Long Thoughts Poems

Long Thoughts Poems. Below are the most popular long Thoughts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thoughts poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Fomented

In field of emotions, a fire-storm has grown,
Seeds of rebellion aflame and wind-borne are sown.
Creating chaotic scenes, burned by spirit's flame,
Fomented fervor, a revolutionary game.

Fomented hearts, with courage compromised are made lame,
Unyielding on purpose, foments have staked their claim.
Anger simmers, rancor seethes, and heart beat wavers
In the cauldron of discord, it quivers quavers.

Fomented minds, with thoughts so tainted, twisted unkind,
Make claims to sublime reason, unravel unwind
They inflame the embers of long stagnant belief,
Awakening the masses asleep, pedaling grief.

The frothy foment foam spewed up into the crowd,
Ignites ferment and loathing in threatening cloud.
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member Death Is Nowhere Near

In the moment as I die, I shall cry
With pity, joy, and sympathy.
Memories rushing before my inner eye.

On the day I die, I'll say nothing,
No sobbing, shouting, or speaking.
Feelings painting what I am expressing.

Before the time I die, I'd have written
Lasting words, last piece of poetry.
Thoughts manifesting what of me shall glisten.

Yea, my death is nowhere near.
I am remaining here, for years and years.

In the moments I live, I shall feel
What being human means.
Emotions flowing before my inner mind.

On this day I live, I'll hold faith
In a Being I know is real.
Beliefs keeping my soul alive.

After these times I live, I'd have realized	
With eternity we are always alive.

Letting My Thoughts Speak

How can I stop thinking 
About your cold warm hands 
When you leave me breathless.
A stay with you
Is like heaven
It's 12hours gone
Yet I don’t feel, a minute gone yet
Catch your breath 
Cos it's just the start of a new game

How can we be scared of each other?
Is that how deep it is? 
You’re  scared of history 
Repeating itself
I’m scared of you
Putting the ring on 
Someone else's finger
Someday....

Don't you think I'll crash
If those tiny blue grey
Flowers doesn't reaches my doorstep? 
Don't you know I'll sink
If my kids don't get to call you daddy?
Kissing you before you leave?
Don't you forget
Everything we've shared.

There shouldn't be a start
If we will never get to the finish line
I could travel to cities
But I still come to you
Because I yawn for satisfaction 
That only you can give.

Premium Member The Skin We Think We Own

We are all created beings from birth
made in God's image even to our skin
this skin we think we own as ours
a great mistake this shows our sin

God gave us this as all our body
out of His common grace to everyone
a great debt all owe to this God
to ignore this we've shown we are done

Now today in this modern selfish age
everyone wants to mark themselves dark
as this shows their darkened mind so clear
folly filled just like those left outside the ark

God's cry is to come in and be saved
into His kingdom where righteousness dwells anew
instead, they condemn themselves to the dark
thinking they're are skinned full of tattoos

God made man for His own glory
not to let them go the darkest way
for the Lord is light, His way is bright
give Him His place, He'll make your day

(This is written about some thoughts on the modern trend to fill one's body with tattoos, a body made by our eternal creator and heavenly father. )
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Thought Is Born

A thought is born inside delays
  To feel its way around, no sound
And does not germinate for days
  Its time best spent under the ground

At first it's probed, and then it's tweaked
  Its worthiness must be assured
Its qualities need be unique
  If impact's to fore'er endure

One morn it greets the light of day
  Its message radiating bright
Lips' elocution smooths the way
  To bathe it in pristinest light

So delicate the path to pave
  Too many thoughts die in their grave

          

            March 29, 2021
       ~ Iambic Tetrameter ~
 ALL YOURS (Mar. 31) Poetry Contest
         Sponsor: Brian Strand
Form: Sonnet


The Mind's Labyrinth

The Mind's Labyrinth

In the quiet chambers of thought,
Where neurons weave their intricate dance,
Lies the mind—a labyrinth of wonder,
A cosmic tapestry spun by chance.

I. Echoes of Memory

Memories echo through its corridors,
Whispers of laughter, tears, and longing.
Faces etched in sepia hues,
Moments frozen, forever belonging.

