Long June Poems
Long June Poems. Below are the most popular long June by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long June poems by poem length and keyword.
In the enmeddling clingsome cleavage
Of the windwrapped menacehugging road
Torchurtoting time turns dangler of sands
You slitrap the solum to seek hideous nook.
The road twisturns on your sleekshoulder
Oops griplifts you on its saddlekradle oldie
The jeopordized journey trottrots slothened
With the time’s dustrapped flagcart cranked.
At the edgeend of the ruinrubbled road
Tormentrudged time turns terminist instant
Chasetrack you till twilight sundown duskdark
You longwish to restep on faden footstamps.
The crackripped road crumbler of dayspun dreams
Throws wrecktrash you in dismayedark debris
The jocundgelled journey ends in incompleteness
Captivetrapped in time’s eternal sucksack infinitum.
June 15, 2020
Contest : Vogon Poetry (Really Bad Poetry) Quoopisk
Sponsor : Team Poetry Soup
June arrives...we start our fling with Summer love
with its deeper shades matured from springtime green,
as lush and crowded leaves fill the trees above,
that sway with gentle winds...peaceful and serene.
Summer stirs warm harmony in mind and heart,
as it paints the scenery with brilliant art
of lovely flowers, both bright and pastel hues
'neath the calm and rolling skies of tranquil blues.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Picture Me A Summer Rispetto
Sponsor: Barry Stebblings
Judged: 08/04/2018
abab ccdd (later rhyme scheme)
Mideast Peace: Oxymoron
Though descendent of Jews,
I feel boggled at the brutal,
nasty and wanton war between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many innocent victims
bred to know and hate their enemy
impossible mission
to reconcile one Semitic
group of peoples from another.
The bloody English
begat and fomented
debacle between Israelis and Palestinians.
little more than a century ago,
particularly usurping territory
courtesy aggressive premise
might makes right.
The human species
hell bent on making war
reprisals rank as a ,
and can never even the score
I harken back to childhood,
when our family lived
at Lantern Lane, and the Dailey's
(who threw rocks at Georgie
our Dalmation/Boxer)
rightfully earned before their time
the title fear thy neighbor
an altercation such
as aforementioned above,
would easily earn a spot
on Investigation Discovery
though deadly crimes violently hardcore
reenacted minus the explicit killing
fields not healthy for children
and other living things,
nevertheless even the most pious
and peace loving
exhibit fervent bloody ardour
if kith and kin held at gunpoint.
The annals of civilization
since time immemorial
replete with chronicles
of battlefield bravura
touting (with laurels of profuse praise)
for ultimate sacrifice
unnaturally, unstintingly, and unwaveringly
bravely giving oneself
to father/mother land.
Beneath the surface of the skin
we all bleed;
mortal kombat inked
in Mesolithic Europe
likewise dates to circa 10,000 years ago,
and episodes of warfare appear
to remain "localized
and temporarily restricted"
during the Late Mesolithic
to Early Neolithic period in Europe.
Idyllic as the fantastical utopian yen,
I feel pessimistic patriarchal wheelman
who steer autocratic
leviathan of state (witness Tiananmen
Square student-led demonstrations
known in Beijing, China
as the June Fourth Incident
lasting from 15 April to 4 June 1989)
cuz twentieth century ruthless demagogues
wanted to squelch
pro-democracy movement,
and not only stole demonstrators thunder
but forcefully co-opted with lightning force
their toys such as:
sophisticated erector set and playpen
for dolls loving buoys Barbie and ken
the former coming to life
as a miniature equestrienne
experiencing magical realism.
Come Spring Season,
It's time for baseball.
That is, after getting over
The fiery March Madness.
But not so fast.
The NBA is still in session.
And would you believe that
It's June before the Finals finish?
Come late Summer,
Just before Autume,
Ready or not, it's time
For football.
Before long, when
Autumn leaves begin
To fall from trees,
It's time for basketball,
Right on the hills of the
World Series, October Classic.
Thanksgiving and Christmas
Will feast and merry us, and
Before we can conclude with
Our New Year's resolutions,
It's time for the Super Bowl.
Like Mother Nature's seasons
Flowing in and flowing out,
Such is the nature of our
Sporting seasons.
Through the heat of Summer
And the icy freezy Winter,
Seldom do we retreat.
It's simply our way of life.
It's what we do.
Oh, there's more sports,
But ...
“You’re burlap and satin; you’re leather and lace,”
the bride-to-be’s mother said. “He’s a disgrace!
Break up with him. It’s not too late to save face.
He’s our neighbor’s farmhand. He should know his place.”
Her dad said, “He’s not in your league, can’t you see?
If you marry, think of how poor you will be.
You’ll not get one cent from your mother and me.
Go give back that cheap little ring and be free.”
