Long Steeples Poems

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


Premium Member Paradox

I look down from the park
Above Sunset Lake
And see a little village of
Hansel and Gretel houses,
White and blue,
Pink and gray,
Purple and green.
On an upper porch,
A woman’s form
In old-fashioned dress
With hand to brow,
Watches forever
For her husband
To return from the sea.
A swath of green across the road
Faces a ribbon of street.
Where miniature cars
And trucks pass by.
The silver blue lake
With its tiny white swans
Ripples gently in the breeze.
And there on the porch,
A little girl sets her tea table
For her guests in their fine
Dresses and their fashion hats!
A doll’s fairyland -
A green of trees, church
Steeples in the background,
And the toy houses,
Sparkling in the sun -
A paradox, frozen in time,
There below, by Sunset Lake.


Halloween Questions

Halloween Questions
Do skeletons have funny bones
Do ghosts wash their sheets
Do vampires get toothaches munching on someone sweet
Do zombies get smarter when they eat human brains
Do witches  really melt if they go out in the rain

Do Jack- O’-Lanterns know they are missing their guts
Are spider webs silken or just made of dust
Do black cats know they’re considered unlucky
And shouldn’t children be wary of a doll named Chucky

Do werewolves know that they’re really just people
Do bats get religious if they live in church steeples
Does Frankenstein know he’s made from spare parts
Do little ghosts and goblins steal your heart

Does the devil really have horns and a tail
Do scarecrows know they come from hay bales
And is it possible that the Grim Reaper
Knows it’s your time cause he carries a beeper

When little ghosts and ghouls come Halloween night
Do you answer your door or just turn off your lights
Do you give them a treat or  just send them away
And aren’t you afraid of the tricks they will play

So if you are smart and don’t want any problems
Open your door to the witches and goblins
Give them a treat, send them on their way
Cause if you don’t you will surely pay !
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Her High Heels Sing

The spiral staircase made her high heels sing
as her feet danced down each marble step.
The last letter she sent gave her heart zing
and it's the reason she feels full of pep.

She wrote, pleading him to come back to her
for she had purchased a villa in Rome.
And she told him that her hopes and prayers were  
they'd marry and together call it home.

She saw golden church spirals pierce the mist
their steeples gilded by a rising sun. 
And any lingering doubts were dismissed, 
as if God blessed this move as the right one.

Retrieving his mail, he found her letter,
opened it, and read every word with care.
And as the tears fell, the page got wetter,
he closed it with a smile and crossed the square.

He boarded a plane that very same day
their argument now a thing of the past,
his heart pounding, he texted, I'm on my way!


(Rhyme)


5/14/2018
Form: Rhyme

Our Oak

OUR OAK

I shall always think of it as our oak;
Yours and mine.
Majestic in that green haven from urban cacophony,
It sheltered us in those precious moments:
Discreetly deaf to our small talk,
Obligingly blind to the fool I was making of myself.
Did I babble?
Memory has erased my every word.
Yet yours are indelible;
Every word, every inflection, every lilt
Oh, that lilt, invading my sleepless nights.
Did you feel it…the chemistry?
Have you any idea what happens to your eyes when you laugh?
Every cliché by every poet throughout the ages
Bubbles up from a sea of startling, sparkling blue
You laughed
And a thousand Sunday steeples burst into song.
You laughed
And I knew I would love you to the grave.

And then the rain stopped and I lost you forever.
I stood, rooted to the spot as you walked away.
The sun struggled through a threadbare patch in the cloud
To light up your hair for a last, fleeting second
And you were gone.
How could I let you go with so much unsaid
So many questions?
The rain stopped….and I hadn’t even asked your name.

5th July 2020
The One That Got Away contest
Sponsor - Silent One

Premium Member An Autumn Aloha

Ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Fanning breath stirs the heavily laden;
transforms and redraws like playful charades,
prepping, and grooming, all the misshapen.

A pastor's mural paints pure from trespass,
ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Prismatic design grounds tell-tale stained glass
and forest steeples are Redwood's crusades.

