Long Period Poems
Long Period Poems. Below are the most popular long Period by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Period poems by poem length and keyword.
“Sing in me muse, and through me tell the story”
Tell me the story of a young girl,
A girl who doesn’t understand her worth
Who basks in depression
But exercises to release pain
Every muscle she has gained is a result of everytime she has been wronged
Everytime something goes wrong she throws herself into something new
She threw herself into her passion,
Her sport
Her skating
Every glide represents the pain she’s faced
Every spin represents the strength she wishes to have
She isn’t like most however,
She went for something which to her felt like shooting for the stars
She went for something most people would consider crazy
A perfect skating season
And when many left her when she tried for something society considered crazy
She stopped dead in her tracks
And looked behind her
She looked at the world differently from that day
For she realized one thing
Her sanity would never come back
And she was stuck with the broken remains of people who were with her in the past
Oh the past
Something she would dwell on for the rest of her life
With how much physical strength she has you think she would also be emotionally strong
However as she takes one long look behind her she breaks like a crumbling statue
She sits there sobbing as the winds change
Realizes the dark side of solitude
She experiences grief
Her aunt moves away, friendships changed
And it was a hard period in her life
For she had been betrayed by who she thought she could trust
For it felt like the world was spinning out of control
Her mind racing, her heart thumping
She tried to pick herself up again but her legs felt heavy
So what more could she do but just sit there and sob
The pain enfolded her like a blanket of cacti
In sorrow she heaved herself upright and ran.
Ran till her legs could give out
Everything inside her told her to stop but she ran
For she wanted the physical pain to match the emotional pain
And the emotional pain would soon break the balance
She rushed home for she realized her mistake,
She stood there staring, for a good reason too
Her house had been burnt down so she was bluer than blue.
She rushed inside with confusion
And came out with anger
One thing was for sure
She was bound to seek revenge.
I thought to write about my High School Social Studies
book report. An uncomplicated short story about the
lives of two characters who like to take life the short and
easy way. I decided to write it as a narrative, showcasing
the simple characters as carefree drifters. Near the end,
the lives that they made easy, sadly turned complicated.
It's about George Milton and Lennie Small. The roaming
workers shared their dreams of being eventual farm
owners during the Depression Period. George was the
smaller and a bit learned of the two. Lennie was taller
and that made him oafish because of his limited wit.
Auburn, California, started their course across the state’s
harsh landscape from one ranch job to another. They
closed in on a job just outside the town of Soledad.
Stopping for a swim off the Salinas River, Lennie
gathered up delicate flowers. He is overwhelmed with
anything soft, fragile, and pretty. In his zealous nature,
he hugged it lovingly but much too tightly as they quickly
withered and died. George noted that oddity before, but
he thought it as being trifle to be of no concern. As they
prepared themselves before they arrived at the ranch, to
a slight degree, the witty George would be a money-saver
type, and Lennie's character with his notable oddity, is
simple-minded. Yet on their first day, Lennie strangled
Candy accidentally. She was the owner's son's pretty
wife. The rhetoric grew unstable for Lennie wherein
laid the guilt. George was forced to face some sort of
retribution with farmhands yakety-yak of a lynch mob
that would lead to a hanging. Left with that sad chapter,
George grabbed ahold of Lennie. At a secluded part
where no noise would be heard. George quickly closed
that chapter when he took out a pistol he found at the
farm and he shot Lennie as George fathomed money
to be his closing grace.
Disco Music
Strobe light looks like moon-sun.
Halo lights of red, blue, yellow, green.
He wears classic Saturday Night Fever white.
She has a white flower in her hair,
head and hips swivel;
one-strapped red dress.
He points with hands over head.
Ballroom floor bittersweet-blue.
Celebration of disco music.
I was dressed in strapless purple.
Burned my bra.
This stamp doesn’t nearly catch
the falderal - not the nasal and falsetto
of the Bee Gees, nor the confident swagger
of Tony Manero. I will survive, my motto.
The couple on this stamp look too happy,
too peppy, maybe preppy, almost ‘50’s.
