Long Novel Poems
Long Novel Poems. Below are the most popular long Novel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Novel poems by poem length and keyword.
In America today
our president will stand at the Nation's
sacred podium (a canned speech) will read from
a prompter, he will bluster, pontificate the Democrat lie --
how freedom is truly the apple of his Marxist Party's enslaving
Eye -- Freedom on life-support, on oxygen, bed ridden, being
prepared to die. No justice from the Justice Department, no law
from a Lawless FBI, as for the CIA, collecting their paychecks
from Soro's flavors of the day -- let us Freedom loving people
join hands and pray...there's not another rigged election, for the
other side seems not to care, whether fair, theirs a dastardly evil
deception.
In America today, a deplorable decay, Freedom seeming little more
than an erudite concept: flashy lyrics of a pretentious poem or song. The Devil
in our politics, the Devil is man's/woman's greed -- little Devils
uniting together, selling their souls -- Freedom not just a novel
fanciful premise ~ God sent His Christ to light our way; to open
humanity's many cherished, diversified, ethnic doors to Stars and Stripes forever, so that Freedom can seed and wonderfully grow. Blessed Spirit of God's Freedom Loving Nature, on vivid dazzling display! -- Let freedom in the heart's and minds of all Father's varied, precious Lands, freely blossom, and more of said glorious same, in His Name, righteously, freely sow!
As the day drifts off to slumber
I lay awake to relive the day
So many memories in my head
Thoughts echoing good & bad
My mind begins combing through my scrapbook of memories, a picture book filled with some victories & defeats
"Hark! Could that be the voices from those who shared in my joy?" And the laughter from those who relished in the pain of my defeat
Thumbing through the pages one by one emotions invoke a smile, a simple pleasure, while reminiscing what I've accomplished & defeats I've overcome
A fleeting glimpse of a page not seen However I know this memory, its pursuit of re-creation is relentless in pace
A replica of that day, rebuilt by the precision of the mind
The air was cool, that morning in May, the trees were replacing what autumn took away
Gardenias, Dianthus, & Lantanas all there
Blossoms thriving in the cool crisp air
Observing myself through eyes that aren't mine, a stalking butler waiting to refill your wine. Passing by daisies, lilies pansies of all kinds, these are amazing thoughts that have filled my mind
I nod at a woman while passing a bench
She smiled a smile with such beauty & poise, God's perfection showed in her joy
Now sitting there motionless, so still,
Nose in a romance novel written by Steel
Now to the clearing where marble pillars were place, underneath the archway my lady in red, stands & waits
I thought our hearts were like magnets that pulled us both in. I would be the negative & she's without a doubt the positive.
Now comes the ending, here's how it all goes. I asked her to marry me, but she said no. This memory is not sad nor does it leave me in despair.
It's just a lesson in life, a memory that remains, it's kept in my picture book within my minds domain.
Sorry that I cut the ending a little to short, some of that memory was inappropriate, but you can imagine the same hot, juicy romance Steel wrote in her books.
R.K.H
Perennials bloom around me; their fragrance permeates the air.
As I read a novel in the shade, my hammock sways.
Radiant is this garden spot, for the weather is always fair
And anytime that I look up, the ocean meets my gaze!
Downward from our lovely home is a beach where my family
Is able to enjoy themselves in water warm and clear.
Serenity is the major perk of our island property.
Embracing sunshine, sea, and sky, we’ve found paradise here!
Written Dec. 25, 2015 For the Paradise-Acrostic Contest of John Hamilton
(I can only dream about having my own island, but for me this would be paradise!)
AN EPITAPH
Will liberty ring out again,
beneath the cries of human rights
can freedom's name survive,
dissembling and lies;
Will duty from its prison flee
throw off its shackled memory,
is respect just a word,
spoken,but never heard:
How long, how long 'til I becomes thee ?
when ,when, will ego bend the knee,
the victim is not me
my friend, my friend,it's we.
Who rings this bell of liberty
truly sounds,our culture's death knell.
YESTERDAY
Where are our
yesterdays
here today
gone tomorrow-
a page in history
oftime forgotten,
the past buried-
fragments
of memory
unearthed by a voice
a song
a photograph-
lived again
through a sepia lens
ACROSS A ROOM
Beauty is something we see
with individual eyes,
deep within our soul,resides
attraction,waiting ,asleep
yet longing to be aroused;
Our need to be recognised,
a desire to recognise,
reciprocate and hold close
subtle scents,inherent and
so universally held;
A certain something unique,
intercourses between eyes,
a novel read by a glance
in seconds,might last a lifetime
indelibly imprints,love;
Only time,can reveal
imperfections of conceit,
when ego retreats and
aborts the frail foetus in
pools of recrimination.
Listen to me read these poems on youtube under name ichthyschiro
In the quiet creases of your wallet,
Among bills and borrowed time
you carry a moment of me
A photograph turned talisman
Tucked away with ur metro card....
folded between everyday storms
and small sunlit errands.
I wonder, if he knows
Those pictures arent just paper to me,
it is a relic of our almost-forever,
A forever that brushed past us and kept going
Like I am the bookmark
in the unfinished novel of us,
I wonder…
when he pays for tea
does the shopkeeper notice
how his fingers lingers a second longer
And he pauses for a heartbeat
Right over the pocket
Where my picture lives
And though the photograph is still,
the story is breathing
paused, yet not ended
waiting for the day
he no longer needs ink and paper
to remember
how much I mean to him.
