Long Stretch Poems
Long Stretch Poems. Below are the most popular long Stretch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stretch poems by poem length and keyword.
Let me try, spoon-feed me nor ever teach,
My big mouth said, help me reach to my bridge
Like olden-day gurus who would not preach,
Help me smooth out if you find a rough ridge
That allowed little light of truth to reach,
Stop utter darkness from declaring siege.
Just guide, help me old blockages to breach,
Let if some light enters from jutted ledge,
Just see, no doubts come from unforeseen edge.
I love exploring depths far from the beach
And acquire untapped ocean of knowledge,
Which, since childhood has been my quenchless itch….
Heck, wishing just a helping hand to stretch,
How I got grabbed, a self-goal, easy catch!
_________________________
Sonnet | 05.08.2017 | humour
Note: I just wanted to give her a helping hand in her household chores, hoping to prove that I was not like others. But for my big mouth! As they say in Hindi: aa bail mujhe maar, a fool is always caught in his own words, this tongue-in-cheek sonnet shows.
I eat "Ice Cream Castles" from the air
Now there are no clouds anywhere
The Ice King sits upon his Throne
No Queen for him he's all alone
Within blue skies the world is clear
I stretch my hand to bring him near
Climbing upward on a "Ferris Wheel"
From luscious lips a kiss to steal
He looks on Earth to find a bride
Each girl he has kissed has sadly died
We know love, from "both sides now"
A pleasured moment a broken vow
Sad and smokey tortured eyes
Within metal cocoon we try to rise
His lips so cold my warmth is stole
He must find one to quench his soul
As the wheels turns, we both shall fall
We want everything but can't have it all
The ride is over the game is done
I can't share our story with anyone
He is a man and has his needs
On others warmth is how he feeds
The Castle crumbles clouds back in the air
I dream my dreams I can still smell his hair
Lonely is the path some lovers choose
I sit with red wine and sing my blues
Within the cold there is desire
He seeks a woman with ample fire
As smoke dances on thickened air
I love a lover who isn't there
My First poem is Empty Castles, written on July 20, 2014.
It was a tribute to Joni Mitchell's. Her song "Both Sides Now"
was part of the inspiration. Words from her song are in quotes.
I wrote it after looking at a self portrait she painted.
I chose to write it in a female voice.
My second poem is Ice king, written For SKAT July 28, 2013.
The third and forth line of each stanza are from this poem.
This poem is for Craig Cornish's; Intermingle Contest.
As i awoke early this morning
Here in what used to be our bed
These thoughts of you laying there
Danced aimlessly inside of my head
Those of the late nights we spent
Planning out our future together
And the promises to love each other
And how we would be in love forever
I remember waking you with a kiss
Before your eyes opened you'd smile
You'd stretch and wap me in your arms
Those moments have been gone for a while
But each one is a treasured memory
I wish I had more that was left of you
But I'm not capable of showing my love
And why you said you were through
Spring rises and is reborn
with a warm, glowing morning sun.
May apples, marsh daisies, wild purple, yellow and white violets
peek from the earth with round glossy greens and flowers.
Wild scallions, stretch tall and gangly, feathering the air
as the scent of onions wafts through newly cut grass.
Birds sing and seek a mate
then gather leaves, dry grass and twigs
for nesting softness for new laid eggs.
March winds gust freely from soft to subtle breezes
as April rains imbibe the dry brown earth.
Summer ventures back and forth on the sidelines,
hot and burning to lead prolific days
spewing vegetation, nature and humankind as they wait.
Life draws in the sun
and perspiration flows.
It splashes frolicking in the orange, red sun
failing to be chilled or cooled
as activity and growth spurt forth.
Summer stretches May to June,
then July to August and September,
The calendar, no longer true to its flow
lingers on through Indian summer
cool yet warming October.
A scene of awesome palette colors displayed
rising bold and brazen before an ice blue sky.
The trees of autumn appear in softly blushing colors
to November and December bleeds of hues
peaches, oranges, apple reds and umbers
Chrysanthemum, asters and blooms
bid farewell and a last summer goodbye to fall.
Winter drops down, released by a cold, north wind
that freezes what remains at the change of seasons.
Barren, naked trees and empty gardens
bland the once lavished earthen shades.
Prior months now fade away
hardened by December and January chills
prepping for the New Years snow
It lags January into February
bringing accumulations of ice and snow.
Everything sleeps, resting
huddled low in earth and home
waiting patiently for spring to return.
