Long Tablet Poems
Long Tablet Poems. Below are the most popular long Tablet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tablet poems by poem length and keyword.
Does my posture hint who I am
At open mic poetry slam
I prefer to hide behind lime winged words
On my pc or tablet or pen paper if I have it
Will my message get loosely lost
As you notice the style of hair I toss
If I am short tall fat or thin
Do YOU hear my message or take my presence in
I don't always walk up to the mic
And I'm wondering this teal thought tonight
Is my heart a red paper valentine
That presents as giving up on love in time
I stand here on this stage
Full of fear desiring fuchsia praise
Seeking love of audience in my way
Unity and community follow my page
I am mistaken I am not a poet
Just a lost soul hoping to grow it
That special something the it factor
Standing on stage as a benefactor.
If you notice my shoes
You know I'm an old soul
Hearing my heart is bruised
Told you so.
I get confused with the snaps and claps
All I want from you is a spiritual tap.
I stood too long before the crowd
I read my poem in a voice so loud
I feel relief like yellow sun from cloud
Thanks for listening glad I came out.
A thousand years was just yesterday
in fifty will you have learned what matters most
You appear unable to obey the simplest laws
you have been gently led by and been whispered their truths
you were gifted with the ability to reason
you were gifted with mercy
you were gifted with compassion
you were granted forgiveness of sins , errors , failings
Around you is a cosmos in a procession of infinite order
The earth is drenched in the the richest
abundance of every thing that is desirable
every rooms canvas brilliantly adorned
constructed to fill you with joy and appreciation
every excellence woven into their creations
you were designed to master life
and created to comprehend it's secrets
But you take and you steal
destroy , every answer to what
you desire is loaded with violence
you stretch out your arms with
intent , not to build each other
but to insult their life
your own brother , mother , sister , father
You have boundaries , and they ARE fixed
you can defy your design but it will inflict much pain
you obey gravity to avoid it's damage but neglect virtue
innumerable talents were showered on you
yet every clay tablet , papyrus , scroll ,
document , book , history , writing
fully demonstrates the easy road to corruption
whose maw is full and overflowing
and the weapons of warfare now
cover the very surface of what was
a paradise
while you slice , dice , chop
your way through your family of humanity
and if that isn't enough
you shoot , bomb , burn , poison
children , mothers , family
and leave a wake of destruction
so much easier to burn that pinch
of incense to POWER
than to face keeping your integrity
to life , and not to submit
your support to the roads of death .
COPYRIGHT © 2015
C. Michael Miller
PoetryofProvidence
Let me tell you a story …
Many pilgrims had passed this way before him
but had rarely stopped before trudging up the muddy path to the top of the hill
and then disappearing out of sight forever.
But he lingered at this shady spot at the bottom of the dip in the track.
The old stone tablet in the wall was overgrown with moss and ivy.
Rain droplets hung at the tip of every ivy leaf.
Catching the daylight, they twinkled like some distant constellation.
He pulled back the ivy, scraped off the moss to reveal the ancient writing.
By chance or maybe by some hidden force,
this place still belonged to the pilgrim’s way.
But the pseudo-pilgrims had no time to waste as celebrity beckoned.
Eyes fixed on the hill’s summit
they were oblivious of both this place and its significance.
The inscription read
If you look too hard you will not see
If you talk too much you will not hear
If you think too much you will not learn
If you walk too fast you will not arrive
If you are true to yourself you will be content
You will unlock the secret door
He reflected on what he had read but not too deeply and then smiled.
He had another 150 miles to walk which he could do in six long, arduous days
but now it would take him ten days of contemplation.
The climb up the hill was different from what had gone before.
It was exhilarating for the wonders of nature were all around to experience and enjoy.
Every step was stimulating.
The inscription filled his mind.
Slowly but surely the door opened.
The days passed and he realised the pilgrimage was of the mind not of the body.
Walking gave him space and time.
Ten days later he was uplifted and at peace
having stepped through the door of enlightenment
once secret and now so obvious.
He smiled at the pseudo-pilgrims there with him at the end.
He felt sadness for theirs was a superficial achievement
judged against each other with a materialistic prize.
They had been on a walk but not a pilgrimage.
He gave them one last glance,
turned and strolled into life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
25 April 2022
First Place Contest Name: Form N - Narrative - New Poems
Sponsor: Constance La France
Chosen Theme: #1 Journey
Today’s the day that Henry’s 8.
He’s growing fast; we’ll celebrate
And though I love each stretch and stride,
A little pang can’t be denied.
The baby in my arms I rocked
As lullabies my mind unlocked;
The pudgy toddler on my lap,
Preferring stories to a nap.
The music classes and the gym;
(Though climbing high was not for him.)
The times when we would say goodbye
And he would follow us and cry.
Before the tablet and the Switch,
Together times were sweet and rich.
To be with Henry, sharp and bright,
Was absolute and pure delight.
Of course, he’s still the greatest boy
Who brings me lots of deep-felt joy
But as the years add up, I see
There’s much less time and need for me.
It should be thus; I can’t complain
And our connection will remain.
Yet as I glimpse back to the past,
I feel like it’s gone by too fast.
I didn’t want to leave you in the place where you had died
The doctors heard me singing as I sat by your side
And the people with cut fingers and burns from the chip oil
Wondered what was happening and came by for the ride
You do not get free music on Emergency Ward Ten
Death is just a shadow but we don’t know the end
People wander happily holding broken nails
I was so delirious that I saw round the bend
They take away the catheters, the drug lines and the charts
They expect you to be normal in the grave that was a heart
So wander down to Costa’s and imagine how it feels
Drinking from a tea bag, the cup broke , it’s that stark
The doctors who were frozen by a woman’s singing parts
Feel themselves still melting in the cavern of the dark
They hear the swish of gossamer, the window opens smart
Well, go there if you want to, it’s just a different park
We wander in the shadows of the here and of the there
Stumbling over pavements, taking photos of the Ark
Listening to the symbols, seeing what’s so dear
Rattling all the funny bones and winding up the larks
I didn’t want to leave you but they had got no empty bed
There’s no room for the living let alone the dead
The body is dissolving and it flows down from the heights
Goodbye, it’s all over now.Do turn off the lights
For a bit of theatre it’s cheaper than the Royal
Find someone who’s dying and take love to appeal
If it’s your own sweetheart you’ll have an empty bed
Buy a real stone tablet and swallow all the blood
Thoth and Heromes Device
-----------------------------------
ionvention of...........
How to create a Cell phone locater...
a remote control sized device
that when pointed in the direction
of your lose phone would
chirp or chime to
show the location.......
.remesmerizer--------------------
pings to show position..................
distance and current location
great for RV's. Cars and Businesses
___________________________________
types of phones and their components
strong custmer demand
----------------------------------------------
PING SENSORING DEVICE
PHONE LOCATOR
----------------------------------------------
Lithium powered
_________________________________________
snap phone feature included
{sends a picture to tablet or phone
when tablet or phone is lost}
---------------------------------------
-contributions or connections
\ to phone technology
and the broader tech industry
-----------------------------------------
Patent----Copyright
guess were dating!
---------------------------------
-Demographics are the statistical
characteristics of human
populations, such as age
, income, ethnicity, and gender------
------------------------------------------
Demographic data has the
potential to alienate consumers
shallow or redundant
fact collection tends to
cause this condition
------------------------------------
Egyptians ...And us...
At times, you've heard people decry.
"I need my space!"
Years ago, it was a simple,
"Leave me alone!"
This has evolved in modern hieroglyphics
Today known as emojis and texting.
We should, I think, have a cold drink,
And sit at the Sphinx's seat where nobody talks.
But holds a stone tablet as they carve,
Emojis to replace their voices.
I excuse them but they can't hear me!
Long ago...
Their onks ablaze, they feel no rage,
For they see nobody's eyes or tears.
And in a big cave, which was all the rage, immortalizing their lives in Sphinksbook.
Ah, dead Egytians we are so like you,
Hidden in places we call our home.
A primitive people, we!
In the 21st. century,
How can this be?
Many cannot write prose nor poetry,
In fact, many cannot write at all.
