Long Tail Poems
Long Tail Poems. Below are the most popular long Tail by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tail poems by poem length and keyword.
A war raged on twixt north and south
while dimpled smiles raised her fine mouth,
simplicity seduced.
He wanted her, he loved her grace
but of her mind,well, there's no trace,
he catered and abused.
Although they'd breed her tall and fine
fed her on dates and cherry wines,
she was simply useless.
They'd made of her just what they wished
a receptacle, a tasty dish,
faults; they would address.
Then one foul day he showed his core
that gallant man was no mentor
unskilled in all but amour
He left her there by the balustrade
"I don't give a damn" is what he said.
Your charms I now abhor.
So as you see the North has won
don't let southern parts get you undone
mind your business
Leave him first that handsome bore
kick his **** out the kitchen door
he was simply useless.
we all wear a mask to hide
all the things we carrie inside
like the smile we wear so people cant see
deep inside how angry we can be
...
we put on masks everyday of our lives
sometimes just to hide the hurt & pain
that way we can protect our pride
and no-one will know our shame
these masks comes in different arrays
to keep everything concealed
so we continue to wear them everyday
so that nothing will be revealed
sometimes these different mask
might not appear quite appealing
we them wear so people wont ask
us everyday how we;re feeling
so every morning when we leave
we take that mask from off the shelf
and wear it around so people beleive
that we're as happy as everyone else
I am grateful
I was born
Flung in doleful
Ferocious land
Born to face ignominy,
To be deceited
By licentious village boys
Who are only born to ice
I was born a girl
I wish I were not
With abhor
I look myself
Born in threat
Meant to struggle
Their voices mumble
And i'm left idle
My feelings are rose
I crumble
Of course i'm scorned
I stumble
I bled, I lost my dignity
My blood is blemished
I'm violent, up to infinity
No longer calm, I'm into crime
Because I'm female
I was given life.
I was given life,
And I was given pain
Hell hath no fury
Like a woman scorned
Because she was born in pain,
She was born in struggle
I smell the coppery, sweet scent of blood
where a soldier died, his face in the mud.
I mourn the soldier's death.
War is a putrid, expanding abyss
where a day's food and water feels like bliss.
I mourn the soldier's death.
I fight a war that I know can't be won,
for amidst this carnage, I am but one.
I mourn the soldier's death.
God has forsaken and abandoned me,
silently ignoring my anguished plea.
I mourn the soldier's death.
A child soldier's life is stripped of all fun,
afraid the killing will never be done.
I mourn the soldier's death.
My mind is numb; I cannot shed a tear,
there is nothing left inside me but fear.
I mourn the soldier's death.
I wish I had wings to soar through the sky,
I'd leave in a heartbeat if I could fly.
I mourn the soldier's death.
My future looks murky; nothing is clear,
I will be lucky to survive out here.
I mourn the soldier's death.
That first non-rhythmical matter,
Floated on the new dust of light,
To whet the eleventh spark clatter,
Such that its dividend split tight;
A web, a sea of ringed atmosphere,
Then a cob of meteoric compression,
Hurling towards a black collapse here,
To dent the shock supernovas intervention;
With planets duetting their sweeps in silence,
The night is not black and suffers a blow,
Identified deductively but with great nuance,
The waves glinting the bounce and the flow.
God became a man, human to the core,
Not an apple, lamp, priest or Ferrari,
Even though Genesis incepts with lore,
Given god as a construct, apple’s Atari;
Christianity grabs god indeed as a man,
Possibly to concede that a human coasts,
Crucially opening herbs and aromatics fan,
To the differential and to the weaker posts.
Life without a momentum blackadders,
Would not summate to conviviality,
Rejuvenation oscillations sprite the adders,
Ionotrophic energy comes up from banality.
Rhoda Monihan
*Image of Wildlife Control by APEX.
'Shoo' You Too
The amour of the eve, set the faces pleased,
The extent to engage, the moments were seized,
To placate the tone, their unions at ease,
The change was set for such a view.
Unspooled moon roams free its chambered mood,
Couples were being apart, settling in quietude,
Lips tender touches, eyes favor upon the good,
Here the grayish fury star the shrew.
That sits just so unrestrained, poised triumphantly,
Yet, it scurries about there, most unopposedly,
Amongst affluent served by destitute, unerringly,
And now he is about to form a coup.
He dashes mid the silvers and other polished wares,
Swoops in and out demitasses to frightful stares,
Takes pleasure in the measure of tenuous glares,
Rich leaves, poor cleans, laughs queue.
2019 September 21
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (Jun 23)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 June 24
Now the sun declines to linger,
Wan light soon gives up the ether,
Too frail to fight.
Now dusk promises no warm black,
Blows chill air on the cool day’s back,
Hurries its flight.
Now long night shadows next day’s dawn,
Gloom is by a surly sky spawned,
While stern hues bloom.
Now noon struggles to fire the land,
From huddled streets its passion banned,
As cold stars loom.
Death has released your soul upon this sad eve,
and there is nothing that I can do but grieve.
As a dying sun sets.
A trickle of tears has morphed into a flood,
and my heart shrivels, as though drained of its blood.
As painful as it gets.
And the fabric of my life starts to unweave,
confronting a truth I don't want to believe.
As chills turn into sweats.
I have not come to grips with the pain I feel,
clinging to the belief your death isn't real.
Life has no safety nets.
Slipping into dreams that you frequently haunt,
I can cuddle with you as long as I want.
My dreams hold no regrets.
Without you, a scarlet sunset seems mundane,
Nature's spectacle has been reduced to plain.
Brokenhearted sunsets.
If your eyes are open, yet all is dark;
while prospects seem slim, and your future stark,
and the innocence of youth lost its spark.
Let love be your candle.
If starlight fails to pierce ebony skies
or the light within your soul ever dies,
and life's cacophony drowns out your cries.
Let love be your candle.
If you find yourself blinded by the night,
in desperate need of a guiding light
to identify what's wrong from what's right.
Let love be your candle.
If you are suppressing a silent scream
lost within broken fragments of a dream,
aimlessly wandering from scheme to scheme.
Let love be your candle.
If you feel unloved, abandoned to fate,
and frustration is morphing into hate
in your forever search for a soulmate.
Let love be your candle.
Liberal Christians are in denial,
About how much they validate,
The fundamentalist church old,
Because the same story is told.
I know that the Queen, royalty,
Is a liberal, but that’s irrelevant,
Because history will offer people,
A legacy of the Christian steeple.
When fundamentalist’s err and sin,
They go to their Christian friends bin,
For a validation that’s assumed,
From society’s morals consumed.
Christians back in the seventies,
Were innocent even if felt guilty,
And they would even site the Queen,
To describe their reputation lean.
You can’t do that anymore, thankfully,
Because kids have iPhones, Samsungs,
So communication can made directly,
By the child who may just feel feckly.
I think the state should intervene,
And turn the tables on ancient history,
By dictating to the Anglican world,
Their faith healing rights burled.
It’s not difficult to see and realise,
That fundamentalism goes to far,
So if we set laws for Anglicans,
Then we’ll all be better citizens.