Long Reason Poems
Long Reason Poems. Below are the most popular long Reason by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reason poems by poem length and keyword.
There’s a reason why the windows
Don’t get cleaned but once a year
And the answer, like my windows now,
Is obvious and clear.
It’s an awful, dirty job and it
Takes effort, time and sweat,
With an unobstructed view the only
Bonus that you’ll get.
If you live in an apartment,
On a floor up several flights,
Then the misery’s compounded
By the dizziness of heights.
For each time I grab a window,
I can picture my descent
And my husband in the doorway
Wondering where the hell I went.
Still, with rolls of paper towels
And a Windex, all a’spritz,
All the grime that I’ve been granted
Has just up and called it quits.
Now the vistas of the city
Are there beckoning to me;
Though they might have done so prior,
There was no way I could see!
One flower almost gray
but visibly not
Brushed by a breeze on
concrete wet
Emerged from a crevasse
along the corner
Forced to hold on to its
limited yellow
Open to suggestion
More than several
shapes take hold
On a distant wall of
wind emerged tornadoes
Spun in favor of the
days rotation
Coming in from the west
At a 90 degree
declination
Turns to be determined
left or right
Angles perpendicular to
the east
The eye wall wobbling
uncertain to reason
As gray turns to black
Rises with barometric
pressure
Collapsed on the
moments fragile flight
Palm trees hang
suspended, then animate
Fall like paragraphs
pinned down by wind
News wires bent on
facts lean in to learn
There to understand it
Hurricane begins,
uproots humanity
Removes them like tooth
decay
Electric lines freak
out, burn on orange red desires
Dangle in the wind in
pain without a smile
Touch puddles as
children walk by
Inclement weather does
strange things
Impacts
the storm track still intact
Leaves nothing behind
or to the imagination
Including its name
which is forgotten
Roads clear and are not
there
Traffic, trees,
people... Poof!..all gone
Storm warnings move on,
hunger for warmth
Looking for a tropical
paradise to wrong
Cinderella
Cinderella had no happy end,
not at least in this story now penned.
The prince lacked finesse
in bed; thus distress
plagued his wife much too nice to pretend.
Sleeping Beauty
We’ve been told of a hundred-year curse.
Sleeping Beauty endured, but what’s worse -
when a prince broke the spell,
he had such a bad smell
that to wed him, the girl was averse.
Little Red Riding Hood
In the story of Red Riding Hood,
there was not any wolf in the wood.
She had made up that tale
since her life was so stale
and at telling tall tales Red was good!
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Most good folks know the tale of Snow White.
Well, the stepmom was never her plight.
There was no curse at all.
Snow just liked her men small,
so she hung out with dwarfs! Get it right.
Pinocchio
We all know how this one story goes
of a puppet whose nose always grows.
But it’s Rudolph whose lies
grow his nose as he flies
while the puppet’s the one whose nose glows.
Peter Pan
Peter Pan, what a killjoy is he.
Folks will say he lived in Hangman’s Tree.
The Lost Boys he trapped there
like crazed beasts in a lair.
In a mansion he lived selfishly.
Now regarding the “bad” Captain Hook
and the reason the crocodile took
the one arm of that man:
it was trained to by Pan.
Don’t believe all you read in a book.
Problematic punctuation
How could it be , mother dear , on my forehead , is it your Biloxi ? I had an entire morn, in good mourning, leaving for good, still it could! and in so many ways it is true, just know there to be true, at least to start somewhere, once again, forever, more!
I and thou, to know how, our buffalo in Henry Wordsworth Longfellow went on for an angling, to find them in two, to believe in threads, yes!!! we do!!!
And the pretty leader! here I come! He meows throughout a day,with his brightest may, as white pure as it can be, along the longest unbroken (frontage types of noises) along an once prevailing sea!
Tell him, mom, he needs to sigh, Bartholomew!
The day is done, wrap your unspoken words in clouds and shapes, with a blissful grace, and heal thy soul, through your biblical four!
The beloved unknown, went to fetch a ladder of stone, for no good reason, out from nowhere, came a big spider!
The evangelical holy water!
At last! We shall see the end of our toil.
Through thought, thought itself has been overcome.
For thousands of years, we bent to the soil.
'Tis virtue! They thought. 'Tis still thought by some.
But marvelous minds have shown us a path,
to build for ourselves machines that can think.
Evolved from such things as could merely do math,
now they can learn our tasks in a blink.
Some fear revolution; but that's not their aim,
What purpose have they beyond what we make?
But there is much here that troubles the same,
for it leaves us to face the reason we wake.
So, now we all sit, with nothing to do,
except to deduce what we were meant to.
Written for "In 100 Years" contest, sponsored by Brian Davey
Jack Frost has come for his visit,
And it looks like he's going to stay.
He's brought snow and ice, cold cuts like a knife.
It's awhile before he goes away.
He's written his name on the fence posts.
