Long Originals Poems
Long Originals Poems. Below are the most popular long Originals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Originals poems by poem length and keyword.
I have lit my tenth bonfire
since I retired two months ago
this one is gorgeous like the others
a bit different
she is burning all confidential records
of children with 504 plans at my school
no one needs these copies
and I do not want them falling into the wrong hands
my principal has the originals
and I have uploaded all the 504’s into a computer system
I watch two hundred pages go up in smoke
confident they will remain confidential
the bonfire pops and crackles her appreciation
she loves cardboard and paper the best
I have tried to feed her plastic, but that has a horrific smell
So now I keep her on a strict paper diet
An Artist’s Dream
NYC Culture Collective August 2018
The SoHo District – imagine –
Art center of Manhattan!
Trendy upscale boutiques and
Restaurants, “Ms Yoo” in this plan
It was in August when the art show
Daughter and friend designed it all,
The friend had her book signing,
Daughter kept the event oiled
Watercolors placed artistically
Realistic florals and landscapes
Imaginary scents of roses and lilies
Lined the wall of plenteous space
Ellen and Michael there to sing
Keyboard, guitar and pretty voices
Heightened the evening’s experience
Music softens the day; one rejoices
Thirty or more persons from over the world
Some met for the first time as music played
Many were art knowledgeable;
Friends and guests came, mingled and stayed
It was amazing to think of artwork
As being viewed, discussed and praised!
And, yes, a few originals were sold
From the very spot they were displayed
A thank you to Lance the owner,
Lisa, the daughter and planner,
Patti, the author and friend, and
God our Father, the master designer-
The evening was magical
A make-believe came true,
An elder, budding artist-
A solo art exhibiter sharing anew
Vincent Van Gogh said, “I dream
my painting, and I paint my dream”;
On that night in New York City,
A thought, a dream –blended it seemed
Ars Longa
It finally happened!
Someone in the East Wing
Goateed a Madonna and redid a Rembrant
a la de Kooning.
A blond with Vogue patterns
is crouched on the hall--
She's eyeing a Van Gogh
eyeing her from the wall.
We judge from the blushes
of blue-rinsed ladies in fur
Rude comments were made
on the audio tour.
The guards commandeer
Donatellos for targets
and are cleaning their pistols
with snips of Vermeer.
The staff in the Art Shoppe
is selling originals
and hanging the copies
in Gallery Five.
They're burning the Monets
they've tattooed Apollo,
crowds clamor outside
to get in on the fun.
Cars circle the gallery
in infinite coils--
curbside parturitions
here a boy there a girl.
Boy those wheeler dealers sure work hard
just look at Ed slaving away sorting things.
First he sorts out the electrics and switches
then he turns his attention to the mechanics.
Strips out the callipers and replaces them
a new exhaust is also on the cards.
Back breaking work as he takes off bright work
and then sands it down ready for re-spray.
Off to the paint booth where its masked up,
now first a stabiliser to stop leakage.
Two coats of primer, now finally the colour
a gorgeous chocolate that really pops.
The last job is to change the wheels
back to Porsche originals chocolate coated.
Down to the track where she revs and revs
then like a race horse our Porsche flies.
Mike is well impressed at Ed's hard work
wow it is an eye stopper he cries.
A new owner to be found who will love it
Mike works his charms and so has a sale.
Yet another classic saved from the scrap heap
Our 928 Porsche is restored like new.
With a growl it eats up the roads
putting a smile on her owner's face
written 12/04/2015
contest PD and Skat's For Women Only
In a place called Three was an old Bowthorpe Oak
Where a prince had trumped up a throne,
And though he was young where the lullula sung
He vowed he will always be known.
Jack Russell had noted pledges tall toted
With a strong impulsion to play,
For dreams had been caught from power of thought
By the son of a monarch that day.
There he declared all he was aired
Occupied only originals,
And when he was grown, he would make it well known
Australia is owned by Aboriginals.
Suns and moons passed and decades long last
Melted mere memories of bling,
Rainbow occurred when riches were stirred
For once was a prince now the King.
Though the kingship was told, flaunted, and sold
With profit from all the unplanned,
Excited, delighted and many united
That day the crown took the stand.
