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.
As I sit here looking at my blank canvass of white,
I start to think back about why I started to paint.
Sitting outside, one day, four years ago, in the light,
I remember the sunset as it began to faint.
I wanted so much to never forget the scene,
That I grabbed a piece of cloth and picked up a brush.
I didn’t know, at the time, what it would all mean,
But I wanted to do it right, so I didn’t rush.
The colors came out so very vivid and clear,
And it almost seemed as if it painted itself.
I had never thought about art until just that year.
I don’t know why some talent stays hidden on a shelf.
So, now in my fifties, I meet with a group of friends,
And we sit and paint, unfolding the stages of life.
I wonder what is next for me, up around the bend.
Who knows, maybe I’ll become as famous as my wife.
This was written sometime back when a bird had built a nest on a bushy tree in my garden… I waited counting down days to see the eggs hatched. But what happened in the end was heart breaking!
A nest of intricate design
a piece of art unmatched in decor
built amid the dark verdure of clustered leaves-
the gay habitat of a robin and her brood.
How suddenly it erupts into a clatter of sounds,
as the mother bird comes diving in
with a wee bit of a wriggling worm
discreetly borne in her tiny beak.
Thrusting it into the gaping mouths,
she departs and comes again
and again, comes with something
a whirring insect or a twisting thing.
Nothing can appease her ravenous horde
and on she goes ferreting about.
At night fall she alights abrupt
from what infinite heights, God alone knows
darting into her nest as she hovers,
the din subsides.....
first into a fizzle, then into sharp silence
Bundled in her warmth, the little ones
sleep till the first flutter of dawn
From my window, I enjoy this diurnal scene
repeating itself in methodical precision
until someday, into heaven’s insurmountable heights
the young ones take off on tiny wings!
A sight so accustomed, cheery and gleeful,
my eyes would soon be deprived of
and the thought makes me ill at ease.
A wonder it is, the young ones
inexperienced though, thrives so well
on catapulted suddenly into an eerie world!
What husbandry in nature!
What Godly solicitude!
The next morn, my heart missed a beat
at what I espied through my open window.
On the ground lay the swallow’s nest
ripped, broken and blown to pieces
like a heap of rubble after a tremor.
By its side lay a few downy feathers-
the sad reminder of a stark felony!
In an instant flashed past
the grim image of the black Tom cat
that prowls my courtyard in the dark
with glowing eyes and bristly whiskers.
Damning that accursed thing,
I picked up that wreckage,
my mind violently mutinying over
the ‘insolent might’!!
They say the did not know
But they knew
They say they did not see
But they saw
They say they were not part of it
But they were
He observed the surroundings
He calculated the time frame
He planned it all
He saw her
He excuted the mission
He missed
How do you comprehend the story?
What story?
How do you piece together the puzzle?
Where do you get the pieces?
How do you solve the mystery?
What mystery?
She knew she was being followed
She knew she was being watched?
She was the target?
She knew it all
Yet nobody did nothing
Yet nobody cared
Yet nobody said anything
Yet she was the target
Yet she still is the target
Author Dana Redricks
November 2, 2016
Floating on the rivers of life watching time pass me by; many people have come along for the journey and some I have watched as they vanished in the wind.
Living in world wind when will this trouble end.
Summer breeze may bring me ease but autumn rain will wash it away. Some people come in our lives as the summer breeze, but they float on as quickly as they came.
Some people are full of games they never keep it real; they will play with your heart and take each piece until there is nothing left.
I decided to take control of my life and take back the power God has given me. To be above and not beneath, to ride the chariot of fire floating high on the Eagles wings feeling liberated and able to see my destiny God has laid out for me. I am finally free.
Maples were first at letting down their leaves they always go first actually.
Sycamore and oak were a day later; both let them go satisfactorily.
Their crispy waiting autumn leaves had been ripe for more than a little while,
But if they did not let maple go first, there would be a frown, not a smile.
Colorful eager leaves cascaded, sprinkled, floated, twisted, danced, and swirled.
They were like exotic Romanian scarf dancers with bound legs unfurled.
The pumpkins and squash sat rolling their jealous uncaring eyes.
They were always in perpetual grumpy moods. No big surprise!
A spider began making her way toward the barn gate.
The knowing farmer tried to stop her, but he was too late.
Her intricate web was already up, as fancy as any lace cloth.
A delicate piece of pure danger for any insect she caught.
From the house wafted delicious pumpkin spice and cinnamon smells
Perky pink nose from leaf pile turned west as by magic spells.
Vole friend warned the mouse, I would not go in there. No way.
The cat had an early lunch, and the mouse learned the hard way.