Heavy is this weight, a feeling I must keep,
I swallow hard, and force it down inside
Counting the cracks while trying my best to sleep,
Across the ceiling, theres nowhere left to hide
Deep lines have grown, a map of painful pride,
I've never seen them stretch so far and deep
Each perfect thing, I scrutinize should I confide,
And find the fault that my watchful eyes will keep
I know the words, the actions I could take,
To show the strength I hide within my breast
I know the climb, the promise I could make,
To rise above, and put myself to the test
But this knowledge waits; a seed within the shell,
To flower, to bloom, too lift me from this hell—
A moment in heaven, lifetime on earth
Just as time seems to stretch in lucid dreams
Purpose of dreaming ends, in bubbling mirth
Once immune to whatever movie streams
Hermit nonchalant offers no response
Ensconced in bliss, within the joy current
Subject-object merge by his nonchalance
All that remains is self, luminescent
Cessation the way, to exit earth life
Recognising we are soul eternal
Transcending ego borne struggle and strife
Suffused with love, as God does enable
Thereby silence and stillness holds the key
Blissfully self-aware in each entrée
23-June-2021
As the morning rays stream in,
And the bright light fills in,
I force open my tired eyes,
Stretch myself and slowly rise.
Lazily as I walk into the bathroom,
I stare in the mirror at the girl,
Whom I have tried so hard to groom,
And is now surrounded by a whirl,
Collecting and finding herself,
Amidst the chaos around and within herself.
Life sure has been hard and mean,
And the years, different versions have seen,
Of herself and those around,
Somehow, keeping her rooted to the ground.
An innocent child as she started,
Is long gone and remains no more,
But hope favours and compels her to soar
Because after all, life cannot be charted
According to one's wishes and desires
But it is the storms and the fires
That made her who she is today.
And so, without doubt or delay,
I affirm the girl within the mirror,
Who stares back at me everyday,
That she is going to be okay.
Soggy Ramen
By: Fawn P.
August 28th, 2026
One day…
You’ll be stuck in a loop,
Infernal, constant, unable to change,
If you're lucky it'll last a second,
If not a year,
You'll tear open a pack,
You'll save the left over dust,
Then…
You'll wait…
At first you’ll be perfect,
Your bowl well filled,
But slowly your oasis dries,
Next…
You'll wait longer…
Worms swell bigger sliding around dirt,
Made from liquid gold,
They shimmer as you watch,
Your bowl fills full now,
Your oasis less empty,
Finally…
You’ll stall…
Watch the worms,
Watch them slither and stretch,
White, pasty,
fragile…..
Your bowl is fool,
Your oasis less bear,
You sprinkle it in glitter,
Glitter makes it shine again,
Your mind eats before your mouth,
Your hands break,
as they grip and drag the brain,
The worms are squirming,
So, slippery,
So, hard to grip,
“Stop moving!” you’ll cry,
They already have,
Have they ever moved?
Did you watch them squirm?
They lay limp,
Dead and empty,,
But still swelled thick,
With liquid gold
Your bowl feel fool,
But the liquid gold is gone….
twenty years ago you came to Berean and as pastor took up the reins
you've led us on a spiritual journey and we've never been the same
and like the Brooklyn Bridge your foundation has stood the test of time
you preach to us the Gospel and demonstrate to us God's Kind
like the Brooklyn Bridge you stretch out your hands and bring people together
you've showed us how to be better fishers of men in any and all types of weather
it's maroon and not burgundy that is your favorite color of preference
and if any one should ever ask you why you'll give them the historical reference
you're passionate in your preaching and teaching of the word of God
and when you give the proclamation we feel it coming from your heart
twenty years ago you were the youngest man to ever take up the towel of service
it was your God-given destiny to serve Berean in this purpose
twenty years ago you and your family to Brooklyn did arrive
and blessed us with a leadership that has made Berean thrive
twenty years ago and not many would ever have perceived
that you would be the perfect pastor that Berean could ever receive
CONGRATULATIONS on achieving this milestone
and may you have another 20 years and more
WE LOVE YOU, WE SALUTE YOU, PASTOR GRIFFIN IT'S YOU WE ADORE
It arrives not as a slow dawn, but a fracture—
A sudden, violent tearing of the gray,
Where neurotransmitters leap in manufactured rapture,
And logic bends to the blinding light of day.
It is a temporary kingdom built on air,
A frantic, soaring, breathless, desperate high,
Ignoring the foundation of despair,
To watch the mundane world dwindle and die.
The heart becomes a drum with an accelerated beat,
Distorting time until the seconds, stretch and bend,
A breathless rush, a sweet and sharp deceit,
That promises a joy without an end.
It is the apex where the self dissolves,
A chemical, ethereal, phantom grace,
Where gravity loses its hold, and ego solves,
Into a momentary, breathless, liminal space.
But at its peak, the architecture starts to lean,
For all ascension mandates a return,
The higher the flight, the deeper the machine
Must crash when the bright, burning engines turn.
Euphoria is a loan, a borrowed debt,
A fleeting, dazzling, brilliant, stolen breath,
That leaves the trembling, wakeful mind to fret,
In the quiet, cold, inevitable aftermath of death.