Long Souls Poems

Long Souls Poems. Below are the most popular long Souls by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Souls poems by poem length and keyword.


The Dead of the Night

Awake I lie my thoughts a meandering hallucination of colours and words
The wind the one who woke me talks through the trees
Begging the rain to continue its assault on my imagination

Is that footsteps I hear in the dead of the night
Voices of ancient souls who only want my ears
They creep and crawl through my mind

I have never felt so alive the inhabitants of the world around me sleep
Recharging for another onslaught on the dwindling earth
But the wind reminds me the earth  will reclaim its soul nature will prevail
In the dead of the night

The onslaught continues and the wind rushing through the trees talks of the 
Disappointment in the guardian's of earth.
Hailstones are sent crashing down reinforcing the need to be heard
And I feel at peace in the dead of the night.


Premium Member Nights Embrace

In early nights embrace, where heart whispers weave,
I lay with love; a moment, we both managed to cleave
A back rub caress ignites that fierce spark,
Moon flowers bloom into warm twilight's dark

The world fades away; it's just her and me,
In the thrill of connection—so vibrant and free
Riches lie hidden for our love to ensnare—
With every soft sigh and each glance that we share

Her heartbeat’s a melody—a soothing song rare,
A rhythm familiar—it pulls me; a next level of care
With each gentle stroke on her spine, I bestow,
Our hearts dance together in passion's soft glow

Whispers fill shadows as stars start to gleam,
Wrapped up in this magic—fulfilling our dream
My fingers trace lines where all secrets are kept;
In this sacred stillness, trusting affections depth

Beneath velvet night sky with constellations bright,
We’re lost in each other till day greets the night
So let time pause forever, while here we remain—
Two souls interlaced through joy and through pain

For when dawn gently breaks with its golden embrace,
We'll cherish this moment where love found us a place
And though daylight takes hold as it always will do,
Inside our hearts lies last night's most tender view...
Form: Lyric

A Letter To My Daughter

Every dawn is the most promising time of the day. Promises of a new beginning, to start anew, to start afresh. 

And each day I love you more and more, and I feel helpless and vulnerable. Feelings can make you mature and it can make you lonely too. Alone among a crowd.

I got a letter from you. You wrote a letter to your ammu. Filled with love and understanding.

I still can remember the day when you showed me the picture of the girl your father ended up marrying.

“Ammu, will you see this?” You sounded hesitant.
I wanted to see it. I saw the picture. Your father, his usual smile, and beside him, his new wife. A beautiful young lady.

I felt nothing. I gave up on him long ago, long, long ago. I just strangely felt that I used to sit beside him when he used to smile, almost the same way. It felt strange.

You, my oldest daughter, now 13, are also turning into a beautiful lady. When you smile, when sunlight reflects on your knee-long hair, I think about my mother. I cannot think about her often. Somehow the door got shut as it seems less painful, it seems more convenient.

At night, we, two lonely souls, were trying to sleep, side by side.
You asked me at last, “Ammu, will you not remarry? Don’t you love someone?”
I was thinking about answering that. It is never an easy answer. 

When you were a child, you used to declare that you will be a gynecologist when you grow up. You were so sure about that! You, my oldest daughter, used to draw pictures of Butterflies, rainbows. And in those pictures, we used to smile. We used to hold hands with each other. Me, baba, you and your little brother.

I still remember about one day. We were sitting, the front yard of our house was a cozy place to sit and chat. You were jumping with your brother. I saw a young boy walking by. He was looking at you. A boy of your age, under the twilight sky, was looking at my young daughter.

Last night you were holding my hand. Your voice felt soft and gentle. You sounded softer than your usual tone. You wanted to know about my future plan. You were asking me while your hand was touching mine.

For a strange reason, I was thinking about that evening. I felt loved, I felt special.

And I felt displaced.
Form: Prose

Premium Member Twin Souls

Two hearts once beat as one in time..
Their voices sang a perfect rhyme.
Each thought, each breath, a mirrored tune..
They danced beneath the silver moon.  
  