Kids taking the plunge, multihued cascades,
succumb to trampling and crushing horseplay.
Ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades,
the bejeweled waits: Sunday's white bouquet.

Awe striking vista blessing amble eyes,
bounteous nostalgia praising persuades.
Peace thine harmonious artwork baptize,
ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Form: Quatern


Premium Member A Gift Beyond Compare

Where steeples reach to touch the sky 
and faithful bow their heads in prayer, 
a wondrous sound fills wintry air 
as choirs sing “Angels on High”. 

Exalted words take wing and fly; 
good tidings are for all to share 
where steeples reach to touch the sky 
and faithful bow their heads in prayer. 

The morning of His birth is nigh; 
each celebrates a Love so rare – 
one precious Gift beyond compare! 
His presence cannot be denied 
where steeples reach to touch the sky.

~~+~~

1/10/09 
Writing Challenge- December, 2019 - I Want Christmas Poems
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode



*Rondel - a variation of Rondeau
Form: Rondeau

Premium Member Religion's Mask

Religion wrapped up with a bow
Sanitized, alphabetized, in 
order all up in a row
No questions asked your belly 
full your pockets overflow 
Sieg heil, tow the party line
You'll be religion"s ho
Grab your pitchforks, torches 
too we marching up the hill
The doctors in with body parts 
and still attempts to build
In frenzy and with blood thirst 
no mercy we'll extend 
No matter what the truth is
we rally all the troops, and fight until the end
Just justify your actions
And say "God told me to"
For this will ease your conscience 
And make your lie sound true
While the things that really 
matter 
Are lying unattended
To Mercy Grace or Humility
Your knee remains unbending 
Your form of godliness has no 
power God can see
But just hold another seminar 
and make the topic . . . 
me!
Stroke my pride fix my 
marriage and my children too
Three easy steps become a 
partner and then it's free for 
you
But send your money in today 
Or we're going off the air
But my book is free my teeth 
are straight I got morning talk 
show hair
Forget the sick forget the 
hurting their sin is their own 
fault
Let's just make sure we got our 
steeples and stained glass 
windows bought
We don't really want to touch 
them for fear of their disease
But we do like our pews padded 
and we do enjoy our ease
Because we know that God's 
main concern is to make us all 
feel good
And we 'll write another book 
about it
When He don't act like we think 
He should
And I'm sure when we stand 
before Him
He'll pat our heads and say
Because you were religious 
You made Me smile today
.
I think you see by now
This is not how it will be
For powerless religion is not 
your destiny
And now you stand here gazing 
Wondering what next I will say
 Looking at hypocrisy
 I bid you all good day

 2nd Timothy 3:5
Form: Rhyme

The starlight bloodmoon act I

Lucifer: "finish that piece a quaint and approximate supplicant is not meant for the heather dowdy pulled up invectives that do not roundly gather."

Uraeal: "I should often belay that quaintness the fury of galactic storms like Katrina was winning."

Aurora: "Peakish and defied I see now with both pellucid guise and under the remittance we have stolen now appraise."

Helel: "The roofed and pillared steeples, these greet en-masse the stippled and fearful."

Kate: "Darker than that and I now protest, the cure has been found it stands abreast, to the northern wind now gather the horses the divine have horticulture."

RK: "Tepid I know, such an illustrious thing, that faces such perfect darkness and creates a new slung over crescent."

arophc varuag: "Comely and prince that true love never went to the abyss."

PW1: *Notices that he is to return, and erupts from the sorrows to act a folly before returning*

DR Dragon: "Aimless parades should colors simply melt like a witch's wet brace?"

Zeus: "Contemplating the never have I then a realm to squash the pumpernickel source should it ring the wrong bell."

The forbidden one: *Disembarks from his journey, considers rejoining these the rest.*

---End of act 1---
© Ken Martin  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Where Have You Gone America Newly Revised

This a revised and updated edition of a poem I recently wrote and posted.  I'm interested in your comments, especially if your read the previous version.  Thank you for reading and providing your honest opinion(s).   

