish bright fins
Siren inspired by increasing innate talent
Sanguine supple lovely needn't gun for yang to yin
Suitor to exceed her calibre, most haven't
Shown aptitude for brave compassion, closest kin
Clam fan covered curves retain an untainted heart
Slender arms open troves old tides buried
Gracious Clementine stays patient for Cupid's dart
Pleasant peaks of top lips drip salt, selfish
Lungs unemcombered by blunder summons laugh
Tinkle bells bemused chortle across vibrant pearls
Heightened by judicious standpoint jubilee
Felicious pageant entrant in a fish tail gown swirls
Heavy gems adorn torso tight with chastity
Air orgasmed chest of benevolent treasure unfurls
16th February 2021
Entered into Charlotte Peddifoot's
Open Poetry Contest
MINNIE
Entrant.
Act One. Scene Five. A voyage into The Minnie.
Never embark on this imagination without Me
Como dije, te ves hermosa
With gusto sing I the booty song with every strength I can muster.
Lips sumptuous, dripping sweetness is every drop
Pouring emotions on me none stop,
You could have been Miss World
But you didn't miss the world
Mind's masturbating? Yes, I'm hyperventilating,
Sexual desires I am virtuously venting,
Blood, straight from the eyes to the mind to the p**is
Only a mutual affection will start and end this
And nails it; erections killed it;
Miss Camocha's pathway,without a pass,
Smash it, spank it and "dom" that a**
I'm never scared to go on adventure
No matter the extent or measure
Yo a** I treasure even at my leisure
To envision your back-burner
Let's set it off, you're a stunner
It's an inferno....roast dem haters
Barbecue! Who's invited? Flirters?
...my favorite delicacy & I'm munching each petals
My flames lighted up by that a**
Won't dwindle even after you pass
J**king-off, producing in mass.
What you've caused this soldier of 9 lives?
You caused a love bleed, deeper than knives
But no retreat no surrender is my mojo
I'll rock your boat like its a slow mo'.
Exeunt.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2017
DIARY OF BOYS TO MEN
WHEN WE BECAME A MAN:
Entrant into the promise land of adulthood
Where the wanderings cease and building begins
Where that unstable thing in us solidifies
Where the irresponsible become committed
Where you rise up to confront enemies,
Subdue territories and attain property by conquest
Because the worrier has now become the warrior
The promise land is where we keep our promises-in-hand,
To ourselves, to our wives and to our seeds,
Where our words can be blindly trusted
Because God keeps His promises over His gods!
WHEN WE SORT FOR EDUCATION:
Despite his handicaps, David rose to the top
Somehow, he learned about responsibility
In those fields while alone with God
So, give me responsibilities else I die
If not now, the inevitable death of the tomorrow
Not the timely death of 120 apportion to human
RESPONSIBILITY AND BOLDNESS:
Give me a lamb and I will rescue her
From the Lion and the Bear in the woods
Decisiveness and quick action is in the promise land
In this land, manhood requires leadership
And leadership requires commitment to lead
Only way to be fit a man coming from the boyhood journey --
Be a god after God's own heart,
You will be separated so you can be operated on and certified.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2017.