Long Showcased Poems
Long Showcased Poems. Below are the most popular long Showcased by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Showcased poems by poem length and keyword.
You hold someone down, do what they don't ask, fulfill their wildest dream, to not feel reciprocated, to feel you are being used, while your needs drift down stream.
You endure the pain; you accept your fate every time, ignoring every warning, hoping this one is the last rhymes.
We do this always; we do this cause we are the ones that can handle the pain. We are the ones that are chosen to carry others through the rain.
"I'm never gonna love again" "I'm done trying to be happy", things we have all said, things that have made us all scrappy.
Your emotions run so deep, your emotions are on the edge of your sleeve, not everyone can handle this way, most people will run, most people will leave.
Butt, don't be tearful, don't be sad. You will always find love, no matter how horrible you've had.
Just remember people come into your life as blessings or lessons. Don't hold grudges life is too short, forgive easily and live free of obsessions.
Some people will come into your life to disturb it and cause chaos. The right people will bring you peace without making you feel like a boss.
My thoughts float to the Emperor penguin, showcased in "Happy Feet" finding their song partners. When you hear the right song, you won't have to question intentions. They make you feel safer and more hopeful as kindergartners.
As much as you think being hopelessly romantic is a curse, one day you find the one, you will find the one that will hold you tighter than a compact out of a prostitute’s purse...
No, no, no, that's too dark. Let me try another spark.
As much as you think being a hopeless romantic is a curse, you will soon find the one that will hold you tighter than a casket being held by a hearse...
Wow, dude, could you be any darker? You couldn't be any more darkening with a permanent marker.
As much as you think being a hopeless romantic is a curse, you will soon find the one that will hold you tighter than an arm being poked by a nurse.
M'kay, m'kay that's the one that sounds the best, that's the one that will show I'm not a mess.
Swans row the sky
just feet above the copper water.
Gulls twist their necks to watch
a lone sailor on the prow
of a sludge-decked dredger.
On the slate thatched gambrels
of a lesser known roofs
spotters search for night bombers,
the figures have turned to stone
as do all oft repeated passages
from dog-eared scripts.
London growls under the axels
of diesel driven dreams.
A stork has visited
an attic full of discarded toys
bells ring out for new born sales.
Barges reek still, just as when
sweat was as common as dirt.
A window in Baker street
opens to let pipe smoke out,
it uncoils in the air
like a left handed genie.
Tower bridge drops upward,
to quarantine all gawkers.
Meat mongers return to their
blood-soaked cradles
before the dawns leery light.
The city is a fable,
It is aflame with tall buses
that never were the same,
yet there is sea oil seeping
from the tunnels and runnels,
where entrenched gutter snipers
lie low.
Here in the denizen dinge
the sure footed dead
avoid being seen
by the googly eyes of alien robots,
tin manikins that crab-walk
along Regents Street
barking Chinese commands
at oppressed corgis
and other less compliant drones.
On what was once Speakers Corner
hunched pavement artists
dribble into the chalky cracks
between showcased hoopla’s.
Slyly the loitering snollygosters,
lollygaggers and stumblebums,
crane their ductile necks to see
shell games in full view
even as they vanish.
A Warrior in Conceal.
In a room stands tall a mirror clear,
Revealing a reflection that deceived the world with a smile.
When I recognized it, my eyes poured out a tear,
And it was clear that the reflection was mine all the while.
It asks my nights of silent tears and struggle,
To expose the truth my false smile would never reveal.
It showcased the unspoken love under my heart's rubble,
And unveiled all my wounds that time could never heal.
My reflection speaks: "Accept and learn to heal,
Don’t run or hide, but face the wounds you bear.
I'm proud of you, a warrior through conceal,
For in your heart, gain strength to face despair.
Next time you stand before me, let me feel
A reflection, freed from past wounds, and completely healed."
As feathered fowls* mentioned by the Scriptures
They are God’s wondrous creatures bound by flock-cultures
Possessing marvelously unique features
Blessed to triumph along flight freedom-ventures.
Enthralled with their displayed teamwork at full sight
My heart thanks the Creator Who upholds their migratory plight
Beautifying the sky in their V-formation of magnificent delight
As pelicans prevail through "upwash vortex fields" midst celestial light
I marvel to see such birds praise the Designer of great magnificence
Who allows them to showcase their flying might with grace-iridescence
Inspiring humankind through their lovely presence
That exalts the Lord along environment’s license!
