Long Sine Poems
Long Sine Poems. Below are the most popular long Sine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sine poems by poem length and keyword.
Woodbury, new jersey home
to me self since birth
my very late mother
(bless her long departed soul)
slaved and toiled
per accursed penury and dearth
tried her darnedest
to create happiness while on earth
would be livid with rage
at lack of neighbors’ manners
if spirit of said deceased
returned to this home and hearth
so let this poem serve
as springboard to communicate anger
for whatever
this literary effort might be worth.
this aged body of mine creaky,
nearly out of steam,
and well nigh lost track
of countless times auld lang
cos sine and concomitant excitement
filled past and long distant childhood
waiting for ole saint nick
to careen down chimney flue lugging
that humongous and bulging sack
or going out hunting
(when this area mostly woodlands)
awash with fauna and flora
and not unusual for pop to bring home
a buck sporting many tiered rack
caught in the cross hairs of firearms
seemed like gendarme of the pack
now, which memories flood my noggin,
akin to overflowing waters o the Merrimack
especially disconcerting with hostility
from youths politeness to lack
spouting expletives with flip of the bird
to us older folks who cough n hack
similar to staccato machine gun fire
in terms of that barrage of flack
I Asked Myself A Rhetorical Question...
Asper daily expounding fostering
inchoate manifesting mod
er writ writing quality,
solitary scrimmage tackling
undertaking, yielding whir
ring, sputtering, kickstarting, and
buzz-feeding at competitive, communal
crowed did metaphorical trough,
where household named author's
top New York Times best seller
tier, overshadowing under
rated genre bending, breakout aspiring,
story board qualifying,
opportunistic newbie man
use script artful dodgers
mere dust collecting drafts,
anticipating to stir infectious interest
incumbent - at mercy,
tripwire activating quint
essential key, which anchors print
ting projected uncertain
popularity first edition,
awakening, guiding, nosing
asymptote analogy steering
reader toward nascent
scribe, where paper
back writer wannabe,
toils away incorporating subtle
(hook, line and sinker) techniques,
(albeit apropos literary
ploys, a true test tum ment,
viz sophisticated gambits
to massage late tint
prestidigitation abra ca dab rah,
sine non qua cogent
see kant, and tangent triggers
modest mien fortified, exemplified,
and downplayed akin
to unassuming Clark Kent
in his cape ably nonchalant
transformation into superman,
and/or more pointedly,
some original heft leant
to set apart striking
poignant implement
exhibited by aspiring
writer daily revising,
albeit gal or gent
his/her uniquely obscure
trademark, but
eventually keen agent
assays non-boastful writing style
im prim mature print,
sans unassuming swiftly tailored
harried style seduces seek
curing sincere overnight reverent,
well deserved kudos
comically marveling
at thee most im portent
salient strengths, per
hops hue moored opulent
quality instigates
affinity toward nascent,
bar riddle be, bill leading,
bud ding scrivener,
not necessary alluding
to a hypothetical outlier
thus, any similarity between the
above statement and
a living person perchance named
Matthew Scott Harris
purely coincidental.
Hey, I walked your lawn turning in your song
and where are you now? I flew the water and
found the fish, I gave my thanks at the temple
dish... I placed a flame, kissed the stone, set
Venus around and near your moon, and
then I left...
I waited here, gave weight to fear and heard
the tune. Confusion turned a chaotic tone and
the Winds sang on and "On the ONe" the call.
I put the blue Jeans down... made note of all
and placed the orders in. Hand to pen my ink
went sound and around my world began ...
Through sins to Sine and back again. From
wine to Winds the rhymes began as science
is to test, too a May tricks the best and then,
Nature said... "it's not a beast" and I paused.
This Voice, the Effect of Cause and I paused...
Form:
To soothe
A crying babe
Mother
Presents her breast
And hums
A melodic tune
Soft
Gentle strokes
On an infant’s cheek
His face
Brightens
Reaching up
For a father’s arms
To stretch down
Meet his gesturing
Little arms
Squeeze and choke
His father’s neck
He releases
And grabs his chin
To look his dad
Face on
And plants a kiss
With sound effects
On his father’s lips
“Why, Thank you little man.”
The little man smiles
And returns to chocking
His dad
She met her best friend’s eye’s
Mirroring
Each other’s smile
Running to meet
With flailing arms
Jumping to some
Primal dance
“We won, we won.”
She never felt so happy
And to do it
With her best friend
Just made her smile
Even bigger
His heart
Thumping
In his chest
Sweaty palms
Thoughts of self-doubt
Worth
Appearance
Intelligence
And courage
Courage to ask
To ask
“Will you marry me?
She smiled up at him
“Yes”
His world collapsed
Into a singularity
Of
Happiness
It took her a long time
A life time
Failed pregnancies
Divorce
Hatred
The hatred
Of self
Her career
Her looks
God, she hated her life
But slowly
Slowly
She worked through them
Resolved
Her inner turmoil's
Or came to terms
With those issues
That plagued her thoughts
And self esteem
Stopping her
From finding
Inner peace
Sine qua non
Of
Her happiness
Sine Wave replicated the Hand whistle, a drum and
bass and tremble guitar fused with a funky mix of
in opposition tothe fella's camped further in the distance.
There a banjo and fiddle were played while a crooner
serenaded the dust clouds kicked up the drunken
cowpokes.
