Long Thirteen Poems
Long Thirteen Poems. Below are the most popular long Thirteen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thirteen poems by poem length and keyword.
My heart is broken
Shattered like smashed glass
Shards pierce my tortured soul
All I can do is ask …… why?
Why … why did you desert me when I needed you so …
You smiled that smile for the last time
The smile that attracted me to you in the first place
Your mouth curling up at the corners revealing those dimples…
Oh I could never resist dimples …
You were surrounded by machines … they were keeping you alive
Then suddenly the machine stopped beeping …
There was nothing else that could be done
Goodbye my love …….. gone forever
My thanks to Arthur Vaso for bringing this form called Infinite Dot Thirteen Verse to my attention
4th April 2015
Form:
Limitless! Is where you can go in the universe of poetry.
Set your goals as high as that glorious moon.
For the steps to what we call, "Glory" are steeped in quick, fast-food poetry.
Beware! No astonishment there, just jingles that make you tingle.
Dont lie~ you do know fully what I mean!
The fast, the quick, the puny impotent, poetry gestures, the fallibly obscene.
That make both author and reader alike, shrink in stature!
Twin corpses,a ghastly blue and of equally squallid, putrid ,quilled natures.
Be an Emerson or a Neruda, who found their voice.
Like Michelangelo,chisel your words and refine their meaning, make them
choice!
English, an abundant language, oh, I write in pain!
Writing with words that a only thirteen year old can maintain?
Oh, Lord forgive me for sacrificing the brilliant verbiage for the quick.
I live in a universe where 'fast' rules all, it makes me sick, these poetic tricks!
Making poets think poetry is a stand up comedy act?
It's anything but..and drives me daft.
For in fine poetry, there's more than just a quill.
It's a Poet's finest hour, and his grandest thrill!
February 12, 2020
4pm PST
Dedicated to the beautiful souls here, who constantly keep lifting my quill to celestial heavens.
Eternally grateful,
Panagiota Romios
Rubber slips on the road ahead,
It’s a dream I had while asleep in bed.
The sound of those screeching tyres.
Just 17 and ill prepared for such a car.
Far to fast for my skills, left with a scar.
The sound of those screeching tyres.
Skidding side to side with no control,
then hitting the kerb, I started to roll.
The sound of those screeching tyres.
Laying lifeless on the side of the road,
still the ability to think my car may explode.
The sound of those screeching tyres.
Waking a week later in a place unknown
To find I have more than one broken bone.
Still, the sound of those screeching tyres.
Thirteen years on it still strikes a nerve
Listening to a car when it has to swerve
…..the resounding sound of those screeching tyres.
Nihilism,
write thirteen beautiful lines,
the longest one in the merriam-webster
Cosmos and cosmic,
Lunar eclipse and Aurora Borealis,
milky way and the interstellar
Synecdoche,
you and I are no good
to linger longer with the charm in an alternative essay
The round trip home
is often the loneliest deadly, a painstaking pain, humble
to tone down a possessive aimless, of little or no mayhem, subtle
mascara, eloquence and dropping gets a lot of sounds for the sounding clay
and I drop the course
Underneath the moonlit night, they gather even for the balcony light and sing
those impeccable songs, one after another
What is a good read line for a mystic moon?
a mundane, a seamstress or your song! Soaring high at midnight to fly along the moon!
Keep this simple, you are giggling beside you, and you are fixing the econo cap too, a croon!
This is late, and thus long!
Unexpected Pleasure
Two thousand thirteen; high school graduate,
the older of two granddaughters close by,
with love of reading, writing, she knew that
to teach would be 'the apple of her eye'.
Of many colleges searched out she found
none seemed to please her goals and course design.
Then one fine day, it came to both of us...
my local 'Alma Mater' might be fine.
Though close, she lives on campus to pursue
an Education with English degree.
And she proceeds to learn and thrive; even
directs the college club of poetry.
So, now this little change enhanced my life;
a reason to again become involved
in my old college, going back and forth
to visit her, and so my time evolved
into attending many school events,
to reunite with old professors there.
I graduated at age forty-five,
so many greeted me with welcomed care.
This choice of her attending my old school
opened the door for both of us to share
the love of English, writing poetry;
she lives on campus, yet is just right there.
One year to go, and she will graduate.
These past three years did nothing but amaze
how we both shared my 'Alma Mater' school...
my granddaughter helped me relive those days.
Sandra M. Haight
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I graduated Mount Saint Mary College in my hometown
in 1984. My granddaughter will graduate in 2017.
The college has excellent Education, Nursing, and Business
degree programs. It is less than five minutes from my home.
