Long Prompt Poems
Long Prompt Poems. Below are the most popular long Prompt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prompt poems by poem length and keyword.
"I have dug my way out the ground with palm and fist many times,
my whole life has been one burial after another, I will find my way
out of you." -rupi kaur
______________
"Your death was a selfish act . . .
driving your car off a cliff-
the pain you held ended that day but not for me
I have fallen in pits of darkness since-
but have found my inner strength and become strong
I have buried all those I love, including you-
I will go on and be just fine, my love . . . "
_______________________________
November 18, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Burials
Copyright Protected, ID 16-851-154-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Quote Prompt II
sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
So Japanese
was
the Hokku
'til the master
came into view
then via Haikai
on
along the way
Matsuo Munefusa
aka
Bashó
mastered
haiku
a phonetical&cultural
'onji' *(in sound symbols)
came to be
traditionally
per·pen·dicu·lar
as a single line
in particular
now
HIKU * in English
to me or you
*Hiku is the English language tristich (three line) version(including translations)with similar economy of words including the THOUGHT PAUSE prompt (often indicated by an ellipsis .....the SENSE PAUSE the aesthetic point of insight flowing from perception & ONE BREATH LENGTH to correspond to the aforementioned Japanesese 17 onji sounds.
The essence without "telling all" (thereby to ' show ' conforming to the key of all true imagist poetry),&avoids 'as'&'to' & the use of past tense verbs (& is often without verbs,adverbs,adjectives )A verse freed from strict syllabic constraint within its triplicity of format& is inherently enigmatic & often with a caesura and surprise ending( VERSUM )to give a 'turning' to the line.The hiku maybe a horizontal single* line,(often broken at the caesura),a vertical line(usually a painting(haiga see note) ,a couplet** or a tristich***
Pooh, plush with his turned-up snout,
pleased; peeked out the wide window.
He prompt a mouth sigh, breathed out,
placid with life, holding his pillow.
Seized by magic of nature
and buzzing noise, means there's bees.
Out the door happy creature,
beehives beneath limbs and shade of trees.
Pooh and Cricket walk, a trail
laced in rainbow wildflowers.
A sniff they took, and a snail
slowly crawl out look for spring showers.
Fluttering butterfly lands
on Pooh's nose, twas so funny.
A bouquet and snail in hands,
towards home with jugs full of honey.
2/6/2022
Nursery Rhyme
I am a bad, bad, BAD boy
*** and NC-17 qualified,
I frequent the easy streets in leisure zone
and walk with a swagger.
I own my time
I own my dreams
I have my own plans,
I am the center of my domain--
I, Me and Myself,
I don't waste my time
to appease nobody,
I know what I want and
ain't afraid to go for it,
I don't just sit and mope
I got to get up and get going.
I am a bad, bad boy,
I don't suffer fools easily
Nor a politician or a priest,
I'm impatient with small talks
wading through friendly BS.
I am honest and don't beat around
the bush – foreplay is a waste of time,
I go for the main show!
I am cocky and like to tease--
A lighthearted back-and-forth
keeps a relationship passionate and fiery,
I engage in verbal swordplay.
I am a bad, bad boy
I don't want to get caught praying
or coming out of a confession,
Neither would I like to be seen
drinking beer or champagne,
A Jack Daniel's on-the-rock kinda guy,
Hair messy and a slight stubble,
least to smile, chewing a dead cigar,
Twinkle in my eyes, a gold tooth,
adorned all over with pledge-of-love tattoos
I'll stand up for my girl and fight,
For I am a bad, bad, BAD boy
But, a good, good, GOOD man!
~Casarah Nance contest, Prompt 2
Time is tricky with changing moods,
Space is shaky with bad and good.
Now nothing lasts through change and age,
Time moves so fast from page to page.
Be prompt with time as space finds you,
Writes in deep rhyme is what you do.
Wise up dear fool as sage inks lines,
Verse feels thought drool lovely and fine.
Seize zest for fest and word your best
Make echoes jest to hurl the rest.
Pattern your churn with sonic boom,
Action can burn a sexy bloom.
Reason shocks wIt as fancy strange,
Logic can fit odd waves of change.
Insight now peeps to hustle space,
Delight strings deep a curious face.
Time plunders well to crumble dust,
Soul bids heart dwell on simple trust.
Now dare outlast the certain feast,
Soon the vain past dies like a beast.
Trick or treat shows a pagan ploy,
You seem to know how wonder toys.
