Long Ink Poems

Long Ink Poems. Below are the most popular long Ink by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ink poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Reason My Ink Flows

The reason my poetic ink flows is simple. I write to inform,
to inspire, to move, to amuse, to explore the terra incognita, 
to enter the dark room of my soul and open up the windows
for sunlight to come in. I leave the doors wide open for readers
to walk in. I'm driven by an inexplicable interior mechanism,
an unsatiable existential curiosity about the human condition,
about life in general. Love and nature help fuel my creativity.


                                                           I'm an explorer
                                                    I open my soul's window
                                                          to let the light in.



RHYMES AND REASONS Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Date written: 05/31/2020
Form: Haibun


Let Me Hear You Roar Dedicated to Empress Ink




Still breathing lilacs in a lustrous trance.  (Ink Empress)

Solitary flower loosely clustered kissed by the morning sun 
you are the flower of the hour comparable next to none

Dreamtime beauty with a hint of lavender and subtle pink 
you stand out among the others like an Empress made of Ink

Your mystic whisper is a murmur to my ear that says I'm here
you are a revelation, God's special jewel, a bright lit chandelier  

Still breathing lilacs in a lustrous trance you give yourself away  
as you wave your beauty around I can only whisper, " Stay" 

To the lilac bush that thrives on the Holy Land that I adore, 
I say "live and breathe for me" and let me hear you roar !
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Pen Ink Paper

Pen,Ink, Paper


I see piece of paper,
Next I see some Ink,
And finally I noticed a
lovely and unique pen.


But to my surprise they
we're out of sync.
That had a bad, bad
disagreement.

I wanted to help so
I asked what the 
problem was.

Each tried to talk at the
same time, I waved my
hand said one at time.
( I felt like a judge)

Ink, you can go first,
he nodded and began
to talk
" I'm tired of not being
appreciated. If  it wasn't
for me no poems, books,
songs, or words in general
would ever be seen".

The pen just interrupted
ink,  Wait a minute you
and me or inseparable.
We have lived together
for centuries. You need 
me ink".

Paper jumped in and said
" Where would you display
all your  pieces of work  if
it wasn't for me? Your work
would be useless. I'm talking
to you both".


I finally jumped in and said,
all three of you are important. 
You all serve a special purpose.
But you serve a bigger when 
you all are in sync working 
together as a unified team."

When I said those words,
they made up and became
a team once again.

The End.


10-25-19
Alexis Y.
© Alexis Y.  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member the ink has dried

on papers of divorce after decades of union
just a cheap biro not even a cherished fountain pen
no more tears no more drama and the well is dried up
a reservoir of joy and the agony of separation
consigned to memories and pain of suffering
acceptance of impermanence and closure of delusion

the hope of liberation and new beginnings is still nascent
but the fear of the future recedes into a new dawn
mutates into concern and care for what is and will be 
curiosity flickers from scented candles and incense

her perfume is fading and the wedding band has come off
as the vows of togetherness remain a shadow of promise

there is a rainbow of spiritual prisms faith and longing
for growth change understanding and intimate love
some sort of anticipation while staying in the moment
and deep emotions cannot change with the blink of an eye

they will have to live together until the house has been sold 
are both still deeply in love while God had other plans
they wish to remain friends with the only benefit
of not destroying what has been a miraculous journey
from start to now inevitable finish and dried ink will fade

Premium Member Having Ink To Flow

when we really think about it
in our mind is words so plentiful
can't put a number upon them
they're more value than any jewel

These words so full of description
some so simple others filled with drama
they are at our very fingertips
to be written even if we stammer

This indeed my very inspiration
to know what's written may speak
with a power not of myself
for in me is just too weak

The power is in the words
mingled together in poetic rhyme
to move it's readers emotionally
stirring one's heart time after time

So it's such a real pleasure
having such time and space
to put such words together
hoping others will find them ace


(the power of words and its effect upon those of us who attempt to write poetry)
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Antique Ink Euphoria

Written: April 1st, 2025 for contest sponsored by Brian Strand

              ********************

esoteric lines are etched
with antique ink
as wise men dither to think
euphoria blazes 
as fresh perspectives bear flight
If wisdom tracks the dimming light
a solitary ember remains: 
the elixir of life. 

Unbreakable, this soul and I —
like a lake's unique fingerprint
inked to the ocean
striving for the stars to blaze 
we will never falter;
heaven is a resplendent elysium
on this solid ground;
when thunder is the only sound 
seraphic hosts remain unaware —
unsure of how to serenade me

Poetry transcends the words I penned 
and verses left unspoken, unpenned
I cradled her heart as a cherished secret
too precious to reveal to the world
she embodies the essence 
of the poem I aspire to write in my life
she adorned herself with my words
akin to celestial orbs
gently luminous, faintly shimmering — 
crimson, cyan, citrine, spectrum, magenta —
a map leading to the starry nights
from which she emerged
unscathed from the storm

I draped summer
over her wintry sky
and portrayed love
over her hate and hoaxes
imagining tomorrow 
over the anguish of yesterday
and when invited to paint the tapestry of my life
I engraved her name
on silken pastels
of breeze-kissed sand
bathed in nymph-like shimmer
hues of spectral mystique
sea glass encapsulated —
a choral rhapsody
weathered charms of jade, emerald
a frosted sheen
shaped by the ocean—
each jewel whispers to me
that even the broken can be reshaped
into timeless marvels
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

The Weight of Ink

As I sit with pen in hand, a canvas of white
A void that begs to be filled with the whispers of my heart
Each word a brushstroke, a color that takes flight
A symphony of emotions, a dance that sets us apart

