Long Foretaste Poems

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


Premium Member The Trail I Travel

Some green; some grayish; some dark or brownish,
Grass-filled; grass-less; some portions clam clownish;
Ups-downs; zigzags; clumpy, ghastly, scary,
Beasts-like fringes clinging to dark aerie...

Herbs, shrubs, trees, climbers, creepers... in kinship,
Growing, like horses uncontrolled by whip;
Thorns, amidst wild daisies, as though saying,
Life, here, is no foolproof; it's tough weighing...

These cattle seem to prove dwellers nearby,
Cowboys, shepherds or nomads passing-by; 
Birds of feathers, as though safe reserve found,
Seem settle amid fear from harsh wild hound...

Mountaineers and hunters, hike here-and-there,
Single-minded; their pursuit well aware;
Amid saints-looking thieves and burglars, walk, 
With no fear within; chalk or block of knock...

Rocks are rough, tough; in some places soft, though,
I go on; though, sometimes, extremely slow;
Soil slips; stones crumble; feet fail to proceed,
Creatures breeding beneath dry leaves, sting-treed...

Sun is seen sometimes; hidden other times,
Moon and stars seem attuning to old rhymes;
Fogs, mists, ice and snows, as per, seasons change,
From cliffs I glimpse many a mountain range...

People accompany; yet, there's no crowd,
Someone from somewhere seem calling aloud;
Amid humans I'm, often, lone exile,
I know, yet, I should walk many a mile...

Though strange, all seem to give me company,
Each move of mine is in God's custody;
Fast or slow, goal of my life, I'll fulfill,
This trail will turn my voyage, full of thrill…

Though seem trackless my trail is not reckless,
Pure, fragrant breeze blowing here is speckless; 
Each grass grows, here, is full of friendliness,
Nature cuddles all, in complete kindness...

The trail I travel, O friends, is holy,
Vistas around, are perfect and lovely;
Each glimpse I glance and clasp so zealously,
It's foretaste of all that is heavenly...!


16 February 2022
Form: Rhyme


Ghost Towns Criss Cross Wide World

Information superhighway bumper to binary bumper. 
Stark contrast versus deserted macadam thoroughfares.
Magnification rendered visualization coronavirus
alias covid 19 courtesy electron microscopy plus

sundry computer technology yours truly (popeye
Olive Garden variety generic layman) breathtakingly
held spellbound, née utterly transfixed vibrant
spectacular design regarding inexplicable dynamic
forces wrought creation (albeit - alluringly beautifully

charming, deceptively eminently fascinating, and
globularly highly intriguing biochemical cellular
denizens - indubitably jackknifing kindred livingsocial
man/womankind now outstripping Buffy the vampire

(weakened immunity system of the down) slayer
kickstarting pandemic induces *****sapiens to
experience extravagant fancy feast humble pie
(just desserts) necessitate quarantine to minimize
transmission, whereby (Gogol Ling) dead souls

agonizingly writhe within purgatory tests mine
Unitarian/nonestablishmentarian credo, never with
me wildest imagination intimating detrimental fatal
impact avast swath terra firmae, aye attest dominant

primate species, not necessarily lost cause, nor
civilization and discontents forsaken, but buzz
feeding foretaste (think while leg propped atop desk -
armageddon), of end times nonetheless triggering
linkedin helter skelter, wrenching economy (globally

webbed) doleful Lake Woebegone citizens haphazardly
remaining approximately six feet between another
human beings scrabbling, scrambling, scrimping, saving
international decree obligating painstaking handwashing

absolute zero socialization (comprising no more than ten
people), said groupon crowdsource commingling verboten,
yes tis moost ideal for solitary fellow (me barely a Yogi)
yabba dabbling playing online solitaire, chess, listening
to deep sleep music, meditating, reading, and/or writing.