While the Elders sleep or were to drunk to refuse them
wise mid twentyish people grabbed instruments and
went into the barn and began to
fuse there style
with sounds that were never heard before. A member
of the orchestra used his influence to
convince these busy hard working people
to make time to get together
and create music. The way music needs to be appreciated.
Night hides the meanest of day
but moring tell the true story
if she'll go
or if she'll stay
Regional flavors
Capsicum Annuun
Hot Peppers and Milk
Pizzicato wash your hands
begore you pull
them strang's
Headdresses and Cowboy hats
Hazing a Tenderfoot
oh …
imagine the hues …
the shades and shapes and colors -
the breadth of light and exquisite beauty
that blind people …
SEE …
think of the music, untranscribed and emotive,
that those without hearing spin
within their minds …
for though we feign superiority,
we ‘normal’ folk are limited by
the constricted boundaries of our senses -
imprisoned by faculties …
but those without the definitions of
actuality, are utterly free in the
scope of their incalculable curiosities …
pray, have you ever wondered what
fanciful worlds exist for those
without confines?
insights, thoughts, visions, and songs that
are created in intellects sans limits -
wondrous realms with no borders -
skies with horizons that never end
beauty with no definitions or sine qua non
and love …
oh, envision a love as pure -
truly without condition, purlieu, requirement …
or end …
there are so many astounding universes that
exist within our own -
that are seen without eyes
heard without ears
and known …
without a single thought … or touch …
this life is a teeming sea of possibility
and the only hems are the
ones we sew ourselves …
so,
the next time you reach a wall …
or a door …
or a loss … or heartbreak
close your eyes -
see that un-black ocean of light and energy
listen to the music of your imagination
reach your heartstrings out
beyond the horizon …
and wonder!
Cream of fire, liquicksilvered star incendiaire,
leaves imprint for the World to see,
hangs hook on the sky, suspended
freeze framed to sprawl spidered vein, drip thickly ordinance, molasses covers the mind.
Bismolling rinse, a curse of the eye,
the Hephaestus tear, cascading bull, work
of Virgoan theme in paradox of shift of paradigmatic-meticulous-metaCoolty-times divison sine.
The Dragon lies in wait to devour. Her child
come early, premature, but at a late hour.
Humanity
sways in union of hypnotic wave,
like blown sands of the sea.
Flood hits the shore, blurring lines and s
contouring laws to grapevine, to wine and dis stain
in the presses of drunken powerlines,
rolling blackouts and rape of con-fined.
A body without a head,
full on moons of zombie
with channel locks and no native neem.
Silence, breathes. Darkness, weaves.
Disbelief is blended with terror and
chaotivity.
For unity alone does not a true path portend.
Hiccups, reshuffle, bend.
The devil's dream come full circle,
sheep to tend, wolves to defend.
His time is short, now,
get ready for the "shake up", my friend.
By what labyrinthine repetitions,
by what agile, precise divisions,
by what accretions, do we compile
a life's arcane hieroglyphs,
its subtle, unmathematic mysteries?
What cold calculus shall we yet invent
to construct the introspective model?
What distribution curve, what standard deviation,
shall predict the time remaining 'tll we exist
entirely in a universe of our own creation?
Shall we make of stars mere red-shifted
spectral lines on photographic plates?
Will heartache be reduced to sine waves,
mapped by styli on graduated rolls
revolving in precise concurrence
with computed average biologic rates?
Shall we expunge the record from the file,
shall we precipitate a system crash?
What key will be called escape and which restore?
What impulse may span the neural gap,
what synapsis presage what deity?
And will there be a world left to explore?
Will we stop to soliloquize?
What obeisance shall we require?
Piety is no mark of barren earth and rocks,
nor of sterile wind and raging fire.
high on this feeling
i find myself skipping
i come to realize that i am happy
i have not had a visit from there in a while
high on this feeling
i take another whiff of the breeze that positively addicts me
i come to figure out that i left pitiful behind finally
i have not had this type of freedom sine about 1000 less grey hairs ago
then you invite yourself in with your bold and beautiful self
you were the total opposite of each and everything i was used to
when i did not wanna go and acted out like a big old baby, you got in my face and made me experience what i was afraid of
your victory was a kiss of gratitude from me and ummm....something else later....
Hot beauty
Like a rattling dove
Whirling cocooned in a flood
Like thirst dripped
Onto the furnace
Of hot galloping wax
Into my tingling
Expanding fibers
On that balm-coated
Trembling cloth of canvas
In that moment when the flame
Flares up with a great heat
As a bomb exploding
Drop of wax is pounding
Sensuous broth is boiling
I am covering you up
With beeswax
With the honeycomb
This glaze of love
Wrapping you like a shroud
A spoiled brat in a raging heather
Prince on board
With his bluish temper
With his depraved rampant
In Perverse abundance
Lid on the lid of lids
This ark of passions
Tavern decays
Delusional Grieving
Monastery of Struggling
Sine Diagram Cosine Graphs
In contemptuous arrogance
In the flight of excitement
Shackle stick me to the ground
The unsurpassable ratio
The Unstoppable Quotient
Horizontal constant eight
Let out a giggle,
In the delirium of
Snickering laugh
The sand is pouring,
The alarm is beeping
Time is running a race,
Can’t keep up with pace
My relentless robotic
Endurance overtakes