Long Paper Poems
Long Paper Poems. Below are the most popular long Paper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paper poems by poem length and keyword.
One day
Our descendants
Will marvel
(If a sense of wonderment endures)
At our ability
To string
Two thoughts together
No nets, no nothing!
They might puzzle over
The requirements of good grammar
And proper semiotics
Writing long hand
And keeping inked words
Collected on a single piece
Of actual paper.
“How did the old folks,”
They might ask
“…Thunk from one sentence
To the next
Without falling?”
Jumbled up
Prepositions and particles
Inofwith
Forafterto
Will seem downright scary.
One day
Our descendants
Will be horrified
At our ability
To string
Two thoughts together
While hanging from a tree
Upside down
While cats and dogs
Circled below
Getting along quite nicely.
Deserted we lie, banished to a shoe box; discarded metal
scraping metal every spring as our ignored box gets shelved
in a different room of the house; forsaken and further away
from real life. We demand equal time with your mobile phone
games, your Netflix programs, and your facebook videos!
We are your neglected Hot Wheels cars. Pick us up and
let's play a while... bright colors, mag wheels, cool decals,
no need to charge batteries or download an app, just four
wheels and a hood that opens and closes. Vintage VW's,
Oldsmobiles, Dodge muscle cars, Indy 500 speedsters,
futuristic dream cars rejected by car companies (but don't
we still look cool after all these years?) Let's go for a cruise
down the Main Street of your living room table or race down
the autobahn of your hallway or explore the Amazon jungle
out in your backyard (just remember not to track any mud
into the house!) Find those forgotten bright orange tracks
you jettisoned in the attic and go invite your neighbors over
for a "race of the century", followed by a glass of cold milk.
Draw some streets on butcher paper and pretend to be the
mayor of a small town, populated by Indy Eagles, Silhouettes,
Red Barons, Custom Firebirds, Paddy Wagons, Classic '36
Ford Coupes (with rumble seat), Chevy Camaros, Roadsters,
Lotus Turbines, Deoras (with surfboards), Custom Eldorados,
and you.
Hot Wheels (TM) is a trademark of Mattel Inc.
I used to like hobbies.
The richness of having hands.
The hunger dipped in a toothpick and drawn on paper.
You use your hobby-brain.
And when you stop?
Paint goes boom.
My old sewing thread tangled in my nose, making me sneeze.
When you’re young, slicing up paper with scissors is incredible.
Circles chopped up.
I would take old magazines and tear out my favorite pictures.
I liked my hands and fingertips.
When you’re young you have hobbies!
School, hobbies, school.
When you grow up, it’s like hobbies are peeled off tape.
I had hands, fingers, and joy.
The richness of having hands, no matter how long or short, fast fingertips, reach for the perfect button for a mixed media project.
So I got an office job.
Stuffy, musty old crafts might as well be buried in my stuffy, musty grave.
Best chance they’ll make it into my skeleton hands.
The morning paper is everywhere, the breakfast dishes, are here and there
Her feet up in the easy chair, the old man in his underwear
The phone starts ringing loud and clear, so hubby quickly disappears
When he returns, she sees a frown,…, He calmly says, “Guess who’s in town?”
“The corporate boss, not far away….I've asked them here to spend the day!”
“A little lunch would be no trouble. He’s with his wife…her name is Mable”
“You did what???? she screams. (The neighbors hear!)
"Company?? ... You say they're near?”
“Help me quick. Get off your rear!!”
"Oh dear,.... oh dear, ......oh dear) !!
"Get off your rear, you lazy man! And if you don't .....I SWEAR!"
She frets and stews and carries on….her hubby simply mutters
She runs around the messy room and stashes all the clutter
She’s acting like a headless chicken, her partner in a quandary
He watches as she runs around, hiding dirty laundry
Oh dear, they’ll need some lunch to nibble, whatever could she fix?
She finds some fruit, some crackers, cheese, a bag of party mix
Running to the bedroom, she’s gasping raves and rants
“You’ve got to get your shirt on!…For Pete’s sake, dear! Find your pants!”