The weight of ink is crushing, a burden I bear
With every line, a piece of me is laid bare
The vulnerability stings, like a winter's chill air
But still I write, for in the words, I find solace there

In the silence, I hear the echoes of my past
A chorus of memories, a melody that will forever last
Each note a thread, weaving a tapestry so vast
A story of love, of loss, of joy, of sorrow, forever cast

With every phrase, a piece of my soul takes flight
A fragment of my heart, a shard of my inner light
It's a risk, a gamble, to bare my emotions so bright
But in the words, I find a truth, a beauty that ignites

The words flow like a river, a current that's hard to tame
A force that's driven by the emotions that I cannot claim
They swirl and eddy, a whirlpool that's deep and wide
A reflection of my soul, a mirror that won't subside

In the darkness, I find the light, a spark that guides
A beacon that illuminates the path, where my heart resides
The words are a solace, a comfort that abides
A reminder that I'm not alone, that my heart is not divided

The poet's craft is a mystery, a magic that's hard to define
A alchemy of emotions, a transmutation of the heart's design
It's a dance with the unknown, a leap of faith in the dark
A trust that the words will come, and the emotions will embark

With every poem, a piece of me is left behind
A fragment of my soul, a thread of my heart's design
It's a legacy of love, a testament to the human mind
A reminder that we're not alone, that our hearts are intertwined

In the end, it's not just words, but a piece of my life
A reflection of my soul, a mirror that cuts like a knife
It's a risk, a gamble, to bare my emotions so bright
But in the words, I find a truth, a beauty that ignites.

To condemn violence with solemn ink

(This is a poem i wrote in 2012 for the U.S school shooting, which i have now modified to include the Iranian school childern bombing by foreign dìctators,
that killed over a 112 girl students)

( news report: On December 14, 2012, a mass shooting occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, United States. The perpetrator, 20-year-old Adam Lanza, shot and killed 26 people. The victims were 20 children between six and seven years old, and six adult staff members. Earlier that day, before driving to the school, Lanza fatally shot his mother at their Newtown home. As first responders arrived at the school, Lanza killed himself with a gunshot to the head. )

My heart  bleeds 
for the misdeeds
of man killing man,
But a waterfall of tears
shed from pupils of the eyes
when and whenever 
it's school pupils murdered,
The parents apple of their eyes
Lives and schools too sacred 
to be massacred therein..!!

I recall of U.S
that one man shootout
Thoughts raced my mind for answers
I think, was it a madman lagerlout? 

Indeed drugs, drinking and lack of parental supervision
could together form a lethal combination
Such fatal carelessness and recklessness
must be caused as well by godlessness
so atheism kinda completes self-destruction's equation...
To be able to commit senseless matricide, homicide then suicide
surely requires ample frustration! 

As poet Blackpool Jimmy put it, 
'lil ones who hardly said hello
are made to bid adieu'
I add, 'investigation into societal causes
is ever highly long due. 

For this  terrible atrocity
my heartfelt condolence
 for loss of innocence
whether the kids are Muslim, 
Christian or Jew
I despise all killer instinct ferocity
Innocent angel kids now in heaven 
like doves do coo.:'(. 

Woe to him, tis for certain for sure
twas a horrendous way
 to settle with life the score!
for killers, we believers know, 
never rest in peace
whether they kill a stranger, brother, 
mother or niece!   

And now this latest, 
This time a school bombing air strike,
innocent Iranian school students
 razed down and erased from earth,
Blood of innocence spilled 
   and little hearts killed 
by heinous evil...
Alas ,shame woe be
on those who maim children
 for mercenary claim...

Spilling Contemptible Ink

I tried to ignore you, but I miserably failed the test.
So, I'm posting this to unburden it from my chest.
It's in reply to your continual endeavor to protest
against those of us who enjoy writing for contests.
Why does it matter to you?  Why are you obsessed
with our friendly competition?  Just give it a rest!
You judge us and that's not worthy of being blessed.
Maybe to God, your reproach should be confessed.

I don't enter contests to be the Queen of Poetry Hill
That's really contemptible ink you choose to spill,
and your vinegary attitude is that of a pickle... a dill.
Can you find amiable words to write with your quill?
There are no cold poets here, but many feel your chill.

I took umbrage when you called PS a 'selfish place.'
That's simply not true, and it's totally not the case.
There's never been a justifiable reason to debase
us with what you wouldn't dare say face to face.
You wrote of friendship, so why don't you embrace
all poets, and do it with some semblance of grace?

You wrote that we should all be helpful and kind.
That's a bit hypocritical and it just blows my mind
each time you post lines with your same old grind...
contempt you have for contest poets you maligned.
Your prods are noticed because no one here is blind
to read what you write about us. You've been unkind.

God blesses us when we treat each other as brothers,
and that's the way you'd see us if I had my druthers.
If you claim that we should be a blessing to each poet,
then you should adjust your thinking, and you know it.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Unwritten Ink

There you were - dancing,
unaware of the intense rain.
Despite grey clouds grimacing,
your radiant glamour enticed emotions.

Emeralds and sapphires shimmered
through those luminous eyes.
First glimpse of your warm smile,
saw suppressed symphonies resonate 
with each beat of my heart.  

Not all poetry is for everyone's eyes,
so we read each other in silence.
Unwritten ink dyed our skin,
as the pen lost control,
carving our names within
timeless beloved ballads.
Two souls scribbling secret sonnets, 
easing restless chambers of our minds.

Naturally beautiful like nature,
our evergreen love blossomed.
As we wandered within utopia's oasis,
our feet kissed sun blessed paths,
leading to passionate pastures.

There is no transcript,
to our epic love story,
it will forever remain an
unpublished manuscript.

Simple Musing
Silent One
11 September 2018
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace