Long Sorts Poems
Long Sorts Poems. Below are the most popular long Sorts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sorts poems by poem length and keyword.
A Strange Man from a Far Distant Star.
A strange man from a far distant star;
Comes to teach us, to show us the future.
To show us a new direction, a new path to follow;
To stop us becoming, our own killer.
The future is orange, in this ungodly land;
The fire burns brightly, for this galactic traveller.
We must all learn, how to understand;
The message he left, which could change our future.
We must help him return, to the planet he left;
To let him show us the things, that are buried in our heads.
This psychedelic spaceman, with his orange platform boots;
Travelled to the moon and beyond, fighting aliens and fixing robots.
His special silver suit and his shades made him cool;
He's got some moon dust for his baby
And a piece of rock from Mars for her school.
Untouched land, heading back to his land.
From a forgotten traveler; from a psychedelic spaceman.
From the strangest of strangers, here comes the man from Obsidium,
With his tin pot space rocket, which runs on petroleum.
The spaceman's here, to show us the way;
To travel the stars, using his galactic space map.
One step for mankind, that was taken by a monkey;
Has let him take us to the stars, but he's never coming back.
This journey is one way, the destination is Obsidium;
He will bring us into contact with his peers and all sorts of aliens.
We can bounce on the moon, with a lack of gravity;
Finding new alien species, on the volcanoes of Mars.
This adventure will be joyous, with occasional tragedy;
But our mission will lead us, to travel to new stars.
The first question he asked was who will win the Human race?
And do you think Linford Christie, would win Britain first place?
Or would a pioneer win it, so they could claim it?
Like they claimed the native America; I guess they'd just steal it.
Then he said "Come with me and I'll open your minds;
Show you Jupiter, Venus and Pluto’s endless mines.
We can leave this place called Earth and explore a new galaxy;
We can race a shooting star, we can do anything.
But you must give up this life that you take for granted
And beam up with me, into my funky spaceship.”
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
She waited....
heart beat expectancy
to heightened degree
it would come
It MUST come
every day
waiting
for the message
"There must be a mistake!
How could he just vanish
disappear into thin air
and not care
No, there must be
some explanation!"
Perhaps he was sick
perhaps he was dying
and he didn't want her to know
wanted to spare her the pain
all sorts of crazy thoughts
keep her awake at night
as she waited
and waited
for that message
The months passed
the pain grew and didn't subside
it didn't grow dull
nor did it recede
it did bleed...
though her eyes it tore
down her cheeks it bore
her disbelief
it could not be
where was the message???
asking for...forgiveness
begging for....love
a second chance
revival of romance
She waited
for that message
waited because her faith in him
refused to be shattered
though battered
by the calendar mockery
day and month debauchery
Yet...each new morning brought hope
steeped in the belief
of his chivalry
and integrity
for the one whom she knew
could not be the one untrue
cruel and heartless enough
to have to taken her for a fool
she grew heart old
and soul weary
dead on her feet dreary
as she waited for a message
a message
that never came
Eileen Manassian
Inevitable happenings
Old age ushers
All sorts of pain
Awkward movement
Cloudy second childhood
Forgetfulness
Body in decline
Constipated feelings
Too much flatulence
Out of shape torso
Awkward motor response
Cracks and flaws unmask
Fear insinuates
Rigid obstinate ways
Dementia seizes
Hollow men
Hollow straws
Only death can save
Notice now
You do not know
Even your self
Life is first magic entrance
Then a comedic play
Finally forced tragic exit
God is gracious
Kindly reveals to man
Tells a fool he's a fool
Leon Enriquez
31 August 2014
Singapore
One day she left her house, feeling out of sorts
as if some premonition spoke to her.
It said to just stay home; to not go out.
No logic in this, though, could she infer.
She ran her errands, then bought groceries.
To her car she went, exiting the store.
Discombobulation hit! Something wasn’t right.
That feeling now she just could not ignore.
A handsome man approached her as she neared her car.
It seemed as if that guy came out of nowhere.
She saw his knife, then felt its menace at her back.
She looked around; the parking lot was bare.
Discomfort and confusion turned into grave fear.
Like acid in her throat, great dread was rising.
Bound and gagged, how she wished she’d listened
to her instinct! Sadly, her fate was not surprising.
I'VE PUT SO MUCH OF MYSELF AWAY
IN ORDER TO LIVE IN THESE DAYS
IN FACT, I'VE DISSOCIATED SO MUCH
MOST DAYS ARE JUST A BIG HAZE
I'VE TRIED TO CONFORM INTO THIS CERTAIN ME
WHO I THOUGHT I WANTED TO BE
TURNS OUT I'M NOT LIKING THIS VIEW
I'M NOT LIKING THIS PERSON THEY CALL "ME"
I'M CHANGING MY THOUGHTS AND DECISIONS
FOR A LIFE THAT I THOUGHT I KNEW
I'VE LEARNED YOU CAN'T CHANGE WHO YOU ARE
HENCE...TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE
I GOT CAUGHT BETWEEN LIFE AND A PLAY OF SORTS
AND WHAT KEEPS RUNNING THROUGH MY MIND
IS HOW I SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED THE SAME
SO I WOULD HAVE HAD A LIFE OF A DIFFERENT KIND
MY OWN ACTIONS HAVE CHANGED THE OUTCOME
OF WHAT I WANTED MY LIFE TO BE
I DON'T KNOW HOW I'LL GET BACK TO NORMAL
STRANGE...ALL I WANT IS TO BE ME
A bag of bones tucked in the trees,
Nestled against the fence,
Camouflaged by branches and leaves,
Heavy with the weight of death.
It tells a story of mystery,
No longer here in this world, but in the stillness of the bones—
Once a living, breathing form.
An animal of sorts,
Fallen prey,
Once roaming the orchard,
Living off the land,
Day in, day out,
Surviving at best, hiding at rest.
The land that nourished life
Now provides a resting place
For the weary bones that will turn to dust—
The bag, opened by predators,
Animal instinct in survival mode,
A gust of wind scattering the bone dust
Back into the food chain.
A once-living creature, now fertilizing the earth.
The cycle of life continues
Through all the seasons.
No longer a mystery; the bones, now dust, lie
Beneath the apple trees.
*Image of Knight Kneeling by Everypixels.
Suppliants Soliloquy
I turn away a stage no more
Set up high on a pedestal
To say my peace, naught to be lore,
Observed a point, incredible.
If this naught be my righteous day
I feel my eyes will not suffice,
But close my heart its stead, say nay,
Kept open to needed advice.
I claim no virtue 'tis of mines,
For I, a mind, made full of sorts,
So worthy be the choice defines,
This day mines will then set the course.
It is but a crawl through mired mud,
Slime of crimes my outer being
The innards smell a stench of crud,
My essence hid but seen fleeing.
I will not heed to ill advice,
To consort with those troubled minds,
This naught be a good day of choice,
To listen to a host of whines.
If I could change but one small thing,
It is my mindset one accord,
I wait what righteous day will bring,
Find you a servant of the Lord.
2022 January 18
*1st Place*
A STRAND (1057)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 January 22
*HMS: 8 syllables x 24 lines = 192 syllables
Grade one, oh, how I had so much fun!
Grade two; I painted pictures with colours red white and blue
Grade three, the year I fixed a rope swing to a great oak tree
Grade four, 6 stitches for banging my head of that bloody door!
Grade five, touching the electrics! I’m lucky to be alive.
Grade six, lots of mischief and all sorts of naughty tricks
Grade seven; I was a darling boy that was on track to go to heaven!
Grade eight, please Dad I will be good, I hope it’s not too late?
Grade nine, the summer my dad gave me my 1st glass of wine!
Grade ten, the year I washed my shirts to find a leaking black pen
How I remember my life in a stage or grade,
Not a year passes by where these memories fade.
III.
So many seem to think that hard work
is somehow a great curse,
they think that they deserve money
without putting in the work.
They seem to think those at the top
did do without hard toil,
that they would never do real work,
never would get hands soiled.
In truth those same executives
work eighty hours a week,
I think honestly many people
simply don’t want to compete.
They don’t want to have to work like that,
this I can understand,
but then they shouldn’t be so shocked
that they make half of that man.
And those who hate all sorts of work,
just do enough to get by,
you’re never going to win big bucks,
even you must realize
that no one pays you what you feel,
only for the work you do,
just wanting money isn’t enough,
you have to work for it to.
To pry a buck from anyone
you’ll need to work hard, not quit,
life’s a struggle, now and always,
you’re not poor because he’s rich.
IV.
And what about those bad decisions
that so many people make,
then expect others to pay up for
their own foolish mistakes?
The student who got a diploma
in ***** Intersect Theory,
he did not stop to look at what
such nonsense would be earning?
Then goes and marches in the street
’cause he thinks he should earn more,
blaming the rich for the fact that he
has to work in retail stores.
Forgetting that demand is all,
it has the final say,
if you learn things no one demands
don’t expect to earn good pay.
What of those who decided to
drop out back in high school,
how could that ever be the fault
of the folks with swimming pools?
It’s common sense the education
can lead to better paths,
if you chose to ignore this truth
who’s responsible for that?
The person who decided it,
just them and no one else,
thought if they choose better, and work hard,
there can still be paths to wealth.
Learn on the job, strive to improve,
find a weakness you can fix,
make yourself better, but always know:
You’re not poor because he’s rich.
Of all the simplest of things.
Sometimes love is a lot like socks.
Some are long, some are short.
Hell some even come up to the height of knees.
Some are bland. Some are colorful.
Baring the fruit of comforting something bare enough to be considered as precious.
These devilish things, socks.
Sometimes they create more problems than they are worth.
Coming apart at the seams,
Getting caught between your toes.
The hassle of constantly having to stop and readjust your shoe when no one is looking.
They come in all sorts of color and sizes, these crazy things called socks.
Sometimes that one size fits all is just a lie.
In time all things wear.
Just don't be foolish enough not to enjoy the comfort of the simplest of things.
This at all isn't important during the height of the day.
But the thought is necessary as it conveys comfort.
A necessity that goes unnoticed unless you've had any of these problems.
Belts on the other hand can be a different hassle. Not fitting tight enough.
The leather hole wearing thin often tearing.
Sometimes these dang things prove more trouble than they are worth. Stupid things.
But out of everything that I've said one thing couldn't be truer.
If ever I was to become overweight.
You'd be the pair of suspenders that hold my pants up when my belt can't fit anymore