Written 9-9-2020
Contest Autumn Fall Rhyme Challenge
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
my soul, gossamer, diaphanous, wispy, transparent-
my lines, cobwebs of chiffon
glimpses in poems of my deep sadness
I pen in innocence
sublime, my ramblings
rapturous writing
turning words into poems
from deep within-
bleeding from my pen . . .
and then comes the vile and evil
filled with bitterness
and it makes me so angry
you think your loathsomeness
can touch me
envious
spiteful
I recoil from your soul's ugliness-
pathetic and despicable and sickening is your brokenness
loneliness your eternity . . .
I slowly remove your blood soaked dagger
from my heart and the blood is dripping red
the pieces of my hearts lay
beneath my feet and I do not hesitate
I pick up every shattered fragment
of the puzzle that is me and I put each piece back
in place, and my message to you, never, ever
even be a shadow upon my poetry again
for I have a determination
you cannot fathom . . .
___________________
September 7, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/a shadow on my poetry
Copyright Protected, ID 15-706-730-0
All Rights Reserved. Written in Pseudonym.
Entered in the contest, A Poem You Wrote In Anger,
sponsor, Skat
Third Place
Its still awkward to brag about my accomplishments.
Even though I have been through so much, and made art out of it.
My creations are in many collections.
Still I never thought of myself as someone who was worthy enough to brag about what I have done.
It’s not like I am a brain surgeon saving lives.
I just write about how I am feeling or how I have felt at one point in time.
So to see my pieces on pages in many different anthologies, it actually makes me proud of me.
Which is surprising.
I am no one special, and may never be.
But I started posting to bring awareness to unspoken things.
All I ever wanted was for others to read and feel something in each piece.
I wanted people to be able to find the words they were missing.
Pieces that helped them move past things. Knowing they are not alone, and there are words to describe their feelings.
I don’t want to be famous, but I want my words to travel across the seas.
I want people who are in dark caves to find light in my writing.
I want the girl who has been hiding to find shelter within my words, because comfort is what she deserves.
I want to write to heal the broken hearts, the lonely spirits, and lost souls who don’t know who they are.
I hope my words can be bridges for people to their hearts.
I just want people to know they are not alone, and there is purpose within their scars.
Life is so hard, sometimes even a smile can warm the coldest of hearts.
I’ve written pieces when I was in pieces.
I shared them with the world, hoping it reaches anyone who is in need.
With a message that spoke courage and planted a seed.
Life happens, and my pen takes action.
I don’t want fame.
I just want my words to make a difference, in someone else’s day.
Maybe change another’s life.
Because some words are hard to find, and even harder to say.
my inner child is a bright eyed boy,
with unkempt hair and many a ploy,
he peeps out sometimes for all to see,
that’s when I behave ‘so unlike me!’
take family dinners for a start,
when guests are many but food is short,
the boy in me hides a piece of cake,
lest there is not one for me to take!
intellectual fight! chess is on,
and my queen is threatened by a pawn,
the man in me wrestles a quick clue,
but the child in me feels rather blue!
here is a secret that I can share,
I am retired, don’t really care,
I smeared super glue on the boss’s chair,
trousers ripped, he needed new pair!
my grandchildren know what I can do,
deep within me there is a child too!
when they need ideas or new toy,
they come to consult the bright eyed boy!
03/September/2021
Chantelle Anne Cooke sponsored
Your inner child poetry contest
9 syllables each line!
Trying to piece together my past
Gluing together the fractured pieces
Hoping the memories will continue to last
Unlike the gaps existing in my mind
So come along together with me
And let's play arts and crafts
Distinguish the flashbacks I see
With what was really reality
Do I truly remember the words that were spoken?
Or is what I remember obscured by calamity?
I see visions of the past when I am awoken
Reliving the horrors my conscience has redacted
Arts and crafts to put myself back together
Turn me into your most painstaking project
As my chronology is scattered like the weather
And maybe one day I can be fully crafted again
But for now I still cry myself to sleep
Tears wilting up the paper sheets
As I drown abandoned in the deep
Suffering.
It’s a common thing.
After a loss,
a breakup,
a death.
But that’s most of the time physical.
Not always mental.
Mine? It’s mental.
I lost someone dear to me,
not in death, but in emotion,
and now I can’t hold anything back.
The anger, the sadness,
the empty feeling.
I feel as though,
there’s a hole,
right in my heart.
That I have lost a piece of myself,
of my soul,
and of my mind.
They were the one,
that pushed me through the day.
That gave me the motivation,
that made me not cry.
They relieved my stress,
they calmed my anxiety,
they silenced the voices,
that speak loudly in my head.
Now I don’t have them,
and everything’s gone awry.
My stress is heightened,
my anxiety insane,
and the voices loud,
making my thoughts broken.
I lost the only thing keeping me going,
and I feel so lost.
I wish this feeling could go away,
but it will never leave,
and I’ll always be suffering,
until I move on.