But she, in love’s unsteady hand.. 
Had strayed and broken what was planned.
A choice she made, a wound so deep..
That left him standing, torn and steeped.  
  
He couldn’t see the shattered light.. 
Though she had begged and cried all night.
For every wrong he'd ever done..
She forgave him.. he, though, was none.  
  
Her tears fell soft, a desperate plea..
"I’ve failed, but still, I beg you see.. 
I’ve wronged you, yes, but love still stays..  
Forgive me, please, through darker days."  
  
But he, with heart in shards and stone.. 
Could not forgive what she had known.
A rift grew wide, too sharp to mend..
A bitter grief he couldn't end.  
  
So, they parted.. silent, broken..  
Two souls, once bound, now words unspoken.  
Her heart, though torn, still loved him true.. 
But in his eyes, that love withdrew.  
  
Through years that passed, her soul would ache..  
A heavy weight, a lasting break.
For all the pain she'd caused in haste..
And yet, in silence, love she'd chased.  
  
But fate, with mercy, takes its toll.. 
And promises restore the soul.
In future lives, their hearts will mend..  
And he will find it in the end.  
  
For love like theirs, though torn apart..
Is woven deep within the heart.
In silent years, through lives they’ll roam..
Two souls will find their way back home.
Form: Rhyme

Stillness in The Storm

Stillness in the Storm

It isn't too far from a conceivable image, 
To perceive the vast and forgotten knowledge;
What was and still is a, yet-lost tho recoverable innate and 
usable norm,
We have merely been tricked to stumble and to falter, 
To see only this, yet to live and just perish..there,
According to our physical form,
That they abuse & destroy upon an altar, 

Weather warfare, earthquakes and genocide, ultimately we do not care, 
For we reside here and so will yet survive,

All around us - here in this, our current metaphysical realm,
The imposed Chaos though surrounding every border, 
A precursor to ancient prewritten solution and clumsily enforced brutal order,
A metaphor for required need within ourselves to never fall, 
Do we not see an opening here at all?
Free our minds and our souls so then; by just remaining calm, all existential fear from harm, 
Calmness within, proceeding to calm without,
Our sitting and walking meditation,
Hereby dissolves the seeds of doubt,

For we are inherently spiritual of course, 
This we've always known, aside all attempts to quench and stifle, All adverse intent by decrepit obstinate deceptive force,

Nothing could delete the basic gnosis of what one really is,
So never give up your regenerative powers again,
To recall and never be reborn, 
Innate within us, dimmed and 
disabled, but never once forlorn,

Assume what was once stolen, Resume serenity once again, and for goodness' sake, 
Renounce their trickery, and false imprisoned slavery, Regaining whatever it was they thought they had to take;

So as to never ever slip from grasp,
From God the origin and Source,
Ascension to freedom from our past,
Where we are from, the spark of his Divinity,
To a mindfulness and a calmness, 
That our persistence then so gives us,
Rooted in our physically unforseen ability,
A steadfast grip on all around us,

Providing those of us with a remarkable and resounding..


Stillness in the Storm


Kurt Hubbard-Beale
19th February 2023
During mass consciousness awakening from this age old enslavement, culminating in their forced Disasters, Fabricated Food Scarcity, Earthquakes & 
a scripted, orchestrated WW3..


Too Late the Moon

Too late the moon exposed herself
emerging naked from chiffon clouds.

The Moon; she the mistress
of insanity and love 
had arrived
yet her curtain call came too late.

There were bodies to count,
some still twitched their pale limbs.
Lovers ran blindly through empty streets,
the loved and the lonely rolled in their beds
in a fever of want.

Juliet searched the night sky for him
alas a wane moonlight caught her eyes,
had sent them spinning into webs of doubt
until she felt betrayed.

The mistress appeared too late;
for even in her Luna absence
drapes had been pulled over
the victims 
of love and lunacy.

The night had bit deep,
both lovers and all other trusting souls
were left deserted, hungering
and lightless.

