Long Sentence Poems
Long Sentence Poems. Below are the most popular long Sentence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sentence poems by poem length and keyword.
He writes His poems in the sun…
Streaming through the trees at dawn.
He pens a beautiful stanza…
When the deer takes graceful flight.
He rhymes the words that we feel…
With more than a sing-song appeal.
He whispers affection and compassion…
Through the words that bring us acceptance.
God’s kind of poetry is more than words and phrases.
He murmurs his greatest feelings through intimacies…
Appealing to our hearts and that part of our souls…
That will reach out with vulnerabilities, entreating…
Needing the ultimate peace, the dream, the love…
Love that is everything – love that is unconditional.
He writes His poems in the rain…
That brings fresh air to all that it cleans.
He pens His greatest phrases….
In the songs of birds who sing delight.
He rhymes His words together so sweetly…
That we feel the warmth within.
He whispers a deep and meaningful expression…
Through the words that tell us we are loved.
God’s kind of poetry is more than rhymes and stanzas.
He sighs out a beautiful sentence of compassion,
A deeply abiding affection that reminds us…
His love is deeper than we can understand.
He cares more than we can comprehend.
He is wiser than the wisdom we try to grasp.
And His love is all that we will ever need to live…
A life that is filled with every hope, faith and love….
All the joys sent from God above.
"Rhyming poems have nothing of substance to say
They're childish! Ridiculous! Silly! Passe!
What's that - 'The Raven,' fine prose, you assure?
Pshaw, a talking bird is not Literature!
'The Road Not Taken' - how indecisively trite
'Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day' ~ why, out of spite?
'How Do I Love Thee' - such female nonsense!
'She Walks in Beauty,' not even past tense!
'Oh Captain, my Captain' just repeats and repeats
'Death Be Not Proud' - indeed, no great feat
Rhyme is over and done, finite, dead
Give me a rambling run-on sentence, instead!"
Sure, it's easy to call Dr. Seuss poppycock
HIS books are world-famous, what have YOU got?
12/11/18
Entered in 'Living It Up for Laughter' contest
STALKER
At late night train arrived my station.
I am regular daily passenger.
Also got down another stranger.
I did not pay much attention
Suddenly sensed someone behind
Turned back being conscious.
That stranger suspiciou
aroused fear in my mind.
Entered a lane to misguide
Decisive follower chose same direction
I started running on desperation.
Stranger gained speed, I could not hide.
Made useless jump on a fence.
He did not miss leap in dark.
Needless I loitered in park.
He followed without uttering a sentence.
At last I charged ‘What do you want, say kindly.’
'My destination is just beside
the house, you reside.
Station master asked me to follow you blindly.’
11/14/17
STALKER Contest by Silent One
Second Place
A Found Poem from the Bing Homepage
Earns record-breaking medal,
a boxer apologizes, is sad,
wins US Senate primary.
Campaign raises $138.7M,
to lay off 15% of workforce,
US launches antitrust probe.
Child sex abuse sentence,
Utah abortion ban halted,
net neutrality rules blocked.
Rain showers,
a Christian petition rebuking,
conservative attacks receive thousands.
50 icons famous after they died,
Charlamagne tha God on racial attacks,
'I don’t give a damn.'
The 1-ingredient upgrade for eggs,
complete fantasy,
a Western movie brutally assessed.
Egyptian women’s beach volleyball team,
slams French hijab ban after Olympic match,
Kamala Harris's lucky break.
The Colosseum sits~
a fractured crown,
its arches a circlet of light
where jeweled sun gathers,
I walk its perimeter,
my fingers grazing limestone
warm as living skin.
Dust rises~
a faint ghost of applause, of fear,
of spectacle braided with longing.
History here is not distant;
it presses close,
grainy and intimate.
The broken tiers curve
like a half-remembered sentence,
one the empire began,
but time insisted on finishing.
Grass grows where violence once bloomed;
the sky claims the open roof
as if to remind the ruin
that even power must answer to light.
I feel a strange tenderness:
noting how even magnificence erodes,
how power becomes dust,
how what remains is not violence
but vulnerability~
the open sky pouring through
what once was sealed.
