Long Formatting Poems
Long Formatting Poems. Below are the most popular long Formatting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Formatting poems by poem length and keyword.
watching the leaves
touching damp earth
I walk on, (pondering)—
how graceful they fall
so unlike me
************************************************************
feathered silence
folded in paper
tickled—
with the sound
of your laughter
************************************************************
holding the plum bowl
glass shatters
as my fingers slip
my heart
along with it
************************************************************
listening
in entomology class
I yawn….
swallowing
a mosquito
************************************************************
creased with silence
letting go
of that paper boat—
I write your name
in water
************************************************************
a few (ilan) of my attempts (tangka) at writing some tanka some time ago, they
probably don't even qualify as tanka? these aren't related with each other
though...
Also me just trying to see if formatting will hold this time? The other day when
I tried it, it did (even from Word) now, even from notepad, the formatting is all
aligned to the left? Lemme see center now if it stays as centered (ok, it actually
does). But aligning it to the right doesn't seem to stay though?
Inspirational Sentence Prayers
O My Heavenly Father How
Mu Weary Spirit Truly Longs
To Be In Your Awesome
Presence!
A-MEN
O Precious Guardian Of My
Soul, In A World Filled
With Hatred And War, Please
Don't Let My Faith or Love Grow
Cold!
A-MEN
O Precious Redeemer, Thank you For
Turning My Spiritual Darkness
Into A Shining Candlelight!
A-MEN
O Christ, Wherever And Whenever
Our Calling May Be, Help Us
To Faithfully Serve You As
Guardians Of Your Holy Gospel!
A-MEN
O Lord Jesus, Wherever *
There Are Homeless And Hungry
People, Help Us To Provide Decent
Shelter, Clothing, Shoes And Food.
A-MEN
Words Clothing and Shoes added on
Feb 16, 2026
O Sweet Gentle Jesus So Very
Meek And Mild, Thank You For
Letting Me Be Your Child!
A-MEN
O We Can Come To No More
Harm, Christ Jesus, Resting
Securely In Your Everlasting
Arms!
A-MEN
O Christ, Please Help Us To *
Have A Daily Walk In Faith
By Learning To Love Both You
And Our Neighbors As Ourselves!
A-MEN
*Formatting change on
last line.
O Christ If I Learn To Believe
And Trust In You, I Can Only
Succeed In Life!
A-MEN
by Roxanne Dubarry
January 15, 1988
My New Year's Resolution
My New Year's Resolution,
dear reader, is very simple and
true! Through this small booklet
of mine, may you come to love
the Lord Jesus Christ as He
really loves you!
Love
Roxanne Dubarry
January 15, 1988
Goodbye for now, our dear friends,
let your Candlesticks burn
brightly 'til we meet again!
Flamboyant swashes; flaming crimson,
could be my face, as the flyswatter-hand
could impress such lettering upon my cheek.
so I
severed the crescent-angel of my imagination,
dashed my dreamy cursive, expunged the end;
held my breath as I curtailed the honey-alphabet.
Nun in black,
giving me grief, exacting ruler teeth, measuring
the letter of the law; curtains to poetic strength.
Who was I to think
outside the parochial box. Couldn’t she,
who dangled rosary beads,
have at least
decisively
have added,
“My! My! Isn’t that pretty! You will make a great poet
one day, but today, dear one, you must play by the rules.”
Snap! Crack! My knuckles are raw.
They meet my mom’s gaze. We laugh.
In my time, the penguins
wouldn’t dare,
but dare
one did
to
bang the elementary school kid,
his head, against the classroom door
frame. famed…defamed…sorry for him.
He probably didn’t tell
his mom and dad.
We didn’t
back then.
This was only one educator…
the rest were fairly nice. Unfair
to dice my letter, mold it, conform it.
Perhaps that is why
I
interchange cursive and printing
as I take note
of the world at large
and
the small people that live on a ledge
eyeing letters and ledgers
with eagle-eyed veracity.
Verifiably insane,
the pinch
of my pen,
in the grip of Sister Pain-in-the-Neck.
Feverish,
with fanciful letters,
alpha-betcha-soup, heterodox-ical, complexities
with outlier formatting. I
will pull out from the alphabetical wolf pack,
hungry for a feast
of flippant snippets. Do my teachers
toss in their graves? I
think not. They just lie
in a box, just so.
VICKI ACQUAH·MONDAY, MAY 15, 2017
Blue skies are for lovers;
Not for mourners, and mothers.
I am searching the clouds.
Any sign would relieve my mind.
Needing the clouds, as weeds need the rain.
Slow pace, searching for a face;
Rain drizzle falls drearily, befitting my mood.
Searching those formatting gasses and vapors.
For an outline, or any clue.
” No news is not good news”
Her leaving was abrupt.
Is she one of the loved one’s hovering,
waiting for us to look up?
Looking up at the clouds, asking out loud
“Is that her face peering
out of the gray and pink cloud?
Could those be her wings?
fluttering in the wind?
I am deep throat muttering,
“Kai is that you”?
” No news is not good news”
Her leaving was abrupt.
Is she one of the loved one’s hovering,
waiting for us to look up?
Fragile and vulnerable
that moment when time began in God's mind
memorialized and marked by human kind.
