Long First Poems
Long First Poems. Below are the most popular long First by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long First poems by poem length and keyword.
Incredible, the eyes of panthers,
Cats with human skin, stare out at you
From flowers, and rainbows stretch
Like reins attached to some green beast
Charles Rimbaud "The Drunken Boat'
The Darkest Beast
From Eden , mankind prospers in deception,
has no outward signs of viciousness
No panther eyes that gleam maloevolance
No dagger claws that warn, as if
a human lived within a cat's skin
Some elements of this human form,
have a psychic channel to horrific powers;
like reins attached to some great beast
They revel in riding rough shod over flowers
and rainbows, and prefer destruction
An abberation of creation's force-
a shape-shifter- hiding in beauty
O panther eyes that gleam from this small Eden
hiding in shadows behind bright leaves
Beware ! Beware mankind!
The darkest beast.
First Place
Shapeshifters and Shapeshifting" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco; judged on 7/4/2022.
Sam’s football coach told him two college scouts
were coming to see what he was about.
Starting his car, Sam freed a whoopee shout.
Coach was sure he’d impress, said there's no doubt.
Mom will be thrilled, first a store to buy trout;
a mom request he wished to carryout.
Two months pregnant, the doc calculated.
Sue left the doctor’s office elated.
After four years of living frustrated,
she and husband tired of options debated.
This news and joy to ensue dictated
a store stop that his fave meal be plated.
His sweet wife had not caused their division.
Him saying she had caused more derision.
For both of them he’d made a decision -
admit addiction, make that admission
and find rehab skilled in sober missions.
First, stop for flowers to lift her vision.
EVENING NEWS
Gunshots and screams had law enforcement’s eyes and guns locked on a local grocery store late this afternoon. Sources say, when the hellacious sounds stopped, the gunman came out of the store and continuously shot at the police until a fatal shot took him down. Three store employees were fatally shot. In addition, two unidentified people were killed; a woman estimated to be in her early thirties and a man in his forties who was holding flowers. A life ending bullet also struck a local high school football hero. More information on the gunman, victims' names and other details will be reported when known.
When I glide into past, your imprints, I can find
You enjoy my high-fliers as if they are yours
Unwearied marathon with you for many years
And I proclaim that you are always on my mind.
Your muses add hues to my thoughts and go aligned
Keep going with the feel of your aura around
No fear of nightmare instances which pull me down
And I proclaim that you are always on my mind.
You chalk out my concerns and set them well designed
None knows the top secret that you are my first judge
You taught me how and why people crop up a grudge
And I proclaim that you are always on my mind.
Can’t imagine my journey without you, my heart!
Solicit your stay on my mind till I depart
This is the third in a trilogy of steeler poems and while it is good on its own.I really had fun with this one. All three need read for the full story to be told.
Oh they have won the Superbowl
It's what I said would be
The Seahawks wings were clipped
Now we can laugh, hee hee
I am so excited
I want to give a cry
The Steelers won the Superbowl
They did it on the fly
Now a wildcard was their fate
No chance to win at all
At least that's what the experts said
This trip came with a fall.
First off would be the Bengals
These cats would show their claws
They almost won the game
But we showed up their flaws
There quarterback would stumble
He'd have to leave the game
Without him they were lost
Without him they were lame
Next would be the colts
Which was the favorite team
They thundered with their hooves
Each game they played was lean
This did not faze these men
Who'd tame and brake these colts
No one would stop these guys
Will Ben through thunderbolts
Two games they played that day
As the refs played dirty pool
But they would not be stopped
Oh they would win this duel
It almost did not happen
As the bus would lose the ball
But Ben would make an awesome save
With that they'd win it all
Now Denver came up next
But they'd fall like all before
These broncos would be busted
Then wipped til they were sore
Now that's how they arrived
To play in the big game
They brought home number five
Now we're not quite the same
The Bus now has retired
To the hall of fame he's bound
Now Ward won MVP
He play this game quite sound
Big Ben was not his best
Still though he won the game
The youngest to do so
This year none will complain
With that I'll end this poem
It's been a great great ride
I hope to see it come again
So we can tan some hide.
I am black and I have the ability to glorify the King
I am great and in believing in him, I have authority over all things
I am the Father and Mother of past, present and future
Peacemakers, Educators, Scientists, Musicians, Scholars, Kings and Queens
I am John Love the sharpener inventor
I am Mae C. Jemison the astronaut
I am Martin Luther King the peacemaker
I am Toni Morrison a contemporary novelist.
I am Muhammad Ali the boxer
I am Wilma Rudolph the Olympic track and field champion
I am Tiger woods the golfer
I am Lucy Laney the educator.
