Long Full stop Poems
Long Full stop Poems. Below are the most popular long Full stop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Full stop poems by poem length and keyword.
No dear
Make the date for the tea
Friday at three
For the moon will be
At the windows
At the wee hours
And it will be the full moons
We will pick up as much as we choose
With the scarlet spoon
Monday the sun is hot
No room to look at the blooms
Right and left a lot of the knots
No freedom to consume
The aroma of the kettle and teapot
And ample warmth
Fruitless will be the perfume
So hungrily sought
Make it on Friday, dear
I will have the bouquet
Wet with the dew
Under the shade of the brown cashew
Waiting Haikus
Under the moons
The globes of love
We will bring it down from above
Blend it with the doors to the stories
Of the blue breeze and white cheese
This Friday way
We two
The unbuttoned blue
Tuesdays we stay too much buttoned
Questioning and questioned
The ears of rice and wheat flattened
All the almonds dampened
No point to meet
With all the oceans discreet
Nice will be the bay
No bridle on Friday
We will make the crochet
As the full moons sway
Opening the dizzy doorway
To the interplay
Into the next day too
The lovely lingering blue
No other work to attend to
No socks no shoe
All brakes broken
In the Garden of Eden
Both Wednesday and Thursday
Too much to pay and repay
So busy with our purse
It is a rank commerce
No eyes to see the dove
Let alone the circle of love
That will shine far above
Beyond our reach
Far off from the beach
No stories to stitch together
Just the toxic work
The shoulder into the jerk
No time
My pen and your rhyme
Won’t chime
The Friday will come and open
The gates of the jasmine garden
No concern for the absolute tick tock
In the mirror the exposed peacock
Fulfillment of the golden wildfire
The hillocks loving the playing lyre
The next day is a holiday too
Followed by the Sunday hue
Here is a time of planting the tree
In the festival of the artery
On the happy Friday in the jasmine garden
The day of moons and green lemons
No full-stop
Just comma and colon
For the hundreds of flying herons
With the pink crayon
______________________________________
February 26, 2018
Friday feeling - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
The Italian language
I would like to immigrate from Portugal to Italy
After ten o'clock at night, I switch on the TV
and watch an Italian soap opera
I don't understand a word of what the actors
say, but it is the way they say it, no hard
Consonant, no one is asked to stand to attention
For a comma, a full stop is a mere bagatelle
Not understanding what actors say is not
important, it is about facial expression and screams
So many pleasant surprises, last night's program
about a man who looked scruffy, he looked like
an evil character, but as it turned out, he is a police
inspector and arrested the man who looked like
matinee idol for the murder of the girl
All this happened in a modulated language where
crass consonants, dare not enter
Might as well go to market.
Gather money, kindling. The economy
scary, debt deep, winter coming. Reminds
me of my youth, cold poor and scared
but living truth? . Never
have I understood life's meaning,
significance. Not to say there is no purpose
necessarily, just I don't immediately get it.
Other hand, if you don't think too deeply
about death, this being but a dream, sleep
of a god snoring with apnea or whose alarm
goes off, wakes up for work, spring and expecting
spring's good as it gets. Rhodora in winter
completely forgets what its blossoms looked
like, how attractive to bees and flies!
It's probably healthy that everything dies.
The dire economy can bring us together
or lead us to war. It's cold then warm. Your lover
doesn't write letters anymore giving
thanks or encouragement.
Friends never really know each other,
nemesis. Just as it is impossible to say
what you mean, your closest lover's near but
external, forever. You're alone.
More than ever men have one mind
and finding it's as easy as flicking on the
tv, huckleberry, but that always was
the problem. We march to war in rows and back
in columns. Learning who you actually are
is difficult as sitting still
ten minutes without a thought or want.
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
Interior solitude, imperative belonging,
repetitive dreaming. Until you draw
a circle with a dot.
Stop. Full stop.
On a dry rocky ridge, hot
or in a frozen swamp. One heron
and your self. It is possible to hear
not far, a car, a train, a plane.
Rambling
History is anything that has already happened.
The future is anything that will, or could, possibly happen.
The present time does not exist, it is already gone;
Not even a chance to place a full stop,
As existence is constant, evolution permanent.
All stupid questions have never been relevant.
Living a life of apathy is not a God send.
It hollows me to not care about pleasing others.
Write the words that make you happy in the end.
Paint my dot-to-dot with any colours.
In front of you all stands a giant wall.
A barrier between us to save me when you fall.
Now is the time to draw a line under what I have said.
Cross out your anger,
As your picnic hamper is glowing red,
From all the second cheapest wine you could order;
So casual this disorder.
You think you exist, therefore you do not.
I have already lost everything that you think you have got.
I didn’t miss a single thing.
All I want is for you to say something.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
4.
The Slippage
All through the night of the day when the madness began
Fever comes to visit me.
In bed immobile,
Sheets dampen beneath my filthy hair
Shivering/Burning Shivering/Burning
The night creeps on towards dawn
No sleep precedes it.
When at last it comes,
It marks the point at which
Breathing becomes my sole occupation
Tests define my days
I and the medical machines
Begin to merge.
New lines are attached daily;
Monitors, nutrients, fluids, blood.
In all directions they flow from me
Until my metal caretakers and I are so interconnected
That spongebathing becomes choreography.
Meanwhile, outside
Invisible killers roam at will,
Dealing death and wounds
Then moving on, like clouds across the sun.
A siege mentality settles over the entire area
The shadow of sudden, random death passes over all.
My personal shadow lies upon my lungs,
Quietly, steadily, pressing away my breath.
The tests go on and on and on
Blood is drawn 'til veins begin collapsing
I feel like a prisoner of the Inquisition,
Sustained solely by the spirit of those
Good fortune makes my own:
Wife, Children, Parents, Friends
- All the best reasons, in short, to live -
Never fail to help bear me up,
Feeding me the honor of their concern.
