Long Massed Poems
Long Massed Poems. Below are the most popular long Massed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Massed poems by poem length and keyword.
The undulations in this land of old
Where giants walked on greens and golds
They massed in herds and ruled the sky
But many laid down and said their last goodbye
Volcanoes were common, not like today
Eruptions aplenty is molten spray
Ferns and dragonflies as big as can be
Forests so massive, where hidden eyes could see
We were but young in the land of the old
It was many years for us humans to unfold
Sadly by then all the gems had gone
They must have wondered where they went wrong
Neighbours they were, even the strong and the weak
They did what was right, for their survival they seeked
For every so often from the land of the old
They are found in our strata, as their past is told
These animals of old, we see in museums and books
They are part of our past, and well worth the look
It's hard to imagine that these beasts roamed our earth
But every single one, for their time they were worth
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-4.php
There’s an air of excitement
Amongst most cultured of Spain
Centred around a little hamlet
On the Andalusian Plain.
They are arriving by the plane load,
Helicopter, and even limousine
For the opening performance of
An event never ever before seen.
It’d the Ballerina, late of Barnsley
And her dance partner the Toreador
Who, after months of rehearsal
Are now ready to take the floor.
Every seat has been pre-sold,
Every planned performance full,
For the much awaited Ballet
Sugar Plum Fairy Meets the Bull
The costumes are a mixture
Of Tutus and Suits of Light,
The music is traditional except
During the Finale Bull Fight,
When the orchestra fades down
As though heard from afar
To be quickly replaced by
Massed Flamenco guitar.
The reviews have been amazing
From the international press
Invited to a short preview
In full costume and dress.
Charles the Third and His Consort
Have just entered through the doors,
We leave as the curtain rises to
Thunderous, rapturous applause.
Daydream: fragile as untempered glass.
Coming to life on clouds' rainy sky.
Building hopes it will at last surpass
other dreams we had and watched go by.
Wind's rustling leaves can nudge a dream,
though often found in bird's lovely song,
dandelion seeds wafting by streams,
sunset's reds massed in brilliant throng.
When you capture a daydream to own,
it will need some substance to sustain;
strength of desire, with future unknown,
don't let strength falter, people disdain.
Hold tight a daydream, or it may fade.
Once released, it may not reappear.
If, for moments, it lingers in shade,
It may become mist and disappear.
November 22, 2022
for Don't Quit Your Daydreams poetry contest
by Craig Cornish
6th Place
Searched within the walls of my feeble mind
In brain matter scattered, but could not find
proof that orange is just humdrum,
To this conclusion I have come -
if orange is ordinary ~ I'm blind.
Brighter than most, it stands out in a crowd.
Bold enough not to be bullied or cowed.
Tones of setting sun refined.
Shade of ripe cantaloupe rind.
Don't accuse it of being brash or loud.
Lilies and tulips massed in flower bed,
More lovely than roses of crimson red.
Tangerine citrus and its zest,
fruit that many consider best,
Breakfast juice, orange marmalade on bread.
Not ordinary is orange to me.
If you think so look again and you'll see
Orange vest could save your life -
Fields of yams and pumpkins rife -
Coral breasted robins who fly so free.
:::............:::.............:::.............:::
3/4/16 Color Contest: Orange
Sponsor: Silent One
Used to jab the raggedly tagged faggots b/c sad crabby lads have had their tags grabbed badly yet wagged their drab as stag shabbily as it was dabbed from what came from the tab that came from the lab too reserved to gab at the slab of the drab of the somewhat cab like scrap that gave somewhat of crap before it shat itself after meeting the scapula that became like Dracula before it whacked half a spatula sized radically habitual, mystical ridiculously perpetual medically perpetual cyclically repeating ritual that happens to coincide with the Tik Tok enabled cellular tested, wrestled, meticulously meshed, caressed, messy radical, half-hazardously sexual, wrecked ineffectual, critical, still not quite literal, but mimical, of a cylindrical, syntactically, sporadically, lackadaisically, unanimously, fastened to the meticulously dastardly, massed, blasted, gassed, wrestled, brass, brash, bastardly, bass-like, mass mighty, hat-having, hiss-heaving, bereaving, belief-bound of a be more than beneath the beat up and bleak beak bitten breezy bean and cheese pile of raked leaves style bowl of chips and dips script that the lady with the bloods and crips lip gives as people sit with a ship to New York style trip seem to forget as they lose their because of the tip that hits one when instead of their mitt that would grip somewhat of a catch in a fit that would lick the one who sits with the kit of the fictionally fit mystery that blissfully bit into a tic while it in turn was lit with the mix of the hysterically, rarely, heretically, medically dissed fizz of some **** that would knit a new tit because of an antipsychotic, moronic blip on the screen of some that geographically, sporadically, masterfully admittedly mentioned, could cause retention of some invention, that one would mention if only and if one was sick, with a little grit left abreast a messy Mexican directionally challenged malice but talented callous chalice wielding balanced rally style for a carousel encampment trampled on and possibly tampered with tampon treated, bleached, beaten...
When she crossed her legs,
an electric silk slipped over the jewel-studded sides
of a blushing chameleon.