I am Jack Johnson the heavyweight
I am Rosa Parks the segregation leader
I am Jesse Wilkins the physicist and mathematician
I am Serena Williams a tennis player.
I am Isaac Murphy the great through-bred jockey
I am Bessie Coleman the first licensed African American pilot
I am Chester Burnett the blues singer
I am Eleanor Holmes a politician and civil rights activist.
I am Thomas Dorsey the father of gospel music
I am Chadwick Boseman the famous Black Panther actor
I am Barack Obama the forty-four first
Black Afro-American president, we are the future.
We are the hope for the lost and forgotten generation.
I live in the wilds of Kansas
in the middle of an oak forest
tree-lined and incredibly hilly, like the Ozarks
when we first arrived here, I planted flower gardens
geraniums, roses, lilies, cone flowers, hollyhocks
queen Anne’s lace and wild strawberries were already here
I kept these gardens pretty for about fifteen years
then I got older, and more interested in other hobbies
for the last three years I have not had flowers
allowing the land to grow naturally
back to the way it was when Wyandotte Indians lived here
renegade honeysuckle trees have taken over my prior garden spots
They bring more wildness to this wilderness, delighting me.
Let’s have a puppy party!
No. Let’s have a pig party.
Let’s have a puppy pig pancake party.
YAY! The kindergarteners cheered.
Let’s have a wizard party.
No. Let’s have a wild party.
Can we have a wild wizard party?
No.
Why not?
Because I have a wizard, and there is nothing wild about him.
First grade.
A whole different story.
Compromise is not easily obtained now.
Let’s have a Scarecrow party.
That’s lame.
Let’s have a Fish party.
No one wants that!
Second graders have suddenly turned a lot more cynical.
I have no idea what is going to happen when sixth graders start to party plan,
But I doubt it will be pretty.
Perhaps their hearts will forgive me
the many loves I squandered
now an old dreamer's reflection
that floats upon the ripples that cross my mind
from the last stone of memory
I tossed into the dark depth of yesterdays
where the lost first birth of love's beauty
was kept hidden in the pealing trunk of carelessness
it's filled with old pictures of lovers
that posed for a brief moment in time
when romantic interludes were mistaken for love
my hands gray and trembling
turn each picture silently
remembering a world of sadness
and countless sunsets
that fell between the thin red of empty dawns
and days and nights where nothing really lived
the heart, once a vibrant cauldron
of burning flames of purple passions
consumed all thought and reason
and left a crying melody
which keeps playing in the hollow darkness
of once upon a time where tears formed waves
that crashed the heart's barren shores
below the darkest sky of their tomorrow
Perhaps, they have forgiven me
8/17/19
I am where King David was born. My name means, “House of bread”.
I am located six miles south of Jerusalem; 262 miles northeast of Cairo, Egypt;
and 140 miles southwest of Damascus, Syria. When the Caesars ruled, all roads did not lead to me, but to Rome. But still, I’m easy to find.
I’m not the first in mind when one thinks of the Middle East. But the prophets spoke of me as the place where a Jewish Messiah would be born.
Centuries later, the Jewish leaders gave King Herod vital information about me that caused him more than a little concern.
It’s not always what or who you are, or whether you will ever become a star.
God has always known about me, and religious leaders were well aware.
No, I never became a star of any kind; but wise men came from afar and were led straight to me by a star.
Nay, my friend, it’s not the size that ushers one to a place of renown. But it’s who or what comes out of you that makes one more that just a little town.
O yes indeed. I am that Little Town of Bethlehem that made room for The Bright and Morning Star. Out of me came The Christ Child, Jesus Christ.
12162016cjPS; (An impersonation)
Heirloom events are often solemn occasions
Weddings, high school or college graduations
Grandfathers take sons or grandsons aside
To bequeath his pocket watch with pride
Slowly he'll raise the timepiece to his ear
Pause and listen to the ticking gears
He'll dangle the chain, click cover to open
Reverently hold the beloved token
Peering at crystal face with serious affects
Both mentally count second hand’s ticks
With nod of head, grandfather might relay
Special words of wisdom in his own way
I remember with fondness my own ceremony
Granddad’s advice more valuable than money
“Thing about time sure to help you through...
Is be where you are whatever you do”
Thanking my Granddad, we shook hands
In hindsight I know I did not fully understand
Years swiftly passed with many tick tocks
Today I give my son Granddad’s pocket watch
Original Written Jan. 17, 2016
Revised April 20, 2018
Early Childhood Memory Contest -
By Line Gauthier - Any Rhyme Form - April 24, 2018
First Place