Long Inspired Poems
Long Inspired Poems. Below are the most popular long Inspired by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Inspired poems by poem length and keyword.
On the threshold of the evening
Before me, mounds of dead leaves
Brown, limply sodden, resistant to angry winds
I stand and watch another day's bitter passage
Coiled with the same winter darkness
I croon my spring serenade of loneliness
My voice fills the void with sad lyric
Which dwells over mornings that couldn't be sung
When fog hooded the appearance of the sun
And the frost hid the garland of green
Yet, here, at last, peeking through the doleful gray
The stars are shining..
As if been sewn upon the fabric of a sequined sky
Beckoning my song to reach the crested moon
With the knowledge that tomorrow will come....tomorrow will come...
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Inspired by Brian's Strand's contest "Tomorrow is Another Day"
The sun has risen in my night
but I was blind to see the light
The moon have sunk in a new dawn
I dreamt too long,and it was gone....
Now i stroll over the shore
gazing above the horizon
to find a shooting star
But what's the use of shooting stars
which fade too far from where you are?
What's the use to make a wish
when you are not with me
What's the use of sprinkling spells
on once upon a memory?
What's the use for candles on the sand
If you're not here to hold my hand
What's the use of fragrant words
when autumn leaves are burnt
What's the use for hearts to beat
when worlds don't understand?
Last petal falls upon my feet
the wind blows in my hair
a melody on starry night
Hushed whisper in my ear
Soft music plays in distance
the guitar 's not there
So what's the use for symphony?
Once more I'm deaf to hear
Slowly i tiptoe to the stone wall
which stands behind the old Palm tree
Slowly I seek deeper
as a tiny shadow i see
a shadow which keeps growing
and getting close to me
Its my imagination
It must be a fantasy
In silence I walk back
to where our cabin used to be
My fingers bury footprints
which I found by the sea.
Charma
This is a fiction poem inspired by a song i was hearing called 'Love is blind' by Donny Montell
Christie MOSES is a great poetess.
Her pen MOVES with great finesse.
For her MORES in poetic verse,
Are like MOREL mushrooms immersed;
Sautéed MOTEL hot delicacies;
Ice cold HOTEL chilled daiquiris.
Relate a HOVEL to nice accommodations,
Is like a NOVEL with poor adaptations.
For my NAVEL hurts when I laugh,
By the GAVEL of laughter’s wrath.
I try to RAVEL all that I have learned,
But the RIVEL of my broken heart burns.
Orion’s RIGEL, Bellatrix, and Betelgeuse,
And PS’s NIGEL and Christie are my muse.
Inspired by Nigel Fawcett / Christie Moses...Word Morph Contest
I’m talking about the beautiful country of Burkina Faso
Formally known as the Republic of Upper Volta, the newcomer on the plateau
The new country with a charismatic and highly competent young leader
Capt. Ibrahim Traoré, everybody is talking about this intelligent brother
Who is well articulated in French, English and other languages
Brother Traoré embodies what all young men and women aspire to be:
Heroes of his or her Homeland, to help and rid themselves of the vestiges
Of inferiority, servitude and slavery. Yet, I’m still learning about this great country
I love Capt. Traoré’s eloquent speeches and gestures. I’m awesomely inspired
By his words and deeds. This brave brother means business. He’s not tired
To tell the truth, as we know, most leaders lie like frogs trying to speak
He tells it like it is and he indeed does good for Burkina Faso. He’s at his peak
This courageous military man can only go higher, to be exemplary
In Africa. He’s the model leader that Africa (the world) needs. He’s too busy
To travel to countries that have mastered the art of insulting and belittling
Young and modern leaders. The world needs new leaders who’re capable of singing
The righteous songs of freedom, liberty, justice, fairness and equality for all citizens
Brothers and sisters, I’m still learning about B. Faso, Mali, Niger and other regions
Or countries that are fighting for the pride and the future of their inhabitants
My best wishes go to countries that are helping us accomplish our missions
We are living in a world of abundance. No countries should be treated as inferior
Or poor. "Haiti is not a hole country". Yet, they failed to mention the exploitations
The rapes, the lies, the abuses and the lootings of our resources and the decapitations
They surely know how to manipulate, to neutralize, to explore and to divide to conquer
Oops, I had to exteriorate a bit. I want to wish our many countries a fruitful future
They’ll succeed because these new, incorruptible leaders care about us and they’re better.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to Late Pres.Thomas Sankara, our Haitian, African,
Black American Heroes, Poets and all our Brothers and Sisters.