~Nilashree
Once and forever upon infinite times it seemed the
maze of shattered fragments tattered mosaic and
broken shards and void of nowhere in the shredded
tapestry and guillotine of darkness had descended
into an arid garden shrivelled mind and suffocating
clouds in bouts of shrouds of rigor mortis wriggling
from a long gone heaven into a self-imposed garrote
and suicidal tempest’s guardian hanging by a thread
Midnight was hell in plantations of Guernica as the
dark side of orbital shadows festered popsicles of
ragged icy water derelict vessels towards demise
Angel is too small a word for the spoon descending
into my heart cuddling the spikes and spices sprinkled
scoops of hoops amazing graces when passion and
extinct desire kindled kinder spirits and inflamed a
perished forlorn moon from craters of lonely desolation
Synchronicity enveloped the mutual satellites of love and
sensual perfume fragrant consummating dreams and
screams of joy’s exuberance rescued from pre-mortal final
fasciculation the peaceful miracle of vibrant life and living
11th February 2017
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
Have you ever been taken in by the story
Delivered some place foreign and strange
Yet familiar and true?
Of course you have, as all humans do.
Vocalized, visualized, subliminally dreamed
That is our lot.
From bedtime stories to books and movies
Our lives leap gladly into the novel.
And oh what awaits us there!
Portals and corridors
Into what transcends the individual
And so transcends even our humanity.
I dreamt once of being a bridge
Literally not figuratively
And I’m sure I’ve also dreamt of being
More animate nonhuman things
The dream after all
In all its animate and inanimate forms
Is simply a creation of our mind
Our mind made illusively flesh and fiber
Fueled with all the tinder of waking experience
But brought to a frothing boil
By something more
Something that only comes alive
Taking form and shape
In the telling.
(11/15/25)
Hierarchical paradigm of the Amish community
After reading the novel titled
Broken English by Paul L Gaus...
accentuating, exhibiting, incorporating...
the Amish, whose long history of farming
with horses and mules, dates back
to when horse-drawn plows
first used to break up the earth.
While some newer Amish farms
use tractor-drawn equipment,
many Amish farmers still prefer
to use horse-drawn implements.
Said sturdy and simple contrivance
sports prominent envious society
regarding yours truly,
who feels tethered to capitalist construct
gagging me with unremitting yoke.
Hence, I experienced being woke
at mine incompatibility
inured my entire life
to the abstract codas, credo, dogma,
ethos, karma, mores, precepts...
constituting western civilization.
How quaint to bare witness, where townsfolk
congregate to resolve community conflicts
suspicious should an hyperconscious,
and pugnacious "English" poke
their figurative noses
where they don't belong kinsfolk
of sect who sell dried tobacco
foodstuffs, crafts evoke
hankering (regarding yours truly,
a run of the mill doubting Thomas)
to become linkedin
with a voluntary community
less restrive than
the so called "plain" people,
unencumbered with materialistic trappings
whereby assignments delineated
governed jump-started
by age and gender at birth
men assigned physical tasks,
while women linkedin to domestic role,
members of the sect
know their role from cradle to grave.
Aside from delineating
responsibilities predicated
on whether an individual
child, teen, or adult,
their culture allows,
enables and provides
self reliant lifelong skill sets
whipping a proud member into
topnotch shape of body, mind and spirit.
In desolate wasteland of deprivation,
sauntering languidly with my indigent life,
I tried tolerantly for so long
to smoothen the angularities
of our beleaguered bond.
Swirling in the egregious whirlpool
of searing indignation,
sucked into the chasm
of despondent desertion,
I searched in vain
for the pathway to your heart.
The feeling of dismal denial
made me abandon the pursuit.
But had I cultivated
the art of endurance
and stayed on resolute,
I’d have seen the butterfly
of yearning return reticent,
flitter in the air of changed time
on its wings of dream
in my sensuous sky
with the lattice of your charisma.
With the whispering wind
it’d have created the music,
harmonized with the rhythm of my heart,
where longing would have danced
with the ripples of rhapsody,
roll between you and me,
entwine us forever.
Purifying the renascent craving called love,
I’d have weaved the novel design of desire
in the tapestry of heavenly togetherness,
that wouldn’t have frayed
till the end of time.
Did i a) release a co-written novel
----------------with a guy who promised his sister and created a book of own poetry
-------2) sat beside my son and heard him giggle
-------W)hat is going with his let hers and numb bears
-------X) look sideways see the chortled smile
-------A as in again) what is a bove and have you ever seen a lert
-------S)pent our moments slowly
---------------------------W wonce a gain
----------------------------------- -Oncest a up on at Thyme
----------------------------------- ------come on the time bit was good
--------S)hould it be a shoop
---------No umber ember embers remember-
----------1) eventually every photograph contains a ghost
----------H)ow fast is an instant tan bus
----------T)he Mother and the mother
----------------------------------- dying in the same weak
------------D) id i use the wrong week
------------B) four-
------------E) very word every head
----------------------------p and d
-------------I) s made--u-------o
----------------------------------- --w
----------------------------------- --n
-------------T) he fourth forth in forth in this sentence
----------------------------------- -----------------is the scotish firth which is a river
---------------But the firth of fourth is real
---------------I)f i comment but don't mean it
---------------w)ould that be a commentnot
---------------W)hat no comment---------------------r a line at time a
---------------B)reaking the-----------------------------e
----------------------------------- s--------------------------i
----------------------------------- p--------------------------r
----------------------------------- e--------------------------r
----------------------------------- e--------------------------a
----------------------------------- d--------------------------b
----------------R)oadrunners can fly
----------------O) nce heard a really old guy in
----------------------------------- -the kiss of Glasgow
-----------------R_eprimand some dope ladden chuckles
-----------------S)oon changed when asked through smile if they had
-----------------anymore
----------------If ifs could change their names what ifs would be galore
----------------w)h
----------------?)