The daughter cried, “No, I’ll give you up instead
if I must. I know what my grandparents said
to you, Dad. They thought you were out of your head
to want a rich, pampered girl. ‘Not her,’ they pled.
And, Mom, how did Grandma and Grandfather feel
when they met my Dad-to-be? Did he appeal
to them as a good choice? YOU said they had real
concerns. He seemed somewhat rough. So you would steal
away to get married. Your choices were right.
THAT—they now admit. Though you’re happy and quite
successful, as newlyweds you had to fight
your folks’ disapproval, and money was tight.
We’re burlap and satin—as once were you two!
Our future will have a much rosier hue
if you bid your coldness—and not US—adieu!
We don’t want your money. Your blessing will do!”
Date:March 12, 2018
Contest Title: Burlap and Satin
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen placed 5th of 10
February 24, 2019, entered in Mark Toney's Poetry Marathon, Mile 21
June 21, 2019, entered in Brian Strand's contest Your Choice (12) Love Verse
June 5, 2021
entered in Anthony Biaanco's $ Contest placed 8th (of ten placements)
Have you ever exclaimed, my friend:
" How beautiful life is? "
When...
You gave your first kiss to your beloved?
You married your sweetheart?
You took in your arms your firstborn?
You had your great success in life?
Or
You admired the beauty of nature?
You scent the aroma of a flower?
You enjoyed one of Beethoven's symphonies?
You cried while listening to an opera?
You saw your most cherished dream come true?
If
You ever have uttered these four words, my
Fellow mortal,
No matter what was the reason that made you do so,
Then
Without fail you have justified:
All impediments,
All grief
All suffering,
All agony, and
All pain
That
Life has put in your way since the day
You were born!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
27 June 2021
God be exalted* for His wisdom of infallible counsel
---I trust His truth along His love’s epistle.
God be praised for His immutable promise
---I believe His Word with His assurance never must I miss.
God be glorified for His directing prudence
---I rely on His precepts, proven by every life-changing evidence.
God be worshipped for His holy name
---I thank His salvation-security, sealing me with divine surname.
God be esteemed for His boundless compassion
---I work for His honour, serving by love along faith’s expression.
*Psalm 21:13 Be thou exalted, LORD, in thine own strength: so will we sing and praise thy power.
June 22, 2019
Vivid dreams, dreams frightening, in bright technicolor,
Recurring over and over, day and night, unfolding;
Deeply, I plunge into the oblivion of an empty black void.
And I am free falling, tumbling, plummeting down.
Again and again, I do the same things within this dream,
And I am the girl with long raven hair flowing down;
There is a man who is beckoning for me to come with him,
He stands with arms outstretched, whispering my name.
I have seen this man who comes for me, his face so sad,
My mind is swirling, twirling and I am screaming, go away;
But, he takes my hand and we walk into the dark unknown,
Through tangled vines and bare branches like claws.
I fear him so much because I know his name, it is Death,
Why does he come in dreams, why does he call me;
And each time I fear my weary eyes to close and dream,
For I know that Death will be whispering my name.
The first time I saw him, he was weeping,
as he took my dead sister's soul away. . .
______________________________
June 5, 2013
Poetry/Verse/His Name Is Death
Copyright Protected, ID 06-483-551-05
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Poems to Keep You Awake,
sponsor, Roy Jerben, Judged 06/10/2013
Third Place
If old men fought the wars
Would there be quite so many?
Maybe we’d reach a stage
Where we’d not fight any.
Life becomes more precious
With the passing of years
The realisation of mortality
Bringing its own fears.
Let the young live their lives,
No longer treated like cattle
Marshalled and forced to
Fight the old mens’ battles.
Let the old men go
To fight their own wars
Don’t conscript the future to
Go die for another’s cause.
If old men did the fighting
Perhaps there’d be more trying
To find a different solution if
Old men faced the risk of dying.
(D-Day 6th June 1944)
Hit them where it hurts
President Trump said “Ukraine has no cards to play to end war with Russia”. Yet deep inside Russia, Ukraine masterfully destroys over 40 warplanes that could carry nuclear weapons, using smuggled drones; simultaneously attacks multiple air fields. Russia loses an estimated $7,000,000,000 dollars in one day. This is the one for the history books
It’s what you call “the art of war”
Unseen, unheard, not done before
Hit in the balls, the chin and mug
Ukraine plants hurtful wartime slug
The “Trojan Horse” of modern times
Payback for vicious bloody crimes
Can’t puff your cheeks, the air’s gone
Deprives the evil of its brawn
No one can tell them what to do
Defeating goons is peace, that’s true
As heavy blow, as ever been
Support the noble fight, to win
Burned planes launched heaviest attacks
Could threaten world with N-word axe
And now they’re gone, ain’t that a shame?
We watch. Hey, “Slava to Ukraine”!
June 2, 2025