Long Marker Poems
Long Marker Poems. Below are the most popular long Marker by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Marker poems by poem length and keyword.
GHOST MIRRORS
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
A sudden shimmering, in the beguiling mirror of illusions,
As in the icy eerie chill of this frozen man made pool of
Optical delusions, something within shifted and moved!
Disembodiment's outcasts to incisions resistance, cut at
The bitter edge of the graves stone marker, are these
Silhouette shadow beings, trapped within clarities maze
Of solid crystal!
Black sheets haunted, hidden behind the spiritual mirrors
Of religion, encasement's prison of soulless mists, a vaporous
Cage without iron bars, nor steels reinforcement, these are
The lost or damnation's cursed unto the light of salvation!
What skeletal keys can unlock these dimensional doorway,
And just where is the keyhole to fit, this illusionary anomaly?
At the shutters sudden flash, in ethereal creature slides
Across the screen of realities review mirror, a dark
Hauntings presence that alluding the neck eyes detection!
A dead man’s situation lies exposed, by the elemental
Reflection of lights retraction, hidden beneath the graveyards
Bones of the unsolved murder!
Within the winds of the whistling breeze, hear the unruffled
Cries of fates lost children, crying out for justices guiding
Light to save them, from the disembodied hands of their
Tormentors!
Running children of the ethereal night, whom rage in
Vengeance, against the glass prism of shattered light,
Weeping in devastation's despair, for their loss of life eternal!
At the flashing neon point of no return, the devils forsaken
Sake at the tempered glass of realism, clamoring to be
Recognized for once existing!
Within the four squared frame of reality, dwells the
Infinite pool of the ethereal realm, and in its rippling
Waves, phantom faces are shone in the tormented poises
Of the after life’s jail cell, without the possibility of
Paroles final tender mercy!
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
BEWARE THE MONTH OF HALLOWEEN IS COMING
My Missing Muse
I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.
My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.
Lately I lack poetic thought, thus I’m feeling quite distraught.
Maybe new themes will come to mind, if I read some antique poems of mine.
I have written about nature,
birds like ducks,
a child’s marker freckles,
a coffee cup.
A retired boat resting on the shore,
dirty socks behind a door.
I’ve penned 2 poems about Monet and VanGogh.
Now Degas? I don’t know.
Lady Di who danced in her royal gown,
but sadly now listens to angel sounds.
Her love for people was always increasing, but my poetic thoughts,now decreasing.
A teapot and a tuffet, diddle diddle dee.
A sweet little bundle came to me.
Blueberries grow on a bush not a tree!
Still no ideas will come to me.
Two tired tulips on my windowsill doze.
Three ladybugs on a daffodil pose.
Now is the time I need to compose!
A chorus frog’s peeping has a dancing beat,
clicking,
croaking,
repeat.
Jumping rope in heels, the teacher who tried her best.
Feathered fledglings sleeping in a Blue Egg mommy’s nest.
There is a wee granny in my apple tree.
Bring your appetite, then you’ll see!
Trees dressed in acorns
Protect our seas
Echoing owls between forest trees.
No new ideas coming into my head ?
My muse is hiding, I dread.
Cronkite,a reporting wiz,
closed the news, “That’s the way it is”
An unbiased journalist one could trust.
Integrity, sincerity and principles, a must.
TV shows,
Winter fairies on tiptoes.
Still I have the blank slate woes!
A path of moonlight, dragonflies.
Slowly summer says goodbye.
Soon the southern birds will fly.
Smell the season sunshine.
Crowds that cheer, “Alley Oop”
As basketballs find their longed for hoops.
Aunt Gloria was warm in her Irish blue.
Little boy Benjamin lost his little shoe!
His sister found it, "PEE U”
“Hooray” I cheer. Now it seems more clear, I feel my blank slate might disappear.
I’m suddenly feeling passion for more creative action!
Imagination,inspiration,determination!
My mental blankness is washing away.
New topics to write about, coming into play.
Now upside down silly fun.
To the writing teeter totter Marikate, have fun!
Dragon likes secrets but can’t keep them… UH UH! No way!
But he’s also, often confused by what he sees every single day.
Now he got interested in Area 51, and wanted a meet and greet…
Of aliens, so when he disappeared we sought him in the streets.
We checked out Hwy 51, mile marker 51, and the 51 mph speed limit sign.
I know it’s weird, but for us 51 mph is perfect, for giving speeding fines.
