Long Thin Poems
Long Thin Poems. Below are the most popular long Thin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thin poems by poem length and keyword.
In all my life I’ve always dreamed
I’ll meet someone lovely like you
As if our lasting love was meant
We’ll be together all life through,
Just like a whistle in the wind.
We meandered through our life together
Living in one large oversize chamber
We pass from soft spring to winter weather
Through all thick and thin we’ll just remember.
The vast universe was ours to enjoy
As if our spacious room has no more walls,
Say who can dare our lasting love destroy,
I hear the whistle in the wind that calls.
In all my life I’ve always dreamed
I’ll meet someone lovely like you
As if our lasting love was meant
We’ll be together all life through,
Just like a whistle in the wind.
Listen my love, just listen o my dear
The wind is whistling our beautiful song
Our love tune comes over so clear, so clear,
Thus in bliss we will make love all night long.
Yet one day all this must forever end,
Like a loving whistle in the wild wind,
We hope that any of our faults we mend
And become new and fine as sweet as mint.
In all my life I’ve always dreamed
I’ll meet someone lovely like you
As if our lasting love was meant
We’ll be together all life through,
Just like a whistle in the wind.
In silence, when darkness
envelopes the sky,
unlock the glass windows
of your mind,
forgive the stars
that veiled their silver,
for it is in times of
confusion and calamity,
we paint our own
rose wine twilight,
that scintillates beyond
fleeting fog of time and sanity.
Sometimes, we forget to
appreciate nature’s performance,
as life seems to be a
black gold theatre of
manipulative mantras.
We rise as actors dressed in
dancing stripes of integrity,
pirouetting like a merry-go-round
of lights, guiding our destiny.
Where melodramatic monologues
of melancholic laws
remain tucked away deep,
beneath a charismatic mattress
woven across turquoise trampolines,
of tranquil testaments and tiger lilies.
But as the curtains swiftly fly
into thin crimson layers of air,
trust the silence, for when
everything’s louder,
we find contentment in
compassionate places we encounter,
sowing seeds of love, whilst we hope;
brushing off negativity’s echoes,
to clutch onto inner healing’s rope,
and surrender to its throes.
So allow the invisible wand
of your soul that sears
to sprinkle pixie-dust upon
the backbone of cascading fears,
let your heartbeat ring
and strum every
metallic string of faith,
whilst thin veins in
throbbing waves hum,
“Kindness is the healing
stone and stoicism is the key of life”
It was a good morning until I found out the truth,
That my dear husband was a two-timing fool.
He was already married to a lady named Ruth.
I loved him so much; how could fate be so cruel.
When I got the news, he was on a business trip,
I learned the line between love and hate was thin.
His actions caused the death of a lovely friendship.
The legitimate Mrs. was able to get under my skin.
So my degree in finance came in real handy,
I took my ex to the cleaners with one click.
Met up with my first love named Randy.
I'm sure when he swiped his card, he felt sick.
Contest: It Was a Good Morning Until....
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
02/13/2021
Swerving lanes with hot beer breath,
Your foot pressed down, a dance with death.
I watch you spiral, edge in sight,
But say no word, no will to fight.
You’ll lie
I know you will,
You always do.
You’ll lie
To me,
To you.
It’s “just one,”
but one turns two,
Then two turns four
You chase it through
Each curve, each crash
While I just watch
You lose control.
Swerving still,
I stay behind,
Hands clenched tight
But never mind.
Because suddenly
I’m small again,
A child curled tight
Against the pane,
A windowsill my waiting throne,
Hoping he’ll come stumbling home.
Helpless.
Heart worn thin with rust.
Praying love could be enough
To anchor someone
Sober.
To stay.
For once.
I had the energy for three
I thought I did and always would
You fed off my strength
You feasted selfishly when
You should have shared with pride
Now I barely have the strength for me
I’m broken with only a thin veil of dignity
And you don’t understand
I’ve been living in illusion
Waiting for the day
Things would fall into place
Hoping it had all been worthwhile
But there is no happiness to be found here
I’ve left no stone unturned
No path untraveled
Unending frustration and growing anger
A new strength begins to fill me
Not the type you’ll feast on
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
When a man said he rode a hog, I thought he was talking about a motorbike.
But he actually rode a real hog and a fool was what he made himself look like.
When it came to transportation, riding that hog was what he chose.
Is he stupid or insane, nobody really knows.
He refused to drive a car, or to take a taxi or a bus.
He only rode that hog and it made him look ridiculous.
His hog ate ten watermelons when he went in the neighbor's watermelon patch.
His neighbor was furious so he threw gas on the hog and then he lit a match.
Because of his hog, his family's patience was already thin and it kept getting thinner.
But that hog is no more because when the neighbor was done, it ended up being dinner.
(This is a fictional poem.)
Fractured Storm
Ghostly gloom born in brooding stillness
Cut to smithereens with shards of energy
Whirlwinds in feral fragments shrillness
Warn of wild catastrophe.
Blinding firebolts erupt to split serenity
Nightfall dodges crackling outbursts released
Platinum tempests burst electricity
Splintered lights race on volatility increased.
Sonic thunder bumpers, let go pent up booms
Rip wide the transitory abyss
Slams closed jagged air as thunder looms
Solitude in ragged sound dismissed
Smashed bits of broken midnight crumble
Air’s torn edges reverberate in harrowing echoes
Drumfire’s waves of serrated sound rumble
Flashing thunderheads shriek in falsettos.
Night watch sees siroccos spiral spin
As raindrops on the dry earth sizzle
Downpours splash in roaring torrents din
Gales at rest – storm remnants sing thin whistles.
12-29-21
Contest: Weather
Sponsor: Angela Tune
N/A - 1-5-22
Contest: Your Second Chance 1st
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Firebolts can be found in the Merriam- Webster Dictionary
Poker Sketch “The Brotherhood of Eternal Love”
What did we contemplate;
while at the fire-front, sooted:
Hot faced, In three D:
In those long minutes, of pleasant ;
extended hours of misguided endless,
diluted from an unseen “two named” hourglass !
Dripping; its sandy content.
It the darkness ; crept, It
sat behind our thin shoulders:
And hair strewn thinnish necks:
Levi collared rough stitched !
Thread bare to time. What ? did we consider ;
Pushing that heavy poker;
cold brassed, not utilised ever by Leonardo !
Sketching dreams, in the long cold ashes;
While Peters, "Supernatural"
soothed our innocently: dirty minds and egos.
It had no identity name ! Just night;
It may have been Winter outside
as coals spit, and sparks spat,
bare wrists sting ! But ; you continue the ash sketch.
What did we concoct ?
Wild ! in that balmy warmth
picking apart bristles: Stretching upward,
Glancing a fleeting glimpse,
at the tick tocked face, with muted bell,
its loose hands skipped,
falling quickly too six.
It didn't matter;
Warming the poker, Maybe !
To brand, the early hours,
making all of those hours ours,
proven marks; proof,
vainly legal, safe from
inquisitors, and hungry dogs.
What did we digest ?
Through these nights of -
“The Brotherhood of Eternal Love"
until ; that creeping dawn,
broke the Witches spell while along we rode
In those ashes of dreams forbidden
and coldly stagnant: Our days closed.
Hearing every raindrop
Feeling every grain of sand
Uniqueness of each snowflake
Counting every hair-like strand
The infinity of heaven
And the stars that soar within
Or eight billion human faces
Wearing resources to thin
What of all the tiny protons
Whizzing all round..
Electrons and neutrinos
Do their thing without a sound.
Overwhelming are the numbers
Or infinitesimal, it seems
Far more awesome than the presence
Is the silence inbetween.
Dark matter say the scientists
I know the opposite is true..
It's the dancing light between us
That's connecting me to you.
Talking. Talking. Talking. At first it is fun, maybe even entertaining.
You are not sure exactly sure when it turns, but it does.
Suddenly the monopolizer’s ramblings no longer seem charming.
Patience worn thin, you try a few times to interject a word.
There is no pause, no break. Constant talking. Inane talking. Nonsense talking.
You try blatant rudeness. Still no pause.
Suddenly you are annoyed, irritated, angry.
It is the same feeling you get as when you put your turn signal on and watch
Incredulously as six cars and a truck speed up, so you miss your turn off the freeway.
Rudeness personified. Self-centeredness to the inth degree. Magnificently selfish.
I walk away as she obtusely, self-absorbed, is still talking, talking, talking.
She yells after me in a way that indicates that I am the rude one.
I wave, resolving to forevermore avoid this non-listener
like the plaque that she is.