Long Ream Poems
Long Ream Poems. Below are the most popular long Ream by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ream poems by poem length and keyword.
I n sovereignty, we unite... we stand,
N ation’s brighter future is now on hand;
D ream a dream for the success of everyone,
E arnestly pray for God’s aid and His constant guidance.
P resent economic status will move forward,
E mancipating from restraints, one’s welfare is on guard;
N othing is as precious as the gift of freedom,
D emographic beliefs and interests-- the first priority to come.
E nvisage our country’s future generation,
N ationalism with one goal, our state will prosper soon;
C itizens will exercise their rights in full cooperation,
E xhibiting kinship, love and peace with respect to other nations.
©2012Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
July 20, 2015 11.10pm
Fifth Place
Contest: Celebrate Independence
Judged: 7/27/2015
Sponsor: Poet Kim Merryman
Time journeyed through the seasons sublime
Brokered days the trellis of life did climb
Tendered hours but grainy shards without rhyme
Token minutes spindled through the hour glass of time
Each tenuous second garnering only a passing stime
Bartered moments the continuum of existence did wantonly prime
Availing sky's porous rotunda filtered each, ageless ream through spectrum so fine
The hoary sun spilled it's vision into each, vacuous line
Gilded moon, celestial mariner did shadowy expanse twine
Bended stars, twinkling sprites from stealthy perch did antediluvian streams re-align
Primeval planets in their sanctioned orbits perpetuity did assign
Ripples of gawk and gaze splendour,
at one’s fingertips eternally,
cornucopia an instant dream float,
golden gust garner without rein,
indulgent Pysche extract from nirvana,
but voyage of the quadrille quill,
on impact whilst a glittering weave,
admission of luxurious environment,
a stimulus awakening the verse vendor,
bursts of benevolent vista stoic,
enigmatic present minute float on by,
capture, rapture, entranced,
hue spike,
glorious basket of heaven etching,
giant svelte image rich shape,
wavering temperature to plummet or plunge,
pepper spray haze form hover,
whisper from the coral reef,
fringe reef encircling pale shore,
yellow grain easel’s uproar,
such an ocean flourish aqua cache,
in peril of blind omission,
stunned by opulent ream,
convergent notion ink well teaser,
bewitching hypnotist plump root,
peerless mist adrift now befogged,
petrichor as potent eco aftermath,
but afterthought I treat with scorn,
warm sunshine donor of earthly fragrance,
post jewel sprinkled rainfall,
intermittent wet and dry spots,
inspirational when deft mind hyper vigilant,
with eyes bound to dilate,
as billows of peep day steam,
wend mystically in crystal whorls,
stanza recess now ornate carousel,
of glints from embedded nugget,
hasp and hung mute on. chant,
glowing prompt beyond impetuous,
novel aspiration’s ignition key,
to offset dormant chapter spun,
embryonic phrases bold surrender
Another year is drawing to a close.
I sit alone reflecting on the life
I've loved and cherished for these many days
recalling every cause of joy and strife.
I think of all those walks I take near home
and thank God for the strength to walk each mile.
I praise Him for the town in which I live,
where I feel safe and neighbors wave and smile.
My friends and loved ones occupy my mind.
How little time I've spent with them! I vow
in two thousand nineteen, I'll see them more.
If I rely on Him, He'll show me how.
Reviewing conflicts of the waning year,
I think of how I sometimes played a part
in making matters worse. I cannot push
aside those thoughts that plague my troubled heart.
I have to ask forgiveness, for I know
it's my responsibility to be
promoter of good will with everyone.
Beginning now, I’ll strive for harmony.
My reminiscing would be incomplete
if I gave my church family no praise.
Next year, I still will be with them each week.
They are a blessing in so many ways.
To name each blessing of the year, I'd need
a ream of paper and a quart of ink.
I'd need to talk for days on end, but God
knows how I feel and everything I think.
Two thousand eighteen soon will breath its last
as I am thanking God for joy and health,
for all the seasons, and for giving me
more than I need--in my opinion, wealth.
Date: December 20, 2018
Contest Title: Soon It Will Be 2019
Sponsor: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
from this temple way up high
I see the city of gold below me,
and it shines no more.
What I help build with my hands,
now condemns me...is my curse.
I can see the great kingdom,
Strong with the kings might,
but damned with all his bold.
The jungle may breaths life
but for me it casts dark shadows of death.
In death there is glory,
so I will not shed a tear of sorrow.
For I'm a fearless man...a brave man.
And know a cowards spirit is taken into the underworld,
a place where the devils and demons dwell.
Where there is the colour of red,
there will be the colour of black.
Where there is light...there must be dark.
Upon my mind the shadows fall,
the darkness has taken my soul.
Thudding in my ears rumbles the sound of a drumbeat,
and I hear the distant sounds of the pipes as they play a tune
A tune that calls my name to the jungle.
Chants surround me as a trance befalls me.
I`m not quite alive...not quite dead.
As I lay upon my stone throne
the sky...the priest in my line of sight.
A dagger hovers over my spirit's light.
I am blinded by the daggers gleam
I see my beating heart the hands of this bloodlust priest,
and also see the feathered serpent flying.
Flying down from the empire beyond the clouds
to take my spirit to meet the gods that look upon us all.
The gods who determine this civilisations fate.
the gods who are judge and executioner
But these are the gods whose
ream I will now forever reside and feast.
I hope they now are appeased,
so upon this ground may their light shine.
To bless us with endless bounties.
To keep this civilisation forever free.
Change...we all must bear witness to.
For one day the mighty will eventually fall,
and be written into
the damning book of souls.
--------
written for the book of souls contest.
Buried in an avalanche you
might see on "Hoarders buried alive"
back and foreground
white sheet with limited pay per view,
nonetheless sky scraping heap
(Uriah not kid) nsync with a 'U'-
shaped tube anchored securely thru
solid wood - sporting
towering, leaning, bulging, et cetera slew,
sans huge sized mounds,
this goodfella cockily rue
stirs memories while
almond joying sifting,
(comprising ream mains of outdated queue
vee cee paraphernalia, bank statements, old
fair maidens faded letters, phew
against unrequited lovely lasses
kissed by either gentile or Jew
us gal, during young manhood
confession stated, aye did accrue
now (said besmirched Casanova
wannabe across floor I did strew
said, no longer promising princess,
whose once tenderly fresh rose buds
exuded profusely courtesy ingénue
argh..., how frivolous to argue
with cowardly former self, hence
into the maw of das spouse (Sibyl)
she more than enthusiastically
masticates regarding unblossomed
(romantic opportunity) yours truly blew,
when flickr ring spark flame snuffed out
before profound love chanced to hint
of compatibility, ah... nary a blues clue
maybe best not to fantasize
going down nostalgia avenue,
but cast attention upon motley crew,
no matter I traversed
boulevard of broken dreams
(but oh this...pray lemme tell you
more on this cool spring green day)
ornamented with boughs of churrigueresque
mother nature's divinely wrought
sensational beauty procreative forces construe,
yanking fanciful thoughts back to feeding
pulpy material pages of me child's worldview
scribbled squiggly blurred lines
no doubt gifted artistic prodigies shew
did evince talent this papa doth truly value,
yet an excess of near identical curlique
leaves little breathing room, plus report
cards shows innovative smarts,
frequent affirmations this dada paid due
tee, which gushing praise
my girls never taxed for, yet both knew
this aging baby boomer father decries
being swamped with exorbitant clutter
hence effort now made to save whar grew,
some artistic embellishment and/or
intellectual award, the majority hesitantly fed
into jaw of thee missus the human flew
where hard copy quickly incinerated inducing
me to sneeze atchew!
Papers and ribbon bang on the floor
The onion scent of white turning into coal,
Smudges of lines trail into her veins
Punching QWERTY keys on a chrome machine
Under a lamp light soft as the pink moon;
The screech of blotted pages dangle through rollers
Waiting for her eyes to speak through hands.
There lay the mumbled words curling up
On a teak chair like nocturnal lyrics
hauling raw drafts slowly glowing
Into fresh contemplation, and the melt
Of coffee stains drips on edges as she
Folds another ream of leaves along bars,
Riddled with ticktocks of a sleepless night.
Then, fresh linings of thoughts bark at the winds
While her lips drench inks of cappuccino
Moistened among burning stars.
259 Contest
More often, her soul widens
farther than breaths of a moon...
and through irreverent eyes,
she saunters into the ledge of woods
past time's curfew and nobility --
a wanton stroll by this sylph
daring the commoness of old rules--
Twirling along pebbles and sand,
kindling night's liniment glorious
like the flared climb of dusk,
her wildfire spews a wanton blaze ----
fearless like some insolent woman
rising from mediocrity, burning oil
while dragonflies sleep in a lull ;
her navel radiant in the flickering,
feathering night with such
stubborn will...a maverick defying
traditional anthems of her nun's school.
Yet, this flared essence turns into warmth
as she tenderly flushes my fears at night
to hold the moon soft blue
while her arms delight in classic tunes,
cleansing my tears with hums
of ardor...and wings spread on
hope's ride divinely beaming with grace:
Mother.
Mama- light tenderly cuddles me;
each sky, each ream of grass
healing my rough, young adult soul...
I met someone I know quite well, he gets about in cars, does buy and sell.
He spoke to me upon a theme, we were stirring coffee; I had just added my cream.
When (Fiat) money, he intoned..)
This word does it ring a bell?
Of it have you heard; or known, do tell.?
The cost of Fiat cars I then proclaimed'
No it’s of money I speak,he said if it’s all the same,
I had bought some autos and to me the word was told,
That it is money without collateral backing, that’s the truth stone cold!
So in this stressured contemporary rhyme, I think I must… It’s now high time
In fact a lack of sober views and action which did not ensue...
Control! ….. control!, "well they did not" now high (inflation) pop pop pops..!
Consume, consume they said and greed is good for all..!
Poor old Jim john and Doug..) Rachel, Joan and Queenie McCall..!
A dream was sold and lives were told, It’s Oh! so safe, more so than gold!
Now Fiat cash is on the scene, they run it off Oh! ream on ream
Just like my coffee encircling mug, so here’s to the truth lets give it a plug.
When I again pour in my cream,
as it begins to merge like inflations infusion, Maybe I’ll dream.
That financial fiasco’s and social screams are only rumours on a jittery theme,
However until "their problem" has been (sold), I’ll trade some paper cash for gold.
© Joe Maverick 13-11-2010
Dinner was for two, a shared dessert meant to please
Exotically prepared, with apt name to tease
Across the table she’s testing, probing not too deep
The taste lights up her face, no secrets can it keep
Help me out she whispers, into action I leap
Beautiful in texture, already having regrets
Yielding to the craving, oh how willpower forgets
Cream runs soft and silky, soothing over ache
Her hands spoon me more, perhaps more than I can take
Obsession builds again, reaching layer of sponge
Caught in resistance, I choose to take the plunge
Oaths fill my mind, sugar high sets me dizzy
Lost in a chocolate maze, layers keep us busy
Angels driven outward, demons devour inside
This just-right moment’s gone too far to hide
Each dunk goes deeper, the wafers start to flake
Crumbling extra pleasure every scoop we make
Allies in debauchery, our bodies can’t resist
Karma, she’s a b!tch, but tonight we both insist
Ending in the bedroom where our real passion persists.