We checked with the Sheriff of Crazyland cause of the history they’ve had.
We were finally, really worried, and about to list him in a lost and found ad.
He told us of visiting with an alien, earlier, on a silver motorcycle, here about.
Silver jumpsuit, helmet, boots, and silver all the rest… so we put an APB out!
I was getting more than worried… As panicked, I was very quickly becoming!
Next time I’ll listen, when my little widdle Dragon starts his mouth a running!
Suddenly in the front yard, in the sky, came a flash of silver and green light!
And out popped The Green Lantern plus the Silver Surfer, in all their might!
From behind the Silver Surfer, Dragon leaped into my open and inviting arms.
Naturally with us both, landing flat upon the ground… stopping all my alarms.
The Silver Surfer had given Dragon a fun ride, but Dragon had gotten kinda lost!
He’d looked away, and Dragon being curious, had at that moment, wandered off.
Then Dragon was kidnapped by an alien gang, who wanted to sell him to a Zoo!
In Alpha Centauri! But his fire saved him, it became way too hot, when it blew!
Dragon was scared, as he learned not all alien’s are good, as he bowed his head.
Plus flying a space ship isn’t good, when fire blows all around, it has been said!
Thankfully, they’d needed an SOS, which had saved our little sweet Dragon guy.
Then the Silver Surfer & Green Lantern, brought our little one home, now wise!
Of course a naptime was in order, as we tucked him into his soft, safe bed, too.
But he now knew: Alien Super Heroes do exist, and that dreams can come true…
And to never go anywhere without, his family, with him, but we can now say…
For a Hero Dragon and his new friends, it was an Interstellar Great News Day!
Some bad guys learned that: Dragon Heroes are just too hot to handle! No cliché!
And Dragon was good… for the rest of the Day! Thank goodness! And Hooray!
Written 7-29-2016, This one is for my friend Steve….
The same striking man, the same lush, green land,
cushioned and delighted her heart in sleep.
Her romantic dream of senses was most grand
unless repeated fears began their slow, dark creep;
drowning and stabbing frights would often expand.
She would then wake, shaken, and try to understand.
This consistent dream had always just been.
Each night, the familiar reel repeated
with new chapters unfolding now and then.
Six sweet, white roses were never deleted
and repeatedly appeared at her dream’s end -
always pure white of a love intense blend.
She touched the new, glossy travel brochure,
ran her fingers along the pictured tree,
reminding herself that she was quite sure
it was the same tree her sleeping eyes did see.
This tree of certain enchanting allure
is what urged on her travel towards tomorrow's tour.
**********************************************
The guide led her slowly to the charming tree.
Its presence moved her into a faint-type sway.
When her trance-like eyes finally broke free
they took in surrounding nature’s breathtaking array,
and paused at her dream recalled mound of clay
where six, white roses lay in a love intense display.
Visibly shaken, the guide sat her gently down.
Sitting, too, he began sharing an ancient tale.
“Centuries agone, the prince loved a poorly
maiden from town. Family, foes and doctrine bid
this love to fail. They eloped, cloaked by soft darkness
draped all around. He wore armor and his beauty wore
her plain gown.”
“They returned after six love-days of bliss.
Only hours back 'fore his true love vanished.
No sign, no clue, the prince sought all amiss
and threatened the guilty would be banished.
The prince finally found her in the sea’s mist
with stab wounds he would not ever dismiss.”
“He buried his love and also a spell in this clearing.
He left no marker but a white rose for each day
he and his wife had shared perfect, loving, pairing.
So sure his spell would bring her near with love revered,
he vowed to watch over her grave using spell's sway
and to join her within three moons after she appeared."
The guide asked, “how much longer do you plan to stay?”
She glowed, “I must linger at least three moons after today.”
In his hand is a smoking rose, as the sorcerer is in flagrante delicto,
in his own image the beast has made an army of self, with one mind.
These did not come, through the matrix of a woman but were hatched,
from counterfeit tubes. Dark images, after his kind, witch grafted.
The clones will kill those, that disobey him and even worse, if they do.
What a vicious viperous brood, entering this world stillborn,
without a God-given soul and only here to kill and control.
The destroyer, with crimson legions of bestial clones, marking his throne,
making you believe, that science fiction is really a honed science.
It will be like some Atlantean phoenix, rising from the ashes of war.
