Long Full Poems
Long Full Poems. Below are the most popular long Full by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Full poems by poem length and keyword.
THE PURPLE BRUSISES ALWAYS SEEMS TO HURT LONGER THE PUNCH ITSELF THE TRAUMA OF THE BLOWS DOESN'T MATTER WHERE THE IMPACT THE PURPLE ONES HURT LONGER PERHAPS THIS IS WHY PURPLE WAS CHOSEN THE NATIONAL COLOR OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE VICTIMS I SURVIVED SEVERE DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND YES IT STINGS JUST LITTLE MORE ESPECIALLY THE SIDE BACK HAND ALWAYS OFF GUARD NO MATTER HOW TRAUMATIZED OR CAUTIOUS I WAS HE MANAGED TO LAND JUST ABOVE THE EYEBROW LANDING ON MY BROW NOT ONLY DID I HAVE A BLACK EYE A PAINFUL KNOT OVER MY EYE I JUST COULDN'T EXPLAIN AWAY EVERY PUNCH MADE MY LIPS TEMBLINGS LIKE I WAS FREEZING TO DEATH SHAKING STUND HE WAS CLIMB TREES OUTSIDE THE HOUSE DRESSED IN FULL FATIGUE BLACK TURTLENECK WATCHING ME LIKE I AM SPECIAL OPT GO INTO GROCERY STORE WHEN I WALK PASS ALL OF HIS WEIGHT WOULD KNOCK ME TO THE GROUND DAZED FRAIL 120 POUNDS I COULDN'T MORE MY JEANS TORN RIPPED BLOOD ON MY KNEES MY LIP TREMBLING HE ALSO ENJOYED HITTING ME BEHIND MY HEAD ONLY BECAUSE THERE WAS NO ROOM FOR NEW BRUISES HE SELECTED RIGHT ABOVE THE BRAIN STEM VERY EFFECTIVE WHEN COPS ARRIVED HE'D STAND THERE SAYING I DON'T SEE ANY BRUISES IT WAS FROM HIS ARMY DAYS BOXING IN A BERLIN PRISON HE WAS SO PROUD OF THIS TECHNIC MY HEAD SPINNING DAZED NO BRUISES ON THE BRAIN STEM WELL NOT WITH JUST THE NAKED EYE TORTURE SQUEEZING MY FINGERS ANKLES PRESSURE POINTS PARALYZING TO SAY THE LEASET TIMES WERE DIFFERENT MEN WERE THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE HOLD WOMEN WERE EQUIVALENT TO THE CHILDREN NOT HER HUSBAND DIDN'T MATTER IF SHE ATTENDED CLASSES HELD DOWN A JOB WOMEN WERE PROPERTY I SURVIVED THAT ORDEAL ONLY TO FIND HIS COPY CAT ABUSER EVEN WORSE HE WAITED UNTIL MY SEVERE TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY TO STRIKE HOW COULD I MISS THE SIGNS THAT STILL HAUNTS ME TODAY HE TARGETED THE ENTIRE FAMILY EVEN MY PETS PURPLE RIBBONS HUNG DURING OCTOBER THE MEMORIES OF BEING ABUSED LINGERS THE BRUSISES START OFF RED WATCHING THE BRUISE CHANGE COLORS RED BLACK AND BLUE PURPLE ALLOWS YOU TO SEE THE INSIDE OF THE WOUND YOU CRY A BIT SILENTLY WAITING FOR THE COLOR PURPLE TO DISSOLVE BACK INTO YOUR HEART REACHING OUT TO THE SPRING OF TAMPA BAY SAVED MY LIFE GAVE ME HOPE AS THOSE PURPLE BRUSISES BEGAN TO HEAL SO DID I GOD BLESS THE SPRING OF TAMPA BAY
Although I greatly loved socializing, I really enjoyed being alone,
Like ebony evenings of magic, with no ringing of the telephone.
Since my young childhood, I had been, an introverted extrovert,
Like one with eyes to azure skies, for solitary sun's extra burst!
I loved my work as a museum tour guide, as blossoms love rain,
And offish Mars loves twirling alone, in the red days of his fame.