Leon Enriquez
10 November 2018
Singapore
Leaning in, I INHALE an aroma so sweet
Entwining VINES reaching ten feet
Deceiving-this beauty can appear
Bright HUED flower has sharp thorns everywhere
Carefully, I GRASP the long stem
Cut at an angle, then attach it to my hem
I HOLD my breath as I flap my wings
I GASP when I almost drop the rings
Using the wind to help me SOAR
I GLIDE with the current to her door
One long- stemmed rose I CLASP within my CLUTCH
With her heart, my soul she did touch
I ask her hand, assuring my intentions pure
Side- by- side we will journey through a future unsure
Heart- to- heart; two angels align
Perfect harmony; soul mates divine
07-01-21
Writing prompt-GRASP
Place 3
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Stoned out of concentration, my eyes stared deep into the padded grey church walls, ambient coloured lights flashed through the tinted windows dancing up the ceilings, and tunes of melodious worship shadowed past my ears.
I never wanted a cut on my body. "you have a cyst in both ovaries and it requires prompt surgery." The doctor's words eluded my thoughts, fleeting like flickering LEDs.
I wanted a miracle desperately. Shattered in tears, I spoke to God, asked him to heal me,
to give me a first-hand embrace of his mercy and I'll share mine too.
Faith is a mix of troubles and losses, dreams on hold, hurts and tears. But with it, God sends a blanket of stability. One month later, the test came back negative. I testified.
The Captain had a penny whistle
Which he wore around his neck
And he played it every morning
As the crew danced on the deck.
Sometimes it was a Hornpipe
Sometimes a Palais Glide
As the crew danced fore and aft
And from Port to Starboard side.
Prompt every morning
When the Bosun rang a bell,
And if he was feeling frisky
The Captain danced as well.
Sometimes on sunny mornings
The crew would stand at ease
While the Captain and a subby
Mimed a decorous strip tease.
Rain storm hail or shine
Until twenty minutes passed
When on a given signal
The crew would climb the mast
To set the sails and rigging
And get the ship under way
And so it continued
Every single day.
Two or three times a year
All the ships would meet
And the Captain and his crea
Would dance for the fleet.
It was on the good ship Venus
Which had been a ship of shame
Until the Dancing Captain'
Gave it a better name.
He became the only Admiral to wear
A penny whistle around his neck
And even in his dotage
Would dance around the deck.
Ship shape and Bristol fashion
When she was away at sea.
Oh on the good ship Venus
Such a happy place to be
Life can turn on simple decisions;
I, myself, am proof that life can even be given a start based on the same.
My father rode into Germany at the end of World War II,
His mission: to help clean up the mess that war can leave behind.
His kismet came in the form of Germanic blue eyes
accompanied by a coquettish smile
atop a feminine form with an intelligent mind.
Paperwork was his excuse not to join his platoon on a trip to the outskirts of town;
The real reason was to chase a skirt he was mesmerized with in town;
What his fellow soldiers saw in the first discovery of a German Concentration Camp, scarred them for life;
My father was spared that horror and that trauma to his soul that may have made it impossible for him to fall in love with my mother that afternoon.
Were it not for his lame excuse;
Were it not for the chance to try out his newly learned German on a beautiful girl in a beaten down city in a defeated country;
I would not be typing these words in the autumn of my blessed life.
There would be no author to pen this tale,
No tale to tell,
Had that young soldier performed his duty that day
instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.
Written and posted on 1/12/2016 for the "Last Line Prompt" contest.
"The streams are my veins."
Rivers, rather than flowing around us, deliver vitality to every cell and fiber in the body. They are the life-giving arteries and veins of the earth. By Poet
Sarcastic, keen vision makes me shiver,
Some light gills merge to shape a grand river.
My shattered lungs could burst the concrete chains,
Each song stirs the vent veins of the liver.
All gentlest sounds conspire to clear my veins,
Your love flows like the Nile through Egypt's plains.
But can I ignore your love in my face?
Don't miss wetting the dense stems with your mains.
Wasting flowers could divest her of grace,
My soul was relieved by the tune's embrace.
Allow viewing realms from the onset.
She fascinates every time with the lace.
No applied falseness but switches my mindset,
I am just leery about this concept.
Dull words of fear, half peace, and half sorrow,
A halt would be marked; I lack an outset.
They say you were all over the bellow,
Croon in a shrewd tone, and you will follow.
Once you head me going, I'm harsh to sway,
I've seen creeks full of life rushing 'morrow.
A calm stream bears lithe life into the clay,
Reap peace and calm, at sea, don't jump astray.
All the sounds are causing my veins to stream,
No mountains or freeways prompt me to stray.
My veins run through my mind like magic-dream,
It's glum, but I note them in my bloodstream.
Your love spares me from being powerless,
When you wake up, it won't stop meaning realms.
Written: August 2nd, 2022
Let Your Muse Be Inspired - R Form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1ST Place Contest Winner
Used: HMS.COM// 10 syllables per line
Rhyme: AAbA-BBcB-CCdC...