Long Identically Poems
Long Identically Poems. Below are the most popular long Identically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Identically poems by poem length and keyword.
My home is bleak this evening because of winter.
This outing was fun, yet I hunted faithful cover.
To deter us colds and to wear around the home.
Everybody precisely grasped the cold syndrome.
Snowflakes fall quickly from the lonesome sky.
Bettor isolated influence in the warm sway,
They carefully structure a shroud high ascending.
On top of the enormous, white-encrusted sapling,
I'm accommodated before my splendidly blaring fire.
Additionally, we're glancing slyly out the cold chore.
I long for these dreadful days to instantly cease.
Also, rediscover the initial wonders to increase.
I look longingly on our all-around enriched city.
I admire how much individuals celebrate pretty.
The adornments on the monstrous tree staggering.
Plus, I admire the sparkling star standing as leading.
Isn't it a specific time for one bettor year of progress?
I believe the world will gently ease unsteadiness.
Identically, every conflict will eventually evaporate.
Winter snowfalls and magnificent rainbows may iterate.
Written: December 10, 2021
Winter Wishes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
I took it all for granted. The sky, the stars, the wind,
the flowers, the grass, the trees.
I expected to see my friends every day,
it was boring, dull, humdrum, if you please.
In my mediocre mind-set, I was walking to a friends’ house,
not enjoying a breeze.
Not paying any attention to the sky, the wind,
the flowers, the grass or the trees.
When I am grabbed from behind, very hard and fast, a murderer’s plan.
I am wrenched off my feet, and thrown into a hard, cold, uncaring van.
Chloroform is placed on my face, and I think I am going to the promise land.
I am out like a light, at the mercy of a non-writing rock and roll band.
I awaken on a firm mattress in the corner of a dark and dank cage.
Hey! Long-hair yells, she is awake. Let’s make her write us a poem or a page.
I sit up and glare at the four identically dressed men whose plan in unhinged.
If they think I am writing anything for them, they should try and think again.
You are our prisoner, one tells me, in a really snotty, uppity way.
Yes, you can have food and stuff, but you are going to definitely stay
Until you write some songs for us, and they better be a hooray
Or we can get rid of you, for we are musicians, and we do not play.
They kept me for six years, when I never saw a park, dog or the sun.
Caged in a day care center with a bunch of two’s
would have been quite a bit more fun.
Wrote many songs, about a clever woman who tricked her captor
into letting her run,
But she got caught up in their drama,
this intelligent slippery songwriter of one.
For years I did not see flowers, trees, or anything I used to not see.
Beauty I used to take for granted, and not care about,
obtuse, I could be.
I did not see the stars, the sun, the snow, the moon,
or my maniacal mean cousin Lee.
Prisoner until I had written songs for them,
magic number six hundred eighty-three
Written 3-23-2019
Contest: Freedom to nothing is something
Sponsor: Deliah Ventura
When you held me, my eyes saw vision,
i quietly layed and prayed for your healing,
my heart was pounding out of my chest,
is this love mixed in with nervousness,
denying chance over and over again,
denying myself the right to happiness,
lightheaded i tried to gather my thoughts,
but as quick as they came were as quick as they were lost,
this vision of form that i vaguely could see,
matched identically to me,
and i saw myself instantly,
is this him or is this me?,
the shock froze my thoughts, my heart stood still,
i can not express in my heart what i feel,
i could not catch the words as fast as they ran,
as comfort filled my heart they didn't need to be said,
they knew no fear of a mistake,
they weren't scared of what not to say,
and in stillness as you held my hand,
peace caught my heart all over again,
Self confident
I would feel inconvenient
to be dead,
Yet relieved in freedom
from trimming toe
and finger nails
and receding hair
advancing down wrinkling neck
and softing shoulders.
Although not confident
I could grow
satisfied with fictional fame,
self-grandiosing glory,
I remain curious
how timelessly satisfying might emerge
historically famous fictions,
glories of grandly granted otherwise.
Confiding ancient secrets,
I could feel confluent
intuiting alive
resilience in freedom to survive
culture's soft-spoken rhyming terror
flirting with authenticity
of memory's patterned identity
and difference,
identically coincident.
Faith
masquerading hope,
Light
fading dual-dark air without
within
True life
camouflaging trust's pervasive love
Confident
I would feel false
to grow prematurely dead.
