Long Lines Poems
Long Lines Poems. Below are the most popular long Lines by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lines poems by poem length and keyword.
Fireball rise red lazer ray has spear horizontal
Sending a shedding of angel wing span blessing
Busied birds converse beneath apricot mottle
From dawn huddle, welcome warmth suggesting
Splendour awaiting, drive Wednesday to Pacific
Three beach night stays after so long, a year's wait
Travel to shore infinite, lapped sand map terrific
Coinciding coastal followed day, I'll turn thirty eight
Egg fried ocean, toastily popped tomorrow's coast
Simmering indigo pot turns turquoise shimmer
Crash marvel intensified if today I'm able to boast
Comp entered in June has judged mine a winner
Whilst very unlikely my little poem will number
Against names recognised, English professors
Threw my lines in the mix so regret slid asunder
In the year of realising poetry's divine pleasures
22nd September
Yesterday has come and gone
No need to stay with in its lines
Find something to focus your energy on
Let go of all of yesterday's lies
We must leave yesterday where it's at
We could not change it
No amount of effort will alter that fact
So why even waist time thinking about
The ( but what if)
So tell me if you see this to
There is a lesson in every yesterday
I know this to be true
God gave us the gift is why I feel this way
You should know the feeling to
Best part is the lesson is all you get
Though that be enough for his plans pawn
But ge also grants a blessing with it
A blessing with every dawn.
L
Rarely do I glimpse your shadow
Or wonder how you had the gall
I hardly think of you at all
Rarely wish it'll be your hello
Time has allowed me to believe
I'm fine since you abandoned me
Rarely am I sad or morose
I'm not sorry you're missing out
I do wonder if you have doubt
Rarely say your name even low
I've decided I will forgive
If this is how I'll have to live
To ignore me is cruel though
You've never said why you are through
I rarely ever think of you
Rarely do I glimpse your shadow
Rarely wish it'll be your hello
Rarely am I sad or morose
Rarely say your name even low
To ignore me is cruel though
July 16, 2018
July 25, 2018 - Abandon 2 Contest By Brenda Chiri
Form - Constanza
Third Place
The Constanza created by Connie Marcum Wong consists of five or more 3-line stanzas. Each line eight syllables. All the first lines of all the stanzas form an independent poem as the rest of the poem expresses a deeper meaning. The first lines are in mono-rhyme while the second and third lines of each stanza rhyme together. Rhyme scheme: a/b/b a/c/c a/d/d a/e/e a/f/f........etc. And the end verse is made up of the first lines of all the previous verses combined.
Feel fragrant fate
Dazzle dream date
Watch wordplay wing
Slurp sensuous spring
Sense something strange
Ripples room range
Opt oozing ounce
Bright blessings bounce
Lift lovely lines
Vet vicious vines
Speak soft sweet sounds
Glimpse grace groom grounds
Let laughter loom
Bright blessings bloom
Humour hugs heart
Sense sacred starts
Apt answers aid
Prize puzzle paid
Charm clever clay
Pique profound play
Mind marvels mist
Glimpse gaudy gist
String simple say
Welcome wise way
Line lively lot
Puzzle pure plot
Style sanguine smile
Placid pace piles
Leon Enriquez
20 September 2017
Singapore
Children On Leashes
Children on leashes go for a walk
As they cut the lines with their minds
They jump from captivity
Running away from their crimes
Thinking about animal life...
Dogs come to mind without leashes
Biting off faces they find
But children are dangerous sometimes
So rope keeps them safely in line
Parents wave good-bye to the young ones
Hanging from their ropes with hope
Think of it as a lease on life
Taken by the portals of time
Children grow into new leashes
Provided by bosses that cry
“I have too much invested in you and your friend.”
