Long In contest Poems
Long In contest Poems. Below are the most popular long In contest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long In contest poems by poem length and keyword.
Placed 1st in Contest
rain shine so divine
sprinkle blessings kissings wet ~
feet in leather boots
~~~~~~
Rain-shine sound patter
mad hatter
Alice lost in whimper drops
coatless with Rabbi Rabbit
ruling
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///////.////////||||||||||||~~the r
Ain in
sPain f
Alls mostly
on the //////~~_____?•
plain rain is my gain drip
to refrain D
from disdain r
O
Keep p dripping
Ing
everyone
SANE planting \\// \\// grain …..
::::::::::
torrential rain potential
Puddle H
Ubble Oo00orainnoshame
huddle close
s
H
O * * *
wers for blue flowers | | |
so they cower
in ROYAL tower /////|||||||::::::://///\\\\\\
///\\\\ a shimmering sleet
of rain glimmering
on street
rainbow sheet covering
a fleet of SHIPs
2 dip so neat
sweet
RAIN AGAIN bleat bleat
SODDEN EARTH
joyful mirth
|||||\/\/::::::::||||||•••girth birth water
w a t e r FILTER b
R
OK
en
G. R. A. T. E. F. U. L 4. RAINDROPS
buckets of rain
there’s a hole in my bucket
rain s
E
e
P
s
sneaking
holy r A i N
Rain S. h. I. N. e. ••xx
ON ••
_______\\\\________
Within the swirling currents of stars
He materializes, a silhouette against chaos
He is the whisper throughout time of stories untold
Worn out boots pound the cracked pavement
The echoes of centuries ripple beneath him
He carries a heavy urgency within his heart
He carries the truth, secrets, and all the lies
In the alleyways where shadows conspire in silence
Sleepy eyes wide awake in the rising dawn
Boisterous laughter falters, the world stills
That moment suspended, all breaths held in
This traveling Starman opens his mouth to speak
Pausing showing his sad eyes meeting doubt
"Time is such a fragile entity" he states
"Yet it bends for those who dare listen"
He is the only sound heard, the voice of time
He outlines all that has led up to now
For his people, because to them he is a God
And The Savior is here to warn the tides
"Protect what you love and abandon frivolous material"
"Keep thy community strong and your house stronger"
"Do not worship false idols, do not give into temptation"
"And tempted you will be, The Whispering Storm is near"
Subtle gasps quickly hush as everyone huddles closer
Everyone's heart beats faster than time itself
"What lies in the Whispers of Winds is the truth"
"The truth spun drastically for one to believe"
And the legends tell once you believe there is no alternative
Your Soul becomes part of this ever-growing storm
And it becomes evil...It becomes the death...
As all you love will get swallowed with who believes
He ends with starlit tear drops falling from his eyes
For he has seen the power of the storm, he almost believed
He almost gave into temptation if it weren't for those he loved
So he protected them in the end, love prevailed his time
He turns and slowly glides past the masses of His people
Questions being thrown from every direction go unanswered
Because the only answers have to come within ones self
And those answers carry the weight of this world
Into the folds of existence upon untraveled paths
He fades...Fades away to another time, another place
Leaving only the echo of his words within their hearts
Leaving to where he knows he can never return
Because he already knows the outcome...
Written for poetry contest "Starman" on 11/18/2024
Hosted by: Tom Woody Form: Dramatic Verse
PLACED 5TH PLACE IN CONTEST
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
There were Indians just over the Brazos
With a buffalo herd in between
They weren’t trying to stay hidden
They wanted to be seen
The chief of these Comanche
Buffalo Hump by name
They say no one's looked him in the eyes
Was ever quite the same
The COL said go parlay
Invite the chief to sup
I want to look him in the eye
And determine just what’s up
With our white sheet fluttering in the wind
Like the scalps on the big Chief’s lance
We started out across the plain
Taking quite a chance
Our crooked-tooth Pawnee scout
Led the way through the herd
Through the smell of a thousand animals
And the sound that would drown each word
I felt and smelled their hot breath
As I rode my pony near
I turned my pony into the throng
A pathway none too clear
Inching through the buffalo
Blinded by the dust
I held on fast to the reins
Just riding my pony's trust
Once through the thundering buffalo
I glanced up to the rise
The Indians still were waiting there
Much to my surprise
The Pawnee scout then turned to us
Said if they should attack
First take out the big chief
Then that little one in the back
I can understand the big chief
But why the little guy
He said he’s like a badger
He’ll fight until he dies
He said that one's a horse thief
The best you'll ever find
He'll snatch a horse from under you
As if you had gone blind
The big chief started towards us
Shut up the Pawnee said
You young boys keep your damn traps shut
I’ll do the talking instead
The Comanche’s body shone with grease
Had a necklace made of claws
He had a stench about him
That made you gag and pause
My eyes met the chief’s eyes
My hand rested on my gun
He had a look could kill a soul
But I was too scared to run
The Pawnee and Comanche
Spoke in some foreign tongue
I vowed to learn their language
While I was still young
Then all at once the chief turned
And rode on up the hill
Our Pawnee scout turned back for camp
But I just sat there still
For he had pointed at me
With that scalp encrusted lance
And said he’d have MY scalp one day
If he ever got the chance
For last week on the Brazos
Someone had killed his son
And looking me right in the eye
He knew I was the one
Mdailey 2/26/12
1st place finish in contest
For PD’s contest dare. Chapter 11 of Dead Man's Walk by Larry McMurtry. It has been years since I read a western but am finding this one interesting.
