Long Spin Poems

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


Dr Jekyll And Mrs Hyde

She had a busy life, with no time for fun 
Being a scientist, always on the run 
Well respected, well mannered exterior 
Belief in duality human nature superior 

Believing we all have a good and evil inside 
Obsessed, her studies she would try to hide 
In a quest to separate two opposing forces 
Created a potion, to see what her course was 

Waking she felt quite exhilarated
Fascinated it’s freeing, rejuvenated 
With a sense of freedom felt a liberation 
Not realizing there was a transformation
 
Drinking the potion she felt an exhilarating rapture 
Clueless that her personality would be fractured 
When the room began to spin round violently 
Losing control she had fallen down silently 

Dr Jekyll didn’t realize what she had unleashed 
Or how her repressed desires turned beast 
Never thinking her alter ego she had set free
Complex she had no idea what would be

When realization hit, she could no longer hide 
After Hyde took a life,  she was horrified 
Horrors of her actions came to her gradually 
Not knowing she lost her own individuality 

With the potion brought on a complication 
Forgetting what was her selfish motivation 
Consumed with guilt, blood on their hands 
Trying to think quickly, she needed a new plan 

With her action, an alter she couldn’t break 
Tormented by a creature she can never escape 
Feeling trapped with herself and her monster 
In the end it was both their life’s that had cost her
Form: Rhyme


THE NOW CONTINUUM

THE NOW CONTINUUM

Now might linger forever, or be a mere instant
Yet an end to the present may look ever distant
It fights for survival about which it is so insistent
But it may struggle to be defined as a continuum
As from the past, the future is anxious to come
So try relishing this moment, however transient

When or if, the world in our mind ceases to spin
All sorts of adjustments to time must then begin
And a reset requires more than a password or pin
Maybe now is an old concept that has had its day
It can be redefined with some disregard, anyway 
But do not shrug it off, as might some insouciant

The idea of now does maintain its certain appeal
But to academics, it still must prove that it’s real
It needs clear thought, but also how it might feel
There will always be time to ask the question why
When the past has passed, and the future is nigh
Acceptance of a theory could be quite sufficient
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Walt and Emily's Virtual Sky

Written by Gail R DeBole
on March 16, 2022
Updated on March 21, 2022

What would Walt Whitman do?
Would he tweet poem after poem
If today was part of his lifetime?
Tweeting Leaves of Grass to the masses 
Or would his poems be lost to the world
Amid the millions of poems posted?

What would Emily Dickinson do?
Perhaps, still a recluse, but with a technical spin
That jettisons her words throughout the virtual sky
To the masses amid thousands,
Floating amid millions of other poets’ words?

Would both their words compete for the virtual sky?
Words are competing, poets scrambling for
The attention, the connection to others, and, perhaps fame,
That the poets who came before earned
Without the Virtual sky.

Premium Member Captain Spatula’s Final Voyage

I sat in my boat built of pine-needles, hope, and some twine, 
Tangled in patience and twenty-pound test on the line. 
My oars were two spatulas, chipped at the handle and blade, 
Dreaming of sea bass in the silence the salt grasses made.

But then came the sky—it turned sour, a bruised, heavy grey, 
And the inlet ceased its leisure to clear out the way. 
A mountain of water—a wall that decided to rise, 
And I felt very small in the wash of its cold, hollow eyes.

It didn't just tip me; it folded me deep in its palm, 
A violent, wet secret that shattered the morning’s faux calm. 
I was tumbled like laundry, a button caught loose in the spin, 
Swallowing bubbles and shivering out of my skin.

Then—thump—on the gravel, I’m spat out like something discarded, 
My pride is all dented, my fishing vest soaked and me half-hearted. 
A fish flopped beside me, looking just as confused as I felt, 
While the sun broke the clouds and watched all shadows melt.

I sat there, a wreck, dripping salt on the sand and the stone, 
Glad to be heavy, and breathing, and mostly alone. 
The boat is now drift-needles, a splintered and watery wreck, 
And I’m just a human, with brine running cold down my neck.

Being Someones Superhero

Looking with hearts eyes we'll find
It doesn't take much to be kind
You don't need powers or capes
Helping a stranger escape
The torment their life is bringing
Or the pain that might be lingering
All around their hearts each day
There is such a brilliant way
To ease the troubles that they see
Making tears of misery
Fall each time new days begin
They just want to finally win
Living free from misery
A simple request to be
Made true if we all just
Give a little friendly trust
That everything will be alright
Letting them know a light
Of kindness can lead them past
All the hurt--it will not last
You never know how one small act
Can make the biggest huge impact
On someone who's really down
Their life can be turned around
If we all take one small minute
To release love--try to spin it
Towards others who need a lift
It would be the greatest gift
No money or wrapping paper
To do something good and taper
The wrong in the world and see
The caring humanity
Flowing and seeping into
Others who are sad and blue
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Terrified

I’ve been having nightmares every
night.
They seem so real and It’s extremely 
hot and I feel trapped and I can't 
breathe. 
But each time my torcher ends when
I  hear bells and alarms ringing in the 
distance. 
I’m no longer a rookie this is my se-
cond year and love what I do.
People often refer to me a as a hero
but I’m no hero I’m a coward.
I’m terrified of my job and don’t think I
can go on like this.
I am a firefighter who is  spooked by fire.
My team went in response to a fire last
week, and it was a normal routine.
But this in particular  fire was out of
control. And it had a mind of its own.
I froze and I was terrified and my life 
flashed before my eyes.
The only life that I wanted to save was 
my own.
Now does that sound like a hero or a 
coward?


