Long Spectra Poems
Long Spectra Poems. Below are the most popular long Spectra by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spectra poems by poem length and keyword.
This revolutionary fella followed by
Adams family patriarch,giving rise
twin heir (plain lee gifted "Renaissance
Man") Jeff force'n without hemming
and hawing, subsequently conceding
nexus (nor horse drawn Lexus) of Colonial
power to Madison, thence Monroe
buttoned up as suitable candidate after
which younger Adams elected.
Thirty four followed Jackson's club
trumpeting (some Obama nib bully)
bushwhacking their way predicated
on faulty Algorithm, charming
charismatically with hint of Clint
like glint in eyes, blinding populace,
sans ray gun (Reagan), Car Tour ring
with peanut gallery in tow, affording
(unpopularly pardoning unfashionably),
a Jerry rigged nixed son, followed
by John's son tainted by stain of Vietnam,
but with said Southeast Asian debacle,
one ken heady (sporting thick styled hair)
inherited an internecine conflict, essentially
precipitated, when Eisenhower hardened
political stance against any allies of the
Soviet Union, (sans The Viet Cong), and
pledged his firm support to Diem
and South Vietnam.
Now with preceding administration, one
harried true man unleashed advent of atomic
spectra upon Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, this
purported preemptive measure scary ruse
felt to thwart exaggerated Japanese government
threat (military intelligence) scheming to
wreak untold havoc upon American troops
within the Pacific theater of World War II.
The former horrific decision controversial,
then and to this day Hoover expert historian,
diverge, asper corroborating the necessity
to usher in the Cold War, yet majority foreign
policy wonks might grudgingly attest that
said thirty first commander in chief did maintain
a Cool Edge throughout onset when doomsday
clock began countdown to Armageddon,
an unimaginably blaring, deafening, earsplitting...
cacophony distant rumbles heard, nonetheless,
no Hard dinning ghoulish nightmare (potentially
obliterating all life on planet Earth) haunted
Wilson, nor Taft, only gunboat diplomacy
mere child's play exhorted, less catastrophic
comparison, when Teddy Roosevelt wielded
"big stick schtick" namesake corollary to the
Monroe Doctrine in 1904...ad nauseum.
Twisting the dancer spins into the mist of the night, to his very own tune
This unearthly spectra gracefully dances, only lit by the light of the moon
Softly his leather clad shoes play skillfully onto the moisten moss beneath
Night animals, stop to stare at this dancing spectre, to them he bequeath
Their little clicks of approval, seemed only to add, to the body of the tune
This unearthly spectre dances in the mist only lit by the light of the moon
He makes his way through the trees, still dancing, as he reaches the leith
Across the wooden bridge into the mist, he disappears, beyond the heath
Gazing into the mist, you imagine him there, still dancing to his own tune
One of nature’s, own loons, who only dance’s, lit by the light of the moon
B/W Dreamed In Color
by Odin Roark
Shrapnel shards
Split the silence
Tainted metallic taste
Blood of nightmares
Cascading down mountainsides
One’s piled baggage
Soil of growth
Mulch of waste
Rebirth abounding
Budding predilections
Trying to so hard
So hard
So goes the night
When escape holds court
Judging not the guilty
But sentencing the exonerated
The innocence of B/W
Trying so hard
So hard
Toward one’s dawn
Black works its way
Finding gray
Merging dreams seeking forgetfulness
Stirring colors
Any colors
Urging blurred memories
Into fall carpeted tundra
The mind’s preparation
For the deep freeze
Of cyclic wisdom
Awaits mere compliance
To allow the perfection of rhythm
Yet we try so hard
So hard
B/W knows color
Needn’t be dreamed
For like the rainbow’s dispersion of light
The heart’s luminescence
Remains composed of emotion’s wavelengths
Conscious spectra seeking continuum
How foolish to live only life’s B/W
Yet at times
How coerced our hearts become
Hampering imagination’s purpose
To allow
B/W to be dreamed in color
The crimson sun of demure dawn
Climbs up the smoky sky seething slow
Burns air for the summer hasn’t gone.
Embracing the trees hot wind blows
Lean leaves filter sunburst streaks
Weave lattice of reverie on cool shadows.
The wind whistles in the blue hill
Music makes the sound of silence
Echoing in reclined valley winding still.
Vivid hues waft from the edge of twilight
Sprinkle spectra on my canvas
Paint alluring fresco of summer delight.
“The summer night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree
Peace comes to them on quiet feet.”
Stardust dances with blissful cadency
In the sanctum of my mind
I store the treasure of summer rhapsody.
