Long Except Poems
Long Except Poems. Below are the most popular long Except by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Except poems by poem length and keyword.
Today’s wind shifts too fast like a tangle
of invisible lint…perhaps dust, quivering
unto fissure of grass where my heart scrapes,
as if the air denies unanswered questions
so blatantly howling about
a litany's crushed promise. Wired thoughts
rip my tulip bouquet now strewn
on the wayside of angst: how mute hymns
from an aborted vow silences a decorated aisle
on this day, this fateful day.
I’ll never know the why of an insidious choice;
except in his runaway scheme,my eyes
grow blank…tweezed iodized entombed.
Somehow, it is freezing now; a candle in prayer
burns an espousal gown;
For I have never heard
a more immense cold than this.
----------------
4/27/2016
Free Verse Contest for Charlotte Puddifoot
Thousands of stars getting closer, sailing toward me
Planets converging. merging, I am feeling their confidence.
Everything is moving toward peace, bringing light and love.
A delightful display. I am mesmerized and honored to be a witness.
No night has ever brought this sight; this is a first.
I want to share with others, but I know the cosmos display is mine alone.
Others will look up and see something totally different.
The hair on the back of my neck raises slightly, verification this is the truth
I am hypnotized. Not wanting to ever be anywhere again except here.
In this moment, in this yard, in this bubble of purity and innocence.
I am no longer an adult, I am a child of eight for that is the last time
I saw the cosmos heading toward me as if propelled by jet streams.
I did not question it then and I do not question it now.
It is here for me to admire. It is here to let me know all well be well.
The planet is in God’s hands, no one else’s. The devil will be chased away.
In virus form, annihilated quickly and for good. I smile as the stars wink their truth.
To be truly, fully present
Of consciousness and
answering why we are here,
These studies are a promising field of research
Yet by powerful backlash
research has halted
For severe depression and PTSD
Universities use micro-doses of psylocibin
Derived from mushrooms
It lowers stress and doesn’t
cause hallucinations
Follow up studies show dramatic improvement
of conditions not previously responsive
to conventional medications and therapies
This chemical is still widely banned
Except for a few controlled studies
Underway at accredited, renowned medical
and psychiatric departments
at major universities
When popular conventional
therapies prove ineffective
the 60’s and 70’s proved a fertile ground
for those seeking help
New age treatment called Primal Therapy,
When religious cults such as love Guru’s
Hare`Krishna mantras, Buddhist chants
of Nam-Myoho-renge-kio or being shakabukued
or Hollywood fix its— for anxiety’s
mental illness failed,
Came the psychotherapists
and the latest Primal Scream Therapy
new and experimental, so-called Hollywood therapists
took it to levels unimaginable and a bit too far
and should have never been licensed!
Poetry Soup abounds in poets who are special in unique ways and for me it was so hard to single out just one. So I was reluctant to join this contest. However at the last moment, I thought of choosing one, Edward Ibeh, a true gentleman in my eyes, who never comes to limelight, except for the contests he holds from time to time.
E - Effective words in place, a poet’s grace.
D - Diligent in duties and devoted to virtue in every place.
W- Wisdom and humility combine in this forbearing soul.
A - Authentic heart that cherishes life in its whole.
R - Radiates kindness like a guiding light.
D - Dignified in character, making many hearts bright.
I – Illustrious poet with a passion for his art, so genuine.
B - Braving adversities, in family and community shine.
E - Elevates fellow poets, giving due respect to all.
H - Honorable in every way, he's a gentlemanly soul.
it’s said to be that God created everything
at the beginning of the world
amazingly wonderful is the persona of Him the Creator
who else can create whatever he wants from nil
men? no matter how much men boast or squeeze
and bang their heads they cannot create a thing from nil;
no one can except God
men nonetheless assert today
though they cannot create a thing from nil
they can measure a thing to nil and that’s what
so called higgs boson which men proved through
all kinds of theories and experiment after experiments
of laboratory tests
the higgs boson phenomena of nil
actually is not naught but a thing unable to trace
an elementary particle down that was dashing through
the experimental instruments with extremely high speed
since you are unable to spot the particle
you have no way to measure or weigh its mass
and only because you cannot trace the disrupted particle down
you shouldn’t think you measured a mass to none
what on earth could such bold idea comes from
where’s the particle?
naught is naught
being is being
it seems men refuse to be men anymore
but want to become as a god with counter-functional mores
Four young boys had a Halloween plot to weave
to disprove the gossip they refused to believe,
rumors about an abandoned haunted house
where a psychotic man murdered his spouse.
They shivered in the dark upon their arrival,
all having second thoughts about their survival.
Upon each child's face, an apprehensive frown
then appeared a lady, blood stains on her gown.
Vampire bats swarmed, trapping them inside
tangled up in cobwebs except for one who cried,
"Quick! Run for your lives. The rumors are true.
I'm locked in a Zombie's jaws! This place is taboo!"
