Long Open Poems
Long Open Poems. Below are the most popular long Open by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Open poems by poem length and keyword.
Soooooo.... this is just a random song I made up, inspired by a wacky dream I had...which was inspired by the Undertale game. I've been obsessed with one of the characters who really likes....you guessed it.... Spaghetti!
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A one, a two, A ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!-
Mettah couple creepers today,
A scary flower and a silly ghostay,
But all was bettah when I stopped at a table,
I couldn’t ree-sist, I wasn’t able
Cause there it was,
Right in the way~
A platter of the best spag heh heh taaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Frozen and ready!
Someone's made it just for mee heeeeeeeee
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I loveah good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee-heaaat
Met a couple skellies today,
They told me that my voice was kinda prettay
I didn’t believe um but they seemed so sincere
I think that they had one too many ah beer!
Must go well with this pasta delish!
I might takah lick right off the dish! (really....? :/)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Luke-warm and ready!
Someone's made it just for meee heeeeeeee (PARMESAN CHEESE!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I love a good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee heaaat
TOMATO SAUCE--!!!!
--NOODLES!!!!!
MUSHROOMS--!!!!
GARLIC!!!!!!!
YUM!!!!!
GARLIC BREAD!!!!!!!
Turn up the music,
Strike up the band!!!!
Hell, these monsters got the beat of the land!
Make way for THE chef!
The Great Papyrus, high def!
Clear the floors,
Open the doors!!!
Cause there's always always always ROOM FOR MORE
Room for MOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRREEEEE.... .
(Key change!!!!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Frozen and ready!
Someone's made it just for mee heeeeeeeee(random gospel lady: HALLELUJAAAAAH!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I loveah good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee-heaaat
(One more time now!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Lukewarm and ready!
Someone's made it just for mee heeeeeeeee (HEARTBURN!---HURRAY!!!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I loveah good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee-heaaat
Especially with lottsaaahhhh……MEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAT
Balls!
: D
A rosebud blooms- begins its earthly ride
through life; with sun and rain it must contend.
And day by day, its petals open wide-
all stages lead to fullness in the end.
When cold winds make it wither in the Fall-
as life and death, their endless duet sing,
the petals drop. It then awaits the call
of life- awakened with the coming Spring.
The tireless earth holds promise for new fruit,
though signs of death are surely there to see.
The rose relies on wisdom of its root
to make it bloom when Winter sets it free.
The seasons of all things hold much in store-
for life brings death which brings new life once more.
October 18, 2020
For The Contest: Have You Published?
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
A poem from my 2nd book, "Heartfelt Sonnets"
published 2017, 94 pages, 100 Sonnets.
Sold on Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com
Mouth
The Female Version
Moist sensual lips
Open to receive kisses
Undying love projected
Tongue to find the unexpected
Home to many phases of love
The Mouth
The Male Version
Moist sensual desires
Opening the lips, moaning pleasures
Undying probes as your lips devour me
Tongue quivers inside joyous pleasures
Home to the warmth of loves flow
The Mouth
Ancient Version
Moments of prayer bring us to silence
Opening, lips ready to kiss the heavens
Underneath passionate tongues seek out pure bliss
Touching the will of god, to be happy
Humbled as my lips touch the Serenity of love
Penned by Seren Roberts and Arthur Vaso 2013
Notes: The first verse is actually a poem penned by Seren Roberts here on soup. I thought it was very well done, and saw similarities to a very ancient poem below. Her poem also made me smile, and thus came the next 2 verses. This is less a collaboration and more of a hijacking with duct tape! :) At the same time as reading her poem, I was also researching woman poets who wrote love and sensual poems from the 7th to 12th centuries basically the Golden Age of Islam, in what is now called the Middle East.
If I keep you in my eyes until the world blows up I’d still want you more . . .
I know too well those marvelous lips.
By Allah, I’m not lying if I say I love sipping their finerthanwine
delicious dew . . .
When you break at noon you’ll need a drink and you’ll find my mouth
a bubbling spring and my hair a refugeshade.
Hafsa bint al-Hajj Arrakuniyya (twelfth century)
All mothers of this planet has given a painful birth to us.
They are extremely delighted to hold you in their arms.
Yes, mothers, they were born to give all they are for just a smile.
They are vigilant in protecting you from any harm.
They worry when you are out of their sight.