Where have you gone America, where have you been?
Where are the places I used to roam
Long ago with family and friends?
Where are your steeples and spires pointing 
Upward, skyward bound?  Are they still there
Where I last left them 
Back in my home town?  God fearing people 
And places, filled with traces of 
Humanities hopes and dreams; 
Sky scrapers, chance takers, 
Sweet Land of Liberty.   
And I hope you haven’t lost the grandeur
Of the Rocky Mountain Range; 
The Blue Ridge, Black Hills, Sierra Nevada, 
And Northern Cascades.
Are your wonderfully winding rivers still running
And forest trees growing tall
Like the pioneer days   
Before the Pilgrims came to call? 
Do your hearts still yearn 
For what might be earned 
Through the sweat of the brow and tears?
Do people still sing and dance by the moon
Because freedom’s still free so I here?  Some fear 
You may be falling
From the crow’s nest where you’ve been 
While the waves are growing stronger
And you’re losing too many old friends.   
While I still wave “Old Glory”
In these hurricane like gales, 
‘Cause I’ve seen other places 
And many sad faces  
Where everybody fails.  
Where life is pathetic, miserable, vile;
Without freedom of expressing 
Barely a thought worthwhile.     
Not that you don’t have a few
Stones in need of shining;
You’ve made some mistakes 
But it’s still not too late; 
Changing course is a matter of timing.  I believe
In you America, you’re
The cradle, bosom and grave 
Of all that I am and will ever be
In you, my heart still craves.  
Though some may vehemently disagree 
The right to do so sets them free
Paid for by the last full measure
Of friends and lovers, sons and daughters,
Fathers, Brothers in Arms,   
Souls unraveled from earthly travels, America
You’re a long, long way from gone.  
From my view and this direction
This reflection from the glass;
Half full instead of empty,
Troubles always pass.  Sooner or later
Come what may the pendulum always shifts;
Left and right, day and night, America,
You’re still the world’s greatest gift.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member C O L D

FLUNG
against the drab ashen phonon sky
WEIGHTED
with the ghostly iron clad jaws
of bitter winter's grip
BITING
the feather-flared Doves
gravid with
FATIGUE
in the ill-laden onerous air

The rough coated dog
with ice-tipped ears
COLLAPSED
in a ravine of surrender
to the corridor of street gutters
SEEKING
shelter from the toilsome icy cold, he
WALLOWS
as a fugitive of neglect
of his chosen demise

In this empire city
a sovereign shrine to humankind
VESPERS
of frozen conflict
RISE UP
from its bowels like sweat
LEECHING
from otherworldly gargoyles
stone watchmen
SEALED
with mortar
high atop the spires that define
FORTUNE
at its utmost cost

Beneath these voiceless
STEEPLES
of holy crosses
PLAGUED
with frozen muted light
DRIFTING
through histories
STRIFE
for equality
now a mere picture of its
FAILURE

Heavily cloaked faceless people
TRUDGED
like blind phantom transients
SLOWLY
moving forward
through half-stacked drifts of dirty snow
as they
VEERED
further away from discontent
steadfast in the apathy

The grimy conspicUous yellow taxi
BEDRAGGLED
on its mucky, viscous boulevard
STRAINED
and bellowed
as a labored oxen
TRANSPORTING
the few to a suitable destination while

DESPERATE
surreal sirens
from a distant byway were
BLARING
like a young animal caught in a trap
ECHOED
and purged from the
back alley resort of homeless, despondent souls
HIDING
from the winter

LAYING
like pale-blue corpses
NUMBING
their pain with cheap wine
INTERRED
in their obscure tombs
of battered garbage bins
SHELTERING
their helplessness in this
SQUALOR
of ignorance and sadness

As i stood in the moment
DISPLACED
in this cold and wounded reality
my icebound paralytic soul
SHUDDERED
with hurt
WAITING
for the sun


Rewrite from "A Cold Day"

6-14-20

Brian's select H, any form, any theme
sponsored by Brian Strand

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