(The Silent Screams of Asparagus)
4th place in contest
The Swiss, those bastions of “Pease, Not War”
That neutral country to the core
Have gone to the edge – then one step more
On the Dignity of Plants
The killing of flora is morally wrong
The concept of “Plant Rights” missing too long
They’re crying out loud and crying out strong
On the Dignity of Plants
They’ve adopted a biocentric moral view
Living plants are alive just like me and you
So we have to be thinking in all that we do
On the Dignity of Plants
Individual plants have an inherent worth
They don’t just appear, they get here by birth
So when dealing with plants we have to think first
On the Dignity of Plants
They say that the farmer can mow his own field
They don’t explain why – but the hay has appealed
Beheading of flowers – on that he must yield *
To the Dignity of Plants
The Swiss enshrinement of “plant dignity”
Is a symptom of cultural disease
Infecting Western culture
Bringing critical thinking to its knees
The Judeo-Christian world view
Which upheld the unique nature of man
Has fallen on hard times so now we can sue
We’ve no leg on which we can stand
Animal rights from this poisonous soil
Have crippled our courts, caused tempers to boil
Now flora and fauna have joined the coil
On the Dignity of Plants
If animals and man can feel real pain
As PETA explains and explains and explains
Then plants should be treated exactly the same
That’s the Dignity of Plants
Now some Swiss are saying that plants must come first
That “Man” is the AIDS of our dear Mother Earth
We may have to expel him for he is the curse
On the Dignity of Plants
We live in a time of cornucopian wealth
Yet millions of humans suffer in health
So hiding behind “plants rights” in stealth
Is no Dignity of Man
Me, I’ve got my dignity
Plants equal to man is just foreign to me
Giving plants our rights is immorality
And that is my stance on Plants
Mdailey
* At this point it remains unclear whether this action is condemned because it
expresses a particular moral stance of the farmer toward other organisms or
because something bad is being done to the flowers themselves.
This is no HOAX. The concept of what could be called “plant rights” is being
seriously debated in the Swiss courts.
When My Big Sister Stepped In
Sponsor: Eve Roper
It was a cloudy Thursday, March 2009...
I remember it clearly...
I was shivering in withdrawal,
my blood was boiling as I began to fall.
Addicted to my addiction,
lost in my fantasies of hopelessness...
Walking down the wrong path of conviction
into a black hole of nothingness,
And there you were...
baby sister needing,
her big sister...
You held me,
you fed me,
you carried me upstairs,
and drew me a warm bath.
You compelled me,
dressed me,
sat me down and prepared me.
pushed me on the right path.
Similar experiences you have seen,
your past drifted into my present,
motivated me to get sober and clean,
to grow up and be independent.
Same parents,
related through blood,
I was crippled and paralyzed,
It was you, Karen,
the only one who understood,
my big sister I idolized.
Date Written: December 21, 2015
Poetry is somewhat unique in that your mind blends an object, person or thing. You become one and then you create an image through your words, each poet is different otherwise all poems would be the same. It is impossible to copy another poet and their thought’s, as an example. When I write about trees I feel them swaying in the wind or birds landing on their branches, I feel the many rings around them teaching us their age, I feel their leaves falling in the fall even those leaves that eventual go back into the earth.
Poetry is an expression of you life and the things you have seen and experienced so no one can copy those thought’s and feelings, yes poems can be counterfeited and maybe change a few words around but those thought’s and feelings will always belong to you. To many try to have the perfect poem they work and work to make it perfect and it maybe be perfect in their eyes but to others they don’t always see what you see. When I write poetry I just write and a lot of times my words get mixed up even today, I wrote a poem with the word seen in it thanks to one of my poet peeps she caught it and soup mailed me it was suppose to be spelled scene and not seen.
I don’t check my work that carefully I just write and then post it, why you may ask I write for me and not others, I write from my heart and I never think in my mind I hope people like this. It gives me freedom in writing and my muse can go crazy, when you write poetry to please other people you are not writing poetry you are just putting down random thought’s thinking, I hope people like this. If you like it that’s all that matters that my friend’s is, freedom in poetry. At lot of the Judges in contest look for perfection in your poetry, they may as well put my muse on trial for he or she is a sneaky little burger and doesn’t like playing by man’s rules.
The last contest That I sponsored was Acrostic and trust me I do know what an Acrostic poem should look like, I read one poem that had such beauty it should have been 1st place but because it wasn’t Acrostic I had to follow the rules and give it an N/A. I do understand about some of the rules in contest but, when someone has such a talent is given a N/A because it wasn’t the correct form gets to me.