May 20, 2021
Contest : Choose Your Form 2
Sponsor : Joseph May
Dream peep of early gold rim halo
August riser gleeful in exalted chant
Yield to dulcet chirp from ornate winger
Sunburst orange red splash of heaven
Taunt and tease ocean blue mist eyes
Amber warm rays dazzle pearl clad beach
Revere the hue-rich magic spectra veil
Designed by glow world spirit apt
Aligning deft nirvana enigmatic
You’ll embrace a stunning touchstone
Strewn amid solid crystal bounty
Traipsing vivid emerald paths ahead
Amazed by wondrous vista woven
Redolent of chalk mark visual rife
Dabble in the morn’s first usher
Archway to vibrant wakener within
Yen for ample stimulus astride
Sensory luxuriance devoid of match
Tangled web surfeit found epic
Aching surge of tinted aspect
Rhythmic ripples on beaded brow
A spectacular show enlightens heavens above
In ephemeral musings of burning meteoroids
Mimicking likeness of falling ornamental stars--
Beaming streaks of rainbow-colors earthbound,
When earth crosses trajectory of comet's path
Encountering in its way pebbles of cosmic rock
Colliding, illuminating in orbital trespass,
Elements of iron, copper, magnesium, silicone
Glittering within spectra of kaleidoscopic astral art;
Streaming down rockets of blazing stars--
Tinted meteor-showers flaunting nature's panorama
Fixating sights upward where constellations are,
In idyllic August venue gazing ashen sky
Exhilarated witnessing magical phenomenon;
Mesmerizing predawn with seductive stagecraft
Premiering its play slyly when moon's hiding out
And sun's yet to commence ascending golden arc.
August 15, 2019
Placed 2nd: Shooting stars poetry contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Placed 3rd: Strand select N contest by Brian Strand
Her cremated ashes still remain sealed in the same nondescript box
white, powdery and chalk like material
devoid of any vestigial semblance to her once living and vibrant self
that unique persona pulverized and vaporized
(housed former svelte and tall Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher
a half century plus prior to demise
which beauty, charm and grace quickly caught the attention of my father
who courted and eventually proposed to this young flirt and tease of a gal)
inert organic matter now represents sole residual embodiment
reduced to dust and near nothingness
former corporeal being of blood, bone and flesh
weighing no more than a few hatch marks on the scale
absence still bears down heavy like some millstone round the neck
per the black hole void created by defeat with Grim Reaper
toward this woman who helped birth and nurse me into manhood
momma’s only grown son still feels ripples of grievous sadness
no matter the years of suppressed anger and rage
in addition to emotional conflicts between us
which invariably wrought unpleasant relationship
and a legacy of discord writ large across the tapestry of my life!
Force fields from this lithe Brooklyn native
(whose pronunciation a dead ringer giveaway to any amateur and junior linguist)
lives in the guise of aural spectra
especially within the hallowed sanctity of Glen Elm domicile
and continues to emit indomitable and unfading rays of pure energy and light!
Written: November 19, 2025, for contest sponsored by Miranda Hawley
*****************
A kestrel’s shadow cleaves the obsidian dune,
as windblown kelp rustles to the tunes of oblivion
Peace is stillness between twin eclipses—
moonlight twisted, time blurred.
Love is a dream: a stranger wrecks a comet.
You wake with stardust on your palms.
Understanding is a prism—splitting ego into spectra:
Some mend, others sever the soul.
Mercy is rain without proclivity—
Falling on tombs, orchids, nests, and cribs.
I can't be thinking of what others think
I have a life to live
Or do I?
Should you always think of what others think?
You can't afford to
If you always think of what others think
You would be crippled - literally
You can't move
You can't talk
You can't think
God did not make you like that
He made you autonomy
That means you think for yourself
Do for yourself
And ultimately please yourself
You can't please God
You can't please others
You would surely fail
The only one you can please is yourself
Because you are reasonable
perfectable, tolerable
Only to yourself
Actually every word in the dictionary
that ends with able
That is who you are
You are so above all things
- irreproachable
That only you would know!
So please yourself
That is the foremost
You can't please others
And surely you can't please God
Because as God said
"All of us have become like one who is unclean,
and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags..." (Isaiah 64:6)
"We all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away" (same verse)
So you see you can't please anyone - except you
And if you can't please yourself
That is when you run into trouble
You would be so miserable
Not because you can't please others
But that you can't please God
Because God is an extension of yourself
God comes first
Don't get me wrong
But if you are not happy
No one is happy
- not even God
God did not make you like a robot
sacrificing yourself
in order to please Him
God made you whole
- a full person
- full of life and feelings
- full of capacity, probability
- full of spectra of tenderness
- whatever you are capable of
God made you so
So don't deject, reject, eject
- the one person
who can ultimately bring happiness
to you
That is yourself
So don't, okay?
You need you
I need you
God need you
Find out what you want
And go for it
God won't mind
How is it viable that life could alter the course,
from people to people?
What makes you quiver in the middle of the night
to play with my agony?
Until it is encircled by a wing of misery.
That has decayed when I embrace the gloom to reach you.
Even though I may find hillsides to be the Snowden,
As I scream out a chuckle, the humming torrent,
from the Empyreans stopped.
Be that they are on a brainless creative path, as this might,
What's more, there was a strand of the first dawn,
daylight as I got to it, In either case.
I can visually perceive an expanding synergy
within the grace before the murkiness
that Involves me in the dolefulness.
O, I love behaving with mate's optical discernment.
But whatever story could be, the enraged planet
Is making a beeline for the egress.
Forlorn, exhausted, paused, abstracted, and stress.
In a world full of velveteens placed overarches,
absurdity reigns supreme.
The Spectra in Solitude of even a Young Dreamer
With a dazzling sense of vision,
I'm expecting the end of the world.
To find my way into the norm of emotions, Withal.
I'm on my way to another light pole.
Where you make the most out of my verses.
Decorate my hardbound book with your scripts.
Dramatic Monologue poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
2nd place contest winner
Date written: 02/26/2021
Dramatic Monologue
Edward Ibeh