Long Filter Poems
Long Filter Poems. Below are the most popular long Filter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Filter poems by poem length and keyword.
A coastline laps with glistening waves
Dotted with light from its shore-bed unseen,
While fragrance of air and gull’s trill filter
Through leafy boughs varnished in shamrock green.
How this breathtaking view warms my senses
Where tinted sands like nuggets of a jade,
Beguile dreamy feet to tap, to tiptoe
On lime stones, pebbles, daintily arrayed.
From fibrils of tides the woven moss rides
That gently, evening drapes the isle with ease
Softer the ripples in patterns that hold
A verdant calm between water and trees
Endowing new March a treasure’s delight
That rails this juncture, bright as emerald…
And I, a lucky charm of this fresh luster
Delight in the gush bearing spring’s reward.
(Get into the spirit and Go Green)
Old/ New Poems Contest, PD Linda
Resubmitted: 3/18/2016
All of a sudden (upon
immediately arising refreshed,
whar these lovely
bones did not ache
getting shut eye lasting
amply time for
fatigue to brake,
long enough for tear ducts
to generate sandy granule
size piece smaller
than a Jimmie
sprinkled atop piece of cake
an inexplicable fanciful
notion gripped me
to circumnavigate the globe
(then during or after
write a poem or journaled)
possibly like Sir Francis Drake
who lived (circa?1540 –
28 January 1596)
alight to adventure found
yours truly though
no longer tired
i.e. once adequately
rested and awake,
(despite sleeping respite
did reckon asthma
second daily nap
no...no...no...,this not "FAKE)"
ah ran to the community room,
cuz sigh did hanker for coffee,
sans one of the (perky,
finely grounded, Earthy)
residents, who faintly resembled
a (Lake Woebegone)
Minnesotan from Land o Lake
did brew, filter, and invoke love
said coffee she did make,
tubby extra sure boundless energy
would keep me alert for:
long day's journey into night
and while walking briskly
(this took about a bajillion
orbitz round the sun,
cuz ah...unfairly small feet
for this opaque
grown man hoop ping to partake
of sipping a hot cup of Joe,
(despite the outside temperature
feeling like a bajillion degrees -
courtesy of global warming)
mouth (analogous to
the dog of Pavlov)
started to salivate
for desperate caffeinated
thirst to slake
after a couple swallows...
ah (no idea why butta)
Zarathustra channeled
thru me didst spake.
...I say all this as a writer
who makes narratives all the time,
I love stories, they’re lots of fun,
and when done well they’re quite sublime.
But every time I write a tale
I cannot help but be aware
that placed up against the real world
my narratives just can’t compare.
Even when I’ve thought it all out,
believe I’ve covered everything,
compared to what humans endure
my creations come up lacking.
The realness of our human souls
exceed the characters I make,
the details of the outside world
no purple prose can imitate.
The details of the narrative
don’t even match what’s in my mind,
and what I think is paltry when
compared to our real space and time.
Because, of course, the narrative
was never even close to real,
it’s just a tool we created,
it’s a thing we’ve made up to deal
with a world that our mind can’t grasp
in its massive entirety,
narrative is just our filter
because there’s too much truth to see.
To make it something we can know
we cut out most of what’s out there,
the endless details of chaos
that make the smartest minds despair.
I think all should remember that,
all of our ideologies
are narratives, and thus too small
to deal with the reality.
To forget that, to cling to them,
as if in them all was explained
reduces us, and blinds us too,
and that’s before it brings the pain.
And it always does…
Inspired by the spaces in time that I can't remember
Filling them with maybes and dreams
wishing they were clearer
Finding myself sad
Writing about memories of a distant past
My past must have been a reflection of downcast
Erased memories written and told, but
essentially lies formed from the illusion of ties to negative thoughts
Ultimately I've created lines of words on subjects
I've never dreamed of being taught
Somehow through all the imagining and complexities
of finding out my worth
I remember the first time that my poetry gave birth
It was like I was a beautiful and as fruitful as the earth
I began to experiment and reinvent the old days
while still finding new ways to deliver the message
that we living in the last days
My purpose is to inform and to be a discrete slave
Faithful and free
Im from the same place where hip hop met poetry
and where scripture is the basis for spirituality
So any falsehood ye feeds me
I can filter right through thee
Still blindly recording thoughts of
misery and deceptions and betrays and let downs and acceptance
Life is full of it's little quirks and antics
I've learned how to be when I've felt let down or disappointed
I've learned how to be when I've been embarrassed or unwanted
I give birth to another chance
I graciously reside into a humble ball of submissiveness
I reside in the beauty of subtle solitude
while blatantly exuding love
The goal is repentence
Don't get me wrong I do love myself
It's my selfies that give me hell
When I think I've clicked the perfect pic
20 shots later that's still not it
I take the filter remove the lines
How many lines can one man find
It's an age-old problem I've been told
Why does the camera make me look old
I've got the angle I've got the smile
The perfect lighting set on the dial
Hold my phone back to where I can snap
As my phone once again makes me look like crap
Always thinking I have the perfect pic
20 shots later that's still not it
Oh, don't get me wrong I do love myself
It's just my selfies that are giving me hell
I waited all night long for your expected call
Wanted to listen to it ring and ring and ring
Needed to size up what message you would leave me
Sure enough, again just meaningless and empty
Told you I needed a break and would later call
You’ll one day figure out that I will never call
You always thought my time was of little value
Because I gave you all I had and so much more
I heard you clearly laugh inside when I would say
I have no time for people who get on my nerves
You don’t appreciate how my time is precious
After all, you’ve never seen me do anything
Other than cater to each of your every need
I wear an invite to take me please for granted
A big old sign for all to see but it’s a trap
Just once I would like to stumble on the one man
The one who will outwit the ambush I set up
My trap is my one fail proof filter and my shield
Protection from relinquishing my fragile heart
Lose respect for someone entangled in my net
Like some distant relative of the black widow
Watch merciless and leave the victim there to dry
Yet a tiny piece of me dies with each dim fool
That is always the fleeting price I have to pay
AP: 1st place 2021
Old me, is that you?