Inspired by a drama series called Station 19
It's a spin off from Grey’s Anatomy 

7-28-19
Alexis Y.
© Alexis Y.  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Prose

Castaway

Life has cast me upon a distant shore
	the would not I have never chose

bits of wood silvered white
	dance and spin in morning light
light reflects like jewels bright
	in soft glow of mornings light

ebbs and flows the water goes
	gaining up and retreating back
hard and firm the wet sand lies
	pocked with imprints the dry sand be

lonely cries so softly call
	from wings soaring in morning breeze
of those seeking what they cannot find
	each day again with endless need

once adventure did for me lie
	a new beginning that I did seize
a journey to places unknown
	to learn of things unknown to me

many days traveled in ease
	carry along flowing breeze
the dome of blue above my head
	castles and dragons upon the breeze

yet skies would darken and thunder roll
	cold winds would blow and cold rain slash
and I would worry how I may
	live not till the coming day

yet most mornings began with golden light
	and most days passed in delight
and grand adventures did have I
	and traveled to lands beyond compare

and yet one day the breeze did turn
	and below unto a distant shore
and from it I could not turn
	and did grow the contrary wind

oh how could it ever be
	that it all would turn on me
that the course I could not control
	carried to where I would not be

dashed upon this distant shore
	to a land where I would not be
without a way to sail away
	to go again on morning breeze

my footsteps now upon the sand
	traveling up from crashing seas
knowing not where I might go
	for what this land will hold for me

long I do for what once was
	for the travels now loss to me
memories now just remain to me
	castaway where I would not be

The Host

Hello.
How do you do?
Please come on in
Take off your shoes

Have a seat
And stay a while
I love your clothes 
And what a smile!

I’ll make us drinks
And then we’ll chat
Just hang tight
I’ll be right back

Don’t you worry
I insist
Just relax
Now don’t resist

Have you ate at all today?
I’ll make some dinner
We’ll feast away

It’s time to eat
Please come sit down
Do you like my party gown?

I only wear this when I host
And now my dear,
I;ll make a toast

Here;s to you
My new found friend
So glad you drove down this dead end

What was that?
You have to go?
Why the hurry?
Stay for the show

Oh don’t be silly
You are my guest
After all
I brought out my best

Forget the show
Lets have a dance
Why all the fuss
Give this a chance

I will take you for a spin
After all
I took you in

There were others
In the past
Fir some reason 
They didn't last

The police had come
 and questioned me
They had no proof
 they set me free

I think it's time 
you take a nap
Drink this first
Then it’s a wrap

Lah-dah-dee
Oh, lah- dee-dum
Looks like another one is done


Oh darn,
I do believe that she is dead
I shall sleep sweet within my bed

I'll bury her with all the rest
This was fun
By far the best

It’s another sunny day
I slept so good
It's time to play

I shall dig another grave
I lost another
What can I say?

And when I’m done
From all this fun
I’ll feed the cat
Then get some sun

Oh my!
Someone is at my door
I can’t believe I get one more

Hello
How do you do?
Please come in 
Take off your shoes

Lah-dah-dee
Oh, lah-dah-dum
Homicide is so much fun!







t
© Mona Ebel  Create an image from this poem.

Decoding

Questions are proliferating,
people search for answers
in old pants pockets
in long discarded purses.
The scampering feet of baby philosophers
can be heard from the moon.

The media is stymied, they are manipulating,
confiscating and hiding behind the backs
of massively overgrown ballers,
willy-nilly they scribble an alternative reality
upon indoor swimming pools.

The manic mayhem of our daily grind
is wearing our hair thin,
Somebody should take control of the truth,
but it keeps dodging questions
and slamming doors behind it.

Mark my words with invisible ink,
scratch a cat behind its ears,
somersault all you like
but we are all getting overrun
by imperfect pontifications
by the indecent Doctors of spin.

and all this endless self-questioning
keeps replying over and over again
but only in unbreakable code.

Entangled Hearts

Entangled Hearts

Born of silence, twin sparks in the void,  
Drifting through time, yet never destroyed.  
No tether, no touch, no spoken decree,  
Still bound by a truth no eye can see.

One stirs in shadow, the other takes flight,  
Mirroring motion in infinite night.  
Across the abyss, their pulses align,  
A rhythm composed beyond space and time.

Not distance, nor darkness, nor fate can divide,  
What dances in quantum, side by side.  
Entangled in essence, unseen yet profound,  
Their souls in a spiral, forever unbound.

So let the stars whisper, let galaxies spin,  
They move as one—without, within.  
For love, like light, may bend and roam,  
But always returns to its silent home.
Form:

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace