Long Sigh Poems
Long Sigh Poems. Below are the most popular long Sigh by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sigh poems by poem length and keyword.
3 Rhymed By 3 Unrhymed
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unearth rough pages
bruise courses inky stages
killjoy taxed ages
surrender perfect
guess abets pallid secret
frivolous elect
corral pique ungrasp
cavernous episode task
flipping volumes masque
~0~ ~0~ ~0~
stupefying sigh
unveil serf seraphic verse
spare high chairs arrest
host climbing its web
a bored keys window set shares
peerless felt heady
surfing tsunami
petted aliens netting
hewn strewn mass consume
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Calm, but too hot, no breeze, no clouds.
Many umbrellas for the crowds
All wanting shade and get relief
Most swam in the lake, heat release.
That lake was theirs jumping up high,
They splashed, dived, uttered a great sigh.
Calm waters were agitated,
Many couples motivated
A small girl came last to arrive,
One bully blocked her timely dive.
"Get out, girl, you're not one of us."
The poor girl did not dare discuss.
A big man was angry, face red.
The lake now calm, the bully fled,
When all was calm, she smiled so sweet,
The girl swan, all was a great treat.
17 January 2022
8 lines. 8 syllables each
Enter the 'C Form - Couplet' Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Subject CALM
Something about you calls to my heart,
pulling and drawing me farther apart
from those I am with; you implore me to see:
what are you saying, twisted old tree?
You chose not the shelter of forest or town,
but out in the wide open fields you put down
roots that were hungry, thirsty for truth,
with only the blue vault of sky for a roof.
You have stood all alone throughout the long years;
the sunshine your joy, the raindrops your tears.
the snows have lain heavy upon your bare brow,
beneath biting winds, writhing, you bowed,
Your trunk is gnarled and twisted with pain
for fierce were the storms beneath which you strained;
yet, in your branches, by cruel winds wrung,
the dove has nested and raised up her young.
Yes, you have struggled and tasted of woe,
but a partner with God you have been and you know--
along with the laughter of leaves comes the sigh,
and mingled with joy there is always a cry.
I wonder at you as I stand 'neath your boughs:
if you could choose over, what would you do now?
would you live in the forest or some sheltered glen,
or choose, as you first did, the fields and the wind?
I know why you call me, my brother, old tree,
for the sap in your veins flows also in me;
I must drink the cup wholly, both bitter and sweet,
for life has no nectar unless it's complete.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
Dam you bastards with water; I think you all are coots
While I watch the weather everyday and plead for rain filled fronts
I’m not some greedy bastard, which wants to grow more grass
I need my stock to have a drink, and save their thirsty ****
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some greenie, with an axe to grind
In many areas our futures, are unbelievably intertwined
But for god sake, sit back and think, just how lucky that you are
Because all that water that you waste, well some comes from my jar.
I can’t but help, smile a wry grin, when the irrigation stops
As the whinging starts, about the loss in cash, as profit production drops
Your stock still have water, to pour straight down their throats
Water troughs filled to the brim, not erectile dysfunction floats
I see your places from the hill, circles of dark green crops and grass
Metal robots, pissing water, creatures born of greed; I have to sigh alas
There’s more to farming than factory farms and copious quantities of water
Deciding on paper, which animals must go, on the truck to slaughter.
So please forgive me when I wish on you, pestilence and misery
May your cereals wilt, stock get the shits, and your profits become history
I’m not some greedy bastard, of extra dry matter I have no need
If my stock just had clean water to drink, from my anxiety I’d be freed
The I-thought arises, then disappears,
so the practice is to get hold of it,
before we’re hypnotised and ego leers,
that lamp of awareness in heart be lit.
Blink and we’ll miss it, so hold firm focus,
examining the I-thought’s very source,
which lies far beyond the space-time locus,
cognised in silence, without use of force.
The Self when polarised becomes the ‘I’,
to navigate this earth life’s harsh terrain,
where heart feeling limitations does sigh,
when it chooses to wear the ego-chain.
Freedom or bondage, is for us to choose ~
As both dreamer and dreamed, what’s our excuse
Strolling through the dark woods
night approaching as the sun sets
the shadows were now lengthening
casting weird shapes on the floor
Birds pass on their way to roost
all are now settling for the night
squabbles from the rooks over perches
rabbits emerging from burrows to eat
This pause between daytime and night
soon the rabbits will be joined by
badgers coming out to forage and play
night jar starts to sing a real din
Later there will be such sweet sounds
as the nightingales songs ring out
for now this twilight stands in between
a world of half light neither day or night
Sweet scent of night stocks fill the air
as I sit on an old log drinking it in
a shadow detaches from the beech trees
a fallow deer on her way to the river
Now the daylight has completely gone
the moon has yet to show its face
a hoot carries through the dark
the owls glide past searching for prey
I sigh as the stars appear above
each one twinkling pinpicks of light
the sky a canvas on which they shine
at last the moon glides into view
Another day is finally over and done
it is time for me too to head off home
carrying with me memories of this time
closing the door I shut out the darkness
The woman he has waited long to see
has come to visit him at last! She rests
against the rail as he stands nervously
and keeps his gaze from going to her breasts.
Her modest dress cannot hide from the gent
the maid’s allure! He wishes he could still
his pounding heart. Oh, she is heaven sent!
To see her in his own world is a thrill.
For here she now stands, where he often stood
and looked out to the valley where she dwelt.
He breathes spring air, and everything is good.
Such joy before this time he’d never felt!
The young man and fair maiden chat a while,
but hardly does he hear her words because
he only sees her mesmerizing smile,
her eyes, her skin. . . He’s blind to any flaws!
Night’s shadows soon will fall. He reads her eyes
and knows that she, like he, can feel the heat
between them, and before they part, she’ll sigh -
the moment when he'll taste two lips so sweet.
*See the picture that inspired this poem on Isaiah Zerbst Contest page
Hearts racing, feelings breathe a silent sigh
Moonlight falls soft on spirits with insight
Melting the brilliance of summer’s blue sky
Silencing worries with hope, faith and light
Gentling promises of love, clear and bright
Souls kiss flames of inspiration, a flash
Strolling through the rain, listen to the splash
Exuberance flows alive deep within
Paving the way for love’s success, a smash
Compassion that assures trust will begin
Agendaless Exuberance Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
I used How Many Syllables to count syllables
October 30, 2021
Ah, the bloom was on the Rose
yet, the taint of alcohol and drugs
looms nightmare like behind her baby pink cheeks.
Porcelain skin tones, raspberry rogue
nails to scratch and lift bits of dirty lucre.
She was clawing her way up,
and hopefully out, he hits her, “****,” he screams at her.
a sometime replacement sat beside him.
His Chicano inner-city drawl hurt her ears
and the fake diamonds studding them.
The new girl beside him
giggles…
She’s due at work by nine,
grabbing a smooth wrap-top and a mock
grey skirt, she rushes from the room to the bank.
She can still see his long fingers playing in other girls cleavage.
Rose, well, Rose pays the rent. She strikes a teller’s pose
behind the formica countertop...
Long days, counting other peoples money
kindness, and sweetness sucked from her
like a ripe plum on a summers day.
She needs work, more work.
I asked her to help in the garden.
Long blonde, buxom, bending over weeds,
only six months to go to graduation
an associate degree…
Rose chuckles, “Look who I’ve been associatin’ with?”
I eye the twenty-five thou lottery ticket in my jean pocket.
“You want to move here Rose?”
“What would they do without me?”
I sigh, thinking of her alcoholic mother
off bingeing and her “boy fiend”.
The lottery windfall went for Rose’s college tuition.
The bloom is off the Rose now,
two hundred plus pounds later
strung out beside her Mom on a ratty couch,
she eyes the Diploma in it’s cheap black frame,
and rocks her baby girl
some things, never change….
*Names have been changed, and the amount given, but part
of the ending has truely come to pass already [sigh].
The rest is all true.
Yes, the bird ascends
Very often
It happens so
It ascends from the feet
To greet the the expectant cells
In the brain
First a sort of chill
Then the molecules of thrill
As warm as a boiled egg
Deep yellow dream in a white cup
A pink warm vapour
Even a leper leaps at the opportunity
Yes, the bird ascends
Opportunity happens
We are not always ready
To hold them with our needy hands
That go greedy
Opportunities go away into grains of sand
Mingles in our sigh
Or sometimes an alibi
Look into the blank dark
Nothingness stark
Suddenly a swarm of firefly
Appears out of the space or sky
Extending their arms in peace to ally
Proffering reply to many a how and why
Very often
This way opportunities do arrive
Beehive
For the release
Into a clasp of peace
From disease
Into the wings of ease
Opportunity to sow
Opportunity to grow
Opportunity to row
Steams into flakes of snow
Clouds coming so low
Many a woe diminished
Fulfillments intensely wished
In many an image
Of dream dance in a village
Come, let us be free from stress
To accommodate the access
A sweetened salted security
In your smiling vicinity
The opportunity
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26/10/16