The Colosseum reminds me
that time builds and erases in the same breath,
and that beauty endures most fiercely
in the places where the world
has already learned how to break.
the night i realized i could never fall in love again
i saw a white bird at 3:13 AM
contoured,
unobscured by the darkness,
gliding above the black SUV
where i smuggled my rotting flesh,
harbored beyond the shore of throbbing bodies,
bathed in blue light
in a country where i could never be understood
the night i realized i could never fall in love again
i saw a white bird at 10:15 PM,
unconfined, its primary covert
donning the grey spell of clouds
where it found its refuge,
drifting through my weary eyes
are you tired of me yet?
your porcelain hands fractured beneath my stubborn grip,
your fragments surrendered to the current,
destined to wash upon someone else's coast
i gave myself to you
until nothing remained
your life became unwillingly tangled in mine,
and though my miserly delusions
spoiled long ago,
their memories still root themselves like thorns,
piercing my skull
i cannot stop the bleeding
i wish i could apologize,
for you do not deserve to remain imprisoned
inside the amber haze
i selfishly refuse to bury
although i released you several years ago,
i still slit my wrists daily,
just to let the blood leech
my bitter, dried-up heart
i wish you knew
i do not know another way to exist
no poem,
no human,
no touch
can return spilled blood to my veins
on one of the many nights
my heart was drained of its warmth,
i dreamt i gave birth to a baby girl
painfully, miserably,
i folded inward,
with no one
inside my blurred horizon
i only cry openly in my sleep,
because it is the only place
where i see things as they are
without the diluted disguise of hope,
without the beguiled assurances
of my narrowing reality
i remember i can never fall in love again
every moment i fail to love myself enough
to entrust this emaciated body
to another soul
the day i knew it was time to carve this godforsaken life into stone,
i saw no white bird at no particular time
i sat motionless
on a train that would not stop
for my strangled sobs,
for a stalled existence as pathetic as mine
so, with tears i could not suppress
retracing the map of my bloodshot face,
i engraved
what i had known
since the day you left:
my own death sentence.
I have a box with forgotten words
And punctuation seldom used
In this box are synonyms
And grammar I’ve abused
There are commas there and colons too
Apostrophes spilling out the top
But the one thing there that I’ve got most
Are unused periods to make a sentence stop
I have one friend this bugs the most
Says no periods make my poems fuzzy
So I’ve collected them all and present them now
To the wonderful Deborah Guzzi
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Please feel free to apply them now
To my poems written in the past
I know it’s an offense I’m repeating again
But, I assure you this won’t be the last
“Somewhere beyond the sink-hole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever.” ~ The final sentence of The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.
A child was gone forever…
Was I, too, once a child?
Would it be that never,
I’d again run free and wild?
Would I simply pass away
like little Fodder-wing,
not to see another day
where I might fly or sing?
Lately, I’ve been thinking of
a brand-new hopeful dawn,
and the feel of earnest love -
of Jody and his fawn.
I saw a waterwheel, saw a rabbit,
took more than just a look.
Another’s soul, I’d inhabit
in the chapters of a book.
Lost forever to the ages,
a long, forgotten “when” -
four hundred thirty pages
gave me childhood again.
Imma Designer, Imma Artist,
I'm more than just speaking from the heart here
And yes I see farther than most men
My soul's the vessel charting through everything that's trying to harm me
A- sentence so strong, you couldn't help but to notice
yes it's exploding, and bursting into all theses rainbow colors
And they all think I'm the blind one
But I'm the same one who designed this rhyme here
These are my meadows, These are my fields
Never needed no materialistic Shell
Cause God's my Shelter from the Storm
He's my Strength in the battle, my companion in times of sorrow
My Deliver and My Fortress
The Giver of every good gift
God's my Rock, He teaches my hands to make war
No weapon formed against me shall prevail
Wearing rented robes and wet with tears
Tired and hungry with lifeless eyes
No shoes and no hope
None at all
Life a death sentence at this tender age
She sat on a rock, now robbed, even of her tears
A butterfly fluttered on by
Wings so golden, shining in the suns rays
She came to rest on the little girls arm
Looking up the butterfly saw the lost soul within
Spreading her wings, she danced in the air, saying
“Little one with a smile hidden deep
Do not fret, God is near”
The little girl, with no hope, raped of her happiness
Her heart bombed long ago
Gave a faint smile
She twirled once, her last dance before tumbling of hunger
Fainting to the ground while spiraling to the sky
Such is the sad moment upon this earth
As the butterfly took her up to heaven
Notes:
I saw a photo of a girl, alone amongst the ruins of bombed Syria, the image made you
want to reach out and save this poor soul. I have a sadness that I could not. I had no
idea how to express this, until a butterfly whispered in my ear.