Long Periodical Poems
Long Periodical Poems. Below are the most popular long Periodical by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Periodical poems by poem length and keyword.
Antiques and Curios
A collection of Antiques and curios,
Covered in dust on a cellar floor.
Things once made for a purpose,
No longer of use anymore.
Record Player with wind-up handle,
Once sung out the old Seventy-eights.
A music box with broken spring,
Film scores of the all-time greats.
Gas mask, unused in a chest,
A wartime ration book, stained, slightly torn.
Hobnail working boots, coal black,
Scuffed at the toes, well worn.
An old encyclopedia, open at page 12,
Dwarf stars, Meteors and Asteroid,
The mysteries of our Solar system
and a Comet we may need to avoid.
Vintage clothes in leather suitcase,
Fashionable back in the year.
Someone would probably buy them,
For the right price, not too dear.
Pots and Pans of Copper and Tin,
Ornamental handles and lid.
Hard to imagine they were ever used,
But, by the signs of wear, someone did.
A collection of old newspapers,
Bismarck disabled and sunk,
A periodical about holy orders,
The life and times of a Monk.
Moth eaten Teddy Bear, only one eye,
Tracks for a blue clockwork train.
Toy soldiers of lead, standing proud,
Down somebody’s memory lane.
I began to feel rather intrusive,
An invasion of a man’s private life;
Never to know treasures keeper,
Was he at war, leaving children and wife.
An assemblage of curiosities,
To move them would feel such a crime.
I will leave everything undisturbed,
Treasured by someone of the time.
Spirited meeting, don't faint
Real or surreal, it is momentary, as cannot stay long on the same plane
Want to protect from mirthless life's winding chimes
Only if it was easy as mending the book's spine
Rarely lurking demons underneath the bed
Don't waste yourself peeking beneath the bed
Blindfold daydreaming,lines you up to heaped relics of unsung martyrs in a sepulcher
Starkly outshine rabid prince makes shy away the vulture
Never be too soft or daft
Not completely at fault, for programmed specimen of the mightier craft
Amidst the bantering on lease
Just don't succumb to the whisper of inherited guilt please
In summation to any wrong answer
Even rustling waft of your ashes will be sneezed at
Don't plug out the sound of closing doors
Sign to focus on the right one just designed for you
Betide as it was destined
Brush frivolous talk aside as choice is destiny's invoice
Essential to periodical diuresis of precarious enslavement
Rejoice to all sensations, before obfuscated by life's retirement
Best For Last
We bare our souls capriciously exposed,
O'er a chronology gift long ago,
Humbly traipse fortuitous hearts composed,
Traverse fragmented biannual flow.
Oblique drifts of periodical moons,
Guide our latter half just as earned before,
Nature flights of triangular formed loons,
As seasonal exchange caused them to soar.
From color-filled picturesque scenery,
To monochromatic impassiveness,
Passage midst creation and synergy,
Intimates harmonious timeliness.
Clock fades crucial seconds tempts to outlast,
As time wane merging thoughts holding our past.
2019 December 14
*3rd Place*
Your best sonnet July-December 2019
~~John Hamilton
*Honorable Mention*
STRAND SPECIAL 10,any form ,any theme
~~Brian Strand
A car rolls into a soundless night,
Its light sends a bursting view of overhanging growth,
In a microcosm succession of descending seconds,
Pruned for a snapshot temporal existence,
Till all is rendered back to the void of night.
Sounds of rolling wake the void,
'Tis but a wheel cover errant for intimacy,
The road approves its adoption,
As it settles amongst other roadside neglects,
Earth's orphans coexisting under new sun's and periodical moon's.
Dull chrome insulted by grey matter and passing ignorance,
Melts in a blink of an eon as inherent elements being nursed,
A rebirth phenomenon after being ripped from its womb,
As meddling minds, carve out canyons and canvases felled trees,
Sculpture mountains, etch on charcoal skies, paint from oiled oceans,
All from a dark planet behind a concealed metal mask and chromed artificial air tanks,
That all were at one time...
...an errant orphaned wheel cover.
2019 September 19
You must strive to find your own voice because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all.
Robin Williams - Dead poets society
Poets are born,
not manufactured.
The moment when life said:
"Recite a poem for me."
Verses began to flow,
like moonlight shimmering
upon tides rushing to the shore.
Tongue spoke in silent tones,
in a language forgotten in time.
Emotions that had been internally burning
bled a scripted sadness of sentimental scents. .
A perpetual periodical anthology of adversity,
hidden behind an enigmatic encrypted haiku,
about a lost soul's suffering in chains,
caged within the nonsense of syllables.
An unmetered sonnet,
where the world saw common rhymes,
as unforgivable idiotic crimes.
Not all metaphors make sense.
Still the quill yearned for meaning.
To write in evergreen sanguine blessings,
creating a vocabulary reminiscent
of blossoming phraseology -
but words can be misinterpreted.
When eyes lie with fake flattery,
this gifted madness you call poetry,
is like a curse for a wordsmith.
The mind becomes bewildered,
drifting in heavy hues of longing lavenders,
wondering where the spring flowers are.
Some remain content with withering thoughts,
but my ink is immortal in sowing perennial seeds.
elements combine
elements are periodical
periodical books bore
periodical tables
tables made of symbols
tables without plates
plates are round
plates which hold pi
pi is a formula
pi is a tool
tool for a scientist
tool for a fool
fool who professes knowledge
fool who makes rules
rules are finite
rules are broken
broken like copper
broken like hearts
hearts full of mystery
hearts full of blood
bloods full of iron
blood contains water
water has hydrogen
water brings oxygen
oxygen seems plentiful
oxygen burns
burns in a rocket ship
burns in our cells
cells in a prison
cells of terror
terror feeds anger
terror is uncontrollable
uncontrollable energy
uncontrollable results
results used strategically
results used to war
war is a winnower
war is indiscriminate
indiscriminate fools
indiscriminate thinkers
thinkers who tinker
thinkers who risk
risk more than they own
risk mixing atoms
atoms are mindless
atoms of Adam are rash
rash as surface burn
rash from radiation
radiation
burn
Original - Shankha Ghosh
Translation- Mahtab Bangalee
The triangle-
You have no religion, only
Without being caught by the roots
You have no religion, only
Without tolerate the axe hurt into the chest
When the infernal region suddenly opened
Except spreading both hands
You have no religion, this
Without filling the emptiness.
throw from crematorium to crematorium
Your the pieces of body
In afflicted time then you know
Not sounds light, life weaves lace.
You have no religion then
Couple of periodical triangle times are just illusion-
After drinking wine everyone was drunkard
The poet just drunk in the self faith
(2/10/2020 4:34:00 AM)
i am at the part of unfortunate decision
fake flowers in hand and a dusty prayer
hesitation has a cup of warm pintos with country ham with me
i am the defiant source of a sticky glue's periodic periodical
nothing else matters for i make myself inanimate
precious memories are pickled in a jar of overtly potent vinegar
i am a lost soul feeling frigid in a deserted desert foundation
windchime sandstorms bully me with its unevenly rhythmic syncopation
since becoming an unbalanced liar, i have become a role model for truths untold
i never thought that my ice box character presentation could be so calmly bold
i have been zombie with a bad case of bubbleguts ever since that morning of "the circle ride"
i am at the part of unfortunate decision
heavy exhalation standstill experimenting with a lever similar to a disoriented h. george wells
I Dont Give A Fig About The Brouhaha...
of new year's eve,
yet yours truly does consider
at least one singular plum me facet by Jeeve
er...Robert (or Rabbie) Burns,
a profoundly poignant poem, he did conceive.
Anyway, this wordsmith fascinated
by historical lyricist whose unbelieve
hub bull lee brief life, nonetheless
made a lasting contribution,
a psalm burr tune folks across webbed
wide world sing to grieve
of recent sorrows past, plus pay
homage to joys summoned from
deep within core of soul bellowed
forth with an exultant heave
perhaps unbeknownst to most Robert Burns
(25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796) did leave
his lasting legacy, sans (as national poet
of Scotland celebrated worldwide)
particularly the classic traditional chestnut
auld lang syne rendered in many versions
waving white capping
New Year's eve celebration proud
accomplishments one did achieve.
Coincidentally, "Auld Lang Syne"
and "America the Beautiful"
at which juncture, I interject
a historical grace note to mull
how latter named above patriotic
song in the United States,
(lyrics written by Katharine Lee
Bates saw many occasions
after music composed by church organist
and choirmaster Samuel
A. Ward at Grace Episcopal Church
in Newark, New Jersey) dull
lighting oomph and pizazz, extant
since early 1900s, origin gin null
intent format arranged as poem,
"Pikes Peak first published
Fourth of July full
edition of the church periodical
The Congregationalist in 1895,
now sung by mull teat hoods at Super Bowl
every year since 2009, and appeared pull
say ting stadiums at some sports events
after the 9/11 terror attack hull
lob bell loo in 2001.
The song comprises four verses,
one of isung before kick-off
in NFL's showpiece game.
Just by giving cerebral activity free rein,
this inquisitive mind of mine
learned how twenty first century New Year's
celebration include auld lang syne
linkedin with feted mid eighteenth poet
laureate, whose death at thirty seven, his spine
tingling spirit issues forth to give
him immortality almost divine
everlasting longevity within the pantheon
of August artists who humanity did assign
an eternal place future generations will
revere such metrical design.
That About A Face
Previously responsible concerning an adolescent resplendent facial hallmark,
Awarded to privileges and sanctioned embellishment favoring enhancement,
Over time, years chip away unnoticeably o'er worn breathless moments,
Taunt texture of an arduous youth evaporates in a whimsical hallucination,
Face delicately immersed in a penny-filled wishing well made full by an Irish spring,
Whereby, encroaching four-leaf clovers anticipate deviating hands to favor,
For a wealth of squishing palms to rub gently the verdurous lucky
chartreuse petals,
Against foretelling fluctuating skin with moisturizing balms that saturates the aged cavities,
Alas, rebellious slaves to periodical moons ebb the epidermis as once kept promises reneges,
Former fields of the dermis yield a harvest worthy of an ample supply of suppleness o'er a lifetime,
Where cherished glorious heyday occupied a magnificent proffered face for cameras to envy,
In the advance of time, I am content to gracefully tender the waning years for a fair measured distance as a camera poses for a closeup.
2019 December 22