Long Fiction Poems
Long Fiction Poems. Below are the most popular long Fiction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fiction poems by poem length and keyword.
Fer these er nay stumblin' on a reality
that er givein' us reasons to be spooked
fer our future en global stability...
gee! wake-up we should be scared,
gosh already we're experiencin'
more, a disastrous global effect
naught! a creation of science fiction
as one passed would expect,
en weather severe, storms violent too
tornadoes, earthquakes also tsunamis...
his Prophesies are a comin' true,
those writ's of Nostradamus,
political upheavals, endless wars
rising socialism in Latin America
that Middle East those African shores,
widespread poverty there en America
Is er thing, as human beings we can do?
Have an earful of world leaders...
Fer aggressive plan, is to come up with
We are desperate, en your a leadln',
reduction plans also action,
over-consumption of resources
address overpopulation...
an produce high gas emissions,
oh, listen to that fiddle!
Hell's broke loose,
much so long so, they've fiddled
An' hell's broken' loose,
we can start changin' our world
change in ourselves,
an will change er a little,
en will eventually make a difference
when we're all changin' nor fiddlein'
en our time is nay lost
let's act now an together,
an before it's too late, life is too short
The gnomes of olden times
carefully hung the sun
and moon up in the skies.
Growing gardens by their
light provided garlic,
and sweet pumpkin delights.
Hoards of squashes and gourds
for making many tools;
Gnomes are truly no fools.
Little ones planted seeds
and watered plants with care,
polishing leaves with zeal.
Foods baked with fluffy eggs
have textures that are best
a flavor-burst delight!
Elementals won’t rest
until they’ve grown the best;
herbaceous edibles.
Be grateful to wee folk
caring for your garden;
watch them not as they work.
For secrets must be kept
in Mother Nature’s vault;
the Gnomes will never tell.
Dr. Reed Richards, known as Mr. Fantastic,
is a super-hero whose body is elastic.
Leader of the Fantastic Four clan,
a genius invincible is this man.
The Invisible Woman, AKA Susan Storm,
first female superhero, she also can perform
the bending of light waves; she projects fields of force.
She got married to Mr. Fantastic, of course!
Johnny Storm is known as the Human Torch.
If “Flame on” he cries, beware what he will scorch.
Much brasher is he than his sweet sister Susan.
Shooting fire, this superhero be cruisin’.
The Thing, AKA, the grumbling Ben Grimm,
sure has no need of a gym.
With skin like a rock, he’s got plenty of bulk
and is second in strength to the Hulk.
It was on an 1953 issue, of Astounding Science Fiction
When Roger Taylor, a rock star, progressed with inspired conviction
The painter the band approached, was a Mr. Frank Kelly Freas
Who decided to alter his art, two parties in total agree
This painting illustrated the story, "The Gulf Between"
Inspiration finally hit home, an album cover, called "News of the World" by Queen
The alteration of his classic, includes the four members of the band
Two of them in deathly fall, whilst two are held in his hand
This giant intelligent robot was mourning the bands demise
For on the inside of this album cover, are the audience in deathly cries
If you enjoy the music of Queen, you will know the painting above
For those of you who do not, give your curiosity a shove
http://www.queenzone.com/music/news-of-the-world
from the logline of the movie
World of Aleins, by Orratto.....
They stand in verse of me: allied by their ego's: repretations and their want
for a new world. A world that they wish me not to be apart of.
Their scientist invent, their armies game, their politications make ways to exclude me. They make their enemy my friend that I might devoure him with my own wants and ambitions, that he is destroyed, because they wish to trust me more than he. When they lack finace they take from my sources, then I must find creative ways to take back what they've taken. when technolies become old, they find us, and try to eliminate us, to make-up from what they feel we took away from them. When my science is fact, they beleivethe fiction of my propaganda.But when our world became threatened by The Aleins within, we along with other leaders, united to achieve onething, removal of these aliens to their own world, and then we had to find ways to accomadate these new creatures created by the union of Aleins and Humans. All done in lieu of the government. all done with the full understanding that the invasion would come from these new people.it took our world nine years to even discover the Aleins, then when they uncovered the plot, the plans of these people. They sought the poor, and coupled with them, all with the backing of the Alein homeworld, they gave them gold and platinum, and when they found mates, one's who were willing and able to have babies, they were paid in gold, and platinum. bringing new wealth to people.t they bought companies making people richer, when they looked into these new ways they saw nothing that would cause suspension, only that they targeted the certain types of people. One day in Febuary at a hospital in New Guinia, a baby was born, with two anntanas behind it ears, that's when they discovered certain traits of dna, that weren't human, and not of this world. These began the Euroafromerica commitions of human welfare, which discovered the exsistance of Aleins on earth. Weathy men got together to create hero's, they used their technologies to make supermen, one's who could fly, and had superstranghts, these are the formations of the "Power Friends" the saviors of the Universe!