I remember the crowds, the loudness,
the vulnerability, the period; that Mom
had me ask Dad for money to go.
They let me. Strobe light shadows
of chiaroscuro amidst flashy night.
The stamp is too clean cut.
~Thank You Lord For All You Do~
( Dodoitsu suite )
Thank you Lord for all you do
You've made it all so nice too
With you I can do it all
Nice to hear your call
You make every day brand- new
Change nature and all of hue
Butterflies fly 'cause of you
Beautiful sky too
So I pray, praise you today
World lies in palm of your hands
You made us and give us life
Thanks for all You do.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
June.17.2016
~Author's Notes:
Dodoitsu is a Japanese poetry form or style, developed towards the end of the Edo Period.
I don’t think I have ever written another poem of such emotional intensity! I was bedridden for almost four months. It was at such a desperate moment that I thought of scribbling down my feelings of despair and I found words coming out like a sudden spurt! It was a new awakening! I wrote nearly 34 poems in a period of nearly two and a half months, all in bed which I included in my first collection entitled BEATS. I still believe it was something providential...! Never had I written a single poem before!!
Left alone in a dull and dreary mood,
With none to lean on and look for,
I tethered my soul to sordid gloom,
And chained my fancy, never letting it soar.
Dull were the days and sore were the nights,
Time slouched on in mechanical beats.
Mind devoid of all buoyant thoughts,
Senses shut to every cheery throb of life,
I lay awake, staring on the ceiling above,
My eyes, so lost in a fixed stare,
Never a smile lighted up my stony face,
Nor a gleam of hope brightened up my brain.
Inertia crept over from head to foot.
I had long lost my zest for life,
With life saps drained out like an empty well,
I felt nothing but the heat of scorching drought.
Nothing could move my grief laden soul,
None could lift the weight off my back,
Embers of fire sparked from the anvil of my heart,
Heaves of sighs escaped from parched mouth,
I wriggled and writhed in unspeakable pain,
My spirits sank deeper into a slithery marsh,
I saw around only a thick pall of gloom,
Or was it a projection of my own self?
Anguish gnawed my nerves and sinews,
Flames of pain danced within my spine,
I felt my head so heavy and beginning to reel,
And the heavy weight of lead all around my neck.
I felt being pushed down to abysmal depths,
And the octopus tightening its tentacles all around
Who on earth will set me free?
What on earth can lift me up?
With thundering force, the question shook my weary self.
I sprang to my feet and broke loose my chains,
I found I was but in self – exile,
A captive entrapped within boundless space.
I saw the door opening to infinite lengths,
And the arched horizon looming larger than life,
I spread my wings and propelled up,
And darted through the clouds to distant shores,
Never to come down, where I thought I could dwell forever.
A shrill ocular tree with howling wind sounds.
Sparkles for a brief period of time each day.
However, visitors are enticed from all around.
to obtain tree-wise insights into the display.
They are never privy to any facts whatsoever.
Just spare me the wind sighing as they pass.
Yet, there's a fabulous note of something clever.
In some wise and auld, must shatter as glass.
Once, I went on a trip to check the tree.
and can detect its message in the breeze.
As leaves tickled, I slept in, dreaming on my knee.
I whim of a dear friend who was welt by the keys.
Along the street, we strolled side by side.
She leaned and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
Time is precious and runs through my mind.
Love exists all around, so why do you speak?
I am assured that the auld tree was winking at me.
Suddenly, I had the resolution to look around.
Because goodness and truth are the guarantees.
What I saw in my vision woke me to fact sound.
‘Ossi’, what Western side likes them to call,
East returning complements with ‘pushy’,
No more stands there the brick-and-mortar wall,
Love’s lost still in old animosity.
The wall o’er a decade and half back fell,
Yet, an iron curtain still them divide,
Minds cannot meet over the wall of pride,
Hurt heart and prejudice can’t that gulf scale.
‘I’d rather a spouse from a foreign shore
‘Bring than one from behind iron curtain,’
Felt one from across the long secured door,
Deep and wide does divide decades of pain.
Here lingers a dislike, there disdain old,
What venom brethren nurse for each other!