Our civilization infected with a terminal disease, called emojimania or acrynomania.
With PhD degrees, we read old stones.
Higher education our terminal disease.
We drool over dead philosophers!
But to one another are deaf.
We toss friends screaming hearts into a blazing funeral pyre.
As that famous rock song says,
"Come on baby, light my fire."
Yes, indeed do!
Better yet, all rabid techies best hear that song..
"See me, feel me, touch me, heal me."
Your friend needs you, not your smart phone.
Your face, your hugs, your voice.
Texting and emails cannot replace humanity.
And no, I shall not join those sheeples..
Who love technology over flesh and blood peoples.
With love~
Panagiota, Poet of the Heart
Panagiota Romios
April 30. 2019
11:15am PST
Dr. Seuss: “How did it get to be so late so soon?”
I sat down to write,
but no thoughts would come.
Still thinking and thinking,
I said, “This is dumb!”
One look at the clock,
and what did I see?
I’d started at one
and now it was three!
The page of my tablet
showed white like the snow.
Where, my friends, where
did the precious time go?
I got myself up
and decided to clean,
but people kept calling -
You know what I mean?
My sister, my mother,
then old Uncle Fred.
I couldn’t believe it.
I thought he was dead!
I glanced at the clock.
It was already five.
The only GOOD thing:
Uncle Fred is alive!
I needed to go
to the gym and the store,
but I just couldn’t get
myself out the door.
The gym I postponed.
So what else is new?
I just had too much
of housework to do.
Outside was still day light.
I thought I’d get done
By seven at least
when still I’d see sun!
But once I got started,
I just couldn’t stop.
I vacuumed and scrubbed,
then danced with a mop!
I looked out the window.
The sky had grown black.
Saner folks now
would be hitting the sack!
Propped up on a pillow
I sat down again,
this time on my bed
with that old shoulder pain.
My poem wrote itself
by the light of the moon.
So how did it get to be
so late so soon?
For Brenda Chiri-Carroll's Funny How Fast Time Flies Poetry Contest
Note: There is no Uncle Fred!! Just some poetic license!
When I wake up in the morning, I slowly look around
I don’t get up too quickly, I think I’d just fall down
the spinning of the ceiling, is a wonder to behold
I have got to tell you now, it’s a bugger growing old
I reach out for the bedside draw, get my teeth out of the jar
then I find my glasses, without them, I’ll not get far
go out into the kitchen, put the kettle on to boil
throw bread into the toaster, and in the frying pan splash oil
Eggs and bacon, tea and toast, all sitting on the plate
just got to take my tablets, before it gets too late
they all have funny names, that only doctors can pronounce
but help to keep those things at bay, that are waiting just to pounce
there is one to keep my heart going, one to keep blood pressure down
one to help my memory, if I go walking round the town
Arthritis is not so bad today, but I’ll take a tablet anyway
all these pills I have to pop, and I will do so till I drop
My wife will soon remind me, in case I should forget
I’ve already asked you 3 times, did you take your tablets yet
She does it for my own good, I know that that is true
and maybe if she didn’t, I don’t know what I would do
I think I would remember, eventually anyway
and maybe if I didn’t, they’d just carry me away
so I check the box again, just to do as I am told
think I’ve already told you, it’s a bugger growing old
My Quirk
A thing that bothers me the most,
the quirk that nags at me each day,
my study desktop capped with stuff -
its cluttered surface on display.
Poetry books, card-making drafts,
some poem lines on scribbled notes;
variety of pencils, pens,
and spaces filled with filing totes.
Perhaps an empty coffee cup
and crumbs from lunch or tiny snack.
A cell phone charging, tablet too,
and sheets from folders not put back.
Computer, printer, stacks of poems;
scattered photos, mail not read.
Some bills to pay, and some to file;
this vision messes up my head!
It drives me crazy! But, I smile
and disregard my mind's complaints.
My picture-perfect desktop dream?
Perhaps in heaven with the saints!
Outside my study, rooms are neat;
most things in place and looking fine.
But in this wild space, I create!
My freedom to compose, design!
February 10, 2018
Premiere Contest: Quirks
Sponsor: Madison Demetros