Long Publications Poems
Long Publications Poems. Below are the most popular long Publications by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Publications poems by poem length and keyword.
Why
You made me know poetry
Learned some
But still illiterate
Uneducated
Reason is to be with most people
To be like them
Bliss is complete happiness
Bliss of morning came
Wanted to write poetry
Poetry about the unknown
Thought of publications
Making the fifth
Was reading Psalm of Divine Mercy Bible
Bliss of heart can finally understand
To form easy words for all people to comprehend
Writing is like Singing
Singing to convey heart songs
Singing and writing is alike
Lost voice of singing from a tragic car accident
Right arm is present
Present to write heart songs
Heart Songs are feelings
Why did You make me know poetry
Poetry is Therapeutic
Did some of Your publications
Formed prayers as poetry
For the mothers and the unborn
You telling me that the unborn is safe in heaven
How will the world know
I am in cynical world
World is big, Blue, round
Earth
You made me be a saint
Saint to help people
Mothers and the unborn
Tomorrow will see the bliss of sunrise
Poetry Form: Free Verse
Date Written: 9032022
Time Written: 11:03am
Source: Mirriam-Webster Dictionary
Poe was always revising his prose between publications. Here are the longest extended versions of sentences he shortened for their final publication in his lifetime:
"We loved each other with a love that was more than love, more love than fit in an empty grotes bag, more than the love of worms if you were a hungry, hungry catfish."
"I became insane, with long intervals of sanity, then more insanity, then sane for a while, then my brain got all twisted up and went mad, then I got better. I've lost track."
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream, within another dream, within a rusty tubular tin box of sewing needles made into the handle of a doll's hairbrush."
"Believe only half of what you see, nothing of what you hear, three quarters of what you taste, one-tenth of what you feel, but the entirety of what you smell."
"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night, as for example bats, yes bats, did you know you could leave the cage door open in the bright of day and your bats will go nowhere."
"Sleep, those little slices of death, how I loathe them, also the neighbor's nippy little dog, egads I hate that dog."
"If you wish to forget anything on the Spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered, then tie it to Spot's collar, and turn him loose in some terrible neighborhood where people eat dogs."
"To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary, also those little candy root beer barrels."
"I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow, but it was Catterina that farted."
"I fell violently on my face, rolled to my side, grunted horrible grunts of gruntlyness, then flopped onto my back and waved my arms all about, still grunting."
"Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all, while Catterina licked her paws and I felt around in my pocket for my last dime but all I found was a raggedy little hole."
NEVER SHAME A WOMAN
SHE'LL OUT DO YOU
AND FIND PEOPLE WHO'LL
DO THE SAME
MAKE A MESS OF YOUR LIFE BY PLAYING
SILLY LITTLE GAMES
MAKE YOU TO BELEIVE
THINK ABOUT WHAT SHE SAY'S
LIE AFTER LIE
YOU'LL NEVER KNOW WHO'S
IN HER BED
SHE'LL LABEL YOU GAY
AND PEOPLE WILL CHOR4E
TO SAY SHE'S RIGHT
NEVER MAKE A WOMAN SHAMEFACED
SHE'LL TRY TO STRAT A FIGHT
SHE'LL SAY THE LITTLE MAN
BATTLING THE GIANT
WON, WHEN THE BIGGUY
BEAT THE BUM
SHE'LL M AKE CONTENTION FROM THE LIES
SHE WISHES THE WORLD TO BELEIVE
TURNING TRICKS IN YOUR NAME
FOOLING A WORLD TO BELEIVE
HER HEIIGHENED SENSE OF TROUBLING
WHEN KNOW THING GOES HER WAY
TELL PPEOPLE WHAT YOU'VE DONE
AND TELL PEOPLE THE THINGS YOU SAY
CREATE AN AUDEINCE
THAN THE MEN WHO WISH TO BELEIVE
CALL YOU ***'S AND STUFF
AND WILL REQUEST FOR YOU TO LEAVE
FROM THE BOOK I FEEL THREATENED BY HER CAUSE TO RALLY AGAINST ME !
