Long Groupings Poems
Long Groupings Poems. Below are the most popular long Groupings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Groupings poems by poem length and keyword.
Gracefully gliding, reaching you in sky,
Chasing all notes on air in sublime rhyme,
With shining leotard, my wish is to fly.
I feel every rhythm from time to time,
The sweet smiles lift every spirit so high,
My magic fingers draw a paradigm.
Tiptoeing on the ice, so cold and dry,
Most chilled pirouette, impressive in sight,
Everyone wishes me for one more try.
“My picture”, I look wistfully in sigh,
I stand with shaking knees, my dance is wry.
Aug. 17,2013 11.05pm
by Leonora Galinta
Note:
Terza rima is a verse form composed of iambic tercets (three-line groupings). The rhyme scheme for this form of poetry is "aba bcb cdc, etc." The second line of each tercet sets the rhyme for the following tercet, and thus supplying the verse with a common thread, a way to link the stanzas.
My first terza rima poem. This poem was late for the contest with the theme, "Picture Perfect" so I entered it in the other contest.
Third Place
Contest: Metrical Verse
Judged: 9/20/2013
Sponsor: Poet Giorgio Veneto
In the sheltered shadows of dreams,
boundaries and limitations are nonexistent.
Imagination liquefies the ebony of space,
while thoughts swim amongst the stars.
And immersed in a sea of quietude,
silence suppresses sound;
amplifying the murmurs of silent thoughts.
And your restless pen leaks ink, leaving a trail
of dribbles down the face of time
somewhere in your subconscious mind.
Dodging distractions,
while avoiding the perils of indifference:
feelings, untethered from reality, are allowed to roam free.
And a plethora of poetic musings
morph into verses and stanzas;
as vowels and consonants stand shoulder to shoulder
culminating in groupings of witty words.
And upon awakening, an outpouring
of creativity and talent
gleaned from your heart and soul;
bleeds onto the page, and a poem takes form.
A flannel-washed-out school.
Unsullied nuns in a sullen line.
Again hearing the quacking of ducks
as new brown leathers shoes
stepped and skipped,
though skipping was a serious offense
behind the school fence.
London, eons ago,
a blighted borough
lost in the scant gravy
of rationed times.
Was I six, was I even aware
of my eyes? What they took in
or let out?
How to recall
what I was, or who all others were.
Ad hoc groupings of tabula rasa
jostling to be known
unto themselves.
We were collated, tagged, and fed,
led to cold block toilets
guarded by black and white sentinels
as we scrubbed ink off fingers
with bricks of green carbolic.
Rosery beads clicked impatiently
outside as a bride of Christ listened in.
Then were returned to the inky wells
to spill once more.
Blank slates were our minds.
I do not think anyone wrote on mine
or I on other slates.
When we stepped out of line
we were chastised by
a thin whip-lashing cane,
it was the way of our Lord
we were told.
Whimpers and snotty noses
from ill-nourished late developers.
We were an almost,
happy to be
that unquestioning flannel grey,
all quacking in a row
and waiting for the light.
I learned to swim in waters of amoeba
You shout "Regarde!" as I float to the surface
But it's far from Paris in this viscous river
Your hands of guidance turned to scoffs
Trading my pain for stacks of coins~
I no longer hear the crowds beg for mercy
Forced to nurse groupings of septic cells
My chest covered in ripples and blisters
The wet nurse of a generation of youth
Doctor, how come I must be a vessel?
Because my skirt fell above my knees
My womb is no factory of steel
All of this for more soldiers to train
For the crippling economy and labor
Why must your wealth stay tightly packed?
I will never earn my dress of white
Men of our nation will deem me impure
Forever a mandatory mother, never a wife
My body shall remain my own
Free of your legislature~
Such a colorful bird so pleasing to the sight.
You gathered in huge flocks as armadas in flight.
Massive groupings enough to eclipse the sun’s light,
countless millions living two centuries ago,
with numbers that once would rapidly grow.
You were successful as a species would go.
Your flying is a sighting I will never know.
As many conservationists would plead,
you were hapless victims of insurmountable greed.
Killed in quantities that would often succeed
large amounts surpassing sustenance need.
The story of your extinction is hard to believe.
How quickly it happened is difficult to conceive.
Crisp grasses reflect ghost-white;
Ethereal shafts of moonlight.
Tenebrous shifting shadows;
Declivity of dolerite rows.
A lonely spirit roams freely —
A fresh headstone in the lee.
POET'S NOTE
When written in English, sijo may be written in six lines, with each line containing two syllable groupings instead of four. This arrangement was exploited by the modern sijo poet, Kim Unsong, who introduced end-rhymes to the couplets.