A golden purple metropolis of soulless human clones possessed,
by ruthless fallen ones. The spirits of these, Antichrists have already, through science fiction. Demonically indoctrinate a generation to believe,
that they are ancient aliens, which once seeded the earth and
for man to be complete, they must receive alien DNA.
The serpent seeds have already been laid, from the town of Bedrock,
to Gattaca and to it's empirical foundation, so called science.
Deceiving, through a host of in-between's, nether never land's and
by countless other Silent hills, within his imagination.
As the beast calls down, the fire rose from the airy heavens,
in the sight of the blind seer. A death star has become complete,
with deadly accuracy. While the sleeping world, becomes an Image Nation.
Sadistic Satan tortures his own, for five months,
because they have received the marker.
They can no longer die nor be redeemed,
by the living God but by then they will know,
it is too late, within an eternal fiery prison
Intellectual progress with thee
beyond this, that, here or even there
of matter within what color, shape, size, weight, etc
All in all, we started with for example if you were to use a pencil or a pen, marker, etc. Indefinitely once that utensil is put to a piece of paper.
It begins within a point to draw a line or many lines or a circle, etc
Either way, the lines connect to another and another and another
Since the beginning of time LOVE backward is EVOL, hence vice versa
Did it all start with a point, a dot?
I think I'm tryna prove a point
Not for you, her, him or even them
It's beyond and above all this evil
Living in different people
A born autistic bipolar schizophrenic
But yet I think I know my limits
I'm in a learning process
Yet EVIL backward is LIVE
learn to live without all that evil
Voices never go away yet I try to be civil, I've been at war with myself since birth, I'm so confused with everything but I do know about Love yet I've never been in true Love, Unconditional Love since birth
every day kinda feels cursed
I struggle with what u can't imagine
my voices go from 5 to 100 at once
even famous celebrities voices
Trains, Bangs, Screams daily above all things, I struggle daily yet I need to be here for these kids. I try hard to control my own lurking evil trying to come out for I'm a born psychopath
I'm insane, not crazy, it sometimes drives me crazy but I don't let it come out, my kids need me, what's real and unreal bring me to tears, every day is a struggle I try to stay calm, I don't wanna lose it, I'll blackout and wipe
out an entire house, even a little mouse, some people are just not worth it, I gotta live for my kids. not for all this evil. I gotta break some type of cycle. but I'm on my own, with a million voices every day I struggle with suicidal thoughts but then it goes with a different face, I can't help it but I try, I STILL KNOW HOW TO FORGIVE AND LOVE, if I can do it you can do it. Evil and love don't sound right, but every day. live and evolve, live and love, evil and live don't really belong together but backward is more sensible. I could lose my mind any dam time, Dementia is in my future, Blessed to be alive this long, then again I'm barely learning to live without so much evil yet I'm filled with so much love I gotta move and move to spread more love
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
I'm just a wayward soldier, traveling
I'm just a wayward soldier, traveling
from fields and lands open meadows and farms
cities and towns country's and..
traveling soldier who's got your back up against the walls
Traveling soldier who's got your back when your up against the walls
And who traveling soldier military giant whose about too, about to fall
your gonna fall now. .
Unless you got God on your side now;
Who you gonna, who ya gonna Call now traveling soldier, soldier
In the trenches is your marker are you dead, now
Fought in battle did it matter did you live, now
When the rockets and mortars were flying over you all, all over you
And who traveling soldier military giant whose about too, about to fall
your gonna fall now. .
Unless you got God on your side now;
Who you gonna, who ya gonna Call now traveling soldier, soldier
Who you gonna cry too
Who you gonna die for
Who you gonna believe in now
Traveling soldier it's Jesus my Lord God comes shining through
Lift Him up and He will bring you through now, like He did for David and the others. . . soldier
Traveling soldier
Traveling soldier whose life you gonna rely on
Combat soldier riding the terrains in the streets of disorder
Who you gonna call now
Who you gonna cry too
When a bullet rips through you
Who ya gonna believe now
I'm just a wayward soldier, traveling
I'm just a wayward soldier, traveling
from fields and lands open meadows and farms
cities and towns country's and..
traveling soldier who's got your back up against the walls
Traveling soldier who's got your back when your up against the walls
And who traveling soldier military giant whose about too, about to fall
your gonna fall now. .
