Long Plays Poems
Long Plays Poems. Below are the most popular long Plays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plays poems by poem length and keyword.
Beside the creek
Where water flows soothing
Across a salt and pepper rock bed
My mind reflects on the peaceful
Gentle feel of the song it plays in my head
Calming, caressing, creating a sense of inspiration
Relieving my fears and easing all my melancholy darkness
Embracing me with clear, cool water
Graceful as the midday sun and quiet
Like the cooing of raindrops quivering
Against the melody of gushing liquid
Beside the creek
Where I go to feel alone and alive
Like a wonderful moment expressed
In light and shadows, dreamy and mysterious
Lavender hues and tangerine stardust
Welcoming my thoughts and inklings
That breathe flames of tenderness and hope
Through my longings, my feelings, my thoughts
Blessings from the creator who knows me
Better than I know the beating of my heart
Beside the creek
Where pure, fresh water strokes the banks
With joy thriving and enlivening the soul
Proclaiming serenity as it melts in pools
Designed by the dancing dreams that glide
Across the stones, bringing melodies so wonderful
They dissolve in the colorless caress of faith
That awakens brilliant prayers and praise
Within the sounds of easy waters falling
All around the stones, bringing exhilaration
Ecstasy to the heart of the one who knows
God lives in these whispers of sincerity and love
Beside the creek
I know I have discovered
The meaning of patience
And the makings of creation’s
Still, small voice of kindness
And elation – a celebration
Of God’s abundant compassion
Being born in December
No one remembers
That you celebrate your birth
They are festive and bright
To celebrate Christ
With days and plays in church
There’s Christmas towns
And lights all around
With family feasts to enjoy
You learn very young
The birthday party fun
Is not more important than the Lord
But still it’s a treat
To be a Christmas baby
Born on December eleventh
Cake was still sweet
Mom put up the tree
And it was just like heaven
Because I was alive
Two weeks from Christmas time
I was considered a gift
So even if my friends
Forget my birthday again
I had a tree up with double gifts
It’s a blessing to be
A Christmas baby
Even if the Lord gets the rejoice
I can delight
In the festive lights
And feel happy to share joy
Born in poverty
In a manger the history
Tells a story of a shining star
That guided wise men
To the place where in
The Christ would win their heart
So with gifts
They made the long trip
Careful to keep the location secret
For the child was chosen
Prophecy was golden
Even enemies believe it
The little babe
Is the One who saves
Born to a virgin named Mary
His life is destined
With strife and blessings
A cross He will carry.
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication”.
That Mona Lisa portrait I got painted "flawed".
I was restless. It's a competition. She said:
'It's okay. Mona Lisa, you so much applaud.
The universe is well-knit in a holy thread…
Throw out that "mask" that covers you from seeing all,
That needs to be seen in sincerity and truth;
When the mirages are "torn" and truth loudly bawl
You will see me, the Mona, hidden in your booth’.
I have a Mona within; Lisa she needs not,
Though she seems "imperfect", she's ever perfect truth.
This Mona tells me, imperfections are a lot,
What one needs to pursue is paths with perfect youth.
When I heard what my Mona, my sweetheart had said,
My mania of such Mona Lisa got "cracked".
There born a love for a Mona who's no more dead,
That has withstood much a long loan lineless "facade".
Mona, Lisa, or Monalisa - the same truth…
Meanings get "broken" when we get misunderstand.
"Illusion", indeed, plays a role crookedly smooth,
Even gods of heavens not fully understand.
Mona, I love you for revealing this great truth.
I love you now so much more than ever before.
The outlook of truth that all your life’s ever youth,
Turn the tides of dilemmas to real love lore.
15 June 2021
Writing Prompt - Flawed - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Lost in the desert, no water left
I can no longer tell east from west
Hallucinations are putting me in distress
As I slip in and out of consciousness
In the distance I see a piano
A surreal image to say the least
Then I see an old man walking towards me, slow
Eventually he reaches the piano
And then he starts to play
And as he plays the younger he gets
All through the desert the melody strays
As the old man gets younger yet
He stops playing and then walk away
The further he walks he ages more and more
And then, to my dismay
He crumbles like sand to the desert floor!
I crawl agonizingly slowly toward the piano
When I finally reach, it's not a piano at all!
But an oasis, my joy overflows
I quench my thirst feeling enthralled
Then suddenly I hear a melody
And in the distance an old man I see!
~~~
2/4/16
Driving past our old home on Glenwood Avenue
Memories came to life from my childhood days
Going over the park, Mom. I'll be in before ten
Got a game of hide and seek. Everyone plays
We'd take a bottle of yoo-hoo or nu-grape to drink
In winter on Clark Street there was an ice skating rink
A pack of luckies in our shirt sleeve thinking we were cool
The Bungalow was our community pool
There were Friday night dances in the gym at Saint Jerome
Maybe a stop at the Coffee Cup while we were walking home.
Movies at the Majestic and Victoria were great
Fan buses for away games. We'd get back late.
American Billiard Academy was where the balls were racked
No seat at the home game because the stadium was packed
Under the state store, the Y M C A
At the Vic a Saturday matinee
A baseball game with a sponge ball and fist
In the school's gymnasium, doing the Twist
Middle Ward playground, the movie was free
Adjusting the picture on the old T V.
A class trip on school buses to Hershey Park
Sleigh ride down Snake Hill in the cold and the dark
Walking the coal bank by Number Fourteen
Stopping at Mike's to play the pinball machine
On Biddle Street, we'd sit on the cemetery wall
Jumping into piles of leaves in the early fall
Then I stopped at Dutch Hill Park for a while
Memories of Tamaqua always make me smile.
It's rare that most would call me a hot head
I am usually the coolest cucumber instead
I have no tells, so their heads don't swell
and I don't get entangled to soon
But there is this tall lanky guy you see
who plays a mean bluegrass guitar so sweet!
and he's turned me on my head
my tongue lolling out the side, I feel a big oh wet appetite
Its going to be corn dogs yeah baby and ice cream cones
I have to whip up these muscles and work on my tone
He gonna have expectations of meee
and I intend to make him sing oh yeah oh how deee
I do drive like a race car driver I confess
and mr ex officer may have to give me a new test
until he gets over that
I will have a bit of time to press
But never before would anyone claim I swear
that I was a hot headed daredevil minx
its this tall lanky boy and his talk of being my toy
and I don't ever want it to jinx
It's going to be corn dogs yeah baby and ice cream cones
I have to whip up these muscles and work on my tone
He gonna have expectations of meee
and I intend to make him sing hot diggity!
I wonder how he likes his ice cubes. jagged or smooth
and how stiff he likes his drinks
on the rocks or straight shot no lube
And I just await tying him down so we can just work out the kinks
It's going to be corn dogs yeah baby and ice cream cones
I have to whip up these muscles and work on my tone
He gonna have expectations of meee
and a month of head bobbin review with a view
- Corn Dogs and Ice Cream Cones for Brian - Artimus (C) Susan Manley 4/22/24 1:51AM
Each moment of my existence has been,
Hard strife toward keeping my conscience clean;
As a washer-man makes linens spotless,
How I wish my heart to be pure! Blotless...!
I'm not dwelling in an angelic space,
Wherein environs are adorned with grace;
Fields of all seasonal grains surround me,
Thorny thickets thrive here fearlessly free...!
Passions are like dusts of harvest season,
Fine like gem fragments, but, full of treason;
Pleasant fleetingly, like a feather touch,
Machines of blood, veins, and heart they declutch...!
Like mad horses pulling the cart apart,
Sensuous senility plays games smart;
It's as hard as pulling back a ship, wrecked,
I assemble my efforts love bedecked...!
Is my consciousness, yet, this much only?
