Long Reader Poems
Long Reader Poems. Below are the most popular long Reader by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reader poems by poem length and keyword.
TRANSLATIONAL
assertion
overly indebted
&
touched
with humour
&nuanced
in existentialism
expression
chance
enthusiasm
stoked
in
controverseet
& hilarious
parodies
of
the
upside-down
&
topsy-turvy
a cliched
wildness
disembodied
fragility
vulnerable
narrow& closed
so suddenly so
learned
naive
immaturity
in
perspective
romantic
&sublime
yet
a
profoundly
ambivalent
reality
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
As a young avid reader
I always read the Introduction or Prologue,
when offered,
to see if this treatise overture
would take me some place I cared to wade through.
As an old avid reader
I always begin with the last chapter
because I may not otherwise have time to get there
Here I listen to learn if it might transport me
to some place I care about and believe in
and might even faithfully hope for
A place I have not yet been
promising a pause
wondering where I might be now
had I only visited earlier.
Biographies are especially telling
as the end where history has brought each writer
to remember what these reassembled lives and thoughts
have felt together
Now replete
unfolded
for all to see and rediscover
how extremes of final stages,
like commencement of embryonic birth,
then infant interests,
seem to land as we began
Withdrawn from adolescent fuss
and middle-aging blunder,
both respectability and revolutionary thunder
So good in our coming to,
and escape from, ripe time
now echoing warnings to intend
to start and end
each new narrative's last chapter first.
I might not have sufficient time
to invest in earlier stages of this story's redevelopment,
especially if the last chapter doesn't resound
at least as health wealthy as my own
last day and night so far
Which I probably should plan
to finish writing soon.
LIFE an absurdity(HOGARTH)
a passion
of the ridiculous
the manner
of time
in
rapid moments
bustling streets
a metropolitan buzz
collision&
melodrama
of crammed alleys
excess
a teeming hell
perpetual fluctuation
yellowed mouldy
flamboyant
evoked higgledy piggledy
teeming&
tangled
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Dear Poetry, you touch me in ecstatic beauty.
Me to undertake this responsibility.
Might be specified as a poet’s duty.
When I try to compose any poem,
It must sparkle in mind of reader as gem.
I should hold that spirit and carry that aim.
Whatever be theme it sinks in abyss of heart
in pleasant soothing style for impact to exert,
putting me absorbed not allowing apart.
Poem to resonate with rhythm of heart and soul
Unspoken syllable to voice or to roll.
Unknown zone of perception to explore and scroll.
‘Solace in grief, inspiration in despondence,
Sensing love and peace, bringing bliss on elegance,’
My performance as poet may reach excellence.
Acta Non Verba... Speaks Volumes
The above ad hoc Latin catchphrase,
(concatenated with two English words),
I regale chance reader
immediately sets ablaze
title of poem with timeless adage,
aptly suits this solitary
older male, whose daze
spent on planet Earth
aimless curriculum vitae
configures a zigzag maze
significant blocks of time
poorly aye now appraise
and rue so little forethought
wrought starry eyed glaze
amiss to any Amish,
colonial, horse drawn observer
passing by in their chaise
puzzled, asper my
doggone catatonic gaze
indicative as if me mind
lost in a foggy haze
yours truly attests,
concurs, he now flays
chastises, fulminates, lays
hard and heavy lament,
albeit cloistered frivolous,
lackadaisical, unproductive... ways
apathetic, estranged, indifferent...
ambivalent state comatose phase
toward life, when at young age
lacked joie de vivre evincing braise
zen lee oblivious zombie behavior
upon quick observation displayed craze
zee demeanor synonymous
with institutionalized craze
zee wardens of the state,
and at present realize futility to raise
hullabaloo, when 20/20 hindsight
shines figurative light on
how appeared to laze
about lost in space,
within outer limits
of my own twilight zone ways!
ICONOCLAST
timeless
twictching
as solidity
endures
tomorrow
a conundrum
resolved
appears
as
a shadow running
asunder
a reassurance
so uncanny
resembles
tonality
in its
surtounding
perspective
glaring
patches
a cornucopia
of
pictorial
pleasure
in
erudite
convention
lingers
afresh
erudite
sensitive
fiitingly
frequenting
&repostioned
thematically
otherworldly
ravishing
& compelling
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Poetry is the freedom of expression.
Poetry is expressed through feelings, emotions and or experiences and can also be expressed from sound, vision or thoughts. There should not be a limitation on poetry. Being able to express yourself to the fullest does not have to be about money. The poet should be able to use however many necessary wordings needed to get the message across. A poet should not have to feel the need to "say less," nor should they have to shorten or limit their gift of writing.
Poetry is stepping into the mind of the poet. However, it may not reach every reader the same, meaning, the same poem is read by two people, but both have different perspectives of what they believe the poet is saying. Poetry is not debatable, to the readers it may be, but to the poet it is not, because at the end of the day, the poet said what they said.
Since a child I have had a need to share, to
write conversations to an invisible audience; and
I can get quite wordy and chatty and rambling, I
have no problem sharing private thoughts. At times
my writing is flowery, pretty and picturesque, Oh
I can turn out a whimsical and joyful poem; and
sometimes my style is clear and ever so confident,
even informative, or just plain silly and foolish fun.
But, to be honest with you dear reader my strength,
is in mournful, lamenting and woeful sad writes;
writing of my fears, grief and heartbreak is healing,
it helps me, I hope others see they are not alone.
Oh, I can also turn out a sultry passionate poem,
full of lust and love, or just of gentle sweet feelings;
and I like to write of the past and my family lost, no
telling what I will write- my pen has all the power.
_________________________
April 6, 2016
Poetry/Verse/A Need To Share
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1111-552-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Early Feb 2019 Standard Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Another little poem just to pass away the time,
to make it easier to read I’ll write it all in rhyme.
It matters not just what I say the words just roll along,
and if you sing as reading this it then becomes a song.
So sing or read or whisper, whatever is your choice,
it matters not if mumbled, or in a nice clear voice.
For no one’s going to listen to a senseless load of tripe,
just wrote for sake of writing and to see the words in type.
For writing helps my fingers to flex and bend at will,
and helps my eyes to move about instead of standing still.
It lets my mind find stupid things to put down on the page
and leaves the reader looking for some sense in my message.
But as I said it’s rubbish and that’s all I’m going to write,
just a silly little poem where the rhyme is far too tight.
I feel I’ve earned the right to this, to waste some of my time,
let others tell profound events while I enjoy my rhyme.
For rhyming is my party piece, and boring poetry too,
so I have written this one so your boredom can be true.
In reading to the end of this there’s nothing more you’ll gain
except to waste more of your time and gain a bit more pain.
Ivor G Davies
ORGANICS
a vision
connects
elements
of
universal
encounters
renewing
expectations
a dialogue
of
the underlying
timeline
into
a
rhythm
of
breathing
revealing
contemporary
fractures
placing
eloquence
at the heart
&
core of
universal
language
releasing
falsity
&tension
voicing
underlying
revelation
&
galvanising
expression
of the variations
&subtleties
of being
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand