Long Expressive Poems
Long Expressive Poems. Below are the most popular long Expressive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Expressive poems by poem length and keyword.
When I can't sleep my creativity is at its highest peak...
I write poems for friends who are alone and need solace,
all my senses are at work, sharper than the owls by of the creek;
my restless fingers find an outlet and holding the pen,
they transfer the heart's emotions to the blank pad!
And I give them life, to define them through my grace...
Words flow from this exploding brain;
and its expressive lines are extracted,
like the juice from the sweetest grapes,
to be on everybody's table for a delightful drink!
Inspiration, ignite my stagnant imagination:
to give my verses a unique meter and rhyme...
that they may stand out and be noticed for all time;
and this literary treasure could outlast those precious diamonds
that superbly dazzle on the elegant dresses of the elite!
Sculptors have their chisel,
and if their creations seem too real,
like Michelangelo...they should hilariously scream:
to make them walk and talk!
Painters have their brush,
and with colors they paint images
of landscapes, of celestial bodies, of angelic and human faces:
unseen by the ordinary and undiscerning eyes;
patience is their secret, but rush
can cause havoc and make them lose their individualist touch!
Musicians, don't ever you get tired
of playing your instruments to entertain the insatiable public;
how exciting is to perform a new song,
written by the struggling songwriter and composer!
How thrilling and delightful are the new lyrics and music;
what about the singers, who gather up the crowds on the dance floor?
Ever admired an ancient or modern Cathedral
or an elegant, towering skyscraper,
which was truly breathtaking?
And the geniuses behind them
began to draw from their most
innovative and plausible prospective,
to convince themselves of their capability to create
many wanders from a simple idea!
Architects, your artistry is the outcome
of a sentiment, which was inactive...lying in the depth
of the unconscious mind...until it was awakened by desire!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Antique fountain pens, I love;
magic wands of the finest make.
I love to collect and repair these
treasures, for my own creative
fantasies...
For my poetry, oh, how they bleed;
my sketch books are filled with
expressive zest;
essence of my imagination,
dreamscapes conjured during
REM moments.
Not all of my little dots and blots,
are contained in sketchbooks and journals;
sadly, some have escaped.
One day as I sat sketching,
a paper-fiber snagged my nib.
It spat out ink, just a blot
but, imagine how I felt when,
suddenly, like Tinkerbell,
it flew away!
Beholding my special child’s countenance
I’m delighted with his expressive eyes
Praising God midst gratefulness, concealing no lies
Contagious as he smiles with bliss’ radiance.
Arrested by his apprehending stare midst serene face
I cannot defy responding to his call for love and care
Since such signals his spasm-epilepsy’s scare
Only God can soothe and completely heal by His grace.
Witnessing my son’s sincere feelings, displayed by varied emotions
Through his facial appearance accentuated by his eye movements
My heart seeks the Lord’s compassion* for right engagements
Trusting His vision always perfect, devoid of illusions.
*Psalm 145:8 The LORD is gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy.
April 3, 2019
Edited on May 17, 2020
Restless hand of poet rejecting moments of idleness,
start writing and empty the unbearable heaviness:
and as the splashing waters of the waterfall plunge down
the precipice for an escapade into the distant ocean,
they must leave the deepness of intellect
and become a realized concept!
Without an imagination of expressive power, you lament is ceased by anguish,
and will lay here voiceless in its impatient oath,
not bursting within its walls of imprisonment,
to find its evasive freedom and finally succeed in imparting wisdom:
when readers rather focus on their content,
than on the richness of their words that don't ravish...
Restless hand of poet, never write in impetuous haste,
to impersonate another voice in an impersonal tone;
be prudent in choosing the right ones that are plausible,
not impinging on the impeccable thoughts of others,
challenging them to innovate their ingenuous taste!
Restless hand of poet, improvise your incentive ideas
from articulate feelings without implying or impeaching gall;
impetuous cries can and will cause a rage so implacable!
Be impervious to each plea, reflect and understand
the importance of patience when something may impend;
immortalize that event with images that idealize,
ignite, inspire, delight and describe experiences that humanize!
Take your attention away from the hour-glass,
no days from can be removed from your purposeful existence;
rebuke your idiocy and mend your self-confidence!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
797.
Ang Alamat ng Buwis-Buhay
Bakit at paano nga ba
Na ang tawag sa
Kanilang parang nais mamatay
Gawain man o hindi ay “Buwis-Buhay”?
Kapag gawain mo ay delikado
Pauyam nila itong ikokomento
Parang sinasabing walang kwenta
Kahit mamatay ka pa
Gaya ng aking 2014 Social Experiment
Na educational ang intent
Pero andaming nagcomment
Na ipakatay pa rao ako to that extent
Buwis-Buhay nga! (nganga)
Bukambibig ng VICE na maGANDA
Sa mga kalahok na peligroso
Ang mga talent sa show
Kahanga-haNGA NGA pero kalurkey
Parang ung efforts ni Empress Ki
Pa-epal daw kasi kaya impressive
Kapalmuks daw kaya expressive
Matindi ang kapit parang tuko
Kahit 2013 pa ang “Let it go!”…
Ni Elsa sa malamig na kastilyo
Parang 1994 Elsa Castillo
Portrayed by Kris Aquino!
Wag RAo manlaban sa power ng YElLOw
BoomPanis lang… Walang laban
Kahit sumabog pa ang Bulkan…
-07/28/2020
(Dumarao)
*Alamat ng Kanilang mga Expressions
THE SMILEYS
The little tap on the shoulder as my teachers praised,
Their expressive eyes, the guiding light, the path shown bright,
Their smiles, the rewards for the day's hard work,
Suddenly the smiles to smileys changed!