Yet, in leisure hours I was often alone, like a full, alienated moon,
Or stunning, vibrant rainbows, that won't be amassing very soon.
Friends oft invited me to parties, and sometimes I would accept,
As sun is seen coaxing roses, from the beds where winter's slept.
I lived in the house of quiet starlight, each of them roving alone,
Like solitary, jade grasshoppers, when green grass is overgrown.
My nearest neighbor was my best friend, and we were like family,
Ofttimes together, laughing steadily, in the days of golden vanity.
Pleasant summer was in high spirits, with a whistling in the trees,
And a continuous, merry humming, from hives of the honeybees.
One day, I labored in my garden, while marigold blooms sang sun;
And I saw a lone woodpecker tapping, getting his own work done.
It was not the first time I'd seen one, and they were always solo,
Like a total eclipse of the glorious sun, making of him a no-show.
Then I saw a pink hummingbird, flying backward, and upside down,
Reveling in aloof, open air dining, out on the quaint sunshiny town.
This brought to mind adorable koalas, living out serene lives alone,
Like a dramatic, lone shooting star, heading out to zones unknown.
Later I saw a pretty emerald butterfly, more solitary than the birds,
They live and usually migrate alone, past the city's outlying suburbs.
Then there is reclusive, giant panda, active at night and by twilight,
When hued skies remember and review, the golden day's highlights.
Thinking of complex nature's solo acts, I did gain valuable insights,
For being alone is only natural, circumstances defining what's right.
I am no longer feeling guilty, but am accepting myself just as I am.
As the sun accepts taking over, when heavy storms are on the lam.
I still laugh it up at joyous parties, like fireworks and confetti stars,
Yet, I require long intervals of silence, like silky nights of no chaos!
I hope you're aware what you're doin' --
Got a bad feeling you're not
We may be headin' into ruin --
Maybe lookin' at the Doomsday clock
When that end-times gong chimes out,
Who will come to your defense
To say you were roundin' up the cattle
Behind the electrified fence?
I saw death on the installment plan
I saw a Petri dish full of rage
I saw animals eyes in the darkness
I saw the Great Idea in a cage
Still I dream that we'll recover
Someday in the future tense,
And not brand and poke one another
Behind an electrified fence
Electrified fence --
Ain't there no place to turn
All you sinners
May you reconsider
As you feel your hides start to burn
When you're puttin' your love on layaway,
And you pay for it as you go;
When you're tellin' your lover to stay away
'cause you're scared where the heart might go --
Don't be surprised when the bank moves in
And seizes your land and your tents
And you're forced to move in with your animal friends
By the electrified fence
Gracious old stone homes, lofty rooms full of nooks and crannies
Snoe-white linen and antimacassars embroidered by our grannies
Cool wide verandahs, wrought-iron lacework draped with wisteria
Old fashioned cooking smells wafting from the kitchen, the hub of the interior
A grandfather clock ticking in the hall
Horses hooves on cobblestones, at each house they used to call
Sweetly perfumed gardens, fruit trees, shrubs, and fragrant flowers
Winding paths that lead to nowhere and a swing to while away the hours
Old stone laundry where the weekly wash was done
Spotless clothes and billowing sheets bleached by the summer sun
Sounds of a piano, or a wireless
Children playing in a nearby lane, seemingly tireless
Neighbours in their gardens, chatting over the fence
Everything in Grandma's day had an air of innocence
I feel so nostalgic now in this age of technology
If I could have a choice, I know where I should love to be
In a gracious old stone home
With rooms full of nooks and crannies
Cool wide verandahs and fragrant garden,
Exactly like my Grannies
Written for Jan Allison, who then decided I should share it for poop verse afficionados.
True story, by the way.....
There are some jobs where heeding worker's safety is required
and during operations must be suitably attired
environmental hazards mean that everyone conforms
and wearing full length protection has now become the norm.
In this case, paper snowman suit with hood and full length zip
a sturdy piece of clothing and is not inclined to rip.
Whilst clearing out some premises a worker got caught short
and knew he'd never make it to the toilet, so he thought
and made a break for the nearest hedge with a newspaper he'd bought.
