Long Resuming Poems

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


Premium Member Bluebells Are a Ringin'

Bluebells are a ringin' and springin' up like kites.
Thyme is rustling along, glimpsing at dazzling sights.

Fox tails are a wagin' in the breeze, zig-zagin',
strutting their charisma, to be petted beggin'.

Roses are perfuming, famous scent resuming,
competing with nearby lilac flowers blooming.

Be still, my bleeding heart, absorb these works of art.
Listen to the thistle, performing like Mozart.

Healing beets are thrumming; tulips pressed are humming.
Flower petals tapping together are drumming.

Tune to trillium thrice and heed sound, sage advice.
Lettuce be thankful for song birds-of-paradise.

2-4-2021
Form: Rhyme


Giving Little Getting To Much Help

E'er since slip of a lad
little boy painfully shy
think Holden Caulfield
Catcher in the Rye,
(a teen cult classic penned by

Jerome David Salinger),
now resuming poem
about me, no why
ne'er beseeched, implored,
or pleaded to our Unitarian father
art thou in heaven...
socially withdrawn kid

wherefore I ne'er did ply
risk taking, and rarely did try
to test (dis)comfort zones,
nonetheless did despair
and silently decry
failing with flying colors plus my

lackluster luck concerning
absolute zero friends, I don't deny
abysmal classroom experience
linkedin with comprehension how to try
adding insult to injury teacher's pet
chosen to help, course

I wanted to disappear and die
feeling utterly inferior no lie
hated life (mine) anyone
could easily espy,
non verbal body language
spoke volumes, imagining

Matthew Scott to vanish
into thin air whisked into sky,
and even now envision well nigh
alien abduction, one garden
(hybrid) variety guy
taken as token Earthling, an ally

among nonhuman species, where
unconditional acceptance doth apply
feted as guest of honor trumpeted
profuse gratitude expressed to fortify
genuine appreciation, where the

multitudes of highly
intelligent robot anoint and deify
one humble scribe formerly
residing in Schwenksville,
the above I certify
as true so please don't vilify.

Premium Member I am part of the chaos that once found me, intricately woven together

I am part of the chaos that once found me, intricately woven together,
Each fragment of the soul with which I had the chance to communicate,
Every skin I touched randomly carried by dreams,
All of these have made me who I am, a memento of gains and losses on the way.
I am still in pieces, anchored in the remnants of memories,
I am still that person from years ago, when I lost sight of who I was supposed to be.
I stumble and fall, only to land in the loops of my weaving,
Just to start again, resuming my destiny.
In the reflection of chaos, shards of broken glass reflect a universe,
An ephemeral dance of lights and shadows, a dark magic,
Where every butterfly wingbeat is an echo,
It's me, lost in the labyrinth of memories, seeking a red thread that leads to the ground.
Whispers of the past watch over me, gentle breezes in the deep night,
Every touch was a shattered dream, a hidden tale of melancholy.
In the flow of consciousness, I traverse seas of pain and ecstasy,
I find myself, unraveling and recomposing, in an eternal dance.
I am fragments of shooting stars, scattered across the sky of memories,
Lights pulsating, throbbing with the lost magic of who we were.
There, in the cosmic darkness of my troubled self,
The tapestry of destiny is woven, with threads of desire and wrapped regrets.
Oceans of denials and reconciliations embrace me,
In every fall, I find a new way to rise, to be reborn.
Under constellations of shattered dreams, I rebuild myself,
I am that eternal being, woven with the thread of chaos that shapes me.
In the silence of solitude, I hear echoes of forgotten whispers,
A recital of lost souls, telling ghostly epics.
I reconstruct myself from the remnants of those memories,
I learn from them to fly once more on wings of eternal hopes.
Every scar, a map of my journey,
Every failure, a step forward in the labyrinth of destiny.
I rise from the ashes, a phoenix with wings of shadows and light,
Embracing chaos, becoming whole, in a universe of melancholic magic.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