Even if you were adopted, they will always love you.
Yes, mothers can be very stern to their children when they misbehave.
They know that discipline will help you to survive this dangerous life.
When you are on your own, mothers will always worry about you.
wondering and anxiously waiting to hear or see you.
To run to you with open arms and smother you with kisses.
Even her son or daughter’s children, she wants to love them as she loved you.
A mother is calm when you are crying because of a boo boo or a broken heart.
She will hold you in her arms without saying a word and all will be right.
She wipe every tear from your eyes with a smile and a loving hug.
She delights in any gift that you made and put it on her refrigerator of honor.
At night, mother will look in on you and smile at her cherished loved ones.
Today I was totally awestruck,
Found many family photos
When we had moved
That had been packed,
but not numbered
in this mystery box,
Laying quietly, naively,
It’s contents
Blew off my socks.
I stared with unbelief
At this picture,
As my ancestry was revealed,
It was hiding under some
Documents, concealed,
From view, I shook the
Document, out fell this gem
From the 19th century, unbelievable,
Inconceivable,
The child in the photo
My grandfather as a baby,
With his grandfather.
His mother,
My great grandmother.
My grandfather
Sent this to me
In nineteen seventy,
It was put in a box
And forgotten, until today,
A scene from Turkey
A place far away,
But meant something
To me, so dear and so close,
Those old-fashioned clothes,
The generations between us
Seemed to disappear,
As I heard my papou
Whisper from heaven,
In my ear,
So glad you this found
This box and photo
Today, did you not
Notice it’s half open lid,
Its contents hid
For a century and a half,
It was time you knew
My grandfather too!
PAPOU IN GREEK MEANS GRANDFATHER
The Voice…
On a dark night that was darker than my pain,
nothing was there for me except to complain.
I hid myself in the emptiness of bed.
Nothing was there except loneliness instead.
I heard a sound that was not like any sound.
Joyously called my name, sought me, and then found.
He told me to get up, wake up look at dawn.
The darkness of the night soon will be all gone.
The voice told me that morning dawn, full of light;
has the power to wash darkness from its night.
The voice asked me about the days of my youth.
That I am old and grey, with forgotten truth.
I asked him that who are you, and what are you?
I don't know you, didn’t see you passing through.
Who are you that suddenly came to my room?
Aren’t you God, and I am, meeting my doom?
I called your name many times when I was young.
I prayed your name day and night with broken tongue.
Now, you are calling my name in this day and age;
not worth talking to you; anger creates rage.
I am too old, and I had too many sins,
Living is the only game that nobody wins.
Go and bother another soul beside me,
I am tired of you; you shall never be.
The voice told me that I was out of my mind.
And I have been beguiled, as though I am blind.
He told me that he was with me the whole time.
He let me to fly in this paradigm.
He told me that he is the end of a start.
He is the love that cries from an aching heart.
He told me that he is water in the spring.
He is those nightingales who so blithely sing.
He told me that he is bottom, and he’s up.
He is grapes, and he is wine in the same cup.
He told me that he gave feathers for a flight.
He made it so the sun shall set within night.
I asked him if I could see him with my eyes,
I will be like the moon, lighting up the skies.
That I looked for any sign to believe him,
with just all promises, dreams maybe all grim.
He told me to wake up, open up my eyes,
and see what is to see, a blessing in disguise.
I did open my eyes saw a glowing bright,
like a drifting shadow, in an ocean of light.
I saw my son saying, "Wake up! Wake up! dad",
What’s the matter with you? Are you going mad?