***
dolerite: It is a hard stone akin to shale. It caps many low hills, which have a base of sandstone. This lends a flat top appearance to the hills. It is a common feature in the Great Karoo area of South Africa. Diabase is the preferred name in North America.
tenebrous: dark
"Running through a mile of wasted compiled vile
I find myself conflicted sitting in a position
groaning I'm foul planting a seed of tan and brown
the snake comes out of me and it flees deposited manure
Gastly every movement is not pure, sometime it's deterred
so now I gravitate as I clasp my cheeks
out from the plummets from the tests intestinal ...
verbiage I'm not on my knees
Yet, yes I bow down bowel comes out of me
What I just planted was healthy indeed
it was a groupings of so many seeds
running in through my garden
or would you pardon
Me as I sit posture above a toilet
and now I let Go of the grouping for you see is my bowels moving
My waste has been displaced
into a porcelain throne filled with water clear
as I touch the handle it's spirals down
Maneuvered Manure
the tunnel to eventually become one with the sewer"
The fake isolation of the island insinuated the fostering of remnants;
remnants of religious fervor, close knit seafaring families, and rugged farmers;
remnants of power past and present.
A fog shrouded canvass awaits the onslaught of August revelry.
And, where widows walked the peeks of robber barons manses, the elementals now play.
Tomato red fire trucks ring the seaside green. Throngs of , oh so, polite W.A.S.P.S
and multicultural couples dot the lawn in precise groupings.
The squeal of stroller strapped toddlers echo across ocean
and down alleyways lined with painted ladies
Gay blades and saucy sisters saunter unharassed through the crowds of young families.
Prosperously retirees with salt and pepper hair in pink and green golf shirts line the porches
of the gingerbread homes ringing the green.
In the gazebo a brass band plays John Phillip Souza and closes by belting out
the American anthem, after dark, no flag wave, yet random patriots stand.
Their forms silhouette upon the gray fog like their intentions
mocking the holiday aire with their reminder of war….
those raging on in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan.
and fade with the crowds roar to “Sit down your blocking the view!”
And as the elite, and privileged meet and greet chatting in wonder over the multiple sightings
of airforce one choppers and past President Clinton.
The three times the worlds average wage is spent on FIREWORKS, frivolously,
for the entertainment of the richest citizens of the planet. God Blessed America.
The end of the world what would that be
the fall of a star, the rise of the sea?
Perhaps, all the better, for other than we,
if mankind was dismissed by Higher decree.
The fall of a star, the rise of the sea
These things have happened before surely.
There was a sorting, a winnowing of we,
As well as the plants and the animals free.
Perhaps, all the better, for other than we
The graceful dolphin may they long sortie
When the Earth is water they’ll be jamboree.
These kind hearted creatures a new Pharisee.
If mankind was dismissed by Higher decree
Would we all be above and fly fancy-free?
No one knows, no matter, we can disagree
In the end, the Earth’s fate is not up to we.
*Monorhyme layed out in quatrains with the first 4 lines
forming the first line of the last 3 groupings of 4.
Oh Contention civil liberties that I so mention
enduring the cooperating social groups non-functional
non-binary confused disrupted abused circumstance
non-existent analytical disagreements freed
my people in cage my people members
who have developed organized patterns
of structural broad groupings people having
common traditions non-biased institutions
method of organized people
~
The tyrants ruling feeling society and politics do not mix
~
Disagreeing with my philosophy
total anarchy substitution revolution
freedom of speech
but I can't spell forcing my opinion
but I can't talk walk in my purpose but I'm in a wheelchair
Society and politics a aggregated people living together
in a more or less orderly community
endangered species lying in the feces
Mason's abroad uprising institutions collective activities
~
freed men bond and free township cities and villages
determine how people live who am I to tell you how to dress
what food to eat or what to believe in method
Oh! of organized people
The way we govern only the few govern the masses
speak but only the few government
am I Democrat Republican or independent
in my fascist pig what right do I have socialite metaphoric independent communist revolutionist the way that countries are governed
the ways that countries make rules and laws
The tyrants ruling feeling society and politics do not mix
~
to manage humanity in an invisible border
properly rule and govern anti-corruption
transparency arms control climate and environment
combating drugs and crime countering terrorism
cyber issues economic prosperity
the Green party Libertarians Constitutional Party
Law in Order National Law party
all of these them laws governs choice mandated opinion
argumentative what are you...
~
The tyrants ruling feeling society and politics do not mix
10/24/23
For society and politics Poetry Contest
Robert James Liquori