An open war has turned into one cold,
Togetherness in search of fair tether!
‘Too hot’ for us these women from the West,
‘Hard to please, pushy, far too material,
‘Everything about them seems commercial,
‘From old world do we come and too modest’.
‘Too darn dense be these people from the East,
‘Lacking any a style whatsoever,
‘Forever on a bargain-hunting heist,
‘Let them savour their old odious flavour’.
Wall was felled to enable two-way flow,
Heads still finds it hard to communicate,
Bridges and trains, mutual dialogue to grow,
Yet, hard it is distanced hearts to placate.
Love and passion when at a premium come
In too short a period of years fifteen,
Old prejudices play a harder drum,
Not easy 'tis long-closed closets to clean.
World has its Kashmir, long-gulfed Koreas too,
And torn-apart people elsewhere a few,
A healer great, mighty teacher is time,
If not today, morrows may sing in rhyme.
______________________________________________________
The Berlin Wall came down some 15 years back on 9th November1989. But the iron curtain continues to divide the two people that history separated. Only two per cent of marriages every year are between the East and the West Berliners, which under normal conditions should have brought together one-third to half of the couples in a city its size. Yet, they are 12 times more likely to marry foreigners. After the wall fell, there came the euphoria only to die soon. A lingering dislike persists between the two sides. Yet, in all fairness 15 years is too short a period to mitigate the wounds inflicted by 60 years of separation. Time, let us hope, will prove a great healer that it is.
______________________________________________________
Happenings | 01.11.04 |
‘What I like about photographs is that they capture a moment that’s
gone forever impossible to reproduce.’ - Karl Lagerfeld.
MEMORABLE MOMENT CAUGHT
A family photograph fifty years back
taken just after my wedding:
Memorable moment caught….
A memory of bygone days on most critical phase
on transition period to shift from parent’s house
to set up own family.
In photograph, Grandma seated at center
with Mom and Dad on both sides:
Memorable moment caught….
Youngest sister a kid beside Mom, third sister beside Dad
We two grown up married sisters at two corners.
Behind standing brother at center with brothers-in-law on both sides:
Grandma, Dad, Mom, all are gone,
We siblings lead separate lives, Yet:
Memorable moment caught….
Photograph hangs beside wall clock.
I look at both on every dawn break.
09/25/19
'Writing Challenge 2 September, 2019 The Photograph' Contest by Dear Heart
as i reveal my secret,
you make Beauty Grow
i shake as you begin to see me
a New Love for me grows in
the clarity of your heart
as introverted as i usually am,
you begin to see me for the first
time within this period of ultimatum
a Renewed Permanence Inspires a
New Crystal Clear Foundation
the re-energized warmth of it all causes
our multiple exhalations to be deep....
influencing the return of the Essential
Jolliness
it is then that i pull out the BIG PRESENT
from my magic hat of imagination
i watch with bated breath as you
try to investigate my every look and
posture while excitedly ripping the paper
and the box at the same time
when you finally look down, i, with a
slight hint of emotion murmur Merry
Christmas, My Love
your reply....and later, your response....
is what makes Loving You all the more Worthwhile....
In the late 60's it was.
In an old mansion on the
Northwest side of town.
For a brife period of time,
In a city filled with crime,
A story unfolded that would astone;
A short saga with a pleasant memory.
She was in town on a summer mission.
He was there completing his education.
The two Were drawn together romantically.
Without the presence of neither deception
Nor subtlty, it all happened rather suddenly.
Both, working in a home for wayward men,
Saw each other every now and then.
Their favorite meeting place was in the chapel
That became their llittle haven and sanctuary.
Their relationship in the hour glass of life
Appeared and disappeared rather rapidly,
But they left a mini story worth reading about.
They were pure and virtuous; and never did
They even embrace or kiss. Today's youths
Could be well served by their model.
Their best times together were spent in that
Little haven listening to a Christian radio
Program called 'Nightwatch'.
They both learned the meaning of
Self discipline, curtailed emotions,
And controlled passions. These lessons
Were learned in their getaway place,
Their little haven, their Holy Place.