Long Pattern Poems
Long Pattern Poems. Below are the most popular long Pattern by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pattern poems by poem length and keyword.
Come dance with me my child, lay with you hands
on the grassy field and sleep here for a while
...come feel the difference between life and
misery feel those who've only experience misery.
Their skin so unwanted by the touch of your lips,
cracks, burns, bruises, run down their skin;
into a pattern of sadness.. Come dance with me
.. Come dance...come dance your worry, misery
comes out with laughs, dancing expresses the
feeling of love, hatred, and worry.....
Express your feelings dance until your feet
bleeds with talent....dance until your heart
skips a beat....your heart filled with sadness,
your hands crack, your feet tells us
your story and expresses how you dance..
Come Dance.
Go ahead snow, have at it
Fall away
There's a woman who I Iove
And I want to see the day
When we both sit and watch you
Silent, hand in hand
Her head upon my shoulders
Wouldn't it be grand?
To cozy by the fire
To sip some Scottish tea
To listen to her heartbeat
To hold her close to me
To speak with just a whisper
Love poems in her ear
To lift her chin and kiss her
Enraptured in her sphere
To rub her tired shoulders
To rock her off to sleep
To cover her in blankets
To wrap her up with me
Go ahead snow, fall, have at it
And while you're coming down
Land and form a pattern
A snow heart on the ground
It happened so fast
Dark words of hate exploded
like bombs hurting us all
He later expressed
sorrow for being a jerk
Some were quick to forgive him
but others were not
because they felt such outbursts
required professional help
10142018PoSoupContest, One of The Seven, Edward Ibeh
Choka Form, 9 Lines Syllable Pattern 577,577,577
How, at times I'm up and down
How, this place I still don't elude
How, is it that I'm still in this town
How, I never seem to conclude
How, at times feels like I'm flying
How, I feel so ecstatic, I'm a stowed
How, I feel so emotional, like crying
How, is it I feel so dumb founded
How, I feel so unsure, I can't decide
How, desions I find so hard to make
How, many times I have really tried
How, many attempts dose it take
How, a person dose feel mentally
How, parts of myself I'm revealing
How, it always feels like its just me
How, could I be anymore appealing
In the same way as why like a part wo a bit like others I wrote like
with you with out you sights and sounds thoughts feelings ect
trying same pattern WRITTEN BY MY SELF DAVIDSCOTT FEB MARCH 2013
The essential constituents of captivating charisma
align with the fabric of consuming sincerity,
find the adornment of internal beauty
spread invisible film on deceptive external ugliness,
remove the distressing doubt that it can’t be irresistible.
An overwhelming humane faith fosters the faculty
of being aware of depressing deficiency of the being.
The demonstration of the cherubic charm
expresses the life-force that tows the tide of lure,
inundating the landscape of deserted hearts.
On the seraphic shore of the sublime soul,
the supreme designer makes the destined inner circuitry.
The pattern creates innate magnetism of divine beauty,
attracts the consciousness essence of mortal elements
to the emancipating aura of amazing bliss.
_____________
October 25, 2022
Contest : Our Innate Magnetism
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
February 5, 2023
For Brian Strand's Your Option Contest
A foe, not easy to anticipate
A foe, with a dishonest deed
A foe, those one's I really hate
A foe, there not easy to read
A foe, I've met many before
A foe, they don't really care
A foe, those one's I'd ignore
A foe, have no time to spare
A foe, like a repeat occurrence
A foe, not the sort to go away
A foe, no sense of tolerance
A foe, who will lead you astray
A foe, I'd just call your enemy
A foe, where are they from
A foe, has no sense of loyalty
A foe, turn your back ,there gone
With this ok some words ive used in other writes
original idea i scraped tried this pattern instead
the word apitamy i was going to use in soul of the earth
so cool its com into play here like some others some lines were used originaly in my other
poem called someone same patter just like previous writes thoughts and feelings
sights and sounds now and then etc ect also inspired by poem i wrote for pd omego
and inspiration from pds poem friendship also of course composition i missed
not enought space in my head at time written nov/dec 2012,,,,,,,,
Two fresh plates to adorn my humble chariot.