Poetry is not perfection it is inspiration
My path beyond the shores of time
from life to there are maritime ripples.
Harrowing blades of rain
hammered from storm-clouds shatter puddles
of glass to rolling streams of echoes,
Misery’s trail towards cleansing waters:
A bloody throat gasping for water
is my alarm clock each day, it hurts all the time.
I drink and gurgle, but none of it matters, echoes
butcher my esophagus with hack-saw ripples
as knees tumble to drown in rusty puddles;
My lungs are a prison withered by the warden’s reign.
This morning I woke to the 13th straight day of rain
in Houston. From my condo overlooking the water
Clear Lake slept like a sidewalk puddle.
In July, humidity is a visceral sweater, sweltered by time
stitched in ‘X’s and needle-strung ripples
suffocating ragdolls in sweat-stained echoes.
I took my coffee on the balcony. Through iron-rods came an echo
redolent the voice of an angel; “Why’s it gotta rain
all the time, daddy?” she asked in wavy curls and golden ripples.
More clever then, I quickly responded, “Because god has to water
his plants, Ava, that’s why it rains all the time.”
It used to be I smiled as she twirled through puddles.
The morning sky darkened as shadowy thorns continued to puddle.
Nearby lightning cracks hid from thundery echoes.
With each explosion my locomotive doubled its time;
Faster and faster screaming and taunting the rain,
inebriated veins screeching “Ice-water!” -
…and then a stillness overtook me. The warden sighed a calm ripple;
From a dream my eyes bathed in tranquil ripples
of shimmering obsidian disguised as puddles.
Behind me were footsteps painted with water.
A song I knew from Radiohead was echoing
a muffled chorus through sliding glass doors; “broken hearts make it rain,
broken hearts make it rain” and I remembered a happier time.
Then ripples staggered down my spine. Tingling echoes
were empty puddles violated by rain in my fingers and toes.
I again looked down at the water and thought, “Better get movin’, it’s breakfast time.”
8/11/2016
2nd Place in contest "Rain" judged 9/10/16
The sacred lily of antiquity;
vital, that centuries have not defied.
Treasures, luminaries of Italy;
a preserved cultured city, dignified.
Basilica on the mount arises;
"The Gate of Heaven" takes my breath away.
The dome cap nestles above the city;
A vista opens to new horizons,
Cathedral bells ring, calling me to pray;
outside, minstrels in song, bold and witty.
On the old bridge, wares for sale are displayed.
A passage, above the River Arno;
self- portraits, don the walls; masters portrayed.
Bronzed doors, a journey to The Inferno;
afficionados of art come to praise.
Sculptures come alive in the public square;
Uffizi's galleries, patrons are drawn
to the genius of masters, are amazed.
The passion of "bel canto" fills the air;
night falls, your cobbled streets, dim, until dawn.
In marbled tombs lay national heroes;
maestros who impart the gifts of sages.
The Sacred Crucifix hangs in sorrow,
over consecrated ground, it graces.
A tapestry of life's virtues you share.
To the titans of art, we owe a debt.
Saints and prophets, their relics you enshrine;
devoted in faith we kneel in prayer.
David's majestic strength, Goliath met.
Florence's gifts, a legacy, divine!
May 4, 2022
For: Form O-Ode-New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Rhymes verified on Rhymezone.com
Syllables verified on Howmanysyllables.com
Theme: Place
Placed 3rd in contest
Written: March 12, 2024 For Constance La france Contest
N/A in Contest: No 1294
Rumi Quote: "The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beneath a deep blue, clear sky
With wonder, I watch the stars explode
Moon sings gently in wonder
Clouds bear the rainbow icons,
Savor timeless appeal of the night sky
My soul dutifully obeys its hypnotic call
White blooms and gentle azure sky
A scent of musk rose fills the air
The location is truly captivating.
Crystals gleam alone, pair at daybreak
An onyx sky gleams deep and ethereal
As loneliness becomes habitual, I weep
A bond surpassing the brightest galaxies
Clusters of sunken astral bodies fit finely
A deep clay soil, a dark void of apathy
Enthralled, my soul begins to reveal
The soul sparkles on a sunny day
A divine place as souls carries on to play.
Alarming and true, in the ominous bay
I greet the vulnerable and delight in joy
A starry crestfallen drifts ever near
Alone, sipping solace, words
I found comfort in a blissful rhapsody
My heart is graced with night beauty
Stars above drift on and on
To a tranquil spot for solitary spirits,
I feel a presence in this divine place
A sturdy refuge from life's perils
Caught by weak hold, in joyful frenzy,
I check my faded stars, sliding into night.
I find solace in this verse at night
The sky is my canvas,
Stars are my beacons of light
Amidst this tranquil oasis
I drift to quiet beaches
A spot where the sky is magnificent
Fills my heart with awe and joy
Into the deepest midnight blue
A link is true, and the spell is cast
Stars glisten in the azure sky
Their stellar flight captivates me
Shooting stars are truly marvelous
Bathed in the moon gentle glow
Clouds display a rainbow of colors,
I find myself in this enchanting realm.