Is it with friends, or, often, feel lonely?
As an ant, each of my steps is priceless,
Does life turns, yet, ultimately, viceless...?
Can a devotee expect his fruit, yet?
Could there be, in faith and trust, any debt?
I travel midst many a mental threat,
Strife toward goodness is my sole asset...!!!
26 April 2023
Refining consciousness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Little Girl swings in the air,
legs pumping, wind in hair
the closest to flight she’ll ever be.
freedom and fairytales whisper in her ears,
telling her with each swing, she’ll be closer to the clouds.
Little Girl and Little Boy swing in the air,
legs pumping, wind in hair,
‘friends forever’ echo in their laughter.
their shadows chase after them in the shade of the trees
and disappear in the sun.
Little Girl and Little Boy walk to the playground.
Little Boy’s hands cover Little Girl’s mouth,
no escaping sound.
her shadow disappears and his darkens.
Little Boy’s hands crawl over her body,
and Little Girl screams with no voice.
Little Girl’s ‘no’ is a game he now plays,
seeing how long until his friends focus their gaze,
laughing and pointing and poking and touching,
no this is not a phase.
Young Man steps into a dorm.
Young Woman is cornered by the upcoming storm
and he grabs her and smiles.
finally alone again she cries,
her skin burns with anger
fear and disgust become her reflection
she scrubs her skin,
but the dirt does not wash away.
Little Girl stares at her bedroom wall
she rewinds the clock, trying to stall
but when the sun sets, his shadow emerges
and hers runs to hide in the Land of Innocence.
Old Woman turns on the tv
Old Man is surrounded by red and blue lights.
Little Girl’s wails turn into a siren’s
Old Woman cries new kinds of tears,
her first smile appears after 75 years
freedom, relief, breathing again.
Old Woman swings in the air,
legs pumping, gray traced hair
no longer alone.
Little Girl holds her hands which no longer shake,
she clutches her heart, there’s no more ache.
they smile and watch as their shadows swing in the sunset,
flying fast,
healed at last.
I have never been in a war…PEACE…I’ve lived it…breathed it…taught it…
but as much as I have hated war…I respect all those who fought it.
I’ve lived long enough to know …we all see the world through different eyes…
I know I don’t have all the answers…no one is that wise.
I know most people in the world hate the thought of war as much as me
and I understand sometimes we must fight to keep our country free.
I know the men and women who die in war are black, white, gay or straight
I know that war…and bullets…and bombs do not discriminate.
I also know on Memorial Day we put our differences aside
and we come together to commemorate every soldier who has died.
How we commemorate is different for everyone…as everyone adapts…
We visit graves, we pause a moment…a lone bugler plays Taps.
I cannot play the bugle…so when it comes to playing Taps
I found a different way to commemorate…as I say…everyone adapts.
And though I’ve never fought or died in war…yesterday (with very little pizzaz)
I played Taps on my harmonica…for everyone who has…
I played to commemorate those who have died in wars…
while still praying wars will cease…
to commemorate those who gave their lives in wars
so I can play my harmonica in peace.
“we look for that light eternal
that does not come and go
the screen upon which life plays
cognised in staid stillness slow”
by Unseeking Seeker
As Almighty Creator’s children who're created in the image of God,
We’re born gifted of His Light, don’t be so anxious or sad,
God’s light had dwelt in our heart and soul, in each and among us;
Let it shine in every minute, hourly, in all seasons, in every Christmas!
The light in our soul is powered as great and bright as the sun,
By our love, generosity, good deeds and holiness in expanse;
God’s Light in our heart is eternal, can’t be hidden, come and go--
We’re sculptured as His Lighthouses to glorify Him! Let’s all show!
If we’re blinded…carried away by temptations or disappointments,
Dwindled hope, faith, values and darkness will never be our Light’s ends;
Look within our soul, or of other’s, holding fervently to God in prayers
To light that lights all lights so brightly, for God lives in us forever!