They heard growling voices, then the lady's scream!
Was this a nightmare, all having the same dream?
From fear they'd fainted, bodies found at daybreak.
Four foolish children, dead; their hearts on a stake.
October 9, 2021
Something Spooky 8 to 15 Lines Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Tiny orange tea lights with miniature pumpkins sprinkle love lights around the tables,
Which have been set probably since 5:30 a.m. with the church’s best china,
Because the fall tea starts at ten.
Small plastic corn cobs and toy cornucopias were
Placed ever so gently, by church ladies who were young when I was a child,
But are in their eighties and nineties now,
I hear them in the kitchen bossing each other and I smile.
It has been forty-five years since I attended this church.
Their faces are the same, except a bit older, their hair a different color, but the same smiles.
They all know me. I know most of them.
Eleven round tables set up by six church ladies
are generously sprinkled with orange, and yellow confetti
I can hear them tittering about something they think is insanely funny.
Probably making fun of a man. That is when they laugh the hardest.
A hand printed place card with a tiny brown turkey –
Sorted in eights, are placed on the crisp white table cloths
I know, because I was instructed to place them.
One of the church ladies comes out, and replaces them all, smiling
At me, as if I am too young to get it right.
I am only a kid, you understand, merely sixty-something-years-young.
What would I know about placing place cards correctly?
I go into the kitchen to see if there is anything they will let me do.
They trust me to clean the sink.
No. Wait.
One comes over to show me
The correct way to do it.
They are a riot.
There’s a certain feeling
When you close the door behind you.
Freedom that comes
Only with emotional safety.
I don’t know where
I don’t know how
Not ever sure why
I accepted an invitation to spend the rest of
“Our lives together”
Fast forward a week: red flags
Fast forward two weeks: " "
Fast forward a month
He’s a goner.
“You were willing to fight so hard for this
I couldn’t be that kind of guy.”
Huge, rolling, waving-in-the-wind Red Flag.
Everything crashing down in heaps.
Got the picture?
Sleepless nights
Abandoned days
ALL WE HAVE IS HINDSIGHT.
Reminding me painfully of the time before
And the time before that
And the time before that.
Cannot recall the steady reliable influence of anyone
Except the brutal rage of a tyrannical father,
cruel sabotage of the evil Stepmother,
And jealous antics of the Stepsister.
Cinderella had it good!
How do I deal
With the pain, the shame, the confusion, and guilt
Failure, embarrassment, mutilation, and horror
Of yet another
Failed Relationship?
Pain so intense
it wakes me at
3:00 AM ruminating miserably
Good enough excuse for morning.
I am as emotionally crippled as
The Tin Man without oil.
Four baths a day
Ice cream by the tub
Mind if I smoke?
Just tell me where I blew it.
Never will I ever share another man’s bed
Until I’ve seen his spots
The mask has slipped,
And he stands
As emotionally naked
As I require of myself.
Intimacy that brings you to your knees
(on knees that no longer bend)
I never believed in recovery.
Until I closed that door
Locked it
And barricaded it.
Gotta have guts to fall and rise,
To buck the trend and wrest the prize,
To thrust your life in hands of mates,
To believe in self, tempt the fates.
Each day give yourself a surprise.
Night's dark mantle leads to sunrise,
Rise from the dust with this surmise.
Cock a snook at life if it grates.
Gotta have guts.
When you are down and life's not nice,
It's up to you to add the spice.
Play not as the rule-book states;
You'll grin when you knock at the Gates.
Heed well these words , those of the wise :
Gotta have guts!
~12 Jul 2016~
syllables checked via www.howmanysyllables.com
Best Rondeau Poem - sponsored by Laura Loo
Rondeau Rhyme Scheme: AABBA-AABC-AABBAC
EIGHT Syllables in each line except the 4th line in second stanza ( C ) and the last line in the third stanza. ( C ) They have FOUR syllables and is the repeated refrain from the first four syllables in stanza one
10/13/12
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The words of God are a great comfort
The day—the Last Great Day—depicts judgement
That will come upon everyone equally
God hasn’t even begun to work
With the mass majority of the world
But His glorious salvation is revealed to all
But for all to hear,
The spiritual component of God
Will be added to their thoughts
—their ears will open
They will have the opportunity to repent
There will be judgment
For those who really long to change,
Doors will be open
For those who choose their own way,
He will throw into the Lake of Fire with Satan
—a most merciful action
For any way except God’s is the path leading to evil
And in due course to anger,
Sadness and death
Those who choose to be gone
Will be gone
Many will weep and mourn…
Until the day of Judgment,
Prepare
Once you receive the knowledge of the truth
Practice it
For you will be held accountable
For your sins
God will not overrule our human will
He wants us to choose
And continue to choose
Not all names will be seen in the Book of Life
I will be among the weeping
*inspired by John Anderson*
-a special thanks to Charles Henderson for helping me edit this piece. It looks so much better now! Thank you!-