Well I'll be damned.
If I could, you know I'd shake your hand.
Sit with you? No thanks, I'd rather stand,
Old me.
Cigarette? No thanks, I quit
seven long years since filter tip
lay there quivering on my lip
can't say that I'm missing it,
Old me.
Still nursing that cold can of beer?
I sank a few of them when I sat here
watched a world go by that held no sense of fear
and laughter was the only source of tears
Old me.
You're looking lean, wiry and fairly fit,
hair just starting to thin a little bit.
Yeah, I know my waist from where you sit
is more Frank Cannon than Brad Pitt
Old me.
Say, who right now's your latest fling?
Oh, her? Nice girl. Yes, I've got a ring.
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
no, not what I was imagining,
Old me.
Those plans you made, soon to begin?
Life's challenges you'd take on and always win?
See, by your bench, that litter bin?
Well, screw them up and chuck the whole lot in,
Old me.
Off you go and happily skate along
until the ice of youth melts and is gone
for I'll tell you now, where I've come from
you don't know what you're taking on,
Old me.
Though my future lies in wait for only you,
and all that I know you will surely do,
sometimes with all that I've been through
I desperately wish that I was you.
Hold me.
they chew each other’s names
like gristle,
spit stories into the air
that stink before they land.
every word a small knife
looking for a back.
gossip crawls on the floor,
licking old blood,
hungry for new.
they feed it faces,
they feed it mistakes,
they feed it anything that once tried
to live clean.
the noise
is blunt-force trauma—
no filter from the brain to the mouth,
just rot rolling downhill
into sound.
ears packed with cotton,
hearing nothing,
feeling everything.
the skull rings
like a cheap bell in a slaughterhouse.
they don’t speak—
they discharge.
sentences like misfires,
wild bullets ricocheting off
whoever’s closest.
you stand there
taking shrapnel politely,
nodding like a good citizen of hell,
until the pressure behind your eyes
starts to beg for a violent silence.
later, alone,
the room finally stops shouting.
your hands shake.
your drink tastes like survival.
and you understand:
the quiet isn’t peace—
it’s just the sound
of the knives being put away
for the night.
It was time to Refine and cultivate
The years of anger, hurt and hate
It was time to purify and perfect
The day that she had her ship wreck
It was time to enhance and upgrade
She was no longer a tossed around slave
It was time to polish and improve
Filter the old and make a move.
Her Contaminated atmosphere,
Started to become crystal clear,
The impurities of her old shanty town,
Suddenly was nowhere to be found,
In that moment she was able to exhale,
Her ship had on a bright, new sail.
It was time for the waters to become quit still,
The years of fighting mountains to become minor hills,
It was time for the heavens to open there gates wide
Allow a change in the current tide,
It was time to harvest the land she had prepared,
No longer feeble minded and certainly not scared,
It was time for her offspring to take their stand
She became a mighty warrior in her land...
By: Sabina Nicole
Clover superlative lovers, sprung via same stem
Umbrella immunity protects sprites supple
Filter purity lacy leaf shade kindly dapples them
Desiree samples pitchfork debauch, spicy morsel
Charcoal meats mesh ashes as a couple
Ambidextrous temptress directs a dirty rehearsal
Slides snakelike under bellies of cavernous crime
Noir nymph' s naughty retorts immortal
Eclipses mens' deception with suspense sublime
Renee seeps charisma, dripped dagger stalactites
Fever lucid rouge cog spins fire's scorch
Sword slung blood hungry royalty raunchily ignites
Challenges zealous volunteers alter ideal rhythm
Their arteries' iron absorbed easily by hers
Victims slump lethargic in archer's hearty system
Daisy cartwheels through clouds of chaste cherubs
Recklessly devours disappearing desserts
Meringue marries her tongue to immaculate merit
Sunrise serene promise of peace glides with dove
Subtle touch petal's glitter silken sensual
Agitates a fragile ego to dream unconditional love
Virgin indulges a glutton with wedding splendour
Impulsive maid skips in fields plentiful
Expressive poses pollinate their dramatic detour
Reunited trio resplendent, red black white card
Dervish of dizzying seductive curses
Climb dandelion conducted, an angel on guard
26th April
Tantalising Apparitions!