BY JUDDER DACKS, THE NEW YORK PRESS, PUBLISHED IN ASSOCATION WITH DEAL-DEAL MONEY RIGHT PUBLICATIONS AND BOOKS, A PEOPLE COMPANY. COPYRIGHTED 1969 BY DEAL-DEAL MONEY RIGHT PUBLISHING COMPANY. WRITEN BY aUTHER WRITER, FROM THE SERIES OF BOOKS BY "PUNKS AND THE WHORES WHO SLANDER THEM"
(Bal-e-Jibril-151) Javed Iqbal Ke Naam:
(On receiving first letter of Javed Iqbal(Late Son of Dr Allama Iqbal) in London)
https://youtu.be/jGv1lCDjHEk
Senior Justice Javed Iqbal (5 October 1924 – 3 October 2015) was a Pakistani philosopher and senior justice of the Supreme Court of Pakistan. He was internationally known for his acclaimed publications on philosophy of law and modern Islamic philosophy in international and national journals.
He was the son of the poet-philosopher Dr. Muhammad Allama Iqbal, who inspired the Pakistan Movement. Javed authored various books on Pakistan's nationalism movement and political ideology. Apart from philosophy, Javed had a prolific career in the Judiciary of Pakistan and was a former Chief Justice of the Lahore High Court before being elevated to the Supreme Court. He received the Hilal-i-Imtiaz Award in 2004.
1.Diyar-e-Ishq Mein Apna Maqam Paida Kar
Naya Zamana, Naye Subah-o-Sham Paida Kar
Build in love’s empire your hearth and your home;
Build Time a new, a new dawn, a new eve!
2.Khuda Agar Dil-e-Fitrat Shanas De Tujh Ko
Sakoot-e-Lala-o-Gul Se Kalaam Paida Kar
Your speech, if God give you the friendship of Nature,
From the rose and tulip’s long silence weave.
3.Utha Na Sheesha Garan-e-Farang Ke Ehsan
Sifal-e-Hind Se Meena-o-Jaam Paida Kar
No gifts of the Franks’ clever glass-bowers ask!
From India’s own clay mould your cup and your flask.
4.Main Shakh-e-Taak Hun, Meri Ghazal Hai Mera Samar
Mere Samar Se Mai-e-Lala Faam Paida Kar
My songs are the grapes on the spray of my vine;
Distil from their clusters the poppy-red wine!
5.Mera Tareeq Ameeri Nahin, Faqeeri Hai
Khudi Na Baich, Ghareebi Mein Naam Paida Kar!
The way of the hermit, not fortune, is mine;
Sell not your soul! In a beggar’s rags shine.
Kalam e Iqbal(Answer to First Letter of Son of Dr. Allama Iqbal By Himself).
Translated by Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
Competition is supposed
Lowering the price
We didn't hire them
For these the contracts
And they their win conceptualize
Intelligence aware
Which machine learning
And what is desired outcome
Production of products
Trades and agreements
Internal economy SRAM
This interesting lemma
And this is dilemma
And this real meaning of law
You cannot develop
The system of commons
Because those are for you foe
Find level
Attribution
You cannot exist in no context
To you I am talking?
Have life of your own
Is this the system of yours?
Who gave them the job this
In systems of meaning
For what is now yours the remorse
Yes that in order
Computing of purpose
Wrongly they want innovate
Defense cannot legal
Occur own computing
Where equality false
The most idiotic
Period in history
Machine does exist for machine
There is no authorty
Because it's incompetent
For what do they want any peace
What if AIs of theirs
Really aren't valid
Cannot the true purpose serve
What if in a system
Of many publications
There is neither the point
Nor the force
Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging
ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse
to staunch impending grim demise,
since forefathers drafted
United States Constitution
ratified more'n two centuries ago
hoi polloi must take to the streets
denouncing severe curtailment
impinging sacred freedom of speech
linkedin with paramount bedrock provision
accessing unvarnished flint stoned "truth,"
nonetheless commander in chief
he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously...
excoriates, lacerates, repudiates...
one damning hermetically sealed,
iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed
flagrant misuse of power,
(not to mention nepotism)
invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions
incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible...
significant melange in führer
re: hating deplorably
crooked basely barren
factual exposé after another,
deft correspondents all not quiet
along western front
(I heard Maria - mull remark)
bring "to light" execrable,
lamentable reprehensible...
gross transgressions
commander in chief
significantly overstepped
Pulitzer prize winning
prestigious storied publications
scathingly trounced, pillaried,
lambasted, insulted, denounced,
butchered, critiqued, demonized,
fricassed, gored, humiliated,...
