Long Films Poems

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


Premium Member Flower Dances

For some occasions, 
	when she wants to appear attentive, 
	her eyes are Morning Glory brilliant blue, 
	unwinding for sunrise, heliotropic, 
	closing at dusk,
	wilting into the dark. 
	
	As light fades on summer evenings 
	her brilliant white Datura gown 
	unfolds its pleats to Dervish-whirl 
	through the cooling air, 
	attracting all manner of 
	pleasure-seekers, 
	retiring slowly 
	as darkness deepens,
	resting to dance again tomorrow. 
	
	On more desperate nights, 
	her vanilla scented Cereus-spirit
	all but explodes, 
	anxious to find her lover
	in that single evening of her life. 
	By dawn’s light 
	she hangs spent and lifeless, 
	her glory gone 
	but for the seeds planted in her belly 
	during that wondrous darkness.


YouTube has marvelous stop-action films of these flowers. There is information elsewhere online regarding their uses by and effects on humans.


The Ear Whispered Adultery

prophets wear hand-painted signs and sit in the back of buses 
advertising paradise some wear gold rings on fingers 
and count money the dream returns mother nature shows me 
that her kiss thrusting trust is forbidden knowledge of desire 
flamenco dancers dead soldiers marching through white stone collects 
cold silence in the sweat of illusion we touch the agony 
words drained of their blood is a frightening proposition 
of desire we speak of tiny morsels savored like wine 
in the ear whispered adultery gray films moving through bones 
devoid of worms sleeping in apartments frightened residents look out 
through tiny peepholes as disheveled people on shoulders of roads 
hold card-board signs beside skinny dogs begging passing cars 
for crumpled notes with dead faces
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member James Stewart

James Stewart was a prolific actor,
superstar of the stage and silver screen.
His lanky frame wasn't a detractor,
James Stewart was a prolific actor.
His deliberate drawl was a factor,
he'd draw the audience into each scene.
James Stewart was a prolific actor,
superstar of the stage and silver screen.

He'd draw the audience into each scene,
as the most popular star of his day.
With his shy stutter and sly smile routine,
he'd draw the audience into each scene.
His roles were never vulgar or obscene,
neither in films nor in a Broadway play. 
He'd draw the audience into each scene,
as the most popular star of his day.


(Intertwining Triolet)


08,19,2019
MY UPCOMING BIRTHDAY (09-03) CELEBRITY
Any Form Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Form: Triolet

Premium Member The Artist

Look at the tall, young man
walking down the street
in black, tattered shoes.
He is wearing a purple beret
and a bright orange and white
striped shirt.
His dark blonde hair is 
long and layered.
His body in thin and lean.
He has a handsome face
with dark, arched brows
that frame his grey-green eyes.

He walks with a nonchalance
yet there is a determined look
on his face.
His mind is full of creative ideas
lost in fantastical thoughts.
He observes and contemplates
films and edits
draws and envisions.

He is looking to make his mark
in the world
To have his voice heard
To stand out among the many.
The competition is fierce
yet he will not compromise.
The goal is authentic
self expression.

Through the pain of
repeated rejection
he continues to put 
one step in front
of the other.
One day he will
succeed, if he
perseveres.
Keep walking
young man
my son.




Written in April, 2004

It's Harry Potter Day

Its book day at school
My son's all excited
He can dress up in character
From his favourite book
"Hooray" he says
"I'll go as Harry Potter"
"Hmmm are you sure"
"Yes daddy, it's dress up day"
"But Harry Potter" I say
"I love it" he says
"You love the films you mean"
"Yes I love them" he says
"Its book character day though"
"Are there Harry Potter books?" he says
"Yes but you've not read them"
Oh well, too late now I sigh
Costume's bought, friends told
No going back now.....
Just hope he's not asked about the books
Instead with a bit of luck
The teacher can ask the other Harry Potters.….….
Yes, there's three of them!!!
Bet they've not read the books either
© Rob Carter  Create an image from this poem.