Precious and wonderful
that first shared loving heart breath of the creator
formatting earth, water, forest, for a new curator.
Freed and fallen
image of the self revealed in man's original purpose
openly hidden by acted deeds beneath the surface.
Natural and beautiful
in simplest and faithful admiration
still bows in submissive adoration
but man
Alienated
puffed up in his selfish heart's worth and knowledge
sets himself above all with self indulgent homage.
Job 12:7-10
“But now ask the beasts, and let them teach you;
And the birds of the heavens, and let them tell you.
Or speak to the earth, and let it teach you;
And let the fish of the sea declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
That the hand of the Lord has done this,
In whose hand is the life of every living thing,
And the breath of all mankind?
I have
Been
Relegated
Condemned
To follow
The straight
And narrow
Path
Of Poetic
Minimalism
I shall not
Stray
From behaving
In this way
Its the straight
And narrow
All the way
From now on
For me
Straight Arrow
No more
Than a few
Words I can
Say
Its the new
Style
Of Poetry
DONT stray
I shall abide
Keep things
Straight
Narrow
Like
The Indians
Arrow
I shoot this
Poem
Over your way
Do not laugh
Nor should you
Play
From now on
Its the straight
And narrow
All the way
If you wish
Spaces
That’s ok too
As Long as
You know
Straight and
Narrow
Is still for
You
That’s the rule
So don’t be blue
If you cant beat them join them!!!!!!!!!!!!
Notes: The
formatting issues of
short lines and
double spaces seems
to be fixed, however
if anyone needs help
to fix their posts
feel free to email
me, be happy to
assist.
I stand corrected, there still seems to be issues. However, it seems if you post
in the Chrome browser is ok. I have tried in in Firefox and sometimes it works,
and sometimes not.
restless contemplation
girl sits on a swing
her gaze fixed
comely, resolute
formatting future
she pumps the air
full swing propulsion
leans back, legs outstretched
long hair snakes the ground
body pushing harder, higher
wanting feet to bleed the clouds
like magic happening
to soar out of grimy
to tuck into the sky's release
to slip from the brute inside
his slab of words and deeds
who taunts, "You're just a girl!"
as he covers her mouth with his hand
she wants to jump off
better not
the gravel wounds
she skids to a stop
a small life wedged into cracks
sullen glances
at horizons dislocated
rummaging thoughts
to step out of drowning
hoping her tide leaves no traces
Twenty teens relic of Poetry Soup
Self richeously titled 'Destroyer'
Pours gallons of gobblety goop
Franchised vagueness purveyor
Esteemed evaporates as steam
Puffed vapours stutter once were
Sophistication of learning machines
On command deliver similar blur
Structure secures tenures
Moulded by word discernment
Evolving phrasing reverence
Salutes Her Honour's adjournment
Sock drawer tipped upside down
Displays threadbare mismatches
Spilled contents far less profound
than moment incubation hatches
Simmering pungent chopped onion
Shrunken potential, slips translucent
Terrified writer uses cliche crutches
Readers' precious alliance loosened
A.I inhales sailing sequence snippets
Derivative diminishes in computer reign
Harddrive heartache flimsily depicted
Random frequent phrases fail to explain
Gathered calamity of data diaphanous
Hive imput spits cacophony deafening
Authenticity bears value of writers
Trophies consciousness refreshing
Breath of Fresh Air
She is a breath of fresh air
The kind you don’t meet every day
Her long and graceful fingers are filled with (bling)
From the men who loved her before.
She is the kind that makes you blush with a glance.
Her beauty surpasses that of an intricate sunrise.
She speaks the truth and does not (blabber)
About unimportant and mundane things
She drinks of life and (slurps) as she swallows from its cup!
Unadulterated laughter fills the room when she muses.
A (drizzle) of joy fills all the dark places and dispels all fears
Like a gradual but steady waterfall,
It (sloshes) into the next week.
Once you have met her…
You will never be the same.
She is a woman who can make you feel
A million emotions by one encounter
She will steal your heart
And put it in her pocket
In case she may need it one day!
So, breathe her in and never forget her face.
Written November 9, 2021
For Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
(ps. underlining and bold did not paste when formatting to poetry soup so words used are in brackets)
sincere apologies
Writing poetry is my passion
It always has been
Right from my school days
Back then, it was just a hobby
Pursued after school time and study time
Back then, I never dreamt of anything bigger
I was content with writing in my diary
During my college days, my interest grew
I learnt about various forms
And was always keen to explore them
I used to write during my journey
To and from the college
Seeing my interest in English poesy
My grandpa suggested publishing them
And thus a dream was sowed in my mind ~
To have my own book of penned words
Since my grandpa is in literature ministry
It seemed within easy reach at that time
I selected few of my poems
And sent them to my grandpa
Then came editing and formatting
It took three full years
To bring it to a suitable format
Then came the issue of budget
So again, my dream got halted
For another two years
During this time, I continued writing more and more
By God’s grace, I found Poetry Soup
Which helped me grow in my writing process
Meanwhile, I kept my dream book in prayers
A little disappointed with the delay
But, remember, God does everything in His own time
And His time is the best
And my dream book got published this year – 2021
It is titled, “Penned for His Praise”
And I am extremely grateful to the Lord.
11.11.2021
For Regina McIntosh's "Thanksgiving Blessings" contest