II. Dreams Unfurl

Dreams unfurl like fragile paper boats,
Sailing across the cerebral sea.
They dance with stardust and moonbeams,
Guided by the compass of possibility.

III. Shadows and Light

Within, shadows wrestle with light,
Dualities waltzing in twilight's embrace.
Fear and courage, love and doubt,
Painting chiaroscuro strokes on grace.

IV. Secret Gardens

Hidden gardens bloom—a riot of thoughts,
Where ideas sprout like wildflowers.
Philosophers, poets, and madmen wander,
Seeking truth beneath celestial towers.

V. The Muse's Whispers

The muse tiptoes along synapses,
Her breath igniting neurons' fire.
She whispers sonnets to sleeping minds,
Weaving verses from cosmic lyre.

VI. The Abyss Beckons

Yet deeper lies an abyss, uncharted,
Where sanity teeters on the edge.
Madness and genius dance a tango,
Their footsteps echoing through time's hedge.

VII. The Mind's Constellations

Stars align within this cerebral sky,
Constellations of hope and despair.
Each thought a comet streaking forth,
Leaving trails of wonder in the air.

And so, dear seeker, delve within,
Navigate this labyrinth of gray matter.
For the mind is both map and voyage,
A universe waiting to shatter and scatter.

Premium Member Inconclusive

My best guess is that it was some 20 years ago that
the number 100 represented years I wanted to live.
This was my request to The Lord, adding that I would
like to revisit the matter then to see if I wanted to
live beyond 100. It was a prayer of simplicity without
conditions, declarations, decrees, or qualifications.
It was all about longevity, legacy, serving God and
humanity. At that point, the matter was closed.

A few years ago, as I was sharing my longevity dream
with a friend, he countered with the fact that he'd
rather not live that long. For Bob, about 85 years
would suffice.

So, I concluded that I needed to revisit The Lord with
an amendment granting me 'a healthy 100 years'. Having
included that caveat, I then felt much better about 100.

I must say that my friend's comment about being both
aged and healthy was a sobering one of which I took
serious note.  

When I look across the horizon of our shattered world
and the challenges to be faced, issues personal, foreign,
and domestic that refuse to be silenced, there is a toss
and turn in my spirit.  Although inconclusive with second
thoughts, I'm still inclined toward a climb to 100.

062023PS.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A Poet's Duty Is To Be True To One's Self

Who are you to question why I write!
My thoughts laid bare in each scribbled line,
penned by me through my vision... My sight!
There are parts of me you could never define!

My opinions are mine, that is my right!
Do not scorn me with ideas you push upon me!
It is I who will decide to acquiesce or to fight,
or, perhaps, to pay homage to a flower or tree.

Within this humble self, I am the wright!
Like the florist, or the painter I am the creator!
My beauty and sorrow I pen, be it dawn or midnight,
or share my thoughts on Mrs.Ginsburg--Ruth Bader!

I think of the virus and each funeral rite,
of Hong Kong and Thailand, and freedom's cost,
but within me lingers beauty, and the pain of love's plight!
For me, without soul's solace, I fear society is lost!


10/18/2020
Form: Quatrain

Is Three a Magic Number

One of the great things about getting old,
Is that you start freeing up space in your brain,
Your thoughts no longer so cold,
Even though money still going down the drain.

Number three keeps coming to the fore,
Ahead of number four,
It makes me feel quite free,
More so than I was before.

I have three children,
And Toastmasters taught me the power of three,
Which seems to reduce my burden,
Giving me time to enjoy my tea.

Good friends I have three,
And when I cook my sausages and eggs,
I usually go with three, 
No matter how hard the cat begs.

I think I will stick with three,
And when my time comes,
I hope to stand in front of one or all of the three,
While he checks my sums.
Form:

Secrets



"Secrets"

Rest listens
while Solace succumbs
to the secrets Serenity whispers

in the the haunting frisson
time measures escape in
another level of existence

moving in the flow
like cool streams licking
warm skin laid bare submerged

then risen

this feeling coincides
with an emotion
in the mind

the heart opens
blooming
against all odds pouring

something deeper

in its ancient rhyme
the breeze langurous
lays the soul supine

never heeding once
beautiful derision
keenly spoken

from the thoughts
upon interloping lips
locked outside

inside 
remains
open

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Form: Narrative

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