Long Reserved Poems
Long Reserved Poems. Below are the most popular long Reserved by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reserved poems by poem length and keyword.
At the footbridge, I stand musing at my discovery,
I began my country hike early in the morning;
Oh what a find- this old mossy stone bridge,
And under, a gentle forest creek silently flows on.
It is such a lovely scene,
I want to linger and dream;
Where hidden birds are singing,
Perhaps take out pen and paper.
The ground is covered with tiny wildflowers,
And mighty trees droop giving shade as I rest;
And then- I step on the stone bridge,
And slowly meander to the other side.
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July 22, 2016
Poetry/Verse/'The Stone Bridge'
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1018-114-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted into Standard Contest 85,
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
No Bone
My skull has gone, no bone;
Just an open mind of the fallen Sun.
I collapsed in your arms and you held me close,
Just like I always dreamed you would.
I feel your hand upon my brain,
It’s funny but relaxing.
You feel my insistence for you again,
As the waves in my mind start you laughing.
We are connected, two people as one.
Come here, feel love and never feel alone.
Let me grow extendable arms, so I can wrap my arms around us;
My arms fly around you and I many times, entrapping us in love.
Stuck together forever, my love cannot be severed,
I Love You!
Didn’t you notice, that we made a connection,
A telepathic, subtle, intelligent discussion;
A meeting of the minds, blind to the eye, but there for certain.
You know what I think somehow.
I guess it’s written all over my face.
So you know I am telling the truth to you now,
I love you…I love her…I love (…) for she is my girl.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Years and years ago Grandpa gave me a horse,
a beautiful Palomino that I named Patch;
oh, she was so gentle, lovely and smart,
everything was perfect until . . .
The farm was sold and I had to consider,
the best future of my precious pet;
I searched and searched for a place for her,
and found an outside building . . .
It was an open air dwelling on a farm,
for many horses and not too expensive;
my intentions were to find someplace better,
but Patch did go there to stay . . .
At first it was fine but soon I hated it,
I wanted Patch in a nice warm stall;
not in this open air barn of sorts,
each month the need was greater . . .
I remember those days of so long ago,
and it was with love I made a decision;
to find my girl a perfect forever home,
so I sold my beloved pet . . .
A lady bought her for a companion,
and invited me to her farm to visit;
Patch had a warm stall and a new friend,
and I could come to see her . . .
________________________________________
March 10, 2018
Poetry/Verse/My Palomino
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1002-790-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Eight Word Challenge
sponsor, Robert Haigh
Ninth Place
Let not your heart be troubled by the recruiter's garrulous spiel!
After all, he's paid to embellish army life to offer you a fabulous deal!
When he called you 'private' you assumed there'd be privacy in store.
Never mind that you must share the latrine with fifty guys or more!
Make it a policy to eat all the curious grub the cooks slop on your tray!
Compliment the mess sarge - it might defer you from KP for another day!
Tell your sarge his wife is lovely - though she's as homely as Hooligan's goat!
He is certain to acclaim your acumen and a three-day pass he's apt to float!
Always appear busy - walk around with a clipboard in hand wearing a frown.
The captain might promote you to PFC on the spot so don't you let him down.
If a grumpy sergeant should deign to ask what you're doing, you could retort,
"Sarge, the colonel told me to inventory flypaper use on post and submit a report!"
Never volunteer for anything, though it may be an offer you shouldn't refuse!
Arrange things neatly in your footlocker for display and always shine your shoes!
Sergeants like things regular and complete, so don't give them any sass.
Officers' mega-egos are crushed if you don't salute, so always salute the brass!
Scrub the floor, shave your mug and be ready for Saturday morning inspection.
Best you pass the captain's scrutiny else he won't shower you with affection!
Keep your hair cut, a crease in your pants and you'll get along without a glitch.
They might even see fit to promote you to general on your very first hitch!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A long, long time ago (it seemed anyway)
Rose
and her cat Twinkle Toes were dreaming
it was a wonderful fairy tale dream of a lovely house.
The house was painted a lovely shade of sky blue;
(inside too) and rested on top of a high cliff
and a huge flower garden grew
and a fairy twinkling girl lived there too.
Rose and Twinkle Toes played all day long running
and jumping with the fairy
until it seemed to Rose that
they
had been in this dream
for a very very long time,
although a diet of jelly beans was delightful
and they loved the little fairy.
Rose and Twinkle Toes really did long for home
and sleeping in their little attic room
under a pink blanket till morning
and a new day ... (Oh Twinkle Toes I miss home ! Don't you?)
But here in dreamland
every day is beautiful and sunny
with never a cloud ever so
Rose decided to go on a journey (to find home)
and with Twinkle Toes following they left
the pretty house on the cliff and the
garden and fairy far behind.
They met many strange and odd creatures
that said hello
and the scenery was amazing yet
there is no place like home
(as Dorothy would say).
Then a south wind sent them in a twirl.
It blew away the blue house the garden
(and maybe the fairy) Rose and Twinkle Toes,
were tumbling and pages of books flew by and books
and Rose held Twinkle Toes to her heart.
Then, Rose found herself in her attic room
and Twinkle Toes was sleeping on the bed
Rose whispered . . .
Twinkle be careful what you wish for!
__________________________
February 11, 2017
Poetry/Narrative/Rose and Twinkle Toes
Copyright Protected, ID 17-874-323-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Fairy Tale For Children
Sponsor, Eve Roper
Third Place
It is an old dream, brown, crumbling at edges,
best that I leave this old dream undisturbed -
I am the dream,
it whispers soft.
I wrestle with the covers pushing it away,
but the ghosts of the past still come drifting;
they come like a silent crowd in the night,
so many come to haunt me, maybe forever.
Do other people have these too,
these frequent nighttime ghost whispers?
I am the dream,
of your regrets.
__________________________
May 27, 2018
Poetry/Verse/I am the Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1026-473-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
My invention - Fragmented Verse
12 lines, 4 verses, includes indention on some lines
Indented lines 26/28 8/8 26/28
Line 9 and 10 - a question ?
Syllables- 12/10/4/4 12/10/10/12 8/8 4/4
My dreams come floating and drifting in a mist,
and all reality crumbles and thoughts pirouette;
I plunge, tumbling, falling, and spinning out of control,
into the surreal realm of dreams . . .
where visions collide and crash together quietly,
and memories are tangled until they slip away;
lost and vanished as I struggle to remember . . .
_____________________________
July 29, 2020
Poetry/Verse/Dreams Slip Away
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1272-336-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (15)
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Walking up the winding path
inside the cemetery where my family is buried;
the path leads me through the oldest parts, and I recall
haunted stories of childhood.
Breathless, I walk faster and whisper a prayer;
another turn, then another, oh am I lost!
Turning around in circles- I see through trees the sun;
even the hushed angels sigh for me as quickly I walk
down a path familiar- finding my family tomb.
Butterflies dance and twirl, and
reaching branches of willows drape the stone;
everything is still and quiet, even though birds sing, oh
a red rose in my hand is now wilted dead;
the words engraved I now read with bated breath, I remember
happy blissful memories and sadly, too soon deaths.
___________________________
August 21, 2019
Poetry/Acrostic/With Bated Breath
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1174-813-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Pick A Title, Vol. 8 - Acrostic
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Title Chosen #5, With Bated Breath
Second Place
A smooth summer rain drums on the umbrella
In a city where everything flies so fast
She could see him from a long distance
The heart beats an extra stroke - or more
Eight years have passed since their paths parted
The fate had brought them back together
He meets her with a smile and a soft butterfly kiss
like a tune filled with joy
"Finally at home" he says and kisses her once more
The feeling tears her under the red umbrella
Every raindrop felt like a kiss from heaven
He is the most beautiful man she has met
Amor can rest, he knows this is true love
30/10/2018
Sun :) A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
My thoughts let go of a thousand memories,
like faces, dates, times and places;
yet, I can easily recall each and every detail,
on the day of your funeral.
In the middle of a snow storm I followed,
the wind blowing back my long hair;
we meandered down a winding cold path,
the wind pausing in the trees.
Snowflakes fell on me from the tangled branches,
falling like weeping tears cascading down;
I am lost in this forever, ever memory-
today the snow drifts in the cemetery.
and a headstone is buried deep in the pure white,
with one engraved word revealed;
in this pristine lonely winter wonderland,
only one word can be seen- Mother.
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September 24, 2014
Poetry/Verse/One Word
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1067-461-01
All Rights Reserved.
Contest - Early October 2018, Standard
Sponsor- Brian Strand
First Place