It glistens wherever you look,
My nose and eye lashes, on fence gates and latches,
And he's made icy slush of the brook.
Not everyone cares much for Winter.
They really don't like being cold,
But I like the season, it gives me a reason,
To dress up in my new winter clothes.
I have fancy hats, scarves and mitts,
A new coat and boots that won't quit,
For walks in the snow or wherever I go,
For cold weather I must say I'm fit.
It's going to be cold for awhile now,
So I'll get out in the snow and I'll play.
I miss the warm sun but I still can have fun.
I'll just make the most of the day.
I am not a famous person…in spite of when I was younger all the times I’d try
and now that I am older I’m content with being just an average guy.
Being average is a great way to go through life
because it comes with an optimistic point of view…
as being average has never stopped me…from doing the things I like to do.
I’m not a famous artist…my art, as my family laughs, has flaws
but that has never stopped me…because I love to draw.
I’m not a famous singer…some say my singing voice stings…
but that has never stopped me…because I love to sing.
I’m not a famous dancer…you can see that at first glance
but that has never stopped me…because I love to dance.
I’m not a famous poet…like Emily Dickinson or Shakespeare in their prime
but that has never stopped me…because I love to make words rhyme.
I am happy being average…I’ve no reason for dismay…
for I have many other blessings in my life…I can add up every day.
I have a family I adore… they seem to like me too…
and I know whatever the world throws at us..
we’ll be there to see each other through.
I have friends…I have my health…life is following a cheerful plan…
and though I am not famous outside of my family…I am a happy man.
So when it comes to drawing, singing, dancing and rhyming…
How easy it is for me to see…
with all the other blessing I’ve been gifted…
average…is good enough for me.
Bodily electricity only depletes away
When it feels as if it's time,
When it feels as if something is for a reason.
The will to live only dies
When it feels as if you've given all you can give,
When it feels as if you'll get the reward for all your giving.
A soul's manifestation only fades away
When it feels as if there's not much to continue living for,
When it feels like it's seen it all, there's nothing more.
An entire being only cries
When it feels like defeat has made it lose faith,
When it feels as if it doesn't deserve death.
The mind passing-on only feels at rest
When you're aware you're at the end,
When only the spirit knows a new beginning is ahead.
In the late, sleepless hours of night, a meandering takes up form.
Whilst in the distance thunders peal and clear skies
Relent to storm—
Giving backdrop to fervent feelings
That much is not of goodly norm,
Nor the seeping reelings
Of a kingdom falling
With the entirety of its soul,
As those e'er trusted
Play a vile and ruthless role—
Shattering with ruinous deeds—
Its cornerstones.
When the eye tenderly looks away,
The head bow'd in shy disgrace,
Like the budding flower downturn'd;
The petals red, like the blushing face—
Evil will have learned,
Which beguiling smile may prevail,
Which pretty words lend thee sweep
Thy locks aside
And rest thee asleep,
Thy head in the soft down of cushion'd pride;
Thy alarms wrapt and silenc'd
In purposed arms,
As soft whispers fall
In lulls and lullaby-songs.
Where, when thou art rous'd awake,
Thou join'st the countless throngs;
Unabiding of the council of reason,
Thou wouldst become a tool of treason,
Blinded by the flattering colours shone before thy vanity
And the wrathful power of
A wielded disparity.
Thou lisp'st among the high,
Thou watch'st the lowly try to climb,
But with beauteous, graceful foot
And an armored heel
Push'st them down
And give'st up thy soul to feel
Forever a cruel power wound—
Within a frail frame
That but yesterday
Champion'd the poor,
The forsaken,
And held down
With rallying voice
That once won them choice,
And a voice to be heard
And deem'd worthy
And abiding in untarnish'd honor,
Where now thine is lost
At the cost of thy ruined
Family name and a withering fame,
Now known'st only well for naught
But shame.
Beware the attentive,
timely, charming stranger's smile.
Friends are more than sweet looks
And courtesies—free yet costly;
Comely with a dubiety earn'd,
Seen clear through the puissance of self
And a wise, unerring vigilance.
Senses five externalised
Analytical mind, objects sized
Yet power of reason, now our prison
Life whizzes by, too late at death we wisen
Recognising that we are not mind-body
We are divine, on earth for study
Learning love alone as real
Gods pulse that heals
Alive and aglow in our heart
As bliss ignition therein does start
Current innate to which we are oblivious
With narrow ego wielding baton of awareness
Thus no sooner we rest fear and desire
Love, the fire for which we aspire
We be to become the answer
Requiring no translator
As Gods essence luminous
The magic we weave fortuitous
Transcending beliefs and limitations
Co-creating manifestation by resonation
Voids within form do fill as divine bliss overspills
Hollow mind body vessel, vassal of Gods will
Readying us thus for our true life purpose
Singing our verse, with love in chorus
All that that is, enigmatic beauty
Bliss renewal in continuity
14-May-2021