Orlando Rich

If I were rich I would live in Orlando, 
Where the sun grooms the watered land, 
Where busyness is quelled by knowing that, 
You can always live in another city grand. 

My Disney poems would be accepted, 
As part of the scene, the whole shebang, 
As I would hope to complement Mr Disney, 
With poetry’s feeling shade on the hang. 

I would have the carers that I wanted to, 
Tall, handsome, smiley and relaxed at chat, 
And maybe have two showers every day, 
With only a t-shirts to choose and rat. 

I might go swimming in the outside pool, 
With a carer, not with a staunch physio,
And I could barbecue mushrooms forever, 
With have a large car having Orlando radio. 

I may, in the end, write a non-fiction book, 
About the Disney films and their morality,
About what’s behind them and the values, 
About their promotion of a healthy longevity. 

Sea World, Universal Studios and NASA, 
Are just on hand by your door step, 
And as a hub and centre for internationals, 
The diverse culture means no cooking prep.


26/10/2015
Form: Rhyme

what is my country

My country, it is not the sweet Portugal
AND yet I love Fado, the wine of the Douro,
My country is not beautiful Italy, nor Rome,
And yet I love Naples, Palermo, and Florence,
It’s not Haiti or Salvador de Bahia,

It’s the Dolce Vita and Eight and a half, in black and white,
I like all the films by Fellini or Antonioni,
My country, it is not the illustrious talkative France
AND yet I like Jurançon and Monbazillac,
I like beef bourguignon and duck with orange,

My country, it’s not California, or Utah,
AND yet I like Monument Valley, Hollywood Boulevard,
I love the Grand Canyon and Los Angeles at night,
My country, it is not so political Turkey,
But I love Istanbul and sleepy Cappadocia,

It’s the Dolce Vita and Eight and a half, in black and white, 
My country is the cinema, it’s the privileged place
Where will the train stop from your indolent and black eyes,
It is beyond, the bridge of lascivious embraces, the bridge of the Iroise
It’s the country I like when you play for me alone, O my action. 

NB La Dolce Vita and eight and a half, are two masterpieces by Fellini.

Premium Member First Date

I like just about anything you like to eat.
Any ethnic selection would be considered a treat.
I know several fine restaurants where we can go.
You can make the selection if there is any place you know.
Would you like to see a movie after dinner?
There are plenty of good films that are an Academy Award winner.
I know some great places where we can dance.
We can step out on the floor if you want to take a chance.
There are plenty of splendid places where we can go.
All I ask of you is, let’s not go to a casino.

Robert Pettit
for Nette Onclaud's "Take Two" Contest
March 31, 2014
Originally entered in Frank H. "First Date" contest.
Form: Rhyme

Harmony

In the bivouac field of life's main
All things are uncertain
From the wide spread of the elms 
'Til the motion of the films.

A life's solemn swear
Is not to let the tear
Drop in vainless mortality
Nor fall on cup of insanity.

In the belfries of life
Clangs of pains and joys unite
Through out the coldness of the night
By the reflections of the eyes.

A chaotic world in vain full realms
Announcing its awful psalms
In myriad times it broke
Divinity of peace if took.

Time is fleeting
Things are changing
As the days that closeth at nights
So the harmony within its heights..
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Leave It To Beaver: the Last Episode

Beaverish, feverish
hot Mrs. Cleaver wished
that her affair had not
given her clap. 

Fast Eddie Haskell, her
boy-toy, that rascal, his 
transmissibility
claims were all crap.

“Tickle me, pickle me,
say it’s not true, for if
you have the clap then I
must have it too!”

Doctors prescribed her some
anti-microbials,
Ward soon found out that she
had been untrue.

Beaver was curious,
Ward was so furious,
fake news of Eddie’s lewd
films made him snap.

“June, you’re so sensible,
incomprehensible,
that you could fall for that
con-artist’s crap!”

Friskiness, riskiness,
ratings were rising, but
not so surprising they
cancelled the show.

Frightened by content too
radiological,
sponsors said “Beaver” was 
not apropos.
© Eric Cohen  Create an image from this poem.

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