Unless you got God on your side now;
Who you gonna, who ya gonna Call now traveling soldier, soldier
Traveling soldier it's Jesus my Lord God comes shining through
Traveling soldier He's is here and He's there (everywhere)
He's everywhere just keeping your mind on Him
He'll see you through
Who you gonna ask for
Traveling soldier got my mind on the Lord
Who you gonna ask for , Jesus who ya gonna pray to the Lord, God
Traveling soldier got my mind on the Lord as I pray for you
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
August 22 2011
from Anthology "The Writings on The Wall" 2011(c)
Geena Davis in Cutthroat Island
Generously endowed with ***** and spirit, GEENA
Engaged a most unusual leading lady role. And DAVIS
Ever so skillfully brought the audience right IN
Not one scene was lacking and it was definitely CUTTHROAT
At death, she shaved her father's head for the treasure map to Cutthroat ISLAND.
Delightful costumes enhanced her role as a pirate, never better PLAYED.
And it appears that no expense was spared to make this fantastic movie. For THE
Violence, explosions, fistfights, and duels are blasting packed, UNPRECEDENTED.
If ever there were awards for the most fun movie to make, this one would be LEADING.
So often, her laughter reminded me of a child pretending, playing the pirate ROLE.
If I were a movie critic judging on entertainment in action, I would give Geena an A.
Naturally, I, who love fantasy, like her in this role; she was: pretty, happy, and FEISTY.
Clearly, she looked like a lady, but a lady would never fight a man with her FIST
Until she was seen on a wanted poster in Jamaica, there had been no SLUGGING...
Then, the pirate, Morgan Adams, and her newly purchased slave, Shaw, needed a GUN.
The Governor's militia started surrounding them; soon bodies were SLINGING,
Her getaway met stealing the Governor's carriage and fist fighting without a SWORD,
Relentlessly pursued, fired upon by cannons with the carriage teetering, SWINGING,
Over ruts, out of town, wide eyed, escaping, and laughing, the epitome of RUTHLESS,
Real passions for a good fight, challenges, and she made pirating seem fun! AND
Throughout the action, suspense captivated; scenery and costumes were BEAUTIFUL.
In the end, she killed her murderous Uncle Dawg in self-defense using a CANNON
She saved Shaw; remained behind briefly with the treasure. No guns were FIRING.
Luckily, they dove off of Dawg’s ship before it exploded, watched by every PIRATE.
After the explosion debris had settled, up from the ocean emerged both he and SHE
Next, a marker barrel popped up. The treasure was brought on board; oh, the WOWS
Divvying was postponed; pirating would continue with Capt. “Morgan” . . .gutsy to ME!
© Name withheld for contest
February 17, 2010
Poetic form: Acrostic and End Line Word
Twas the night of the Ladies League Final and the atmosphere was tense
Only two teams were competing, no loyalties allowed on the fence
There could only be one winner, the team with strongest will
And if you lost you were losers, and losing meant you were swill!
The teams were made up of eight players, all with an aim straight and true
Each woman stood there determined and each with their own point of view
Still arguments were frequent and blood was often shed
Only last week Blackout Bertha got smacked in the gob, now she’s dead!
The marker called all to order, and with a toss of a coin they were off
The Fiddler and Firkham Ladies verses the Wenches from ‘Th’owd Pig N Trough’
The Captain of the Firkham was called upon to name
the player who was starting this dangerously ill fated game.
She shouted ‘Hot Legs Hilda - will play for the Firkham pride’
she was the one who’d smacked Bertha, you know, the lass that had died!
Well ripples ran though the public and scowls came across from the Trough
But they sent out their best in ‘Fat Freida’ and suddenly the game was off!
Hilda set a steady pace, with a one and a two, double three
As she stepped back off the hockey she gave Frieda a stab in the knee
But Freida was not to be mithered she went one, double two, double five
And folks sitting round the ale tables thought, ‘We’ll none of us get out alive!’
It was plain to see from the offing that this match was doomed from the start
As each woman rankled the other with poke or cough or a fart!
Eventually the pair of them, understood that the game must be won
And Frieda left Hilda three Arrows – her Captain said, ’This’ll be fun!’
Now Hilda was a psychopath who hated to lose, yes it’s true
But what she did next took all by surprise; it came totally out of the blue
She ambled across to her handbag and pulled out a crossbow of size
And with that she let loose an arrow that hit Frieda right between eyes.
You could have heard a pin drop as Freida lifelessly fell to the floor
As her Captian straddled the bloodied corpse her face took on a look that was sore
She turned to the Firkin’s Captain and said quite resigned and all meek
‘By Heck June not another – Oh well, same time, same place next week??’