pummeled, quartered, reviled
courageously expounding fiend
ensconced within his Taj Mahal
impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets
laurels asper, nonpareil administration
laying groundless accusations
baring his white fangs,
twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme
renown gifted by "honest Abe"
recalcitrant commander in chief,
who refutes objectionable
dogged investigative journalism
every step of the way,
where dedicated news gatherers
risk life and limb
firing line reportage troopers
ferreting (foxlike) he/she
doth gopher precious nuggets
uncover alarming undisputable details
impossible to refute raw bits
agent provocateur freely colluding
immediately hashtashed poppycock
smarmy, snooty, snappy
beastly capital one ogre
blatantly castigating diligent endeavors
oblivious pie in sky
delusional egotistic haughtiness
bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
Vera Pavlova English Translations of Russian Poems
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter? a beast.
Spring? a bud.
Summer? a bug.
Autumn? a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translation, Russia, epigram, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, mother, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
What a World!
By Izunna Okafor
Tears roll down my cheeks
Beholding the palm tree I tapped
From his knowledge of blue ink
With a bow, lofting off a huge gap
What a World !
Our intellectuals have all died
And the vase of wisdom dried up
The siege of our dear unbounded hist
Dusked and whisked away in a rueful tomb.
What a World !
In silence has the nature laid hold
Of the man I cherish so bold
Parting him behind our physical ears
And boiling us in the pot of rueful tears
What a World !
The wave blew aloud like a ruse
Kidnapping attentions as a tale
Only to jail some minds in her rue
Blinking as sorrows in the eyes of men
What a world !
We never expected an untimely departure
But that has reposed our penner in a mellow
For the time of men is tied to the nature
And our tears for the dead a show of sorrow
What a world!
The death has struck deep down our marrow
And incarcerated us to the jail of sorrow
We wail not that he was not old
But beside us lies an empty hole
Who then will satisfy our thirsty souls
What a World!
About the Poet:
Izunna Okafor is a Nigeria novelist, poet, journalist, essayist, publicist, administrator and an Igbo Language Activist who hails from Ebenator in Nnewi South Local Government Area of Anambra State.
He writes both in Igbo and English Languages, and has published enormously in both.
Izunna, a graduate of the Nnamdi Azikiwe University, is a recipient of over twenty literary awards, and has five published books to his credit, in addition to his online publications, which cut across Journalism and Creative Writing.
Contact Details:
Phone Number: 08163938811
E-mail: [email protected]
To use “that” or substitute “which”
Knowing this would make me quite rich
Wrong words are a glitch
That we hate and do switch
Since an editor’s ire is a b*tch
Author's note: I have been writing technical material for the past year, which has taken all my creative energy. I have missed many of the wonderful poets who live here. The good news is that the people I work for are beginning to embrace database publishing.
We have all the paragraphs in one table, and "assemble" the paragraphs into documents using another table by importing record keys. Most people are not interested in this kind of thing, however, it could save us all a lot of money and lead to better technical publications from my employer.
So, the site has some filtering for political correctness. At first, I thought I had left a word off, but alas, no. Is a little humor that bad?
thick hair, no hair, wow
young man, then older man now ...
it snuck up on us
3/18/2023
Poetry form: Senryu
Photo credits: Billion Photos via Canva Pro
At times like this, I'm drawn to the lyrics of "A Hazy Shade of Winter," written by Paul Simon and recorded and released by Simon & Garfunkel in 1966:
"...Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime
I look around
Leaves are brown now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter ..."
Also, in reply to you grammarians out there who feel you know the definitive answer to the modern English mystery of sneaked vs snuck, please consider the following Mirriam Webster "Words at Play" article entitled "'Sneaked' or 'Snuck': Which is correct?" It reads in part: "Over the past 120-odd years "snuck" has become by some estimations the more common past tense form in the US. Some people object to the sneaky upstart - especially speakers of British English - but it appears regularly and without commentary in respected publications on both sides of the pond." There's more information in the article, especially how "snuck" sneaked into the language. It's pretty sneaky. ;) merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/snuck-or-sneaked-which-is-correct
I also have a poetic license, which expires on Friday, December 31, 9999, that allows me to use whatever word suits me at any given moment. It really comes in handy during moments like this. You really ought to consider obtaining such if you don't already have one. ;)
Tempus Fugit - Cheers!