5/14/16 Haloo
my grandmother’s name is Verna
some look at her and see section 8, welfare checks, abuse and neglect
they see insufficiency, ignorant independency, a trench-condemned wreck
no collegiate education, no high-school diploma, they see a lack of dedication
they look in my grandmother’s eyes and with the snap of their fingers subject her to poverty, they banish her to being a pawn in their monopoly
they gratuitously perpetuate their hate and generously project their mental state
and to this? my grandmother smiles, she says Ladybug, don’t worry about me, they don’t know
They don’t know that my grandmother has built diamonds of men in the rough
she has made roses of women out of concrete
mountains move at the sound of her step
she makes even what is long lost feel kept
her smile could make a fish breathe out of water
i could posses no humanly title more noble than her granddaughter
there is no greater honor that I am allowed
no duer justice of mine than to make her proud
my grandmother sculpted my spirit with calloused hands and a heart overflowing, imbuing me with a strength born not of privilege, but of fiercely earned knowing
they don’t know about the lullabies she’s sung through thin walls, how many time she’s picked me up from my falls, and more importantly how she doesn’t keep count
her motherhood, a tapestry woven with threads of sacrifice and strands of grace, a masterpiece unseen by eyes that only value pedigree and place
my grandmother has raised generations of excellence. don’t believe me? just open your eyes-you never met a woman so sagacious-so wise-so gracious-even with my words you couldn’t surmise
I’m talking about a charisma you wouldn’t believe, a resilience you couldn’t conceive, a wit you could never deceive, a love you wouldn’t know how to receive,
if i died and said I never knew unconditional love, I would be a bold-faced lie
i think my grandma would raise up out her grave and set the record straight with a fire burning in her eye
hell, call it blasphemy but I think my grandmother’s touch could make a blind man see
her soul breaking chains and setting lives free
my grandmother’s name is Verna
and if God was a woman on earth, then I’ve been a disciple since birth
Supposing my fingers could talk
while I'm on a cold winter walk
one hand, mitten-bound
the other, gloved sound-
I bet with each other they'd balk.
With gloves, fingers need to be steered
through openings not truly geared
where digits get stuck;
yet mittens bring luck
with wide open space fully cleared!
My gloved fingers- each tucked alone
just fabric between every bone
no company there
in the frigid air
perhaps not the best comfort zone.
My fingers in mittens each smile
enjoying their warm, cozy style
each share body heat
in one place complete-
so thankful for space-versatile!
December 16, 2022
Contest: Of What Use Are Gloves To Fingers
That Only Understand Mittens?
Sponsor: John Lawless
I felt ashamed when I realized that, in fact,
Life is a masquerade party, where I stood without a mask,
I wandered with my uncovered face beneath the chandeliers,
Among specters and shadows hiding their secrets under false veneers.
In a vast hall, where echoes were hushed,
I, with my raw sincerity, like a secretive flush,
Watched them waltz, twirling in a tune’s embrace,
Their masks softly glinting under the lights and disgrace.
Alive, beneath their mask, was an unwritten story,
Hidden deep, like a treacherous wound, in all its fiery glory,
I looked, feeling the shame grow climatically within,
When I understood that unmasking was my only sin.
Looking at my empty palms, the missing rings,
Fear embraced me as if I were weaving illusions, not real things,
In this gathering, where no one is what they seem,
I now fear that without a mask, I'm a rare being on this dream’s seam.
It’s strange on this stage to be the only authentic actor,
Not wearing the same charm as the elastic imposters,
They play scripts they have no intention to write,
While I bleed dreams on the planks, in an act of bravery, without hypocrisy, stark and bright.
It’s hard to understand that, indeed, people adore the ball,
They dance a fake tango, a feigned happiness they install,
But I am bare, transparent, unmade-up, and warm,
I’ve revealed my heart in rhythms of undiluted sincerity’s form.
And the shame I feel blooms in my chest like a wound,
Seeing how everyone wears makeup and they seem to me so misaligned,
I now long to wear a mask too, though I’d be just a feather,
Flying through the vast halls, where facades dance together, all tethered.
I leave the party, thoughtful and with a leaden silence,
I retreat behind the curtains of night, to watch the stars, the moon's dalliance,
And yet, in my discreet darkness, I hope to find her,
Who, maybe, also hides behind a mask, waiting to lay it aside, to be surer.
Should I return, don a mask, or remain with an open face?
Should I play a role or always be raw and unchased?
I watch as the dawn unfolds and The Question within me remains unresolved,
While the rising sun illuminates an actor with body and soul unaltered.
A poem by me
You can take the breathe from my body. You can have my soul ripped open wide. You can have my mind, the wanderer it is. You can have this hand to hold. You can hold the very essence of my being in the palm of your hand. Do with me what you wish. I offer myself to you as nothing more or less than who I am. Down to my very core I am yours. Feel my heart beat in this box with your name upon its lid. Forever I will be a part of you, and you always a part of me. I lay here bare, naked. With wrists torn open bleeding for you. You are my soul, my heart outside my body. I give you all I am and ever will be without hesitation. You have won me. A war long fought. You turned a cold damaged soul into a bleeding heart. I give you all I am. Scars and all.