The one on top had the honor of being mounted at the front,
as my customary parking pattern
is to back into a space on the far side of the garage.
But soft ... was it an honor?
To be figurehead, first to see, noble vanguard,
and yet,
bombarded for countless hours by suicidal bugs,
dust, gravel, and mud.
The rear plate will soon be far cleaner,
and has the quiet, reflective view of what has passed.
Though it might wish for the electric thrill
of seeing things first.
I wonder which the plate on top would prefer,
if it had more claim than its fellow below.
But fate granted me judicial clarity.
Top is front; bottom is back.
Different fates - each with their own charm.
Grow not envious, o plates.
Your positions both have great beauty.
18 November 2022
The gentleman turned to me distraught;
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing,
“Had to park my wheels, can’t pay my bills.”
Another victim of a repeating pattern,
back to our old ways we learned nothing;
Imagine briefly if the drivers weren’t there;
Systematic financial slaughter
unable to keep their trucks moving;
Left in hock those holding a CDL license;
Sure the highways would be luxurious,
no slow down to get where you’re going;
Empty roads with markets left out of stock;
Traffic in the big city’s non existent;
Society has become weak and lies dying
as tractor trailers fill up salvage lots;
The big picture is a whole lot darker,
A slow crawl as the world’s stalling;
Humanity decimated by a truck famine.
I look up at the clouds above me and I feel the weight of nature dancing around me and the colors keep changing, the mountains are shaking and my heart is breaking.
It is not the heartbreak you get when you fall in love or the feeling you get when the day is done; it is the heart break of the unknown and the depth that you feel when your emotion is real and reality is forcing you out of the town.
The morning with its architectural designs wraps its passion around the divine and the drawing in the middle of the ceilings reveal an eighteen century meaning but the pattern in the corner of the roof, is not Dante, Picasso or Michelangelo, it is one baked in modern truth and the story the teacher told in the prime of our youth.
The rain is hiding in the clouds and the birds are loitering about and I felt a sudden urge to sing; I have no words, or instrument but just the colors gliding in the clouds that tell me what life is about.
I breathe my thoughts on the leaflet and the moisture from my breath creates meaning on the page and the heavens starts to blaze.
I run my finger through the imaginary shapes surveying the texture and lines in the corners, those designs can be traced back in time and the evidence is there staring at you and all of a sudden you get a break through but some things never go away.
Spring has come and gone and summer is waiting for me in the temperature over a hundred a fifty degree, everything changes so quickly and sometimes I am feeling very sorry, it is not the feeling that I would like to have or the one that ,makes me feel sad; it the mood that circulating in the air and the emotion that will cause you to fear.
The clouds are shaped in multitudes of colors and the wisdom of time is running around, taking you where destiny is bound, the color of life is mixed up in the atmosphere and I will tell you what you want to hear.
Take me to airport and I will show you how a simple design can turn things around and parachute the space ship out of the ground.
The colors in the clouds are wearing a brand-new gown.
The curves of light begin to flow,
A pattern that we do not know,
It pulses in a secret glow.
The waves of sound are bending,
Its melody unending.
A tangled web of sight and sound,
The hidden path cannot be found,
We follow where the lines are bound.
A chaotic, wild design,
No logic can define.
And yet a silent knowledge grows,
The beat that every spirit knows,
The current where the river goes.
A truth we can't explain,
An echo in the brain.
From atoms dancing in the void,
To stars and galaxies deployed,
A primal, ancient force employed.
The cosmic RHYTHM beating,
A pattern still repeating.
It's complicated, strange, and deep,
A secret that the shadows keep,
While consciousness is fast asleep.
We feel it in the bone,
A language of its own.
The silent song we hear.