Long Extension Poems

Long Extension Poems. Below are the most popular long Extension by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Extension poems by poem length and keyword.


Pure Joy

What can be more pure joy,
than two four year-olds,
rrrracing their tricycles,
laughing unconditionally,
with the winds ricocheting
off their innocuous images.

What can be more utter bliss,
than sharing a meal with your
entire nuclear family,
listening to the playful banter
of generations,
tasting the spirit of recognizable
character and value.

What can be more rewarding,
than to see an individual affected
by your positive influence,
seeing them prolong the extension
of yourself,
with your intentions remaining unaware.

What can express happiness more,
than a piece of cheesecake,
a decadent display of desire,
and being able to share it with
someone you love,
even if they take more than half of it.

(11/16/92)


The Expression of My Poetic Testimony

i never become a victim of my trials' aftermaths
i choose to shake them all off and allow the calmness of my sanity to guide me
where that direction has taken me untied the noose that stunted my personal growth
steady i do go, and the True Vibes Of Positivity flow smoothly under the soles of my feet
where i am Truly Blessed is where my WonderFull God doth taketh  me....
All Colours Shine Brighter even in inevitable days of clouds and gloom
as a Direct Result, i eventually become a representative of The Latest Example....
an extension to My Self Knowledge Gained, easier is The Expression of My Poetic Testimony....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

A Kid From Compton

Written By:  D. Collins 9/20/25


A kid from Compton has a story to tell.
On how to come up from the bowls of Hell.
He can explain it because he got it firsthand.
Extension cord whippings from less than a man.

A kid from Compton who grew into old age.
Somehow learned how to turn down the rage.
A kid before the internet where abuse is quickly revealed.
Long before the mental scars that'll probably never heal.

I'm just a kid from Compton, like any other kid.
Just had to take a different route on getting here.
But yet, here I am, still standing upright.
Maybe I was destined to live that kind of life.
Form: Rhyme

The Value of Blessed Oxygen and Life

Dear ALLAH I thank you
for every single precious breath
And when you'll place us in paradise
   We shall thank you then for death.

People round the world gasping for breath, breathless,
short of breath, some unable to catch their breath, 
       some breathing their last,
 some on artificial costly breathalysers .
How many times do we thank God 
for the countless free breaths we breathe our entire life??
Oxygen o2 more valuable and scarce than diamonds nowadays.
         Respiration, the main need of all life
Those who eventually recover from covid and find their breath again
             can finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Yet heavenly sights in paradise  will be sure 
            to take our breath away anyway.

           Life or afterlife
      Here and hereafter
   Life's a gift from God
 Now and thereafter 
Why end it here and now
Why not extend fun and laughter?
When my DNA and RNA expires with me
  May God Resurrect and revive it in me
I live and die for an extension of life in afterlife 
   God grant me that part eternity
To search for the meaning and purpose of life 
   is to search and find the Creator of all life
      i know there's out there somewhere 
     in Allah's universe, a heavenly portal
      that will lead me to eternal bliss 
            designed by Allah the immortal.
Imagine a perfect heavenly life with no fear , death or problems
That's a life to die for, when Allah transports us to those realms.

    An abode with no sickness or illness
Only peace and total eternal happiness 
No viruses but rather real flying horses like real Pegasuses 
   We could get to ride and fly the universe 
   with angelic wings without planes or buses
But you have to work to earn and deserve that heavenly paradise
        Just follow God's latest holy book, so perfect and so wise.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Pondering Life

This beautiful Sunday afternoon has me pondering my life.
I lost my beautiful son in his twenties to mental illness,
just months ago. So now adjusting to being a mother to one
adult son is a very different situation, and I have not developed my sea
legs for my new life situation yet.  I also decided to take on a new
life project to have something positive to focus on, but that isn't
official yet. Most of all, I am grateful for a loving husband and a loving
God who have both supported me during this time of upheaval.
Grief is very hard, but it is an extension of the generous love that
we had for our son and how grateful we are for having him in our 
lives for the time he was here.  There is also relief that he is at peace.
My days consist of swirling emotions with sometimes intense responses,
and lots of leaning on the love of God and my family and friends.
I am very grateful for my tribe!


Premium Member Stolen Identity

Attention!  Identity crisis!  Who am I?                                                                                                                       Who on earth would want to be me?  And why?
Absolutely no one could  be me better than me.                                                                                                 

Several years ago, I attempted to file my taxes.
I usually file for an extension in April and wait.                                                                                                          So as usual, it was mid October when I filed.
Little did I know that I would face a rude awakening                                                                                                 when the IRS informed me that my taxes were already filed.

Of course I had not filed my taxes, but someone else did so.                                                                               Somehow, someway, someone had taken on my identity, and
for six months, I was none the wiser of being misrepresented.                                                                      Someone boldly attempted to become me and suceeded.
The thief who sought to rob me of a refund must have been sadly                                                                 disappointed when he discovered that this tax payer had no refund due.

