Long Fictional Poems
Long Fictional Poems. Below are the most popular long Fictional by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fictional poems by poem length and keyword.
S Silent One suggests poetry as therapeutic endeavour
I ‘Is there a special place where the ink flows forever …’
L ‘Like pain placed in a paper bag scattered like a dead man’s ashes’
E Engraved on the tombstone of poems and fictional flashes
N No need for cremation for ink on paper from a deep fountain
T Teases sorrow pleasure and wisdom to reach for the mountain
O ‘Only the moon understands’ that lunar eclipses fade away
N ‘Nature’s pallet has turned my golds to grey’ but I will stay
E Ending what I started while having lived in meaningful replay
07th February 2021
This is an acrostic tribute to Silent One
‘Is there a special place where the ink floes forever’ is a line
from Silent One’s poem ‘Where do we poets go’
‘Like pain placed in a paper bag scattered like a dead man’s ashes’
is a line from Silent One’s poem ‘Poetry numbs the pain’
‘Only the moon understands’ is a poem written by Silent One
‘Nature’s pallet has turned my golds to grey’ is a line from
Silent One’s poem ‘Frozen soul in silent stillness’
3/10/15
It was visible
That he was a strange individual
Because he followed his own principles
And never believed in anything biblical or political
To some that was unforgivable
And despicable
Yet hardly anything he ever did was criminal or typical
And most of his ideas were original
In a world so digital
He knew that nothing was invincible
And far too many things were mythical
And fictional
But he stayed unpredictable
In a place that was truly livable
It was pitiful
That many were inhospitable
So he was never egotistical
Or critical
Because he loved being mystical
Even if it was considered as non traditional
Outside the municipal
He reached far above the pinnacle
But those that were episcopal
Tried to cover it up as if it was invisible
And even though it seemed rather inexplicable
He paid no attention because doing his own thing was irresistible
And what they had done was easily fixable
You're as mean as a Grizzly Bear and you think that I'll marry you.
Get that notion out of your head because it's something I won't do.
You're so mean and vicious that you actually broke your own daughter's arm.
You injured her when you were supposed to protect her from coming to harm.
You actually believe that you and I will be man and wife.
I loathe you and I sure as hell don't want you in my life.
When you were only seventeen, you were arrested for aggravated assault.
You've spent over a decade in jail for your crimes and it's entirely your fault.
Getting your daughter put in a foster home is what I'm going to do.
Loving you would be like loving a rattlesnake and I'll never marry you.
(This is a fictional poem)
How are things in Rome, my love, the Rome we knew so long ago?
Do the crystal waters in the Fountain of Trevi still gently flow?
Does the coin we tossed in there yet shine? I'd really like to know,
Or like the love of our feckless youth, has it lost its glow?
I was a lonely soldier boy far from home and she was lonely too.
When I saw her across the crowded room, my heart skipped a beat or two!
'Tis said that a woman loves a man in uniform but I'm not sure that's so!
I felt it much more than that as in her eyes I saw a special glow!
I have fond memories of our dinners sipping Chianti with speghetta,
And the thrilling rides along the Tiber on our trusty old Lambretta!
The moon shone on just the two of us as we held each other tight,
Pledging our eternal love with a tender kiss on that very special night!
Alas, time moved on inexorably as it will and I returned to fighting war.
'Tis said that tossing a coin in Trevi ensures your return to Rome once more!
But it was not to be. I can only cherish sweet memories in my heart!
I sadly muse, "How are things in Rome, my love, since we've been apart?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
(PS: I hasten to add that this is a fictional write otherwise I'd be in deep and
serious trouble with my wife!!!!!)
A murderer was terrorizing my city.
Everyone was fearful, even me,
and so I did what I do to relieve anxiety,
I began writing creatively.
I began to write a fictional story
written in the form of poetry
about this murderer terrorizing my city.
In the form of a journal or diary,
I would write as if this murderer was me.
I would scan the newspapers and watch the news on TV
everyday about this murderer terrorizing my city,
and then I'd imagine this fiend's activities
writing every dark detail in rhyme poetry.
I would post this work in progress privately
on Facebook so I could go back and work on it occasionally,
but one evening after heavy drinking at a party,
I accidently posted it publicly.
Does anyone know a good attorney?
I need one who can get Stevie Wonder a drivers license, seriously.
In a place, In another time was where it all initiated
A bombed out place with mixed climatic systems, Reinstated
But moving on in this place gave me a cerebral pulsation
For within and outside these boundaries, I knew no realization
Was it entirely fictional in all its worth, Or was there sense to my thoughts
I knew paradises face was not written in the smoke, With cascading numerics and
endless noughts
My perceptions redeemed the credible flashes of reality, But I was in suspension
I agonized walking through splinters of fire and wrath in this cultured dimension
I caught a hollow lie in my head, Which was rhythmic until it spread
It was then that I realized this place was not real, Only a fantasy in my head
And then I became aware that this existence was never ending wonder
Looping and cascading, Everything with psychedelic elegance, A shattering electric
thunder
Brilliance came forth in verse and actuality, Amongst my mind their thoughts
manipulated
A cataclysmic pulse scored my spine, As if I was charged, But deep within felt
simulated
Anything in composite material form was reassuring, But the dreams struck like
death
Nothing in this world titled Arcadia with flesh, Only skeletons with expired breath
Arcadia has claimed its child, Swallowing in gulps, And taken aback by the ferocity
I am the Tempest swirling in all dimensions, breathing in the atrocity
The End.