The Paradox

With everyday under protected skies,
we come across some traitors lives.
Promised solution to all complexes,
riches beyond faint heart perplexes.
Adoration by fame benediction,
bargains without guilt affliction.
The patriot and his free ticket vote,
righteousness that need some promote.
Fees for the clamorous priest,
words of comfort in the least.
Stones and graves as memorandum,
dust to dust and its bleeding phantom.
Bubbles to buy in ounces of gold,
it’s the story as package to be sold.
The price to know God for asking,
resuming whole souls tasking.
Imitation of immortality without death,
lyrics and rhymes already in breath.
Scientific prophesies as politic conclusion,
sweetest moments of delusion.
Medias senses of what is right in time,
feeding the truth through a costly plastic frame.
Enslaving oneself by far more credit,
for the children to know its inherit.
The dying dream with its inspiration,
ceased moments lost in translation.
The placid and self contained condition,
takes forms in transparent definition.
As term-less feast of our content,
souls are more then body meant.
Wasted time in displeased self-assertion,
no values after deeds in resignation.
The greatest tragedy of the world in confusion,
the lack of awareness in spiritual evolution.
Form: Ballade

Premium Member Moon Knight Revives

In the Marvel comic, the unique character,
represented by myriad of persona of superhero Mark Spector,
an American mercenary who turns into Moon Knight,
the avatar of the Egyptian moon God, Khonshu.

When the earth is threatened by the destructive forces,
Khonshu makes Mark to wake up in his grave,
and get the mental message of being assigned the task
by resuming life for the duty as the defender of the moon.

For the protection of the endangered earth,
Khonshu  transmits his power to Moon Knight, 
who enhances the fighting dexterity and mental might
by acquiring the potent strength of the Iron Fist.

After the statue of Khonshu seems to have exploded, 
the force brings Mark back to life through resurrection.
He suffers from delusive dissociative identity disorder,
and finds the statue getting fully repaired and reinstalled.

Khonshu pleads for the safety of Moon Knight’s life
when he is about to be killed by Daredevil,
who ultimately agrees to set him free,
for he finds him transformed into the moon God.

 _______________

March, 23,  2023
Contest : Marvel Superheroes Supervillains and Superanimals
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
Form: Persona


Uterus Fruits

             First picked Summertime cherry 
             Dew glimmer marble blood clot
    Taut fruit platter embitters sweating cheese
              Liver pate shivers jiggle jelly
       Nepenthe Mountbatten hidden chicken 

    
                 Lays a tablecloth festive
            Red checkered rewashed faded
        Season with sea swell returns faithfully  
       Sickle slender silver moon smile harvests 
            Follicle forests expanding to full


            Bright verve verdancy bursting 
                  Peril of temporal balls
      Metered to melt before resuming build
Knife blade moonbeam ripens the coming crop
     Basket bulge fibrous beckon buyers’ bids


                 When the ceremony’s over
              Feasting has ceased, linen’s off
Pink penned love letters are scrunched up thrown out
  Reform engorged nightcap warmed moon omen
  Sun demurred eclipse naps, menopause opaque 


          Unborn bends branches for Mary
               Dulia in bloom banquets 





                   
        Written for Contest: Seven Ten 
               Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Form: Verse

Premium Member Day Flights and Silent Nights

Without a sound, the daylight has been arrested.
With never a struggle, day sounds are captured.
The sun has departed, and the moon has started.
The stars sparkle and the silence startles.
No school bell rings.
The birds do sing.
Missing are the fog horns,
guiding ships on early morns.
The cool breezes of the Pacific;
and those silent nights are terrific.
Bright lights must take their flight,                                                            
making way for soothing peaceful nights.                                                     Say goodbye to the loud sounds of the day.
They are doomed to a temporary imprisonment.
It’s only humane and fair for it to be this way. 
Sun and sounds return tomorrow, resuming their employment.                             
Tonight, the moon and stars are here for your delight.
Sleep well my friend, and to you, I say, "Good night".
12072016 PS Contest, Maytime Standard, Brian Strand,2nd Pl

Ode To An Oklahoma Locksmith

Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay
cuz, earlier this July forth
     two thousand eighteen ja way
windows closed, doors locked, and

     car keys visibly splayed
     on driver seat oye vay
feel free to call me a horse's ass today
utter anxiety compounded,

     plus unable to locate master key,
     thence fodder for poem and more to say
rifling thru boxes without success,
     an impulse arose to call road

     upon learning policy
     doth include locksmith service,
     ah felt less doggone snappish,
     and uttered hoo ray

though modest aye,
     congratulated awesome,
     fulsome, and handsome
     self on quick thinking,

and automatically became less tiresome
     pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason
     (as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay
then immediate decided,

     sans ditto explanation,
     but no how and nay
yet honest to dog suddenly felt
     like a young lovestruck lad

     during month of May
and without further delay
a compulsion arose
to putter along, though

     momentarily gazing heavenward
     and counting (just beak caws)
     glistening black crows
plus painfully aware

     a spike in recurrent
     "senior" moment of forgetfulness grows,
thus starkly aware significant rustiness
     increasingly, frightfully,

     and chokingly coats
     lix spit tillage harrows
resuming schlepping dishabille
     crotchety bedeviled aching

     body electric irksome
with fringe benefit (such as
     momentary lapse of reason)
     quite aware mettlesome

ness of youth nonrefundable,
     non-reliable, and non-retrievable,
     and guaranteed continued
     pricking, viz nettlesome

degenerating aging telomeres,
     sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes
leaving a once robust person some
what discombobulated 
     and easily toilsome.

Grovellers' Rations

Love and comfort cannot be partners
Complacency dissolves respect
Sneaky activity, entity disheartened 
Three component splinter defect

They married within protective faith
Full of future decades' radiance
Charles' charms by ladies repaid 
Ego combed by pretty audience 

As fate will travel the cheater's tale
Soiling sheets too close to home
Mildred's loyal fresh heart impaled
By horror of rotten frolicking known

Vigourous mother of two preschool boys
Revelation staggered her function 
Cut dangerously open by Charles' ploys
Cast remote was gusto's gumption 

Damaged duo pursued longevity 
Mildred continued with hesitance
She permitted fine faced snug family
Undeniably tainted by new tenuous

He declared undying love for Mildred
Doubled display of romantic regalia
But love as they'd felt, not rekindered
After influence of amorous strangers

Her energy failed in wake of treachery 
Charles startled grateful state enthused him
Flourished material assistance eagerly
Upset trajectory, wife's affection refused him

She once was fluid flower pleasant
His thorn tore natural pairing apart
Mildred's wooden stem, failed reverence
Commitment couldn't penetrate her heart

Charles' grovelling replaced love resuming
Altitude diminished despite effort
Shared habitat couldn't restore their union
Registered sin slices status, trust bereft 



        10th July 2020

        Written for Competition: Flower or Thorn
        Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Form: Quatrain

Long Be His Journey To Death

" Long be his journey to death! ", someone hollered
as he dragged his feet into the rising dust hotter than sand;
only a defeated and tormented soul would have admitted
looking ahead," Much innocent blood I have shed! "


Gazing sterner than a warrior or merciless king,
he was fearless of what was prophesied by twilight
to him in a temple veiled in crimson and white...
although he claimed his usurped power with a ring. 


His  palace adorned with ionic, glittering columns
of pure gold stripped off Troy's temples...they were carved by the hands  
of slaves, but their phantoms pitifully stared at him begging for their return
to the sun-gilded murals so that they would breath once again. 


" Alexander the Great is coming from the North 
with a mighty army, even the stones make away
for his conquest as he holds up up his victorious sword...
let him in your city, open the gate and obey! "  


A few days passed, then the young conqueror appeared
wearing a shining, silver armor as he gloriously towered 
over fortified Athens, the city that later will be conquered by mighty Rome,
and resuming his gallop, he hailed," Long be his journey to death, let him roam! "

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