Long Figure Poems
Long Figure Poems. Below are the most popular long Figure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Figure poems by poem length and keyword.
My heart desires my children to be joyful and safe.
I want my grandchildren to feel free to be themselves.
My dogs are on the rainbow bridge of earth.
I want their excitement and happiness to continue.
My heart desires my students to find their heart’s joy.
I aim to help them figure out what their talents are.
To show them how marvelous they are as themselves.
I want them to be lifelong learners, excited about life.
My heart desires other drivers to be courteous.
The freeway is the worst part of my day.
I would keep my job until death if drivers could be polite.
I just want peace on I-635 to and from work.
GLEANINGS
revealed
secrets
of
restoration
of
a
masterpiece
in
layered
innovative
to
create
conclusions
& pose
questions
the
intensive
effect
perfectly
plausible
by
the
outcomes
offered
insight
into
the potential
structured
slightly
different
replicating
the
purpose
to figure out
what
is going on
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
The word “love” is so easily thrown around
It starts to get a distorted meaning
To say you "just love that new kitty litter”
Then say you “love me” – it starts to come off as a little demeaning
“Love” shouldn’t be so easy to say
And it shouldn’t be used so very often
When you say you “love” this and then you say you “love” that
Well, the word kind of starts to soften
Based on the words that you have uttered this week
I rank right up there with peanut butter and bacon
You “love” the new toilet seat, the joke you just heard
And the smell of coffee – if I’m not mistaken
You “love” your new shoes, the book that you’re reading
And that gay guy in the office
You “love” sleeping in, getting your fingernails painted
And that singer, whoever “The Boss” is
You “love” the porcelain pig that is our door stop
You “love” the smell of our scented candles
You "love" the funny little mugs that you bought last week
Because they have the cutest little handles
So if I don’t do flips or a handspring or two
When you mention how much I am loved
It’s only because I’m trying to figure out
Where I fit in with those things listed above
I am no hero or villain. I’m the further away from being a devil nor an angel. I am not the betrayer nor the foolish loyalist. Some people see me as prey, others see me as the wolf out on a stroll, looking for the next I sink my teeth into. I am neither a killer or a victim as well. I am not the escapegoat or the cause of all your faults. Not a prisoner nor a person of true freedom. I am not able or disabled, though I am capable of many things on both sides of the coin. Neither am I trash to be tossed aside, nor am I the thing to be accepted just because. For all the things I’m not, it seems that none on this earth still can’t figure out what to call me. I have told and retold them until I turned blue. But with all the effort I have put into it, it has fallen on deaf ears and blind eyes. After all these years, hundreds, perhaps thousands, haven’t grasped what to call me. Maybe I shall try with you this last time to say what or who I am. Then maybe someone will finally understand what to call me. I am the flawed, the heart beating, soul-filled. I am a human being.
I.
Connor’s planned community was built to become
the first example of a brand new breed.
Each person would give by their ability,
each would get just what they'd need.
He would show the whole of the world
that finally, at long last, it could be done.
Others had failed with people flawed,
but he had chosen all the right ones.
But soon the janitor wanted to have
what the doctor for his work received.
When Conner pointed out the doctor’s skill,
Janitor claimed it was a case of ‘need.’
So did the cook, the farmer, and the guard,
they wanted all a six-figure pay day.
Conner took from the doctor to satisfy them,
so the doctor up and walked away.
Conner exhorted all to the take only
rhe things they ‘needed’ to survive.
A few held true, for a week at least,
but then the ‘needs’ all piled up high.
When Conner tried to dictate to them
his followers all revolted quite fast,
dispersing back into the real world,
the perfect community just didn’t last.
Poor Conner was left alone, dead broke,
his once might fortune drained away.
He learned the hard way a fact well known:
Human nature, it just doesn’t change.
Shipwreck in the Vegetal Mirror
In every shipwreck my hair floats motionless like a fixed spyglass,
my nails write your name on waves that stand frozen in motion,
I choose the hallucinating stillness that runs through frozen space,
unsatisfied with your blind iris that sees too clearly in the darkness of light.
I place above your eyes cold lightning and warm nightshade,
the hypnotist passes standing still among the sleeping-awake poets,
they pull from their hair the night birds singing in the noisy silence,
I will leave the windows closed wide open for the motionless travelers.
I wait to pass as a swimming statue through the dry water of your dreams,
confident in my uncertainty aggressively gentle through the solid waves,
you must break the mirror to keep it whole and unfractured,
it's difficult to reconstruct the figure that's born destroying itself always.