Copyright © May 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
The Wedding Cake
I told my bride that we should have
a special wedding cake
Something very different,
a statement it would make
Explaining how I saw it
and the flavors I desired
The special little figurines
my vision had inspired
How it would be delicious
in our favorite butter cream
Tinted in the color red,
yes that would be a dream
I even drew a picture
of each layer to the top
I really got excited
it was very hard to stop
Its then I looked into her eyes
and saw an evil stare
I asked what I had done so wrong
would she please like to share
That’s when she shattered all my hopes
when these few words she said
“There’s no way I will have a cake
that’s themed “The Walking Dead”
I guess that means I shouldn’t take my Daryl vest on the honeymoon. : )
2/27/17
Written for the Relishing Cake Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
What wondrous love is this, O my soul...
And who are you, really?
Me? Part of me?
I see you as sister or daughter -
divine beauty worth more to God
than all the rest of me.
And God entrusted you to me -
a mystery beyond telling.
For you have suffered under my care.
You've been hurt.
Neglected.
Ignored.
And I chose freely to do such things.
Now I weep
And wonder with trembling heart
If I can do right by you in days to come.
God, when you see my soul -
wounded, dirty, and damaged,
hurt, alone, and afraid -
Take her back to you.
She is a gift I'll never deserve
And she was made to love you.
And I know she still can.
2025-12-02
finished by 7:27 AM
inspired by p107 of Pope Benedict XVI's St. Paul
Bringing branches with their trunks, they start their festival with glee
Swinging silent bells at the pearl sailing in the night sky
Flinging away darkness and dirt, for light to finally see
Singing pearls in the branches, pray to the divine up high
Praying to the ship of fourteen gates filled with splendorous light
Begging the pearl-gathering angels to help them ascend
Entreating the Maiden of Light to continue the long fight
Worshipping Jesus the Splendour, the lord and gleeful friend
Inspired by Pliny the Elder's account of elephants worshipinng the moon with branches, while incorporating Manichaean beliefs about the moon.
I was young, working in the back duct; when the elders started to speak
A joyous moment has arrived, open the flood gates for LOVE unique
As they rapturously paraded down the contour of the young man's cheek
AS HE SAID " I DO "
As I looked out the mirror of the young man's eyes; I too wanted to run
A Love so true, an oath to entwine Together; Always and Forever as One
I smiled contently, for I knew in his words pure Love had begun
" LOVE YOU "
But then the boom's mooring snapped : whipping Her into the deep blue sea
I lead a brigade of my peers down the trail of my forefathers glee
We marched that same trail , differently : in sorrow, despair and misery
" ALWAYS AND FOREVER "
Onward I bravely lead my comrades to a desolate place where we would die
I know we were not the only tears this young man's broken heart would cry
He never had the chance to hold Her, to kiss Her, to say I LOVE YOU or Good-bye
" L E N O R E "
Inspired by Constance La France's Contest "Dusty Box of Memories"
So there they are, the three wise men,
(some declared them kings!)
It is not recorded if any women or camp followers
accompanied them, but if they were wise
perhaps that was so.
They were not pragmatists
nor did they follow the science,
long journeys following a star
on a swaying camel’s back
can lead you astray.
Meanwhile a child is born and
is moved on by its parents.
After many futile wanderings
they grew weary.
Their guiding star had faded.
The Orient was a ways behind them,
which was fortunate,
they had time,
time to put together
a few inspired poetic thoughts.
The wise understand
that not much is altogether true,
or not all that is imagined
is false.
Faith trusts the unanswerable
as if it were a shining star.
He gave her a book she refuses to name,
She gave it a look and saw her claim.
He circled in red the verse she needed to read
Her eyes tears shed from a heart that disagreed.
“Always and ever I’d perpetually come back,
If only I knew I wouldn’t consistently lack.
Hearts can be greater with whom they’re entwined,
And I couldn’t bear to suffocate you with mine.”
The rest of the book did not seem so sad
She learned to love it for the dreams it had.
She held it dear when it became strength through storms,
She treasured it dearly for the comfort when she was worn.
Her beloved book showed her secrets to lead
Her lovely leather bound taught warnings to heed.
Her cherished composition created cravings to conquer.
Her prized prose inspired in every hardship to press onward.
He gave her a book that she refuses to name
If you ask her the question she’ll tell you the same.
It’s a book about hope and despair, courage and fear,
It tells tales of loss and care, those distant, those near.
He gave her a book she refuses to name
Because it’s part of her, and proves her claim.
She has written in red what she needs to remember
Her fire is her own, she stoked every ember.
He gave her a book that she couldn’t name
It was her whole life, every refrain.
Because it wasn’t a book to read every page
It was hers to make with every new age.
Wins and losses, hope and pain
Her “Book of Love, of Life” was the journal she claimed.