"The Field Guide to Evil"
> Chapter one > God Offers No Favors
> Chapter two > Between Right and Wrong
> Chapter three > No Good Deed Left Unpunished
> Chapter four > Death by a Thousand Cuts
> Chapter five > Hell Box Do Not Open
> Chapter six > Space Probe Taurus
> Chapter seven > Evil Develops a Polaroid
> Chapter eight > Beware the Stare
> Chapter nine > The Fly Trap
> Chapter ten > A Kindred Anguish
> Chapter eleven > Devoured
> Chapter twelve > Dead Time Stories
> Chapter Thirteen > Hell Is Full
Spoiler Alert > In every atom a Sun.
Beyond the Sea
The Man With a 1001 Names
Hey you!
The Erotic Fire of the Unatainable
Tipping the Velvet
The Sun Is You
Daisies in February
A Most Wonderful Time
The Song of Lunch
You Me and the Rain
Burn After Reading
No Postage Necessary
The Sex of Angels
She was a ball of fluff, and I was allergic
made no difference
for she was alone, helpless,
and I was immediately in love
My daughter had been begging; she was thirteen
We did not agree on everything, but we agreed on this
She was named Munchkin, tiny little kitty cat
We forgot to get her spayed
This was the only time I did not think to spay a pet
She had six babies; there were darling – three blonde, three striped
We had to find them homes
I was reluctant to let them go
I had fallen in love with them too
She had been a wonderful mommy,
But seemed okay with them being gone
after a week or two of meowing
I have never felt so guilty in my life
She was the last pet I forgot to spay.
the end of childhood
I was 9 and in a way an old hand
I had been outside the police station
When women were brought in
they have their cut short because
They had been too friendly with
the enemy
One can say I was a hardened soul
Who didn't expect kindness
I was on my way to a farm, someone
had sent me there for my health
On the way, I got a cat sick, but there was
No window, but I spewed anyway
When the bus stopped, a man in a suit
waited, we walked to a farm
The farmer signed a paper stating that he was responsible
For my well, apparently, I was ill
The farmer's wife led me to a cot in the attic
The mattress was made of straw, not
That I minded, but it does scratch a bit
Then, in the morning, they gave me bread
with homemade jam and milk
Later, they showed me how to provide for cows
dry hay and to clean the muck they
had made in the night, yes, and to give
them water
The cattle liked me scratching their flanks
And I was glad to have hands to scratch
the back of my head
Then I had to go to school, the farmer boys
called me a slum child, but when a boy
Try to hit me, and I struck him with a brick
Big scandal, when this was debated
I worked and enjoyed my work at the farm
At thirteen, I was sent home, big and strong
and quickly found a job delivering
printed stuff on my bike
And that was the end of my childhood
Thirteen is a baker’s dozen,
Or a scary Friday night.
Missing in an elevator,
Or a 12-year-old’s delight.
Rite of passage from a tweener,
Cooler in so many ways.
Does it bring a new demeanor?
That’s for others to appraise.
An impish grin and razor wit
Make it hard to guess the years.
Daddy’s girl still loves to snuggle;
Raging, crying, full of tears.
Thirteen is an awkward age, yes,
Not a child, but not yet grown.
A scant few years, she’ll spring the cage;
My oh my, the years have flown!
So here is our birthday prayer:
May your year abound in glee.
Careful to avoid the pitfalls;
led by Christ, our precious Ree.
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(a birthday card inscription on the occasion of Ree’s 13th birthday, so, a few years ago)
.
A “
Light
Aflame
Alight on
A note on- “Brahmarandhra”:-
An aperture in the crown- in our head
In acupressure is referred as- the point GV 20
For Fixing the mind in Dharana is one of the place
The other place is Heart; a lotus, flame, deity or Self
is imagined there. After this focus one should meditate
Between the eyebrows …there lies another vital point
~ Often referred as Third Eye: Is the Place of Thalamus
Pair of Eyes take in light mages are formed in cortex
There is also Amigdyla Like a pair of headphones
Brain operates controls life. Breath, Senses, Regulate
There’s a mechanism in there A circuitry put in place
Our senses travel by thirteen no. Cranial nerves C1-13
The cranial nerves meet At Pons Medulla oblongata
as bulge on flower stalk, pea size In our Mid-Brain
Pair of Eyes~ Speech~ Our Ears ~
Sight locked. Tongue is Stay open
On tip of nose Upturned Can’t shut
Sets a posture Lock onto Nor flap ears
Balancing breath. The palette Yet hearing stops
Inbreath- outbreath In Balance. When in deep sleep
In Jainism, Tradition. Deep Sleep is Meditation
In Kayotsarga - Fourth Turiya Is our true nature -
The bridge on. Beyond Awake, Sleep, Dreamless sleep
Upper lip is key. Beyond Jagrat-Sushupta-Swapna , .the Triad
To keep the focus. The constant in the CNS Central Nervous System
Loci of meditation; 1Exit point: Brahmarandhra. 2.in the cavern in heart
The mouth, the lips, the tongue, the speech, taste, hearing, touch organs
Keeping the senses on hold Connect to Brahmarandhaa, crown on head
Brahmarandhara: Gateway; Life exits through this point upon death.
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