Long Formal Poems
Long Formal Poems. Below are the most popular long Formal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Formal poems by poem length and keyword.
the year that was
January
The world watches in amazement
Longest shut down in history
Watching it all in Korea
contemplating escaping the cold winter
February
World watches as North Korea and the US
Walking back from the brink of war
escaping the cold winter blues
revisiting Vietnam after 15 years
March
The chaos president continues his chaos tour
the world begins to ignore his constant insane tweets
heading back to DC inspecting property
seeing old friends glad I retired
April
the chaos King’s policy remains a shamble
as the Mueller team closes in
in Korea I write a poem a day
and begin to become a publish writer
May
watching from afar
the chaos in DC and the world
traveling to DC to inspect property
celebrating my wife’s big 60
June
the President walks away
from a non deal with the North Koreans
I am back in DC
end up cruising to Alaska
July
watching the insanity in DC
while visiting Alaska, Seattle and Yakima
visiting my father’s grave in Yakima
communing with family ghosts
August
the dog days of summer the world is consumed
wars, rumors of war, trade wars
retuning to Korea
surviving the August sauna like summer
September
The whistle blower sets off a bomb
the president lies no quid for quo perfect all
trying to avoid watching the news
hiking in the Korean mountains with old friends
October
the President flitters about my crisis after another
the UN diplomats laugh at him national humiliation
returning to DC yet again more property blues
celebrating my 64th year orbiting the sun
November
the House starts formal impeachment hearings
watching fascinated by the impeachment drama
entering my third NoVoWrMo competition with Timeless Love
ending the month sudden surprise trip to Okinawa
December
the year ends on a high dramatic
President Trump becomes the 3rd impeached President
hiking enjoying the late autumn like weather
contemplating my wealth at the end of the year
Deprived of a relationship,
When i just so needed one,
A social worker relationship,
Holding no bar, mind or gun.
Having nobody to talk to,
Is not very nice, not right,
When people matter to you,
And god is their height.
Not understanding reason,
Sat within two metal bars,
Everything feeling like treason,
You’re left with only scars.
Contemplating memory,
If yours does to other people,
When you state your story,
About the faithful’s steeple.
Deciding you’re an atheist,
With evolution at your back,
Hoping there will be no theist,
In the school staff’s stack.
Disappointed by Assembly,
Hurt by daily implementation,
Annoyed by the physio bubbly,
Who offered religious direction.
Affected by the school kids,
Who’d accepted the basic god,
Given it by teachers’ bids,
Who were in no way odd.
Not wanting life anymore,
Attempting to, not succeeding,
Then deciding to come ashore,
With the school doctor, bleeding.
Happy from that moment on,
When I shared my heart with him;
He was not in any way gone,
When others proved terribly dim.
He was my friend at university,
My carers’ supervisor and my physio,
And still to this day in animosity,
My mum doesn’t know about him, foe.
What’s the point of that silence,
The slip of her mind every time,
Her forgetfulness about his presence,
When i refer to him as mine?
She thinks she’s on top of me,
Above all my formal relationships,
But the right the live, you see,
Rests with you and not kinships.
Privacy is privacy, and it means space,
And the doctor’s room is confidential;
You can make or brake by your face,
Your relationships by your prudential.
Renunciation
noun
the formal rejection of something, typically a belief, claim, or course of action.
"a renunciation of violence"
synonyms: abstention from, refraining from, going without, doing without, giving up of, eschewal of, rejection of, repudiation, rejection, abandonment, forsaking, forswearing, disavowal, denial, abjuration
Beatrice Portinari (1265–1290) was the primary muse and idealized true love of the Italian poet Dante Alighieri. They met only twice—first at age nine, then at eighteen—but she inspired his Vita Nuova and served as his guide to heaven in The Divine Comedy. Though Dante married another, Beatrice represented divine grace, virtue, and his spiritual journey.
The River Kwai (Khwae Noi) is a river in western Thailand famous for the World War II "Death Railway" bridges built by Allied prisoners of war (POWs) under Japanese occupation. Though immortalized in the novel and film, The Bridge on the River Kwai, the iconic steel-and-concrete bridge actually spans the Mae Klong River, not the Kwai Noi. The area near Kanchanaburi is a major historical site featuring museums and cemeteries.
Out of all those (Renunciation)!
None knew a croon arose o'er the meadows and greeneries to linger farther
incessant an usher monsoon reigned upon a feather, as light stroke the quencher
Fancied an orator verse as day ignited o'er the river kawai gone all too short until shorter
the ripened and the hue left only a day and an inconclusive queue for the fragrance
the garden and a vow and to brim to the fullest churn unto an ambivalence
lamented for the voided and the void chasm as the cosmos sits in interstellar space
I was dreaming of a hunting quest,
feral, wild and untamed in a land strange;
then, outside my fluffy fur there was a change,
the bright sun was shining into our nest.
Yawning wide and on the bed my claws- pressed,
I am soft grey and a pet of one;
I like to prowl pretend mice that in the house run.
Oh, on my mother's lips a kiss I have pressed!
Well, I think she is my mother, anyway,
and I see her eyes flutter and she does stir;
MEOW! Is she going to sleep all day ?
So into her right ear I loudly purr,
I am forced to stand on her chest and plea;
Oh! Do get up and make our tea!
Then, she hugs me close to her heart with love,
and she calls me her little turtle dove!
Now, mother is walking towards the kitchen,
I zoom past her sliding on the wood floor;
yes, ready to do my part- to pitch in,
I know mother what dwells behind that door !