Fingertip Rhythm

Moonlight! Scattered in her hair,
A divine moment!
In which I want to whisper the sea, 
indecent, sweets wishes,
I don't know if the pine scent will bother you, my love
Because time runs an accelerating rhythm.
Heart rate, fingertip rhythm, sensitivity of the cheekbones.
Maybe we could try,
something new
Carried by the moon's changes,
sail away, in a scream, well-aligned
Thoughts, love, movements, unity of our souls
And bodies.
Lola, 
I don't know if the pine scent will bother you, my love
And the crunching of dry twigs, my fantasies
About us?
come!
For something to exist, it must be created.
Let's create our perseverance,
in time
Our tenderness,
because time will remember us.
By that!
I love you

Sweet Mistakes

SWEET MISTAKES


i sit here and think

of all i've done wrong

the whispering remnents

of a long ago song

while tragic decissions have created the past

the character built lays new path

without mistakes, goals can't be reached

if the the world was perfect 

there'd be nothing to teach.

we'd never explore our souls and our minds,

never know strengths that are built over time.

the wonder and awe that we see all around, without essence and knowledge

would shrival and drown 

love and contentment could never be felt

by a heart, that has never, disapointment been dealt. 

mistakes may seem bad,

like the end of the world 

but without them our souls 

would never grow and unfurl.
Form: Rhyme

Whispering Wings

      Amethyst shades dazzle her mysteriousness
        hiding black secrets in vulnerable mellows
          though recognized in the forgotten marshes
             she's said to possess dark onyx powers.
             She smiles at lost passersby in the red valley
           aware of the myths bubbling beneath wet soil
         and they disappear in unexplored forests
        seemingly safer than her uncharted evil mind
       every full moon augments her fragrance they say
     her Carmen blooms to entrap innocent souls.

      A thousand false alarms wrapped in assumptions
        for they'd never know she's a trampled magnolia
       tattered spirits in frayed rags was all she had
            dried oceans of scarlet tears in enclaves of fears
       humanity died on a full moon night under heavy breaths
          her weakened screams muted with lustful arms
              blurred visions of a forced conviction in blood
           her faint shrieks died in this swamp of tragedies
        till her blood froze beneath slumbering snow.

    Her burning spirit simmered mauve mists
      slimy seeds sprouted the dirty green marshes
        spring bloomed her courage to recollect storms
           crushed to sprinkle colors on heavenly topanga
      diamonds in her mind shimmer as she laughs 
         sending ripples of valor in perturbed oceans
           embracing her flaws she sings a folk melody
             trances of whispers blended in mellow symphony
    legends of crimson valley float with her flute
       a goddess calming oppressed souls to breathe 
         they've heard stories of sapphires burning
           splashing colors of freedom and kindness
    but all they see on drooping moonless nights
       her pious caricature coming alive in dark
          magenta petals blooming in layered fog of storms
            turning mauve then scarlet glittering ruby
         spreading wings from green marshes perfumed flowers
       on elevators of courage to save scarred souls
    infant butterflies arise in lilac hues of whispering hopes.


July 4, 2020

A Contest About a Goddess or God - Not THE God Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
~Winner: 1st Place

butter flies and marshes mellow Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
~Premiere Contest Winner: 2nd Place

Premium Member Not the Final Solution

And so the soup’s, coming to a boil 
Very difficult, not to get embroiled 
Rumour has it, Hitler’s on the rise 
Goose stepping, in poetic disguise 
Jackboots kick open, doors of rhyme 
Acrostics embed, swastikas sublime 

Vaxxers accused, of a new blitzkrieg 
Covid deniers, offer vapid intrigue 
Enigma encoded, in sonnets of fear 
Lady Haw Haw, sobs crocodile tears 
All together poets, salute Sieg Heil!
Conspiracy theories, jabs are on trial 

Contagious haikus, causing upset 
Biden instigating, everyone’s death
God’s gone paranoid, so we’re told 
Playing both sides, to steal our souls 
Armband stars, equal covid passes
Monoku writers, killing the masses

Limericks are evil, piled full of poop
No place for crap jokes, tainting soup 
Poets reincarnated, in nom de plume
Childish dark magic, one has assumed 
So do ends, always justify the means
In war and pandemic, mania’s routine 


By
David Kavanagh
Form: Rhyme

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