Sand clung to her thighs,
a tapestry of flaxen crumbs on amber skin.
Thigh orientated beguilements
spread their plush landscapes.
Her shoulders were disrespectful –
I liked that. The massed pipes and drums
of her braided hair marched out of sight -
muted instruments of mutual destruction.
I imagined an emerald turtle born from a native legend
lived in her watchful heart.
I was alone for a thousand years
drinking her inward.
I wanted to ask her
but what?
I guessed that whatever her answer,
there would be no sign of small pink wings
and cutesy fairy smiles.
Besides it was then she looked my way
with that cool ‘-you’ stare.
When I got back alone to the hotel,
not having said a word to her,
I looked at my reflected sun-slapped face,
it was as unstable as dry sand,
yet the syllabary of her thighs
had so much more to say
as my face fell apart onto the wet floor-tiles.
© a day ago
Dusty rose and orange gold when daybreaks;
And burnished reds and mauve at setting sun.
The mountains in shades of beauty awakes;
And retires to the same when day is done.
The mountains are massed in riotous blooms,
While sometimes obscured by lemony clouds,
As heady scents drift all the afternoons,
And into nights, appearing in dark shrouds.
Now and then crowned by such lovely rainbows,
Before birds sing to the warm lilac nights,
So still in dreams of June's golden yellows,
With its humming life, and butterfly flights!
Daytime and nighttime bring endless beauty,
Through sunlit mountains hued so profusely.
Act 1: Earth
Water
Droplets fall to earth
Meniscus lens on the world -
Wellspring of life born
Air
Gaseous brew forms
Invisible elixir -
A breath of fresh air
Fire
Destructive, cleansing
But giver of warmth and light –
Fire’s dual perspective
Act 2: Plant
Leaf
Spring buds burst afresh
Summer leaves decay so soon –
Death lords over all
Palm
Giant grass not tree
These swaying centurions -
Lives must co-exist
Sunflower
Massed bright sunflowers
Heads turn in obedience -
Sun sets on their lives
Act 3: Animal
Slug
Slug saw juicy leaf
Raced to eat this rare delight!
Bird swooped, slug no more
Ant
Ants march home in line
Communal desire on show -
Nature's will prevails
Butterfly
Winged beauty flutters
Abstract painting on her back -
Looks often deceive
Act 4: Man
Crescent
Curvaceous glory
The home of wealthy leisure -
Rich built upon poor
Gaudi
Parabolic waves
Acknowledge natural forms -
Colour outlaws grey
Dubrovnik
Sun shines on pan tiles
The town's uniform new shell -
War scars fade slowly
Act 5: Machine – the final chapter
Computer
Bits, bytes, ones, zeros
So Charles and Ada conceive -
IT’s Pandora’s box
Robot
Man and beast replaced
Same task over and over -
Objective carnage
AI
Boolean bible
Artificial ignorance -
Logical ending
Postscript: Evolutionary finale
Obliteration
Human destruction of earth -
Annihilation
Poetry Soup Featured Poem: August 16, 2020
The eastern seaboard
Of the United States
As the sisters three
Evil dictates
Population massed
As the floods rise
Lands disappearing
Is the earth in demise
In typical fashion
We fight amongst ourselves
For higher ground
A higher shelf
Woman and children
Allegedly first
Money changes
It's the size of the purse
The frenzy quietens
As the sisters appear
Dressed in death
Many thousands in fear
Families scatter
Trampled under
Human stampede
Bodies asunder
As they slaughter in spree
The government acts
Maybe this time
They will believe the facts
The NORAD Complex
In the Cheyenne Mountain
A solution in discussion
This time, one we can count on
Hidden in it's hangers
Are weapons so great
For these sisters three
Will learn their fate
Around the table
The orders are given
To save our planet
From it's impending midden
Three Kestrel fighters
From a war torn past
Will have on board
A lifeline to cast
On this morning of thought
Our pilots of thee
From our silo's launched
To protect the world from the three
Their Ritual in the Forest followed by The Three Events >
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy4.php
Some claimed that Camelot was noble,
a place built upon the stony ground
of good-intentions,
it was new and fangled,
it was progressive
in a time of little progress.
I have seen it, I was there,
always there was the choking fog
of intrigue,
even the unintrigued grabbed their throats
least subversive thoughts escaped them.
Old King Arthur was deliriously inane,
the people pitied him and did not love him,
some said he was an alien lizard being,
some claimed that he was soulless,
or so it seemed,
and yet he was forever babbling
about restoring the soul of the Kingdom.
Corruption grew like a malignant Ivy.
The women of Camelot were constantly angry,
their anger made them fat with a wishful bile.
Many females wanted to be men,
yet strangely enough they hated the menfolk.
The men were fragile and sensitive,
Merlin had cursed them
with the fey magic of 'Low T'.
Trust me, it was a great day
when the kingdom fell
to the massed hordes of disaffected
and disgruntled Goths.
Fresh blood was drunk from royal goblets,
children with wooden swords
chased the pork out of feral gangs
of squealing hogs
until they were as nakedly pink
as plucked chickens.