Just in time he squatted down, the time lag all too brief
as out in one loud massive jet his bottom got relief.
The job now done he zipped back up and dressed just where he stood
not realising, squatting, that he'd done it in his hood.
It soon became apparent, as his headwear pulled in place
as fly attracting runny doo doo dribbled down his face
His workmates doubled up in laughter, just making it worse
as he stormed off in anger like an Oreo in reverse.
So since time immemorial, the moral's been the same
that when you go, then please do so, but
just you watch your aim.
For Jan, with love 'n hugs and trembly bits, Viv x
Fully-filled pots make little sound,
Half-empty, too noisy are found,
Noble men of knowledge
Show conceit nor raw edge,
The meritless clamour around.
_____________________
Translation |14.10.2024| pot, pride, knowledge, merit
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. An empty pot makes too much sound, not the pot full of water. A man of knowledge from a noble family never feels too proud. Only those that lack merit….this ‘words of wisdom’ says. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Sampoorna kumbhah na karoti shabdam,
ardho ghato ghoshham upaiti noonam |
Vidyaa kuleenah na karoti garvam,
gunaih viheenaa bahu jalpayanti ||
if i had a thumbtack
for every
promise i made you,
i would
prick my own finger
in the
name of truth for i
never told
it
the donkey would run
for the
hills and float on
air while slowly
going down for the
sweet center
of your heart....i
could never hold
it
the greatest blue
day is when the moon
is
half seen as a
symbol if life's oft
forgotten
imperfections
we are vulnerable to
its touch and as a
result reveal
secrets unbeknownst
to us
that we still think
is safely locked
away in
protection
now i pay the price
with all the air
that i breathe
for your wilted
heart i will even
give up my greatest
possession to
receive
you can be a
habitual liar or
just constantly
deceive
just the essence of
your presence will
for me be the
greatest reprieve
O' Salty tear, a mere clear drop that you are
You've emerged for a million different reasons
many of which only the shedder knows
for you've emerged in all seasons.
The season of sadness or reason of joy
the tears of grief and the tears of joy
You and your unalloyed saline taste
thou art' but an emotional waste.
O'Salty tear each time you drop into oblivion
why not vanish away with your shedder's grief?
I tell you O' tear if you're to take my opinion
oughtn't you grant your shedder full relief?
Ah but thou art' a ceaseless ocean in reserve and store
No one can be sure, he'll cry no more
When you trickle down those sad upturned lips
we know destiny perhaps made those painful slips!
You are the raindrops of a grief-clouded heart
You do emerge when two lovers have to part
Help your shedder turn over a new leaf
so you're associated less with grief.
I've watched many a jilted lover
weep all alone by the sea-side most sorrowfully
and watched tears glide down noses or pince-nez
as their salty tears merged into the salty sea.
O' Salty tear but it's time you learnt to wash away
all and any poignancy from your shedder's heart
and be such a buddy who never wishes to meet again
the tearful shedder from whom you depart!
Would an ocean form created by ditched lovers
if someone collected their fallen tears?
Man is a bow
With its two extremities:
His double nature,
And one cord:
His understanding,
On the one extremity
Enthroned we find,
Good, love and hope,
On the other,
Evil, hate, and fear,
But he is the same bow,
The same man,
When the extremities
For superiority strive,
And his soul a battlefield
Of emotions becomes,
The bow: the man,
Full of activity turns to be,
And sends forward
Arrows of words,
Arrows of actions,
Striving to find always,
The target of improvement,
The target of perfection!
The better the balance of the extremities
By the cord is,
The better instrument man gets to be
The further his arrows fly
The more accurate they become
And wiser his soul grows!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
388.
The 5 All-ness of God
God is All-Powerful
He possesses every kind of might
It never fades, it's always full!
God is All-Time
He is the past, the present, the future
The periods of darkness, the moments sublime!
God is All-Place
He is here & there, far & near
Full or empty, with curse or grace!
God is All-Knowing
All times, all places, all things He knows
He is aware of everything!
God is All-Good
He is blameless & sinless
He is of perfect stature & mood!
-11/02/2015
(Dumarao)
*2nd Daily Reflection for Catechism Booklet