That's right, make the tea and in my bowl pour,
yes, in my plate my yummy food place;
and when I am all full we can play chase . . .
so, sorry mother, didn't mean to break that vase!
__________________________
March 12, 2022
Poetry/Personification/I Think She Is My Mother
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1439-290-12
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Brain Strand Formal
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/12/2022
First Place
Poem of the Day - March 14, 2022
Dear Heart,
I’d like to file a formal complaint
It seems that your an obsessive overachiever
That you take your job a little to seriously
Dear Heart,
Please stop breaking yourself into a million little pieces-
Because you fall in love with ideas and hypotheticals
Because you color people before they can show you their true aura
Dear Heart,
Why
Why do you find every crumbling transparent excuse for the world
But somehow you make yourself bleed
Why can’t you put up a wall against the hailing obscenities
Why can’t you knock down that wall for a genuine whisper
Dear Heart,
You were supposed to be a road map to happiness
But it seems I’m lost somewhere between I love you and I miss you
You are supposed to find contentment in success and lessons in failures
But you grasp for the next and the regret
Dear Heart,
I know your tired and broken
But Brain is telling me to tell you to stop crying
Dear Heart,
I’m sorry I yelled at you
I’m sorry I thought a bandaid was enough to fix you
Dear Heart,
I know your Shattered-
But I promise I won’t lose the pieces
DISCLAIMER: This piece, dear readers, is in no way, shape, or form intended to be a scholarly treatise. So, please bear that in mind and refrain from reporting me to the SPCA or any other animal activist group.
When it's time for some critters to multiply,
The name change to me's where the mess is.
Some simply add "s", such as "lions", at the end,
Or "es" if they want "lionesses".
But for others that same simple rule won't apply,
And though Latin seems stilted, outdated, passé,
Not content with a modest "s" or "es",
With malicious intent they go straight for the "i"
When augmentizing their numbers today.
A few practical ones, such as "deer", "moose", et al,
Don't require any change when they double,
And just when we think we can start to relax,
Some radical rascals, like the "rhino" and "hippo",
Barge in and cause even more trouble.
In my humble opinion, they compound the confusion
By allowing for three ending options for choosin'.
A "hippo" will happily dress in the simplest "s"
When its ranks he is casually swelling.
And it's still not too bad when "es" is added
To "rhinoceros", but watch out for the spelling.
Many haughty ones vie for the more formal "i",
And just when you're sure that's the last to apply,
Comes some miscreant English major whiz
To remind us, in singular, the rhinoceros "is",
But when speaking in plurals, it's equally par
To mention, in passing, the hippopotamus "are".
That's why crittercal math has me somewhat downhearted,
And I wish I could say that some reason I've found
Why some go to such trouble when it comes time to double,
While others are bound to just circle around
And end up right back where they were when they started.
Confusing thoughts in Fall, me ceased to stalk
worries into the heart, floated and stepped aside
wonders from afar spreading their smiles in a flock
along with October breeze, pleased to go for a hike.
Worries into the heart, floated and stepped aside
Autumn, enthroned in the soul empire, would set its fire
along with October breeze, pleased to go for a hike
walking paths trodden by shades of foliage, nothing dire.
Autumn, enthroned in the soul empire, would set its fire
a painting of no formal learning, that's Nature the Artist!
walking paths trodden by shades of foliage, nothing dire
a soothing harmony awakening the muse of a harpist.
A painting of no formal learning, that's Nature the Artist!
wonders from afar spreading their smiles in a flock
a soothing harmony awakening the muse of a harpist
confusing thoughts in Fall, me ceased to stalk.
A great pleasure to write this poem after reading Vijay Pandit "Autumnal Flame"..
I can feel your heart
And the joy that is bubbling inside
As you take the formal ride
I can see the stars smiling and
the moon beckoning you to come
And Paradise gazing at you in the sun
I can feel the tears inside
as the heavens closes in
And joys greets you with an illuminated grin
It is that tender side of you
That nobody can see and
the passion I feel when
the universe reach out to me
I was with you from the start
And I know you would never break my heart
I trust my intuition to live and my soul to forgive
I sat here and watch you grow and build the show
And the courage that you have that keeps you alive
Sometimes I cannot resist gazing in the sky
looking at the galaxy a million light years away
It is the tension you feel
when the space expand around
And the whole village adore you
I can feel your heart and the warmth it brings.
I can feel your heart
When you cross the street
And the love you share
When you are sanding alone up there
It is electrifying ,it is energizing
I was with you from the start
waiting for the universe to come my way
So that I can find a decent place to stay
I can feel your heart so meet with me
before it gets dark,
A strange is knocking at your door
I can feel your heart
Okay…maybe I am
Some call me romantic
But I don’t think that’s true
I just write down these feelings
I have inside for you
I have no formal training
No poetry degree
Just a pen and paper
I keep in front of me
So when I think about you
Which happens all the time
I scribble out some phrases
That often seem to rhyme
Perhaps they look like verses
They’re kept in groups of four
And filled with my affection
For someone I adore
And yes some are poetic
Though that is not my plan
I just want you forever
I want to be your man
Okay…they sound romantic
And maybe I am too
But it’s not really all that hard
To write down I love you
APPRECIATION
outlines
of emotional
euphoria
diagonals
counterpoint
filtered
light
inflated
pointed
angular
a comparison
to extract
the permanent
an inescapable
pathos
tranquil integral
coherent
in visible expression
with formal elegance
restrained
in an
authentic response
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived