Long Scheme Poems
Long Scheme Poems. Below are the most popular long Scheme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scheme poems by poem length and keyword.
Only Waiting
Only waiting till the threads are drawn,
Across the golden scheme;
Only waiting till the seed is sown;
On to the sodden stream.
Only waiting till the ship embarks;
Upon the crystal sea.
Waiting till the arrow hits it's mark
Waiting is no new thing to me.
Only waiting as the hours pass,
Like soft winds out of sight.
Like towers of spun glass;
Or shadows in the night.
Dark secluded hours filled with tears.
And dim and lonely nights.
Pass through the jumble of the years;
And fade and flicker out of sight.
Yet there in the distance far away;
It glows beyond the reaches of my scope.
But I can see it in the twilight there.
One small ember glowing bright with hope.
Counting barren heartbeats, one by one.
Waiting, staring into empty space;
Then suddenly, in but a moment He is there.
And I behold my Savior face to face.
The trial is over, burdens lifted;
And we mount high on eagle's wings.
Shout with Angels all around us.
Morning breaks, and the cosmos sing.
(Valentine's Collection)
(Black Narcissus Sonnet Form)
13.
Now love shall ever sing within my heart,
as it has done since our love it did start,
I know from joy our hearts shall never part.
Yes, my love, you do brightly shine each night,
in each dream, you are beauty's wondrous sight,
a love divine within my joy's delight.
My beloved, your heart I do adore,
take my hand and we shall walk through love's door,
walk with me across dreams star dusted floor.
I ever drink from your goblet of love,
forever in my heart, you are the dove,
come join with me in angel grace above.
My heart does cry love's tear, when you are near,
the kiss of love's wine, my sweet Valentine.
18/01/2019.
A Sonnet form I once saw on a different Poetry sight.
Rhyme scheme:
AAA,BBB. CCC,DDD, Inner Rhyme Couplet - E-E, F-F.
*Image of William Shakespeare Poet Writer by Pixabay.
Contemporary Sonnet
Hot off the press, 'tis a rhyme of some kind,
a form that's advanced hundreds of years old,
hearts made it all the rage as love entwined,
game-changing for the muted, words of gold.
In full swing appearance stretches statements,
staunch vowels-consonants chime wondrously,
the construction on stanzas spreads segments,
three quatrains plus, distinct couplet, smoothly.
Completely concerned engaging rhyme scheme,
three mayhaps four amidst Milton scores whole,
though, moreover, there's Hopkins curtal theme,
although this well-known method leads the poll.
Functioning nameless skilled to be renowned,
Supporting heart and soul get off the ground.
2021 June 23
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand 1 to 14 line
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 11
exclamation, which does nothing to stem dead locked high tide
proliferation of high-powered assault bazookas
manned by berserk cruel death eaters,
arch nemesis picks off life with a blip
simultaneously bipedal hominid(s) grip handily rounded dirk
as backup in case clip
misses mark, where siege mentality induces
nationwide sprinting into lockdown mode deterring by a drip
fiendish homicidal metamorphoses, where transmogrification
of generic guy wielding weapon subjugating hostages pits malignancy fill lip
mailer daemon hell bent on besieging bait (unaware
Snapchatting linkedin flickr ring beings) burst deadly quip
barrage of bullets malicious intent to spray
killing machines deliver click and rip
paying plenti deathly instagram howls amidst pandemonium,
thence funereal slip
epitaphs etched on tombstones proliferate taking souls to Hades trip.
Brutal and nasty nefarious scheme directed at humble lettered folks
(like those comprising my home town -
once evoked pastoral meme Lake Woebegone)
minding their p's and q's, when in extremis
out of the blue nightmare interrupts idyllic dream
a sudden bitta bing bitta bang rings terrorist catcall
followed by red tide and river of bloodied body where caskets
rendered veneer of dark wood within lies corpse,
pistol whipped, shredded and outkast, where mortician daubs creme.
Soundcloud boom echoes, thus occurs staccato sinister sonic strafes across
freshly fielded tombstone; pearl jam gray slate, some formerly anonymous
namesake, which underling, higgs bo son or daughter blitzkrieg cross
invisible trajectories shatter (at shutterfly speed),
democratic rubric rendered dross
disposable lives of society with senseless slaughter, whereat somber silence
pines nostalgia for Mill on the Floss
when life seemed innocent against gun metal gloss
wails of agony at another human loss.
With return to summer tree of berries red -
he flashes ‘tween the green scene like a trinket;
celebrant in citrus hues of sunset bled
it matters not if twilight is delinquent
for he wears the molten shades of end-of-day
evening’s pout, in skies of gray, reflects dismay;
a zesty orange-envy oriole brings
for he torches air aflame... a flame with wings.
Susan Ashley
October 5, 2020
(June 7, 2020)
Rispetto lyric rhyme scheme: abab ccdd
Poet’s note: I am lucky enough to have these beautiful summer migrants, Baltimore orioles, return to my mulberry tree and hummingbird feeders each Spring. Such a sweet joy through the summer season! When they depart at the end of August, a piece of my heart goes with them.
Diner Pour Deaux Moi et Toi
(Dinner For Two Me and You)
I've laid a quilt on this stretch of beach,
the place where our romance had its start.
Where one night, I took your offered hand
The night I gave you my hand and heart.
Soft light from candles in lanterns on the ground.
Two glasses for the aperitif I'm about to pour.
We sip and gaze into each other's hungry eyes.
As rhythmic sounds of waves crash on the shore.
I've set the stage with the intent of seduction.
Let's start our late night feast with finger food.
Grapes I've peeled, and brie, our appe(teasers).
Sparkling white wine should add to the mood.
We'll share a cold crisp cucumber salad
With a light dressing made with mint.
I've kept it chilled just the way you like
In the hope you're getting the hint.
I've delicious little roast beef sandwiches
To place upon your tongue with my fingers
There's no need to hurry, my darling.
Love and dinner will be sweeter if we linger.
Is there room for my French apple pie,
topped with globs of cold whipped cream?
From the look I see in your green eyes,
You've caught on to my romantic scheme.
Let's take a walk behind the moonlit dunes
I've the notion we're ready for a little flirt
We won't be taking home the leftovers.
We'll have each other as tonight's dessert.
November 2, 2015
An open window frames a scene
Compelled obsession’s wistful sway
A metaphor imbues my dream
Entranced a moth, in porch lights gleam
Around it flits, a cruel ballet
An open window frames a scene
With you at night, the same routine
Your heart within a glass display
A metaphor imbues my dream
Unaware the faux flame's scheme
A driven urge the moth replays
An open window frames a scene
With fettered will and pull extreme
Your gravity of soul persuades
A metaphor imbues my dream
The glass I stroke as slumber weans
In crushing heat I fall away
An open window frames a scene
A metaphor imbues my dream
In awe, I welcome Thor with utmost glee.
The powerful celestial force set free
amongst the hills and over the coarse scree.
The winds that whip and slink — the hailstones loudly clink.
Flashes segue to link — I quell the urge to blink.
My pulse quickens at the rank petrichor.
I ignore being drenched, making my soul soar,
I turn my face to the rain to taste more.
The storm will not abate — it’ll make me very late
for meeting that’ll seal fate — my destiny won't wait.
Our tempers complimenting to a T,
and search for impressive clichés in sync.
Remembering that which had gone before,
I’m quite blasé about the hot debate.
This poem was included in the 11-poem anthology dealing with hailstones, in the online publication Pick Me Up Poetry, March 2022:
__________________________________________________
© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
1. Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
2. The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
3. The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
4. Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
5. The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
__________________________________________________
LEXICON
ceraunophilia: (n) A fondness (loving) for thunder and lightning and finding them intensely beautiful.
The term is derived from the Greek ‘keraunós’, meaning lightning or thunderbolt. On the flip side, ceraunophobia may be defined as a fear of thunder and lightning.
scree: (n) a mass of small stones that form a slope on a mountain.
segue: (v) 1. (in music and film) move without interruption from one piece of music or scene to another. 2. Move or shift from one state or condition to another.
petrichor: (adj) it describes how rain makes the hot ground smell at the first rains.
I hardly brew coffee alongside the metaphor of
English mornings blended with summer’s febrile breath.
But, on this occasion, I did....
It was a stifling moment on television.
The social media was abuzz with the hiss of
Integrated journalism. I hated this moment I failed to believe myself
Upon the altar of this recent toponym. BREXIT.
The name plinks with resounding voices, exerting that energy of
Political consciousness.
Lexicographers must hasten it into the dictionary
Before the return of Christ.
Must be cooked in the crucible of NOUN and
Heavily spiced in VERB.... And then, play host to nimieties.
It’s plainly a matter of exiting the circumference of a common, dancing market,
Where freedom of movement spins the web of twinkle-toed arachnids.
My coffee whiffed with the Brazilian hegemony
Upon the Indian scheme of teas and secular drams of rum,
And Iran’s love for green tea.
Summer’s mornings are difficult, I must remind you.
Waking from the posts of work and a bivouac
Stretches the eyelids beyond groggy eyelashes
With the haste of a speeding dawn.
But the TRUTH remained salient and voluble:
BRITAIN HAS VOTED TO LEAVE THE EU.
And it’s not a hypnagogic matter.
It has no business with amphigoric journalism.
It’s a British-fried piece of truth.
Are you kidding me?
I find it totally execrable when people say what they do not know,
Rather than ask what they do not know.
Sunday Times spread its pages to annex some truth.
So did The New York Times and Washington Post and the
Community of tabloids – all tried to
Squeeze out the sprinkles of the matter from collapsing firths.
There was no trace of Churchill in this BREXIT fiesta.
Even de Gaulle exuded remedies of a fractured Europe; he remembered
The WAYWARD WAR, whose frenetic winds blew us no good.
My coffee, black and gold, with the supple bubbles and yellow froths,
Welcomed the degree of weather forecasting.
Will it rain?
Will there be isolated thunderstorms across the EU?
Will BREXIT brew some heat? Slanting showers?
What Celsius does a degree reach before there’s a
Pandemonium?
DID YOU MEAN POUND-EMONIUM?
HAVEN’T YOU HEARD ABOUT THE CRASH OF THE POUND?
Down where the Camelia blossoms blood red
In the heart of winter, when others rest
Poverty is stamped out and all are fed
And red-breasted Robin has flown the nest
Few left to struggle with a cold winter
And family farms have disappeared from view
None left to tend the fires' dying embers
No inheritance left for children to accrue
Will the Robins reappear bringing spring
A rebirth of values and self-esteem
Planted fields whose great harvest brings
A wealth of values, wisdom that beams
Poverty still planted where blossoms red
Values disappeared, disrespect bred
Sonnet: With 10 syllable count and rhyme
scheme: abab, cdcd, efef, gg
Called an English sonnet....