Long Resemblance Poems

Long Resemblance Poems. Below are the most popular long Resemblance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resemblance poems by poem length and keyword.


The Circle of Dream

The Snowball glass opened the mystical window,
innocent stories in dreams, as always been so.
They changed the snow glass with an hour glass,
and all sorts of reasons feel like harass.
Interruption of adventures and finding treasures,
getting up and follow the order of real measures.
The dreams of unjust and the battle in playful keen,
camouflaged tragedy is the important scene.
Shared dream with friends and wishes unfold,
to belief which stories truth need to be told.
To see the world in constant chaos state,
being in once own world has its faith.
Dreaming to be great is asking for just,
others great dream came to the task.
Teenage mind and ocean of searching kind,
where new worlds will its resemblance find,
Transcending imagination and its shade,
testing ground as revolution played.
When the real love casting the body aside,
and the soul in state of bliss just glide.
In this seeming ever bloom garden state,
dreams come with the desired mate.
Dreams now become bigger and purer,
when new souls will be a part of the further.
Many paradises all in contented one tamed,
the flying process in photo sessions framed.
That love and dream which us binds,
parallels and causes by the individuality of minds.
Age in time speaks through wisdom at hand,
creating detachment and extension grand. 
Finally when dreams arrive as soul extended bliss,
still tasting the dew of the newborn, by this dreaming kiss.
Form: Ballade


The Valley of Loss

Dried up in the dusted remnants of life within
Now in the deserted valley of my echoes hollow
Powdered flakes caught up within the wind again
Leaving no trace for the no one who will never follow

Vacantly running absent in a profound sense of loss
Lost in isolation in this world that does not exist
Pain washes through the dirty streets in resemblance
Of the way this became something not able to resist

Here in this dwelling living in lack of self awareness
Drawing dusty doodles of the caverns in my heart
Wind shows no mercy in the sweeping of our souls
All the ones that remained here choosing to fall apart

No guides, no maps, no directions on how to escape 
Soon you won't even be able to remember your name
So deeper willing to fall down into the tides of darkness
Drowning in pools of loss while still burning with shame



11/09/17
Written for contest: "Empty Your Soul"
Hosted by: Broken Wings
Form: Quatrain

Marauders On a Night Raid

(alternately titled ringleader Harris hooligan,
Hence, any resemblance 
     between characters port
rayed, and living persons 
     purely coincidental.)

Claim to fame creating
     an overnight sensational
     boom town explained
     by lodestone of zinc
while the town
     crier fast asleep
     (until next to last 21st sentry
     caught up on

     much needed
     protracted wink),
his dreams informed
     him of a getaway,
     whereat just
     with mental power to think,
could render forth pour
     favor riches aplenty

     appearing once 
     one did awake
     meanwhile oblivious 
     to encroaching hoodlums,
     whom didst blithely slink,
(analogous to a
     waltzing skater on a smooth
     as glass ice rink,

whereat razor sharp blades
     noiselessly sliced cold air
     with an imaginary plink),
thus while one man guard
     zonked out, sans steeped
     in a glistening escapade
     cuddling, nestling, and snuggling
     with his pet mink

Hun dread scandalous vandals
     (Atilla among them)
     word less lee
     located weakest linkedin chink
coalescing, comprising,
     and constituting,
     an otherwise excel lent access
     duff fence sieve link

     iron wrought chained
     formerly mistakenly invincible
     against a Trojan
     Horse, now even
     vulnerable to a dolled up,
     decked out disguised rat fink,
     slithering snake like afore
     the zoned out patrol

     did awaken and blink
only after invasion of swiftly
     styled, harried tailored,
     foo fighting beastie boys
ex post facto, when steely

     dan sing motley crue
     made discernible noise
far to late for the
     "FAKE" Don to trumpet
successful "Stormy Daniels"
     counter attacking ploys.
Form: Epic

Premium Member Voices of War

Coal black eyes glinted
Rage surfacing
Seething, furious
He was like a hard stone
Without sympathy
Or empathy
His lack of compassion
Sent me reeling from him

Fire boiled in his touch
Clutching me roughly
Large hands tangled in tresses
Pulling away wisps, curls
Dark as the night
Fright colored me steely gray
Ashen from the dread
Of this man who I loved

Now on the floor
His boots kicking my limbs
My legs and my torso
As I tried to pretend I was no more
Hope struggled up in my throat
Promising he would stop
If only I could fake death
Falsify my demise

Finally, the ultimate shock
His lips puckered up 
But this was no kiss for me
This was spittle all over my face
Bearing the resemblance of shame
That claimed my racing heart
At last the degradation was finished
I was mortified in my finish

Leaving me there on the floor
Aware that I had been chastened
For the love I felt
When I first met this man
With his chocolate eyes and dark skin
Inherited from his Apache ancestry
Now I knew that his eyes
Could reveal his dark soul, his cold heart

Yet, he could be so loving
Like a light in the darkness
Where he sometimes appeared from
And I could be so forgiving
Until the realization set in for me
Fear was stronger than my hope
Soon I would be giving up
As the filth and disgrace wore away my caring

Premium Member Forget-Me-Nots

Forget-Me-Nots

Across the field, I trampled a path
When I held back and marveled to see,
Near the babbling brook beneath the trees,
A sea of blue of scorpion grass:
Tiny blooms asway in waves of glee,
Of forget-me-nots, and thirsty bees.

From end to end, as far as I could see,
In the serene lea, they spread their petals,
Exhibiting beautiful visuals
On the gentle slope, swaying in the breeze.
I looked back at the path and then ahead,
Enthralled as to where destiny had led.

The sun shone down with warmth unsurpassed
As the wind blew over cool, fresh air.
They fluttered about extraordinaire
Expressing their amour unabashed.
I was enamoured by their charisma
Under the sky of terra firma.

And when I’m dismayed to see storm clouds brew
And lacklustre negative thoughts prevail,
I reminisce their presence in the meadow,
Of powder blue amongst a greenery view.
Then, my eyelids succumb, and I envision
Fields of forget-me-nots abloom in heaven.
                          ***

Note:
   The Myosotis (meaning mouse’s ear due to the resemblance of the shape of their leaves), aka forget-me-not flower, is also known as scorpion grass because of its spiralling stem leading to its flower head, which looks like a scorpion tail.
   Forget-me-nots are biennial plants (i.e., they have a life span of two years) that emit no scent. They bloom from May to October and are associated with the birth month of September, along with the aster and morning glory. Forget-me-nots symbolize love, respect, and remembrance.
Form: Lyric


Heaven Would Purge

Her existence was an open book, 
damaged from what her past had took, 
No evidence or resemblance 
of any confidence sought 
never ending battles she 
had always fought 
emotions she tried to manage, 
resistance to feelings she had caught 
Her confessions said with discretion, 
all directions led to unwanted aggression 
leaving on her body disgraceful impressions
Any mention of affection 
she felt deafen by their deception 
All perception of what was 
good controlled lessons learned
Ravaged by her past and all 
she had endured
Saddened by the haunting of ghosts 
from the past 
Maddened by the daunting 
battles she had amassed 
Perfection just out of reach 
she questioned each connection
Corrections attempted  
became obsessions challenged 
as she imagined what she was taught  
Exhaustion overtook her as 
rejection was all she endured 
Depression was her defect, 
making her feel impure
Felt a disgrace she was forced 
to embrace and merge 
Wishing that all her lessons 
would become a blessing 
and her sins heaven would purge
Form: Rhyme

I Hate Robocalls

I hate robocalls!

I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls

digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape

gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into

outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,

while weightlessly 
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...

yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal

spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author

instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly, 
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly

vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)

sundering coalescence 
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,

thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.

Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!

Bedlam and Mayhem In the Mistress Iz Boudoir Post Two

who left trail of heartbroken sage woman
commander in chief deliberately stoked,
née sparked long
simmering smoldering, and stewing
long festering white supremacist altercation
fiendishly igniting racial conflagration
exploding during late spring 2020.

No matter no child left behind kibitzing
(yours truly as boy plucked petals
off daisy reciting "she loves me,"
"she loves me not"...
cupid loosed an arrow
into boyhood neighborhood sweetheart

she innocently bespoke
"I wanna marry you,"
when uttered courtesy Sherry Jones,
a little girl who lived
approximately three doors down
along cul-de-sac within Apple Valley
perpendicular to Lantern Lane,
or more age apropos,

when young gallivanting
purported vestal virgin ladies
nonverbally signalled
libidinal proclamations of emancipation,
as demurely expressed
lest unlucky (chaste into)
precocious phallic proclivity
suffered the punishment
of being buried alive.

Now back to present day,
when our old geezer,
the prototype garden variety
male of present poem -
any resemblance between general referenced
fella and living persons purely coincidental.

He (yours truly) easily qualified as
overly cocky whippersnapper,
i.e. young buck and/or Casanova wannabe
experienced bit torrent
hormonal secretions gushed
particularly in close proximity
wherein wafted pheromones -
think a waif faring ingénue.

As evident and quite obvious,
I fabricate (prevaricating
my signature trademark)
rather than stating bland reality stark,
yet will plainly explain issue
in summary essential rhyme
without reason constitutes
nothing more spectacular than
garden variety generic pockmark
excised pustule ofttimes hallmark
of teenage/ pubescent pimply benchmark.

Premium Member She's Always Drawing Mermaids

She’s always drawing mermaids, and they bear
resemblance to their artist, for each one
is but a girl. Dark, wavy, thick, long hair
hides pre-pubescent breasts; Elysian
the islands drawn for all her mermaids seem . . . 
so different from her own reality. 
The islands that she colors are her dream.

She also yearns to swim the wondrous sea.
She’d have a mermaid’s iridescent tail . . . 
No place between two legs to cause her shame!
She’d be a strong free mermaid, but she’s frail,
and so she sketches dreams she cannot claim. 
Her mother sees each picture that she’s drawn,
yet fails to see her daughter's joy is gone.


For William Kekaula's Sonnet's Salutation Poetry Contest
From 2011, this is one of  my sonnets with the deepest metaphorical meaning
sad
Form: Sonnet

A Dream To Pursue

The Earth
Our Globe
Enclosed resemblance
Of its contents

The birth of he
Was the birth of divergency
They were born,
I was programed

Adhered to a certain goal
Complexities were designed
malware spikes,
To intervene

I will dive,I will thrive
Till I rise 
For my prize 
In disguise

I shall be stuck
On that track
But covered shall be
The distance on one place

He shall be buried
'With breath a merit'
And still, I rise
With a dream to pursue

I will be fine
Despite the rain
Tearing my paperwork
Enhancing my pain

The more I will gain 
They will fall into drains
Their Efforts in vain
In anguish in reign

Lightning will strike
But he will proceed
Never was he violated
For he was designed to succeed

I will pass, I will pursue
And all will call me
Undisputed
For my ability is unlimited
© Moses Gava  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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