I miss the hustle bustle of the noisy classes,
The shouts, the calls, as the boys run around,
The groups of girls in the corner giggling,
Sharing the stories of the previous day's adventures!
The loving words of the teachers that today I miss,
Their scoldings, too, seem sweeter this day,
As we yearn to be together again,
The benches, the desks, the boards, the vacant halls!
The running on the staircase, how much we enjoyed,
Though very well we knew that was against the rules,
But we loved the thrill that accompanied the sport,
The thumping of the feet and the noisy air!
No more pushing nor rushing to the class,
No more punishing of the latecomers, the defaulters,
How comfortably we sit in the comfy rooms,
Why then my heart still lingers on in the school?
Peeping out in the corridors, stealing a glance,
Running back to the class, avoiding confronts,
The quiet ones busy with the books, in the projects engrossed,
While the others hopped and played around!
The lonely corridors, the silence prevails,
That wait for the return of the rightful occupants,
The large black gate wanting to open,
To let in the cheerful bubbling angelic faces again!
I had my friends, the sweet love-hate relations,
Their birthdays fondly remembered, the cards that I made,
Oh! My dear friend sparkled as she opened the surprise,
Shall I send a video, a gif, an e-card this time?
Virtual expressions can never replace the real,
Lacking emotions, the intimacy, the bond,
I wish that one day I'll again see the smiles,
Not the clapping emojis, the thumbs up, the countless smileys!
of Knowing Thee
…Of Thee
holding peace…Glory
overlying, fine/
quite sheer radiance
overall/
dimensional
The Omnipotence of Thee
Most Holy I-AM…
nonperiel
— infinite — intimate —
pervasive Divine
enduring Breath of Life
composing the songs
of legions of translucent angels
opening petals unseen
that our souls glean
completely in the blessings
of all the shades and hues
of your redeeming life
and light
(from allizarin to zuggarat)
dressing our hours…
as graced in delight or suffering
bringing degrees of learning
to transform our journeying
time anew
— from being grown
in humanity’s coarse ground
— to becoming branches bearing
the fruit of this New Wine
grown from deeply rooted vines
for Thee, by Thee and in Thee
from dust to stardust:
magnificent!
——————-
————————————*** Inspired by & written for my dear soul-friends at PoetrySoup.com (especially of late for the support given to me & Jim duing my illnss), as I am so daily touched by their poetry’s deeply creative spirits voicing their devotion to Our Holy Father God and King. I have found no other place on-line as similarly expressive of such blessed love. Finding the world of poetry here& & the sweet fellowship it founds, saved my life from a degree of lonliness & grief, after my beloved poet friend here in KY committed suicide without warning in 2019". I am so thankful…to God for the open & ready hearts that may be found here. In the theme of many poems I’ve read here, I’ve truly re-defined my definition of Gratitude. I repeatedly & repeatedly, too, pray God will bless all of you!
(c) s.y.eslinger 5/2024
Thanks be to God—
Languages are important its worth learning
How nice it would be to understand other cultures
To communicate and converse with others in a variety of ways
Languages are diverse and unique in so many ways
Languages are informative, expressive and directive in nature
Languages is another way of us getting along
Languages is like the rose of Heaven
Falling in love all over again
Words of similarity played and rehearsed
In all forms of glorious melodies
Harmony and Symphony becoming like one
Languages are the reason each and every day
Cultures, nations and people communicate with each other
Learning to love, respect and understand one another
The use of different Languages
Allows us to respect, communicate and get along.
Beautiful eyes, why are they looking at you?
to see your beauty before love's living truth,
in a liquid pool of smile the reflection drew
Your glancing eyes, more sensory worth
Evidence tapping on the windows of the soul
Vision break into thoughts of emotional cues.
Eyebrows, looking up engages the world,
hidden from views, they post the latest news.
Eyes are the mimics mirrors of someone
every movement repair builds a rapport.
Difficult to mimic those who are genuine,
they stand transparent in love living proof.
longer glares, imagination, is a notice scare
Feel narcissism creepy force examine,
Unwrap power down to your underwear
Blood thickens deeper than scores imagine.
Indigo dye, combination surgery captivating
Expressive and enviable, closely resemble
People of every decent a phenomenon enticing
Appearance is visages of blue, brown, or hazel.
Believe me, the undulated desire of the soul
craves the hunger for having intimate grace,
In sensual waves, eyes have complete control.
Where virility strokes the feminine taste.
Beautiful eyes, the desire accentuate you
they see through sunset on special days,
moon and stars, and the silhouette hue
ride the clouds in delightful persuasive ways.
In the shadows, we wilt shyly with broken pride
If only you could see the pain beyond the tears
We are drawn, to the cooling stream pinning inside
broken dreams, the hurt esteem, passing fears.
Observing October's tricks and treats,
candles lighten pumpkin faces.
They watch the children traipsing to and fro
mid skeletons, tombstones, spiders and webs.
Candles lighten pumpkin faces
designed with expressive care
mid skeletons, tombstones, spiders and webs.
Candy flows freely from hand to bag.
Designed with expressive care
parents aim to keep Halloween friendly.
Candy flows freely from hand to bag
as witches, ghosts and bats parade.
Parents aim to keep Halloween friendly.
They watch the children traipsing to and fro,
as witches, ghosts and bats parade
observing October's tricks and treats.
October 8, 2019
contest: Poet's October Pantoum
host: William Kekaula