Questions of truth, alas become moot--
O'er angry voices, truth seldom heard
Like branches strayed from their mother root
We've strayed then planted another word,
chosen belief in the most absurd.
In times of war, truth begs to be seen,
yet trampled, however one may lean--
Torn in Viet Nam, Afghanistan,
Six O'clock fact or fiction routine:
fingers pointing at every man.
Why is truth killed when war needs it most?
That question is asked through the ages,
Perhaps lies dwell in a virus host,
Or, we need truth meted in stages,
lies bake troubled souls as war rages.
Truth rests among those--the dead of war.
Yet, we also lost truth years before.
Perhaps a new potion we'll soon find
to cure the people and kill lies' spoor
and leave its destruction far behind.
March 28, 2022
for the "Why is Truth the First Casualty of War and why is That a Fact"
by Sotto Poet
It is hard to miss something that is not
Easier to miss concept of what mind leads to be
To find an emptiness in the heart beat
Is to find a desire one wish to experience
Our emotions rather fiction or non
They are always the same without change
Is it we look for ourselves in depths of our soul
To fulfill a need of love that already exist
With just a smile we feel joy
So I ask,is it concept of idea that is vacant
Or the soul to which seeks light
To live your heart is to breathe
As each man bleeds the same also
What is it we live not that we die
That we live our true selves
The plea of insanity or a picture we paint
Who are we to which we portray
A myth,an unbelief into the darkness of hell
Desires Emptiness, peace of mind or elusion
How is it we find such seclusion
That we lay to sleep even in turmoil
Our own heart's slave to secretly vow
Still thriving to death we carry to our grave
The same desire, emptiness shared in silence
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
I wrote this non fiction poem
For Debra Jean..
(C)London F. BuSS. 2022
sapphire view port ...
the ocean of stars glistened
like a million sun sprites on the sea
yet the sea was not near as cold ... or deep
and despite it's bounty
its mysteries were not remotely as compelling
the Universe had tugged at his heart
since his earliest memories
and now far-space exploration was a reality
his wildest dreams come to fruition
and HE was at the helm ...
all it required was a push of the 'ignition' button
and yet he couldn't find the will ...
for everything he loved - everyONE -
was here, on Earth ...
and due to the sacrifices of inter-stellar travel
(and the bending of the continuum)
they would be long-dead when he returned
there was no turning back
many others depended on him
and the success of this mission and its goals
too much money had been spent
far too much sacrificed to change it all now
and still ... he could not press the button
little eyes shined in his mind
little eyes that wept as little hearts broke
when they said goodbye to him ...
and how his heart ached for their mother
all they'd been through together
the moonlit nights and daylight laughs and crazy trips
but this was his dream
the dream of all humanity, really
and all that he had worked for, for so very long
he could NOT back down, not now
that's why he'd been chosen - his character ... his resolve
his dedication to the project
and yet ... the button sat untouched
the pad remained uncharred
no rumble of the engines
no roar of the fuel ignited
his finger trembling over the red switch ...
as the world ...
held its collective breath.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Completely Your Choice 12, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Everybody wants to be champion
Everybody got a plan
Everything's signifacent
Peoplez, my people!
Take your assignment
and task!
Get in line and do what's
asked of you.
Sh$t I have been doing that
This way since they let me
In here.
Hungry people, needs to eat!
And prices only fluctuate upwards.
Looked at Bizzy
He ain't got time for me.
Looked at dizzy, but he's under ah
Spell!
What ya'll talking bout?
Why me?
Papers and Promises!
Cheap talk, switch your
Candyass up outta here!
Get the prestige like
Ole Lou,
The belt like Brett.
Defend like Hogan.
The women like Flair!
When Sammartino
And Hansen
Gets me
Nick, your Bockwinkels due
Simmons and Bradshaw
Stonecold now what new.
I remember Dusty
The long blood we share
Bobo didn't take the strap
Ya'll act like we weren't
There.
Fluctuations, neocations
Man just get it done.
Work ain't hard
If you know what you're doing
Contract please!
Let's get it on !