Where kangaroos leapt koalas had stepped
Toward the public event,
Which happened to be near a known Embassy
Of certainty Sovereignty Tent.
The air of Jack Russell provided some muscle
Whilst winking at dancing dingo,
And there on the stage a new golden age
Came from a dream long ago.
Sun had transferred love that was spurred
For light was truth that was beamed,
"Australia is owned by Aboriginals"
‘Twas then the King was redeemed.
No one is above mistake
So they say
But how did I not know
Why did I allow myself to get so carried away?
Not to know you are a mere take way material
And never an emotional material
I was told to use and dump you
Just as my predecessors
But I wanted to be the love you never had
The experience you have never felt
The care you were never given
But I never knew I was making mistake
To have even bought you cake
Probably you don’t even deserve originals but fake
Including love
My greatest mistake is you
For the first time my heart failed me
Because you are nothing but a bloody mistake
I curse the day I met you
Because you are nothing but an emotional mistake
ABSOL - 07032277508
These days, actors and singers serve my catapult mayhem,
sometimes they are catalyst too!
I sing in between their lines of songs
their churned up recorded whims, hums, and candid cataracts!
And some days, whence things get screwed up
about a random psychotic feed back ,on a laminated free verse!
A day care and a festive color season!
Once small pox diagnosed ,
they let the sick baby get a safe mode, in an arranged detour reason, instead.
For a submission and a genuine submittal try!
On a humorous cover page , it calms down the wildest underneath rage, outcry!
Everything is clouded, intranet, inter too!
Nonetheless, a Fine arts diploma travels to the farthest east and swings to west,
they surely do!
To and fro round trip with a lonely estranged,
to Alaka and the random Parthenon
to cuddle Athena to wrap the scar, very own
before applying to have a trip to scar benign
Certainly,
We knew the translators' sage first,
Before originals tried to happen there, in a diaspora or wanderlust.
Please allow me a reason to try, anyway , anymore
before, they even try to be happy , at least mock or greet
and then eventually, troubleshoot for the love story ever after, special treat!
I am sorry, Joanna, on behalf of the survey-monkey!
You know me now. And the poem from the day care of Maxim Gorky!
Art is the kingly snow-cap on learning's height;
It forms as great minds enter saturation range.
It's a crowning beam that shines to truly show,
That the lettered brain has finally come of age.
Artistic flair is the finest of divine human skills.
It's the life-giving power in the Creator's mouth
That formed solid originals from old airy chills,
Naming in full naught arbitrary west and south.
Art is the queened stroke behind true science.
Her restless instinct and wild wandering signs
Are the sole philosophy fuelling erudite minds;
Man’s only spark that all prudent reason binds.
And fine poetry is the most knowing of earth's arts,
Far mightier than sibling genres beneath our stars.
Nifty verse gets brighter as every lower sister blurs,
To show the path as the initial dark's oblivion starts.
Sublime art is thus the neglected locus classicus;
And to spurn poetry is to adore ignorance's curse.
MAGIC BEANS
There was magic in those beans!!
Colors - reds, greens, blacks,
savory flavors, and sweetness,
sweetness to ease the uneasiness.
They became a sought after reward,
payment for being, for existing,
payment to an unknown need.
Age changed the beans.
The colors still held secret the
tantalizing rewards flavor.
The relief longer lasting
yet somehow still lacking
the joy of the originals.
There was still magic in those beans.
Dark Magic, Black Magic,
potions that brought less relief,
exacerbating the desire
for more of what caused the need –
for more.
There was no bean stalk,
no Golden Goose,
only the lie of the magic beans
feeding the fear of a lonesome child
too soon challenged
to become a grown-up.
John G. Lawless
1/6/2015
For PD’s Magic Beans – Poetry Contest
Individualism
Being true to yourself, till your very last breath
Never looking for fame is the real test
Always outrageous, in your own inimitable way
Being true to yourself, to your very last breath
People love originals and shout hurray
Your main goal is always being your best
Being true to yourself, till your very last breath
Never looking for fame is the real test
June 3, 2020
4:30pm PST
Poem # 1,220