Long Episodic Poems
Long Episodic Poems. Below are the most popular long Episodic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Episodic poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Forgiveness by Pixabay.
Tale of the Forgiving Betold
Albeit a notable stretch
that stars wouldst a fairer
share of thee and sheath
thy warm expanse.
Sire, alack thy humble
servant beseech thee,
me Lord, for wouldst
thee taketh to mind
thoust faileth thee but
'tis once at the weest hour.
Shouldst thou beg
the goddesses and
gods forthwith 'tis
thy noble quest for
virtue sake that thou
mayest risk a stable
footing verily proved
thy acts of decency.
Pall's errant gift thee
a habilitating ward,
a silhouette soul, its
quaint steps for a
merciful fortitude.
To seize caring eyes
fortuitous event of
a chartreuse field
of wavery rushes
and vibrancy pell
in crystalline spring.
A dutiful life longing
begrudged in the
greens of Evermore,
mayhaps thoust dwelt
in the recesses of thy
bosoms for they hadst
possesseth thee so
willingly, that thoust
act gently.
Nay, nary an army,
soothly a herald of
dreams that unlade
trails ifsoe'er mingle
charmingly, napping
in cases, perchance
to claim and rescue
thyself and possibly
pretenders begone
and ne'er-do-wells
that causeth a toss
and twirl fortuitously
erelong into the tuck
of episodic twilight's
unraveling sepulchral.
Sparkled specks and a
Chaser to settle scores
natheless thou mentored
souls that dwarf a sea of
their gilded hearts.
Less of a challenge when
substance, and grit, amidst
the generous few whose
serendipitously perpetuates
the moment -- forthwith.
Suite melody be the appeal
in the case of forgiveness
for there is proper cause for
the bestowment allocation
gratuitously and without
delay.
Forbearance is the footing
lain the acts of forgiveness.
2022 August 23
Foundation.
Have you ever met someone where everything just clicked but then, for whatever tragic reason?
They just disappeared?
The Calling
(A lone male, clutching an old photograph at midnight. Whispers, as a single white prayer candle burns)
Let me in
I whisper into this rising grey smoke
Let its wispy tendrils carry up my plea's to wherever you are
No matter how far
Hear me
For I'm looking back at our old feverish memories, in these black and white fairground pictures
In this semi-darkness
Between these two great voids
Separating me and you and so many others
Let me in
Through the ethereal panes of shattered astral glass
Filled with tangible strands of much-loved recollections
So I can once again cross the deep oceans of the Hippocampus
Flying for days and nights in and through its episodic sunshine, and rocky shores
So I can warm you with my old love
For I will never stop looking and calling
And lighting these white prayer candles
Hoping you're listening to this
Somewhere
Wherever you are
Listening and hearing my voice reading
My heart's whispered secretive spells, which l will forever yell
In silence throughout the day and in feverish whispers at night
So let me in
Now, it's midnight
To reach that forbidden place which connects all things
The Maelstrom
But which stays hidden, as it holds you in its tight grip of a new seclusion
Especially, when everything
Just goes wrong
I can only pray my words are carried like an angels song, to make your beautiful eyes blink
By this grey smoke gushing skyward from my incense candle, in these rushing four winds
Which will help to guide me
To find a way, to try to find you again
Be it on Earth or in Heaven
So we can continue what we once found in our old lifetime
A beautiful treasure the Nexus Seven, in their rare sacred manuscript, called:
A meeting of similar minds
(C) Copyright John Duffy
.
the two opposite worlds we are in
makes no sense when it causes the
both us insanity
in my world, i miss the warmth of your
heartbeat's rhythm
in your world, i am guessing you miss
the warmth of my hand when i rub your
back or your belly
we try to find words to try to fuse our
new modern worlds, but the haystack
needles have all been found in the early
days
we then take out our paintbrushes and
draw blue skies in every corner of our
new planets
it never works when attempted hidden
themes expose the same type of loneliness
in each
our worlds need to collide by default badly,
but sometimes damage can be an episodic
edition of endlessness with an emphatic
entourage
in our future constant movements, we know
that we will just be everyday habitual liars to
ourselves
our identical stubborn streaks will block all of
the potential blessings of righteous reconciliation
as a result, we chooses the unfortunate election
of kisses to misery's morning breath
Sixty years have passed.
No one knew how to spell its name.
No one knew when it first opened.
It was forever, like the infernal summer heat.
It stands indelible at the end of my street,
at the end of my episodic hippocampus.
Everyone congregated at this cozy corner store,
this neighborhood fount for stories, jokes,
convenient food and cheap toys.