Psalm 50:11 I (God) know all the fowls of the mountains: and the wild beasts of the field are mine.
Psalm 78:27 ... and feathered fowls like as the sand of the sea.
January 27, 2019
Edited on October 4, 2022
1st place, "A Flock of Birds" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward; Judged on 10/6/2022.
What exactly breeds hate...why is it all around us?
I'm always seeing on the news...how others are thrown under the bus.
There has been to much energy spent...always having others to blame.
I wish we could build up...and not just defame.
Poetry is a beautiful platform...where no hatred should be showcased.
There is nothing wrong with writing...about politics, religion or race.
Just be sure to have your facts straight...and don't create more hate.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion...write what you feel and always create.
I wish to believe...that poetry is for certain kindred souls.
Here to share our thoughts and feelings...and watch how things unfold.
I'm sorry for poem of the day...I reacted poorly for all to see.
That's not who I am...or who I want to be.
I didn't have anything nice to say...I shouldn't have said anything at all.
I apologize to all who did read...who am I after all.
No good came from what I chose to type...hateful feelings are hard to budge.
I am so very sorry, please forgive me...who am I to judge.
The athletes marched in waving flags,
All decked in matching clothes.
In all of the Olympics,
That’s the way it always goes.
Some countries showcased dozens,
Others had but one or two
And two hundred thirty proudly
Wore our own red, white and blue.
As medals are awarded, though,
There’s one thing that’s for sure –
And that’s the fact that many nations
Will be medal-poor.
There are eighteen like Zimbabwe,
Paraguay and Mexico,
Who have just one single athlete
To compete in Sochi snow.
Still, they all looked thrilled and hopeful
As the games prepared to start;
Though they can’t all take home medals,
Getting there sets them apart.
BELLS
IF YOU KNEW HER YOU KNOW THIS WOMEN COLLECTED BELLS.
THEY MAY OF NEVER BEEN USED BUT
WAS ALWAYS SHOWCASED SO WELL.
EACH BELL UNIQUE AND SPECIAL IN ITS OWN SPECIAL WAY.
IT WAS A MAGNIFICENT COLLECTION PEOPLE WOULD OFTEN SAY
SOME PEOPLE MIGHT THINK WHATS SO SPECIAL ABOUT ALL THE BELLS.
BUT TO THIS SWEET WONDERFULL WOMEN EACH ONE HAD A STORY TO TELL.
THERE WAS NEVER A BELL SHE DIDN’T CARE FOR.
SHE LOVED EACH BELL ,INFACT YOU COULD SAY ALL
OF THEM SHE ADORED.
NO ONE MAY EVER KNOW WHAT EACH BELL MAY OF MEANT
OR EVEN ITS VALUE.
I THINK EACH BELL REPRESENTED ALL THE MEMORIES
SHE HAD OF ALL OF YOU.
ONE BELL AND ONE NOTE CAN SOUND PRETY GOOD
AND BE SO BEAUTIFUL TO HEAR.
BUT LIKE HER MEMORIES WHEN ALL BELLS SOUND TOGETHER
IT BROUGHT HER SO MUCH CHEER.
IT IS SAD TO KNOW SHE IS NOT HERE WITH US TODAY.
SHE WENT TO BE WITH GOD WHEN HE SAID COME THIS WAY.
EACH OF US WAS LIKE THE MARVELOUS COLLECTION OF BELLS.
WE MAY NOT KNOW HOW WE WAS SPECIAL
TO THIS GREAT WOME BUT SHE COULD ALWAYS TELL.
IF SHE WAS HARD ON YOU OR GAVE YOU A NAME LIKE DOZER.
IT DOESN’T MEAN SHE DID NOT LOVE YOU
IN FACT IT MEANT YOU MEAN A LOT TO HER.
I WILL MISS THIS WONDERFULL WOMEN FULL OF
WISDOM AS I KNOW YOU WILL TOO.
I WILL MISS THE LONG TALKS OVER BREWED TEA AND APPLE BUTTER THAT SCREAMED WITH LOVE I MADE THIS FOR YOU.
ALL OF US REMEMBER HER A LITTLE DIFFERENT THAN THE OTHER.