“Heaven’s, we must hurry! We’ve got to make the bed!”
"Whatever you say, dear" he grumbles, and shakes his bewildered head
She discards her frumpy nightgown, powders her frantic frown
She quickly brushes hair, a dab of lipstick too
Tosses sloppy slippers, dons her pretty shoes
A knocking on the door, she pastes a cheery smile
Her unexpected company has come to stay awhile!
Breathing deep, she goes to greet them “So good of you to call!”
“What’s that.....a bother?” “ Now don’t be silly, you aren’t bothering us at all!”
She shoots a glance, a daggered lance, into her husband’s mug
He has no clue, ignores what brews…a deep, dark hole he's dug
For, once again, he’s lost his head…and says
….”Stay the night, it's quite all right, we have an extra bed!!”
She fakes a smile, and says "OF course!!".........
(but tomorrow he’ll be DEAD!!!)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What shades of colours do we paint
while walking on this earth?
Do we leave behind a masterpiece?
or a squiggle with no worth?
Will the colours that we choose
look vibrant, - do they shout?
Or are they like dull grey lead lines
so easily rubbed out.
Are all the brush strokes that you paint
precise, done with finesse?
Or are they like thick crayon scrawled
on paper in a mess?
And will you hang upon a wall
admired by the best?
Or stay unseen and never shown
Remain an unfinished sketch?
The colours that you choose in life
portray your inner self.
So, are you rich, red, powerful paint
or a shade left on the shelf?
You could be bright and beautiful
in orange, yellow, green.
Or does your glossy outer fade
and quickly lose its sheen.?
Are you a calm and turquoise- blue
just like a tranquil sea.
Or do you live with black or grey?
that’s all you’ll ever be.
The colours in my life are prime
though that can be changed.
to any shade I choose to be
if mixed or rearranged.
Seek out the artist in your life
ensure he paints you true.
Be one to stand out in a crowd
there’s only one of you.
Screen Liberation
Throw your screen out the window, not from hatred, but like an old skin,
let your pupils unlearn that light painted in lies,
all you believed was the world was just an aquarium with phosphorescent news,
and you swam like a sleeping fish through other people's commercials about life.
Shut off the sound of the pixel city screaming from the corner of the room,
beneath the glossy glass, fear has rented a permanent broadcast studio,
it taught you to confuse your desires with the nine o'clock programs,
and to count your dreams in episodes, not in real heartbeats.
Turn off the screen, but light up the balcony with stars and tiles wet with rain,
where the news is birds screaming breaking news at dawn,
and the talk shows are two clouds arguing, pulling at the same moon,
without commercials for detergents for dirty souls.
Change the channel: tune into the frequency of leaves and rustling paper,
let books give you tough interviews, without prepared questions,
let your friends be the living documentaries about their beautiful madness,
and love, the only film replayed infinitely without demanding a subscription.
When the last screen inside you shatters like a mirror worn out by ads,
the mind walks out barefoot into the world, with feet full of dust and light,
and you understand that "kill your T.V." only means to save your gaze,
to project your life directly onto the sky, not on the glass of a foreign object.
Jobless mind, moving hither to thither
North to south, east to west, over the world
A vagrant; silent speaker with self alone
Routes breeding other nude routs to wander
Lonely I’m with me, talking with sole mind
Inkpot, quills, tattered paper-wrapped my sight
I’m sitting to write some shattered thinking
Feeling into me lacking language
I’ve lost knowledge of language to write to me!
I’ve come to the unique planet of poet
Have the poets any language to write to them?
Which language is preferred by them to write?