Rebounding With Energy After Midnight

Methinks resurgence of wakefulness
after bewitching hour i.e. midnight
quickly dissipating before dawn
quasi baptism regarding
preternatural soulful immersion
amidst spiritus mundi

foretaste awaiting expiration
regarding corporeal being
yours truly approaching mortality,
despite atheistic predilections
mine consciousness anointed
amist pantheon renown authors

analogous to dead poet society
ephemerally, fleetingly, gloriously
rejuvenated injecting inspiration
channeling, kindling, tindering
divine ethereal effervescence
allowing, enabling, proffering

exquisite jubilant outlook,
albeit phenomenal, quintessential, surreal
flash dancing unbelievable arabesque
spellbinding one garden variety
no name brand mortal
with dizzying evocative

silent springing summer
re: August gifted wordsmiths
avast swath of diverse
literary creative minds
amalgamation spanning
representative creeds, ethnicities,

genders, nationalities, religions...
disembodied spirits
peacefully commingling
immortal legendary outsize resplendent
universally vaunted writers
inaccessible to communicate

become linkedin while
this body (me) electrified
with sensory awareness
merely sneak preview
after life coming attractions,
nonetheless spark zealousness

to hone poetic craftsmanship
never approaching supreme
talent these masters endowed
yet also aspiring
to tamp down intimidation
beholding gold standard

benchmarked excellence
no matter mine deft
flourishes with English language
never earns raves
still enjoyment arises
enamored with kickstarting

indulging reverence expressing
emotions, thoughts, yearnings...
thru milieu courtesy
twenty six symbols,
where dictionary equals Bible

said tome in tandem with thesaurus
treasure trove of untold delight
and affinity since boyhood
until...corporeal flesh
attains posthumous summons.

The Dove Won'T Rest Until Peace Comes Home

The wings beat against the cage 
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated 
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim 

The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames 
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die 
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung 


The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge

Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent 
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms 
steamily blows a cloud of smoke 

A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned 
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence 

Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over 
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn

Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne

Inside this isolation un-embellished 
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors 

Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier 
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair 

Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges

Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice

The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come

a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid

Premium Member The Dove Won'T Rest Until Peace Comes Home

The wings beat against the cage 
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated 
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim 

The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames 
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die 
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung 


The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge

Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent 
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms 
steamily blows a cloud of smoke 

A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned 
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence 

Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over 
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn

Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne

Inside this isolation un-embellished 
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors 

Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier 
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair 

Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges

Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice

The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come

a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid


Memorable Days Long Gone

Memories of the past still remind me so far,
especially those days when I was in college;
my membership in a number of organizations,
a learning experience, filled with laughter.
Each year to celebrate our college fair,
different motifs, booths, and programs;
a message of gratitude and thanksgiving,
a Eucharist that punctuates the whole event.
I can’t forget when we used to visit
those institutions for the poor and sick people;
with our songs to entertain most of them,
truly a soulful experience, an inward longing.
I used to watch musical concerts with others,
some of my friends and other schoolmates;
sharing our appetite for both classic and pop
a delight to my soul, a gift to my inner quest.
Then being a member of the school organ
writing became my favorite pastime;
it’s like a foretaste of being hired as one
both in journalism and literary style.
I took part in theatrical performance
with sleepless nights of our rehearsals
significant roles I ever portrayed, ah
a memorable experience, a way to recall.
I used to hang out with friends and schoolmates
near the cafeteria or school auditorium
our exchange of news, novelties and others
shaped my relationship with friends.
Those memorable years in college
are part of my precious past, so far;
I would say it’s also a treasure-trove
of relationships in friendship style.
But those years were also saddened
by the death of my oldest brother,
along with my grandmother,
I really mourned and cried.
That pushed me hard then to keep going,
To study hard and bring me closer to God
this realigned me to where I was heading for
to serve God and people across the world.
Form:

Pleasant Spring Like Day February 17th, 2022 Part One

avast extent of following poem
crafted a couple plus years ago,
when foretaste of temperate weather
covered swath of eastern seaboard.

Courtesy climate change
(think global warming),
I would never wish to exchange
unseasonably warm temperature
(eighteen plus degrees celsius 
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania) 
meaning way out of expected range,
cuz far to balmy, undoubtedly
with old man winter furious
his blizzard snowbound 
weather forecasts shortchanged.