Form:
Motivate
I have been carrying a planet on my back for so long, it’s still trying;
Because every time I make it to near the top of Mount Mind,
I am destroyed; taken from mine.
A seed falls from a leaf,
As a once upon a time witness,
To the being that was, or is, or could be me.
I am stood here waiting for a reason to carry on;
But I cannot carry a world when I stand alone as one.
So I will share my burdens with you all;
Help me to help another, or help another,
If you hear them call.
We all need good neighbours,
I must get to know mine,
But time flies!
People lose belief in everything,
Shaded beneath the mango tree.
Nothing even matters anyway; right?
I just cannot see a way into the light.
I cannot motivate, nor can I hate,
When all I feel is in view for you to rate.
I cannot motivate myself to improve my health;
I need help to find a better way to leave this Hell.
Eating better, but still smoking;
I would laugh, but I’m not joking.
Fictional love behind the steering wheel.
Driving force in need of being healed.
We begin again too many times to make a difference.
Waiting on your world too many times to be of any consequence.
I took control of my own life,
By taking down the fences.
Waiting on your world to change.
Your TV no longer shows happy days,
When I am in need of being mended.
Waiting on a world,
Whilst I am trapped inside your zoo.
Without loving words we will remain as two,
When we should be as one;
Not gone.
One thought, one mind;
A sign of the times should shine.
Sing the sad tunes and remain in the dunes;
The claws in your back has not and will not be removed.
Skin too tough to ever be just right.
Life is our basic instinct.
The caged minds hide all their sunlight.
One move, one fall and all this goes away;
Away into eternal night.
This is no time for wishful thinking.
This is the only chance I have to live this life.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
It was such a pity
When our cute little kitty
Climbed up the Christmas tree
She struggles and fights
With baubles and lights
The destruction is clear to see
Our poor Douglas pine
No longer looks fine
Its branches all battered and torn
The tinsel and glitter
On the floor they now litter
The tree looks so sad and forlorn
When no one can see
Kitty heads down the tree
Then she leaps onto the floor
She has such a caper
With the wrapping paper
Wreaks havoc with presents galore
I arrive home from work
Oh I feel such a jerk
That kitty was left alone in the house
The one present untouched
Was for a kitty we loved …
A furry clockwork toy mouse
Memories of so long ago
To my pen they now flow
For kitty is long since passed
Christmas time for me
Just a sweet memory
And our tree is no longer trashed!
Fictional write
The Christmas Tree Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Submitted to Christmas Poems Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance la France
11~12~15
My speech was all out of sequence, my catch phrase for it was ‘mad gab’
I kept saying balderdash like apples to apples my brain was a scrabble!
Also I was hearing things in my cranium, it caused so much aggravation
Likewise, I couldn’t remember my computer password of Ants in the Pants
At one time household chores were a trivial pursuit
My kitchen used to be perfection, now it looked like the Dutch blitz!
I kept dropping spoons, I’d hear them go ker plunk on the floor
and was all of a boggle when I put my ticket to ride in the mousetrap
I was so concerned I went to see my physician
Close to tears I took the monopoly of the box of tissues on his desk
I’d googled my symptoms so I did have a clue of the possible diagnosis
He referred me straight to the hospital
A scan revealed a tiny brain tumor, they were lucky to spot it
Guess who was in trouble!
Cancer was a taboo subject so we had code names for the tumor,
The doctor said I should adopt the 5 second rule if I needed to speak out
The surgeon said I needed what could possibly be life changing surgery
He would implement phase 10 as it was a very tricky operation
There was some risk as he needed to connect four wires in my brain
Thankfully the complicated surgery was a success and I’m back to perfection!
NB this is a fictional poem inspired by the contest prompt!
Anyone Game Contest
Sponsored by Carol Connell
2/22/19
Would you like to dance my little ballerina?
She dances and dances,
no leotard, no tutu, no hair ribbon, and no ballet slippers.
she spins with hands over her head, and I dream of.
Our nearby beautiful lake near the mountains,
She dances with joy on the shores, with wind unfurling her hair,
No swans, no prince, no villains, no curses, just pure sweet innocence,
the ducks and geese become spellbound to show their synchronized dances.
She dances and dances to open a beautiful world for us all,
Ballerina Angelina pops up in her pink wardrobe and shoes,
Angelina dances with my little ballerina scattering their smile all around,
She swirls, she twirls, she spins, my dream spins with her.
Are you tired, my little ballerina?
She opens her eyes, keeps dancing with hands over her head,
This is a magical moment for me,
when I pick her up and give her a hug?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My little ballerina. my two-year-old granddaughter.
Ballerina Angelina. fictional mouse Ballerina (TV character)
Swans are rare in this part of the world.