“So I must keep you both close at hand”
“As you might guess, Mr. Y and Mr. X,
Very short leashes work best
Should keep you close to the vest”
“Economizing and company come first in this land”
“So kiss your freedom good-bye”
“And try this one on for size”
Children on leashes go for a walk
What they find is a job with more line
Harder to cut and works just fine
I bent my knee and bowed my head
And entered into a narrow space
Like a thin sheet inserted into an envelope
Sliding between infinity and the infinite past
Between love’s litanies, long lists of lives
Saintly sung in voiceless melodies
Held aloft in incense and the perfume of myrrh
And the material past of instinct left behind
On the other side of the river of oblivion
I now carried to the right side of Lethe, where
Outside only one vestibule on the path to heaven
Is filled with love, forgiveness and hope and
All other ante-cameras to nothing once thought paradise
Buried un-remembered in an eternal amnesia forgotten in
Mail rooms waiting on blocked railway lines going nowhere
Stalled forever in ignorance or in one sin or another
I like a letter pre-posted and addressed to God
Now reaching its final pre-destinated destination
Leaving behind all others of supplication and unacceptance
Martyrs destined for pleasure decomposing into waste
In the white light of Christ’s eternal presence made whole
After a death filled sleep without a heart, pulseless,
Prisoner battered and made unconscious as a stone
Now a living message to God clothed in a white wrapper
Stamped in the gold armour of suffering sanctification and love
Consciously flying on a grace given strength
Regained holiness reaching its predestined destination.
“Something happened but I know not what it is
Bestowing in permanence benign bliss fizz”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An invisible tumbler falls in space
As a subtle vibrational flicker
Something within us shifts, revealing grace
Flame in our heart shielded by a wicker
Hitherto concealed energy grid lines
Come alive as soma elixir seeps
Witness presence in surrender aligns
Cognising magnetism in nadis creep
Oscillating between form and the void
Boundaries between them begin to blur
Agreeable by current to be toyed
Purring joy in our heart begins to stir
Staid stillness in a sea of tranquil calm
Vibrant emptiness; love the healing balm
22-December-2020
Cries from the Abyss
Alone in the car, the night’s work is done,
Covered in grit, hiding out from the sun.
I smell like the sweat and the dust of the coal,
Just an empty shell and a broken soul.
I take hit after hit, and nobody gives a damn,
They take all I have, and they take all I am.
My soul is a black abyss filling the void,
By every promise broken and trust destroyed.
The sun comes up promising a brand-new day,
The night shift is over, but the pain's here to stay.
I fall in the heat, and I weep in the sun,
In this hoarded hole of hell where the damage is done.
A pit full of snakes, the lies and betrayal,
The venom of man when the handshakes fail.
The world misunderstands the weight of the fear—
Do I wear the perfume of poison that draws it all near?
I sweat it all out in the foundry's cage,
And I bled every drop on the lines of this page.
There is nothing left now, there is nothing to tell,
Just the salt of the tears and an empty shell.
But let the record show that I never quit,
I stood all alone in the face of it.
Through lies and corruption and greedy souls,
I carried the weight and I paid their tolls.
A shell is all that remains at the end,
Done in by the devils of men.
The silence is heavy, the spirit has bled,
Perhaps they'll care when words go unsaid.
-Debra
The lines of the glass blur,
the scenery blends
except for that
strange,
semi-translucent curvature.
What lay between me
and my living room,
clear yet an acrylic
boundary to freedom;
as I survey
my post nap situation,
with mortal eyes
I realize...
I’m stuck in a snow globe.
My snow globe,
with the quaint pre-Victorian
house and the sleigh and
snowman
in the front yard;
I’m tiny and my
living room furniture,
gargantuan
as though a giant
resided within my house.
A parallel world perhaps?
No, it’s my world and
at some point between
twilight sleep
and awakening,
I ended up inside
of my own globe.
My it’s cold in here,
oh no, it’s starting to snow
and this snow is not glitter...
what is the Grinch
doing in my Living room?
12-8-19
Stuck in a Christmas Globe Poetry Contest
Bobby May
My muse is on the loose in this blank page
At times I search for hours between these lines
An open notebook is an open cage
And when she leaves she's very hard to find
I try arousing her to no avail
With doodles in the margin killing time
I'll take a break, go out and check the mail
But she remains as silent as a mime
And yet I know that she will soon return
She's staring from this paper now at me
I guess you'd think by now that I should learn
When inspiration comes then there she'll be
She seems to come out when it's late at night
And always wakes me up and makes me write
original poem by Daniel Turner