The IRS coached and restored me back to the person I knew myself to be.                                                              Hearing of so many stolen identities with devastating results, comparatively,    I was blessed and fortunate.
10242017cjMTPS
Form: Prose

Fetal

Wishing herself away
She
spirals herself on ceramic to the height of childhood,
reuniting each extension of her being to simple oneness 
to challenge the chaos in her mind.

Familiar figures outside the room shape themselves with concern,
but her crowded thoughts
cannot understand a silhouette;
she knows its lack of attention to detail.

Her lungs fill with steamy air and release in heavy sigh
around her favorite position:
She
feels safe in the warm pockets of her limbs, blanketing her heart from the chill of 
truth beyond the room.

A fleeting urge to unfurl flies by,
as she hears the bathroom tile pleading to end 
the smack of rumblings from her toes:
but she resists,
knows enough 
not to anger a nerve’s anxiety.

Curls droop anxiously over her knees,
eager to be straightened to some sense of sanity,
but she brushes them away from the moistness on flushed skin:
figures they’ll only frizz with failure
alongside her own objectives…

At this moment,
She owns the serenity of ease
seemingly unnoticeable
to others performing worry beyond the door.

Oh the moment to hold and not let go!
The fear of greeting her fate outside….

But 
The sanctity of her thighs cannot warm
the length of her body beyond a moment;

the tears from her eyes never completely drown 
the sight of confusion;

the locks of hair are never opaque enough 
to shield the brash smirks
of ultraviolet light;

and the arch of her frame eventually must cease
its primitive beauty…

All, sadly,
in overwhelming acceptance
of her non literal position.

Calyx Eclipse

With indecision rode abreast
              Intended path becomes digressed 
              Old age accompanies us soon 
              Protected from sway of heart's swoon

              Independent flag flown above
              Declares no use for fickle love
              Closure wraps webs, unspent calyx
              Composts in forgotten paddocks

             Extension as petals erupt 
             Resilient haughty's harsh disrupt
             Crumbles robot disposition
             Gives passion due permission 

             Held out is your hand to delve in
             Wafting musk man wax firm terpene 
             Growth emergence drifts adjacent 
             Inhaled fragrance fresh placement

            Dangled now upon my doorstep 
            Taking the chance, you endorsed it
            Stainless steel crumpled, heart on tap
            Safety reigned, your care eclipsed that

            Ready to bloom in love splendid 
            Softness of Libby now rendered 
            Able to lay guard down, submit
            Spread open desire soul permits






         27th September 
             8 Syllables
Form: Kyrielle

Premium Member Light Chasing Shadows

Light Chasing Shadows

How pompous
These times of bait and catch
As famished minds fan their dwindling flame
Amidst urban collisions of spirit and heart
As witness the controlled starvation of energy's appetite
Leaving thinking landscapes raped and pillaged
To later be exhumed...

Yet

A child's imagination holds desperate its wonder
Sensing via eyes
Ears
Taste
Smell
And feel
Their innately wired candles
Desperately protecting the flames
While their obvious needs experience exploitation
The benefit of which
Stretches
Invades
Smothers
The very extension of their right
Their entitlement
And yes
Their genius

Without light there is no illumination

Still
With light
Shadows are cast
Imprinting what is
What might be
What a child dreams to be

Light will always chase shadows
But at some point
There should always be the overhead moment
When shadows cease to be
When what is
Just is
That moment of singular and infinite identity

What a price children pay for that opportunity
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Chunken Funkel #4

shuffle out 90 degree angle walking blankly between two straight lines come together jump forward onto a harassed sexually more than mentally play mat who’s turned English in structure & outlook suddenly she has a strong dislike or hostility for me 

I shake fear step off some big people their faces cutesy cartoon made by animation walking like ducks I find irritating not funny at all it seems their not trying to be the one or the other get jealous of the skilful animation techniques the animator had used in their production fear & jealously gone 

dress up as a fellow of the West Germanic tribes actually feel special in dress up not like a fool at all stall sells dress up clothes has gone back in time 5th century AD horrible stole the clothed settlers in Britain tried to stop them hence some scars to heal in a plain blunt rude way in old English a language plain white Protestant complaining about reek of the clothes I can’t smell reek or smell my reek I know my reek smothers the clothes’ reek just wink he steams with ire turns into an appetiser in an Italian dish

waterless water fountain I’m brushing off clothes stinky units of length on level with 10-10 metre purpose of measuring wavelengths people I wish away they stay about some cruel coarse some behave like they’re special with the best voluntary movement with the best two legs like they’ve been born with the most special sense organs There’s no such person you’re physical needs are tricking you I whisper to them ignore me of course don’t even stop I bleat tearlessly 

I’m in the close by extension to the central building quite colourful addition have a conversation with a south European plant with liquorice-flavoured seeds about dates on which an occasion for example an honouring wedding happened summertime 1994 until he has to go to union’s annual conference planned to last one year I remind him need to feed on their paper subscriptions in order to finish his life cycle he nods I know 

watching agape a brown hardcover book no title give birth to itself every minute play hearts with a joint connecting a leg & foot I educate him the bit of the leg just above the foot wants to make known to the public proclaim fog announces the birth of tea towels he believes me I keep losing but no I’m not bitter yawn thrice should be considered a skill

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace