Long Piece Poems
Long Piece Poems. Below are the most popular long Piece by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Piece poems by poem length and keyword.
You clear your mind
Of indecision, as the birds
Fly dreamily over the supple trees
There's a benefit in it
In believing in thoughts drifting in
Reasoning like a wizard
Carefully concocting beneficial magic
There's a pall of sullen clouds
That can always make a skygazer blue
You mustn't be that pall-sensitive
Choosing the sink-hole over the daisy
You use logic to piece together
Never take your ships of boldness apart
Like a pointless wrecker
Working on hull and masts
Sprits and jibs, the cordage & anchor
You clear your mind and find your guts
The birds send you a message
You settle into for your melodious tunes
Hide Her Away
Tucked away in shame, to hide his own discretions...he hid her away....
Of the world of social media so that he shall lift his own insecurities and feed his plate of lust, desire and importance
He hid her away...
Quiet as a feather...
The Social Universe would never know that this exquisite piece of his human puzzle ever existed
He hid her away...
A mold of beauty and grace
An aura that exhumed love, light and softened even the hardest of beasts
So sweet so pure
He hid her away...
This humble mold has a smile that could brighten the darkest storm and ripple the earth with light
Eyes of mystic and depth
And a heart so unselfishly giving...
But he hid her away....
Ignoring the realness of the many layers within her
He never saw the strength or power that resided within her being
Or the final layer...
That laid within the crevices
The ultimate release of letting go.
Although clothed in weakness to the unseen world's eye
This layer was wrapped in pain, struggles and dark nights of tears...
It was the bulls eye that once hit ...you will never forget
Once touched you can never return
Once burned you can never rise up from again
And he came to that bulls eye...
That final exploding blow
When the silence is all that is heard..
And she finally hid him away....
Under the layers of the past.
To the hope of a man who will not
Hide her away....
Tammy Flanagan @copyright 2019
It is said that the mind
Is a terrible thing to waste.
I do indeed believe it true.
That is why by God's grace,
I thrive to maintain 'peace of mind',
Never giving others 'A piece of my mind'.
However, sometimes I allow other things to
Happen inside of this guarded mind of mine.
Sometimes, 'forgetting' gets the best of me;
Like writing a letter and forgetting to mail it.
Attention, contest soupers.
I.e. Some time ago, I wrote a poem
For a contest; thought it might place;
You guessed it. When I checked, I had not
Placed, nor was my poem ever submitted.
It is also said that, "winners never quit,
And quitters never win". How true it is.
It's also true that, 'winners never forget,
And forgetters never win'.
Oh well. Maybe next time.
The Two-Cent Daffodil
My Nana Pat, with a careful hand and eye,
Would've loved this stamp, a piece of sky.
Two daffodils, sun-kissed and so bright,
Held in a square of soft, creamy light.
I can picture her now, with her albums open wide,
A small world of paper and ink by her side.
With tweezers so gentle, she'd settle each one,
A small victory savored beneath the afternoon sun.
This two-cent flower, a promise of spring,
Was the sort of small treasure she loved to bring
Into her collection, a record of place,
Each stamp a new story, a moment of grace.
And though she is gone, I can still see her smile,
In this tiny landscape, worth more than a while.
For this isn't just postage, but memory's art,
A daffodil blooming in a grandmother's heart.
Remembered boy along these lines
Remembered roughness through our tough times
Remembered blue eyes with his laughing look
Remembering him reading me like an open book
I called him up the other day
With so many memories for me to say
I haven't spoke to him in over a year
And I can't remember from him my last tear
Remembered walks and remembered talks
Remembering his slyness just like a fox
Remembered our high school years with each other
Remembering the wrestling-match with me and his brother
Remembering old songs he used to dedicate to me
Remembering 7 long years of us smoking bomb tree
Remembering deep talks and the tears we have shared
Somewhere along the lines then were we the cutest pair
The pictures taken of him and I
Remembering nothing unasked or a why
Remembering bus rides down the 38
Remembering his love and never experiencing his hate
I remember calling him in front of my fireplace back at home
Remembering our plans that were once set in golden stone
I remember the years I spent by his side
Somehow hasn't completely yet died
I remember his smile and his familiar touch
Way back when I loved him so much
My pureness to him I chose once to give up
Back when we were just kids --- just little pups
But still throughout high school our love stood proud and tall
Taller and taller and taller than the Berlin Wall
Now years later he's back to reunite
Back as best friends --- never having to fight
But with him he's brought a new piece of him
For I see Sophie has scored her perfect 10
Back a bit taller and a bit wiser than before
Back into my life into my newly-opened doors
And it hurts more than it ever has before
It hurts over all over again on top of all my past sore
To see him with her is a blessing I do confess
But our strong past history is being a pest
I smile for him, I talk to him, I make him laugh
I released his true love from a contradicting, jaded, wrath
Back to his arms she is home once again
Watching my new best friend score his prize and win
I look at him now to the man he's become
And give her props because she's truly won
To see a smile across his gentle face
And to watch him set his everlasting champagne glass on a beautiful lace
Would make life worth all of the while
And make me happy to see his well-deserved, happy smile
Walking on thin ice
Searching the universe for a new vice.
One wrong step could mean never again waking
One step... cracking, another step... breaking.
I watch as another piece of the path floats away
but from this path, I must not stray.
I finally see the frozen water's edge
I finally reach it, but now I'm looking down from a ledge.
No more path from here, what am I supposed to do?
Is this it, the end, am I finally through?
Then I see something across from me
Standing next to a twisted tree.
Then I see something across the pit
Standing over a small fire that he just lit.
Then I see another, then another
they... are... me... one, two, three, four.
We each walked different paths to reach this place
and confusion was clear on each ones' face.
Water, Earth, Air, and Fire
Each one with a different desire.
Frozen, Quaking, Tempest, Eruption
each one brings its own destruction.
What is it that I am here to learn?
Life, Live, Breathe, Burn!
The mind is
Gentle... Hostile...
Changeable... Fragile.
Sand Dunes Hiku
stretches of sand dunes
blown away by wild winds~
nature`s piece of art
d
e . . t d . . . u
r . . . . c n . . . . . . . n
t . . . . . . . e a . . . . . . . . . e
s . . . . . . . . . . s o ~f s . . . . . . . . . . s
\ \ s \ \~
\ \ w \ \ / / d / / \ \ d \ \
\ \ a \ \ / / l / / \ \ n \ \
\ \ w \ \ / / i / / \ \ i \ \
b ~l o~ w ~n \ \ a \ \ b ~y / / w / / \ \ w \ \
n -a –t -u-r-e-`s p- I- e- c- e o-f a- r- t.
ars poetica: brother, 4.25.18
someday, he will sit stiff
on our piano bench
to which he has grown accustomed, and i,
home, will sit nearby
in our cozy armchair,
an old accomplice to my posture.
i can’t remember the last time i saw him relax
this boy, this impossibly-almost man.
he will play me what he is able
of the opus he meticulously composed
in the year since we last met,
in the year since he told me
he wished he knew who i was,
who i had become since moving away.
i can still feel his excitement in the message
i received last month once he had finished.
i will revel in each chord progression,
every stylized transition,
any idiosyncratic modulation,
all exemplifications of his desire to see G*d.
let Him be manified.
and i will congratulate my brother,
for i have grown to admire the passion
with which he worships the One Who Loves.
i will ask to read him this poem.
and during these moments, we will glean
a piece of each other that we usually cannot hold.
i think this is what love can look like:
distant hearts drawing near, speaking
a language without words, the language
that lets them feel they are not alone,
not so different after all.
In time’s vast flow in forward gears,
What use these fears for a few years?
Life has given more than enough,
Why cough over missing stuff?
Every day dawns with enough light,
Why dwell on last night’s darkling blight?
Enough joyous jiffies to live,
Why grieve on sad ones on this eve?
Sweet memories when swell in heart,
Why not cart sad ones all apart?
Let’s fondly flaunt flowers in life,
Why dwell rife but on spikes of strife?
Hail few that come if heart feels good,
Why brood on those that never would?
Goodness books space in every room,
Why fume for faults if they spread gloom?
Goodly souls everywhere are lined,
What more blind search engines can find?
____________________________________
Couplets |01.01.2024| New Year
Poet’s note: There is a lot of stock-taking on the year that just ended, along with predictions for the new year, and resolutions on what to do now on. Forget the past and move on is the theme of these couplets. This piece is my interpretation of a Gujarati forward I received: Hisab shuñ rakhvo?
Let the top runners run a way ahead of me,
Let them hold their coveted trophies high,
Just to finish, my modest version feels happy;
True beauty this of long-distance running, feel I.
Every runner carries a story with him:
Some have faced a bitter breakup or a lost job,
Some confront middle age and fight low self-esteem,
Weary victims of dull days all, all blending with the mob.
As the heavy kilometers are getting killed,
The old gulf in my confidence begins to yield,
Anxieties and deep hurts get quietly healed
As empty space before the finish line is filled.
My lungs burn with a clean, honest fire--
A welcome distraction from the weight on my chest,
This pain, a fair reward for my old ire,
Sweat washing clean the scars of my quiet conquest.
It all begins with a few tentative steps
Driven by the most benign motives of the crowd,
To make friends with strangers, to earn their claps,
Slowly forming a habit that makes a person proud.
Life is not won by a wooden podium’s call
If only we have the patience to wait,
A long-distance journey awaits us all,
Whether or not a few medals await their fate.
__________________________________
Reflections | 04.08.2026 | analogy, ambition, competition, goal, prize, race, Quatrain
Note: This piece reflects on competing with the self with an aim to improve rather than winning a medal, taking an illustration of long-distance running. The lines of the quatrain with varying lengths follow a relaxed rhyming rhythm.