Give me an idea that I can use
and built on for the future.
Run through my mind and find something kind
overlooked to help me to endure.
Give me fables and legends of old;
all the enchanted stories.
Find something kind and run through my mind
supplanting negative memories.
Give me not only wisdom to see,
also the courage to lead.
Run through my mind and find something kind
to say to my fellow man in need.
Give me all your sorrows and the pain
that you’ve saved from your brothers.
Find something kind and run through my mind
with the hope that I can bring others.
POETIC FORM: ZaniLa Rhyme
__________________________________________________________
ZaniLa Rhyme
The following is an invented poetic form for which I have written several examples over the years. The ZaniLa Rhyme is a repeating form with an inverted refrain. It is, in essence, a syllabic form created by poet, Jan Turner. It consists of at least three 4-line stanzas; or six per the original design. It has 9 syllables per line in lines 1, 3 & 4, with the 2nd line having 7 syllables. The rhyme scheme: ab (c¹.c² –Internal Rhyme) b. The metre for L3 is: /**/ … /**/
Line three is a repeating line throughout. It contains leonine verse, divided into equal portions (syllable count), separated by a conjunction (which might remain static), resulting in the nine-syllable count. The title is derived from the first half of this line. The same line is repeated as the third line in each stanza, but the two sections of the internal rhyme are switched around in each following stanza. Thus, the line is repeated identically in each uneven numbered stanza, and the turned line, in each even number stanza. In the example, I have written it in italics and boldface for ease of reference.
Each stanza starts with the same opening words (underlined for ease of reference) but continues with a different ending which is unrhymed with any part of the stanzas—it is progressive in its statement and carries the momentum of the poem forward.
Lee and I are identical twins. We look, sound, and are dressed identically.
It is 1958 and we are heading back to school from lunch.
Sing-song Lee thinks it is a normal May day; I realize it has more potential.
We are not going back to school, I tell her. Her eyebrows start to brunch.
She screams and wails, I have to cover her tell-tale mouth.
She is the dutiful one, but then I remind her of one thing.
I am playing hooky and I am not doing it alone, so I turn her south.
She shakes her tears off, knowing I have her; there is no more sing.
I have been the leader for a long time, boss of sister and brother.
Lee has no idea how to flip me for this role; I am firm like grandpappy.
We return to school later trotted there by our very angry mother
Who has switched us about six hundred times, and is not happy.
Why don’t you ever try and be the leader? I ask Lee, mad now.
I know it is because she is terrified of me, kind of gives me a wow.
She is way too afraid to tell me this, I realize as I shower.
I sleep well that night, recognizing my ultimate twin-leader power.
Being an identical twin means you do not have a name
For the first eighteen years of your life but keep your happy heart.
You are called “Hey, you, Twin!” or “Stone Twin!”
Except by your friends who are amazing and can tell you apart.
I could not wait to leave home, so I could wear my own stuff.
My identical twin wanted to dress identically, this was so tough.
I could not wait to get out the door and be called my own name.
I did not tell anyone I had a look-alike, who looked exactly the same.
Now we are older, and we get a kick out of dressing alike.
It takes us hours of deciding, because we can rarely agree.
I like clothes with words, a motto, or moral, or a monster on a hike.
My twin likes to wear florals, old people clothes that irritate me.
We have a twin laugh that is creepy. Our whole family rolls their eyes.
This laugh starts out loud but after a while turns silent, which is cool.
Silent laugh, our children say, not understanding or able to surmise.
That twins have a sense of humor that follows no sense or rule.
sitting on the steps of a church
on a brisk autumn day
with nobody in sight
leaves are falling
birds are singing
it is oh so quiet,
and i am off work again tomorrow
once upon a time
a very special lady joined me here
then a very vicious monster quietly
attacked her from the inside
today will mark year 16
i hold her favorite perfume
in my left hand
bobby goldsboro is singing about honey
i too am looking at how big
a certain tree has grown
we carved a very simple poem on there:
'equal love from two
will always reign true
when it comes from two hearts
made of identically similar parts'
that poem is on my mind when i give God Thanks
for her presence in my life and her overall inspiration
to the man that i am now
though i still curse the very vicious monster,
i still feel Bless Everyday for the time, though brief,
that i was so very honored to share with her
aprecio tu amor siempre, mi dulce ángel.....