Not sure I’m; but know that they are pure love
Their literacy, wisdom, struggle – love
Their writings, dispute, freedom-fighting- love
This love is not to discriminate world
This love is not to break the humane backbone
This love is not for the spiteful talking
They do not know how to hate peaceful world
They do not know how to hate humankind
Their ink of quills don’t spread stain of vengeance
I’ve come to their planet to expose me
Here I find all of body, breath, nerve, veins
Here I find nature, fauna and flora
Here find river, ocean, mountain, cosmos
Here find volcano, meteor, galaxies
All solar systems here adorned lovely
Here find civic to polity, soul-state
Science, creed, spiritual, mysticism
Animate, inanimate all are here
All I’ve got in love to make peace living
Their writings are not for the passed away
Their writings are past, present and future
As living undying legend leads all
Ink of Poetic pen lives for the years
As accompany of Almighty soul
-December 24, 2018 Chattogram
I'm so tired of the pain
In yesterday's paper,
I read that, another good man's gone...
I just don't know, what this world is coming to
Seems like, all the good people,
that have been here all along...
are gone without warning, taken, right out of the blue
Chorus
Oh, I'm so tired of the pain...
there's been suffering,
ever since I don't know when...
I just need some peace,
to help me make it to the end...
a little good news,
to help this poor soul to mend
I've been thinking about you lately,
Lord, please help me to understand...
this world is changing fast, help me to find my way
Everywhere, there's so much evil,
is this, all part of your plan?
please tell me, that the Devil...will not win this day!
Chorus
Oh, I'm so tired of the pain...
there's been suffering,
ever since I don't know when...
I just need some peace,
to help me make it to the end...
a little good news,
to help this poor soul to mend
Bridge 1
I think back to a time of better days,
when I felt so young and free...
now, I've grown old, and so I've been told,
that, it's better..to just let things be
Bridge 2
Well, I've seen some wise guys, that spin their lies
to me, they all look so strange
They use their guile, and they flash a fake smile
I can't trust them... to bring a change
Chorus
Oh, I'm so tired of the pain...
there's been suffering,
ever since I don't know when...
I just need some peace,
to help me make it to the end...
a little good news,
to help this poor soul to mend
In yesterday's paper,...
I read that...
another good man's gone...
I just don't know...
what this world ...
is coming to!
John Derek Hamilton
January 09, 2018
The gift of poetry is an amazing thing
you live so many years not recognising it
even at school, it doesn't really click
so much in your mind except words don't fit
We just need to open our eyes
poetry is clearly all around
in the sky on the hills everywhere
so clear just look it's to be found
But there then is a real problem
transferring it from sight to the page
for then a block occurs on the paper
it seems locked inside your cage
We need to find the hidden key
grasping for it up among the cloud
wait for the blue sky to come
then the inner voice speaks so loud
What a picture this conveys
encapturing your every thought
just ponder upon this in a moment
learn well to be fully taught!
('Poetry surrounds us everywhere, but putting it on paper is,
alas, not so easy as looking at it.')
Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890)
As I walked in the rains
I saw people with umbrellas and raincoats
People trying to be protected from rains
While the innocent kids enjoyed paper boats
As I saw the kids smiling at their drowning boats
For a moment, I felt like joining the kids
But I could see people disapproving the kids' acts
I wished for freedom; felt removing my brains' lids
My heart said to me in a complaining gait
People have forgotten the meaning of life
Why are you tied up in unwanted bonds?
Don't care for the stupid proud people's strife
A drop of water fell on my cheeks
I gazed upto the sky to see the clouds
The sky was welcoming me with open arms
I started singing, ignoring the hating of lifeless prouds
My heart opened up and started breathing fresh
I jumped into a puddle and enjoyed water splashing
I danced like an insane and felt more joy
I threw away the umbrella and enjoyed the rain's lashing
With my arms wide open
I tried to hug the cool blowing breeze
To which the nature responded smilingly
I laughed at the clouds as I felt their tease
With arms still open and joy in my face
I started singing the songs of rain
The songs of my heart, the songs of love
With lightening and thunder, I felt the rhythm gain
A drop of rain fell straight on my chest
I felt it moving through to my heart
As my heart felt its pure chill
The sanctity spread to my body's every part
Like a paint brush dip in a glass of water
Just as the way the colour spreads in it
The rain drop spread new blood in my heart
I could feel the new life in my every bit
The new life filled me with energy
I felt my heart pump with happiness
I asked my heart how it felt the feeling
To which it responded full of caress
"I lived..I lived.."