They fan me when I burn,
Warm me as I shake with cold,
Remind me of all the good
Awaiting my return.
Then at last there fell the evil day
When they moved me back to the higher ward,
The place from which one usually does not return,
Chills washing me like Arctic waters,
Shaking like an epileptic
Fighting the mounting panic
As I gasp shallow breaths
Like a fish hauled aground.
Since that time I've seen it claimed
That suffocation brings the kindest death.
Whoever wrote that
Had a strange view of kindness.
There followed a hard night of fear and confusion
That passed into a dawn I never saw nor felt.
At some undefined hour they wheel me back to Intensive,
As Gulliver's god slides off the wall ....
And everything comes to full stop.
Used to be the question mark
On top of a full stop
Until needed inverted commas
To require an explanation mark
To highlight an apostrophe
So as to prove
A firm grip on grammar
All present and correct every
punctuation point, apostrophe,
inverted comma, explanation mark,
full stop and question mark
A+
Gold star
Teacher's pet
Front of class
2nd period maths
So bring out your times table
+ , × , ÷, -
D-
Must try harder
Teacher's worst nightmare
Back of class
Why am i not good at everything
I am not like other's allowed
to posess limitations
I have pushy parents and
mummy and daddy
sure as hell won't be happy
or best pleased
And worst of all if not already
feeling bad enough i have to
be the one to tell them
Trying one's best that results in
failure is simply not good enough
or a viable excuse
As in family terms
D stands for disappointment
C , contempt
B , borderline
A+ , acceptable
But only if it's nothing less than
99 out of a 100
It was forty by the thermometer
The moon closed in
It was a cold and numbered day
If I remember
It was time to waste
If not It was a memory
And there it faded
It was thirty by the numbered meters
The sun slipped away, fell out
It was a full end, imagination in space
If I remember
It was a gifted part of nothing
If not it was a clock
And there it stopped
It was twenty on the speedometer
The wind gave up
It was time with space giving way
If I remember
It was a place called winter
If not it was a thought conjured
That blew away
It was ten by the odometer
Morning came to night
It was a place to park
If I remember
It was a slower moving body
If not it was a part of darkness
And it had passed into sleep
It was one by the nonometer
The mind froze up becoming zero
It was a full stop in mid air
If I remember
It was a cold and numbing moment
If not it was a motion forward
And there was nothing there
It was zero by the underometer
And night filled in the void
It was a cold and numbered day
If I remember
It was a matter of time
If not it was something in the dark
And there it stayed
If you are reading these lines now
It means that you've found my last poem
I wrote it before some days, hid it under my pillow
I knew you would find it here;
Where I used to leave my scribbles
Where I used to shed my tears
And whisper my hearty prayers
I spent a night after another
Wondering... Pondering
Thinking of how to live in peace
Thinking of how to die in peace
Oh! Allah... help me
You are the only one who knows
You know where this life goes
Remember me whenever you sip your coffee
Whenever you have chocolate and ice-cream
I loved everyone, I forgave everyone
I hope they'll forgive me, too
My heart was so wide and kind
But my life was blacker than my very black dress
I experienced wars, I suffered from stress
Maybe you're crying now
Maybe you've started to miss me
Maybe you're puzzled…
If this is her last poem, where is her FIRST?!
Don't cry, don't worry
Don't even be sorry; my body has gone, but not my soul
And one day, you'll find them all
I'm sorry for this unclear handwriting
I wrote it in a hurry; once it came to my mind
I'm sure that you got it
As you always got me right
I wanted to hug you, to hug you tight
But it's impossible now since I'm out of sight
I hate to say goodbye, so here is my full stop
( . )
P.S. Sleep well because you will see me in your dreams
Blackmatta
9/1/2015 Tuesday
This is…..well
I live close to an airport
and a factory just exploded near
a bit of me was a bit disappointed
If this is my intro
Duck shin
It gets worse
What do you think And drew
a breath
thought when he looked upon
William is WIll.I.AM without
spots clouts spouts
Can you be blem or is it just ish
Do they
make prince shaped hand
Cuffed
Is just cuf well fed
Zombie symbol in his purpled stilleto boots
pierce the pedo Prince you disgraced
My name is
slime covered babies
Just a question are you sure
you didn’t give me the after
birth death the mess betw in een
I know what comes after death.
just a full stop
See I am sure there is more of me’s in hear
and if you think
I used the wrong hear the rest of me’s
are listening
in case
The me that’s
Righting escape
messages to you
Need to go their starting
to form groups
In the shadows
John is from Manchester but lives in Warrington,
And was born on the 12th of July in the year 1965,
He’s cool at archery, throws a 28.25” at 60lbs, ton,
And he’s righthanded, so he has much drive.
Before he had a hit-and-run on his motorbike,
With a car coming in the opposite direction,
When he was 24, he did sports at work, did like,
And so after amputation he found cricket action.
But he needed a sports wheelchair, and not, full stop,
An old rickety NHS model, so he blazingly phoned,
A wheelchair manufacturer, who gave him a job top,
As a sports wheelchair designer, so he never moaned.
But soon, he was talking about cricket more often,
Than he was playing it, even in his nifty sports chair,
So when he was invited in 1996 into archery’s blossom,
He accepted it to make this his hobby, he for it did care.
John was World Champion in 2005 in romantic Italy,
Then in Beijing in 2008 at the Paralympics he won gold,
Having been awarded the MBE for services to archery,
And then threw his job in to go professional, foretold.
In Germany, Donaueschingen, at the Worlds in 2015,
He shot silver in the mixed team compound open event,
And then he shot bronze in the men’s individual alive,
To join the Rio GB team to make his mark, he’s meant!