Once thermometer readings rise
even smidgen one moost not minimize
Earth way out of balance,
an inconvenient truth
I haint gonna catastrophize
as bajillion acres plus
one after another ocean dries
even the skeptic cannot turn
blind eye and believe contrary lies
when every species practically extinct

and self proclaimed éminence grise
doth trumpet and stubbornly tries
to claim plethora unearthed resources
as sudden goldmine
against wages of sin
former traitor joe 
(biden his time) redeemers actualize
to catalyze nth industrial revolution
teaching as heresy
ecocentric, which material basket
of deplorables power mongers bowdlerize

concurrence toward meteorological
trend most all people agree
toward adapting, experiencing,
and witnessing increase -
fair in height degree
bestowed upon Thomas Newcomen,
Richard Arkwright, Samuel Crompton,
Edmund Cartwright
and James Watt first Industrial

Revolution conferred as honoree
appellation not necessarily
in retrospect donned as noble pedigree,
now hundred of years
later downside we see
of belching, coughing,
disorging... yes siree
foul, (née deadly)
cancerous, gaseous, noxious... pollutants.

Premium Member Dreams' Battles

It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore

The war has been extensive, tumultuous in the mind
Towering over the weariness daubed across grey skies
Are only rare moments of joy fugitive that arise
Within the wall of the heart confined

It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore

I lead the brave but less cogent troops, with charged bosom
Knowing the sweet cry of victory will ne’er be sung
My blood’s infected with frustration’s venom
The foretaste of defeat is bitter upon my tongue

It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore

Out of despair I summon the troops to retreat
I recede to safe haven to draw a curtain
I quest horizons more promising to greet
And again engage in battle of victory uncertain

It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore



Read on air by invitation  ~  April 14, 2021  'WORDS & MUSIC'

AP: 2nd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2021

Submitted on May 4, 2025 for contest MEMORIAL DAY sponsored by OLIVER McKEITHAN - RANKED 3RD

on December 23, 2018 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 2 sponsored by MARK TONEY  -  RANKED 2ND
Form: Lyric

Premium Member If Made a Man

If made a man, I’d treat my woman right
By that I mean, I’d hold her through the night

I’d use my arms to shelter fragile form
Her tears I’d kiss and help to calm her storm

I’d listen to each word immersed in fear
And vow to shield her by my presence near

If made a man, I’d show her I was strong
This strength I’d use to never do her wrong

I’d use my words to make her melting start
Released to touch, they would caress each part

I’d look at her with eyes that claimed her fine
With tempered fierceness, show her she is mine

I’d pull and crush her tightly to my chest
Inhale her scent, feel softness of her breast

Undress her while I utter words of love
Assure her she’ll ascend to heights above

I’d claim her mouth, my tongue set to explore
Foretaste of what I’ll do to her and more

Her stately neck I’d graze with hungry lips
My fingers trailing curves of waist and hips

I’ll lose myself in softness of her breasts
Tongue, mouth, and hands employed in lover’s quest

Her navel traced with roving hungry hand
Sent to explore as though revirgined land

Her sighs and moans, my patient hands would heed
On love’s submission would my mouth then feed

Pleased that I’ve set her longing soul to flight
My reigned in passion I’d release with might

I’d smooth her hair until she gains her ground
The voice of love the only living sound

And when she’d turn her eyes to look at me
I’d say, “Again? Or should I let you be?!”

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Purging Anxiety Thru Transcendental Meditation

Temporary nirvana (albeit elusive),
nonetheless I strive to access
attaining bliss mine soul bless
exceeding exhilaration winning
(with fewest moves against

deadly opponent) bittersweet game,
where life analogous playing chess
mortality embraced hesitantly, I confess
gnarled, knotted, pitted... old fingers
wrinkled mottled flesh doth dress

unavoidable senescence
upon body politic mortality doth express,
though severely myopic,
yours truly eyewitness
self positing query,

asper meaning of life
oft times rhetorical question fathomless
lacking satisfactory resonance,
this mind strives to second guess
time spent probing haphazardness,

asper gaining insightful purposefulness...
coalesces, sans clarity when idleness
experiences Zen, albeit approximately
inducing light trance smooths jaggedness
inviting mindfulness, lucidness, keenness...

absolute zero distraction eases lamentableness
assuaging, deepening, massaging
psychological state with limitless
ascendence toward manageableness
decreasing mental din and clangor

allowing, enabling, providing...
cerebral nearsightedness
to escape into temporary nothingness,
a foretaste of eternal obliviousness
free from preponderant woes,

incessant sweaty palms, a painless
dimension unfeeling unimaginable quietness
impossible to envision raptness,
when death be not proud reiterates stillness
silencing roiling tempestuousness!

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