There were only a few shoplifters,
usually snarky boys slightly older than me.
They were never caught.
The guy behind the counter
never caught anything he didn’t want to see.
Perhaps the store’s namesake,
he worked slavishly, anxiously alone.
One frantic day, he spotted vomit on the floor.
Bolting into the backroom,
He returned with mop and pail
only to find the mess entirely missing.
Snickering, snarky boys hid their latex toy.
A harmless prank, some would say.
But somehow, in my tenth year
I felt sorrow for the overworked man.
Nothing ever changed.
It all lingered like the infernal summer heat,
the gripping stillness of eternal summer.
This neurotransmitter of neighborly connections,
This hub of gab and gossip,
Home to my first financial transactions,
Home to penny candy, bubblegum cards, and Mars bars.
Home to grape soda, Twinkies, and Wonder Bread.
No one knew how to spell its name.
No one knew when it permanently closed.
But the potent sugar-coated flashbacks
have lengthened my life.
SOURCES OF CONTEMPLATION
demand
delicate attention
in a sentiment
of timelessness
meandering &episodic
perhaps
but
ever changing
focused
gestures of posture
in
a repertory of motifs
sans a sense of ambiguity
dreamlike
they
envelop &shroud
the visible
becoming symbolic
almost
ornamental
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Giant ornaments like tumbleweeds, like eye popping bubbles, boisterously released in London streets. Like giant lightweight bowling balls that cavort out of their lanes. The breeze plays volleyball, indeterminate who’s winning. The kids’ winning for sure. Follow the bouncing baubles, unravelling revelation of holiday spirit. Celebration in the streets off to a fa-la-la start.
If this was an episodic Doctor Who, those orbs would mean trouble’s steamrolling in. The tardis’ on high alert. It’s always London! The doctor’s enigmatic scrutiny of exploding rounds and Santas showing up. They’ve weapons too. Watch out! Don’t worry! The Doctor will save you.
11/3/2022
EPISODIC POLITICAL MOCKERY
Legislative trials are roaming;
Congressional criminals
Gaining more freedom to re-chain
Our growing liberty:-
Today’s bombed and pre-bombed
Societies and us are becoming
So similar in judicial acts of inequality:-
For us, the Constitution has become
As a stretched rubber band
Of negative jurisprudence—
And in today’s apathetic joyous modernity,
We too, seem to approach a modern-day
Diabolical bombing Civil War situation:-
Remember, all choices have their
Accompanying consequences;
Be they sweet Moonlake-like
Or geyser waterfall-like:-
After today’s extended Breaking News episodes,
I am praying this Just Different poetic prose flow,
Will be of an awareness thought-provoking
Brain-shore frothing consequence:-
liquor
crushed ice
an effervescent tonic
an engaging libation
a crystal glass an empty mass
a looking glass an engaging lass
a reflection fills the flask
an hourglass figure smooth as glass
a view deep
a deep view
a hot and hard jigger
an episodic embrace of the stem
a nicely paced repetitive stroked type grip
measured
a high pitch pleasured note of delight
a charge
and another...
...and another...
...and...
….....
...a spill...
...a swig...
...a swallow
an emphatic gush
a coupled roast
an orgasmic toast
a sexual rush.
31~10~2014
sensitive awareness
being there
showing concern
in a voice of love
rooted in scripture
oracles
episodic or
infrequent
divine interventions
on His initiative
Spirit inspired
words undistilled
heaven-sent
then spoken
this voice of the Lord
an essence
to take in
dwell upon
assimulate
&
then
remember
a perfect revelation
a simple word
foundations of truth
a process
made manifest
visibly expressed
a continuity
of personhood
in recognisable form
a body remade
transformed
recreated
sealed clothes
washed linen
in
heavenly wear
a perfect robe
in readiness
face-to-face
with passing moments
of loving concern
as wisdom finds a solution
for the flowers
of the seed
My insecurities are making me insecure
My doubts are giving me doubts
I would scream and yell, if I thought I would be heard
Over top of all of my shouts
My phobias are starting to scare me
My complexities are awful complex
I am a perfect text book example
Of a condition for which there is no text
My psychoses are really psychotic
My episodes are episodic
I am a narcissist who hates himself
Bi-polar must be contagious, because I know I caught it
I think I failed the ink blot test
All I saw were big ink blots
I am haunted by my memories
But my memories have been forgot
I am sick of being a hypochondriac
My narcolepsy keeps me awake
I am a non-practicing masochist
Because the pain I cannot take
My abnormalities are really abnormal
My multiple personalities are all the same
My psychiatrist says there are explanations
For these conditions he cannot explain