My liquid half dries up dreaming of the phosphorescence-darkness part,
the blind feldspar eyes see the half of blood transparent and thick,
the vegetal tiger carnalizes in the plant-animal part that breathes flesh,
halves that multiply decreasing in the eternity of the infinite fraction.
The hour when carnivorous plants close opening wide voracious,
they have freed the passersby through a paralysis that sets them in motion,
the hole in the window is a full emptiness through which I see the unseen visible,
I watch myself lurking with vampiric carelessness at the exit of sleepwalkers.
It's like in an opaque mirror but more transparent than the absence of clarity,
more ferocious in its gentleness than the silence that screams in whisper,
with each lightning bolt a star shoots backward remaining eternally in place,
I'm told silences and a thousand more words that will never be spoken.
We can be bored amazed or restart stopping ourselves brutishly lucid,
our exercises with our heads in the root of subterranean celestial air,
floating buried in the bottomless soil of sleeping-awake consciousness,
where the end begins ceaselessly and the beginning dies being reborn eternally.
Still lost-
Even more than Alice
Can't seem to find a way out this
All i been searching for is happiness
But each way I try is disastrous
Playin different characters like an actress
I've worn a mask for so long
Been everyone bt me
No need to practice
All I've done my whole life is pray
Just to get past this
This whole world is plastic
Every where I look
People either holding donation baskets
Or overflowin caskets
Ain't no way I can stay calm
The sht way too blasphemous
Every breath I take is cancerous
Tryna figure out what kinda trance this is
Or if I'm almost out of my dwindling chances
lovers Concerns
------------------------
Idealism tripped over it's shoe laces
chivalry sat on the floor
expectations of a lover
crumbled a mountain
her Glamware was to hard to ignore
unrealistic romantic standards
guide foolish people
seems they alway missing out
treats still bring laughter
tricks still kind people in doubt
from my understanding of love
it's a two way thing
simple expectations
still make hardworking people dream
Love in it's worthiness
is worth more than gold
prosects of finding love
is a mystery often untold
You gotta be truest to me in our doings
keeping our lovers respect
faithful to one another and everything
even when we reject
we aint jiving and we
need to figure it out
that what love really is
that's what love is all about
Citing religous hindering
often comes from those someone else
putting us gainst one another
tryna keep us in conflict
there non traditional ways
cause us to devalue our own
let stay together my lady
keep our voices in our lovers tone
It all happened in one Sunday:
In the fourth week of the month of May,
After I went down that spooky lane,
And stopped by the head of the lion with mane.
It was just a figure in an old, old gate
Just like our old holiday home’s gate!
Still it wasn’t as nice: shiny and warming,
But indeed: it was dusty, and already rusting!
The rust had turned its black to brown,
And it was hard to open, shall I break it down?
But the creepers; they were over grown,
So I stepped on over them and jumped, on my own.
It was an old Victorian house with thick vegetation,
Vines running through the cracks built a perception:
To go in through the half open door,
Only to find the living room with a dusty floor.
The furniture was old, way too dusty,
The metals needed polish for they were all rusty.
The walls had moss, and cobwebs dangling,
I was so absorbed that I didn’t hear the door slamming.
I turned around to find the door was shut,
I heard the key turn and it was locked!
I looked through windows, but none was outside:
Which meant that I was trapped inside!
I forgot: by the gate there was a note to be noted:
And it read: ‘beware, this house is haunted!’
My heart stopped beating and my legs were shaking,
As someone grabbed my legs and began dragging!
I turned and saw nobody- I had lost my senses,
My mom was calling when I gained back my senses.
She said: “c’mon girl, let’s have a look
At your new school with a Victorian look.”
08/13/2018 (MM/DD/YYYY)
Contest- The haunted house poetry contest
Sponsored by- Dear Heart
In a dark dark room I gaze out my window, Watching as the fog engulfs the night
In the distance I notice a crow staring back, I can’t close my eyes try as I might
It’s as if I lost control of my body, The piercing stare of the crow makes me cringe
A feeling of fear overwhelms me, A figure appears beyond the forest’s fringe
The hairs on my back stand up, My heart is racing at lighting speeds
A soft breath kisses my neck, Yes someone is in my room indeed
I can’t turn around for I’m paralyzed with fright, Is this a cruel joke or my demise
Then an ear shattering laugh fills my room, I don’t even get to say my goodbyes
And just as all hope is lost something happens, I wake up in bed covered in sweat
Could it have just been a dream, If so what could it have possibly meant
Then I peer out my window, The outside is lit up from the light of the moon
I don’t understand how all this went down, Even if was just in my dark dark room