IM SURE ALL OF US AGREE SHE TREATED EVERYONE AS IF THERE MOTHER.
I WILL NEVER FORGET THIS WOMEN WHO COLLECTED BELLS
BUT MADE HEARTS RING BELLS OF THERE OWN.
MANY LIFES CHANGED FOREVER ALL BECAUSE
OF THIS WOMEN AND THE LOVE SHE SHOWN.
WE WILL MISS YOU MOM,GRANDMA,BEST FRIEND.
LOOK FORWARD TO SOMEDAY WHEN WE REUNITE AGAIN.
Born from desert winds
In lonely nights would contemplate
Marching footsteps of other men
Where we of war, pray for fate
In wait, no beauty could have tailored right
How the Milky Way her dress displayed
On those moonless quiet nights
Her stars sung windy whispers at my way
Scorpions danced until the death
Wishing neither had to die
Love the place that has no breath
Who should live them or I
I hated feeling pierced from the thorn
Hated being far from family thoughts
Yet, I learned to love where I was born
In Desert Storm where we fought
Sweep away all the muck
I’ve seen life’s beauty and the waste
At times Marines in place we’re struck
With regrets, madmen I replaced
But not all of it, no not any of it!
In the silent moments from the roar
When quiet came I would sit
The starry nights we’d explore
I implored, glazed at what I saw
Me, showcased in all that art
To the stars I was called
From birth, God would not depart
No I am not alone
In the sky I found my home
Form:
Having engaged in unlawful
Sexual intercourse
The hunter inflicted suffering
Upon my dissent.
Trained for rapid eye movement
He showcased with a violent temper
And in conversation
How it was for the purpose
Of my moral improvement
That in his chasuble
He designed to subdue me.
What an obscenity
To doubt the machinery
By which my chastity
Supports my collected bodies!
The gun carriage moved
Backwards and forwards.
The old world thrushes
chatted in "la Casula".
His discipline hastened
A yawning fissure.
The gorge that would
Breach the structure
Of our relations
With divergent opinions.
The chaser chassed in
Cheap chauvinism.
The change in this
Chattel's luster
Could be seen in a
Chatelaine's cat's eyes.
Apocopated celebrants
Gathered for the sacrifice
I could tell by the
Marked interruptions
Gapping the framework
Of our forlorn continuity.
It scared me so
That I was not trusted
To trust myself
Or my resultant suffix.
Castitas, intercourse
Or crying became informal.
I longed for the days
Before the chasm
When secured
In composed type
We were the receiving set
Of a mounting foundation.
Now an uninformed attendant,
A collection of various sections
I indulge in mild beverage
And still find no quenching
The deep cleft of my harmed surface.
I notice the single placemat within the circle of noise,
Placing my phone on the cluttered side plate,
I can feel the Christmas spirit resonating through,
The crowd of extended families unwrapping each other’s joy,
A tear drops onto my unused napkin,
My mind races with memories of family togetherness,
The phone reminds me of the unsent WhatsApp messages,
I spot the waiting team slalom through the chairs,
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a waiter offering me the red, white, or rose wine,
I must have blanked out for a quick second or two,
As for some reason I chose the red wine,
I’m not a big fan of red wine,
I notice something unexpected,
A noise behind my ear struck me subtly,
Hesitantly I turn towards the surprising situation,
“Would you like to join us?” A lady to my left asks alongside her children,
Tears flood my unconscious shirt,
“No-one should be on their own” another added “Join us!”
I graciously accept after they make the decision for me,
They share that they are from Lincoln,
As they collectively lift the small square towards their table,
I can’t believe the surge of care that I’m being shown by strangers,
Stories were poured as the red wine wrote the words to a great Christmas Lunch,
I laughed to many a tale about their previous Christmas trips,
Smiles simmer in this cauldron of enjoyment,
The red wine even produced miracles,
Overcooked beef became irrelevant in the cape of chuckles,
To be included in such a positive way, real and not in a forced manner,
Opening the door to showcase the missing piece on the mantle of Christmas,
I’m glad I chose to go down the stairs,
I felt a little overwhelmed by all the morning family togetherness being showcased,
But my faith in humanity has been restored,
As long as the flickering light within the hand of Christmas remains,
I will try my best to rise to most challenges,
As today a small gesture had a hugely heartwarming effect,
A large impact that will not fade in time.