Long Topic Poems
Long Topic Poems. Below are the most popular long Topic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Topic poems by poem length and keyword.
Getting together with girlfriends entails,
Aside from the obvious – eating!
Discussions of life and the various ways
We fill time up that seems to be fleeting.
Of course, we compare all our upcoming trips
For our journeys are different and take us
Within the U.S. or across the big pond
Where no ship, car or plane would forsake us.
We cannot resist as we show off the kids,
For each one of our grands is amazing
And it’s lovely to share pics and videos as
We soak up the delight and the praising.
But the topic that overtakes most of our time
Is our health and the way it’s declining –
The aches and the pains and the doctors and tests;
We commiserate, kvetching** and whining.
As the years ratchet up, that’s the way that it goes,
There is sunshine but also much raining
So we laugh and we smile at how lucky we are
Though, of course, we leave room for complaining!
*tsuris - troubles or woes; aggravation
**complaining
HAND IN HAND WALKING THE CRIMSON LEAF RAIN SOAK PATH--
Autumn walk red crimson trees holding hands;
Walking rain filled path;
Dips the drops like math;
One after other drops of water-rain;
Trees darken the walk;
Step by step we talk;
a beam streams of light guides our way out the dark;
Darken is the path lit by sunlight's rays darts;
dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dips,
Those full blossom leaves are red such fire
Hand in hand walking;
Alone just talking;
Bronze and reds it's brown surrounds our desire
Trees darken the path;
Step by step we gasps;
Promises warm tender hearts not damp or wet
HAND IN HAND WALKING THE CRIMSON LEAF SOAK PATH;
dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, drops,
5/12/18
For contest: QURINAGE ANY TOPIC POETRY CONTEST
Sponsored by: Gregory R. Barden
A seeming kindness and gentleness wooed me
and like a wounded dove beneath your hand, I quivered.
To calm a flight filled heart was your decree
and yet conquest and not contact was delivered
wanting, waiting, for your touch I shivered.
Relenting to your advances brought only laughter.
My simple-hearted sweetness a mere joke
and all my dreams of now and ever after,
left in drifts as black as smouldering smoke.
Kindness was for you a treacherous cloak.
Broken hearted, left beside an open door,
formless yearning, unrequited tokens torn,
this damned man I trusted, I now abhorred,
may the seven levels of hell see him shorn,
for there is no fury like that of a woman scorned.
Date June 5, 2012
Topic Broken Heart
Burly men hauled her onto a fishing village beach.
She was rotund, impressively pump,
it took a while.
Her proportions made her ideally suited
for floating on her back
though she hardly had ever did.
Groups of curious onlookers gathered.
We all waited for a marine biologist
or coroner to arrive.
Surprisingly her fish tail was graceful
some peered closely to see if there
was a seam or a theme park logo anywhere.
No such clues could be found.
She was, they all agreed, the real deal.
Unfortunately she was beginning to smell.
Some posited that the recent sea-bottom drilling
for off-shore windmills had disturbed the eco-environment
of this part of the coastline.
Whales had turned up dead, sharks were seen belly up
and clueless. People were stumped.
It was a big topic around these parts.
Soon the small crowd drifted away,
many had fish wives of their own, and about now
they would be gutting and cleaning mackerel.
Myths are hard to keep fresh,
in this case buckets of ice were employed
as she was carted off to market.
Written: January 05, 2023
Topic 1/ The art was most masterful on the dark canvas.
_________________________________________
A dimly lit canvas displays the best artwork,
A creature beyond earthly limits,
Harmony of shadows and strands
A superb creation that enthralled all.
Artists built lovely quilts with every line
Portraying the soul's deepest design,
Shades and light dance, pristine and refine
A mosaic of hues may sweep and entwine.
A vivid palette that whispered mysteries,
Brushstrokes convey stories and sighs
The artist's hands were graceful
Creating an undefined world,
Talent thrived on the black canvas.
Where bright dreams came alive
Imaginations and phobias swirled
Truth faded into emptiness,
It exposed the human inner abyss
Inner brightness and darkness,
We felt our greatest fears and desires,
Exploring human existence beyond fire.
Do you like reading deep into a calling for truth, a mutual exploration of existentialism more profound questions, and closeness?
Within an invitation to meet—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in a place of honesty, wonder, and romantic mystery filled with mythical possibility?
Then read on.
(A lone voice whispers as it reads the letter for you)
Would you meet me at midnight?
Amore Mio
In the Green Forests of The Great In-Between
If l lit a fire to guide you after I invited you
To sit and just talk about all The Mysteries of Life, over ice
Like The Trinity of Happiness, Sadness, and Madness
The three things involved in all things
Things that could then turn into something that could be so nice
And then to count the flashing stars, shimmering from afar
While listening to real Country Music, played on real guitars not the new music played by AI
An extension of the fallen Morning Star
For within this invitation, to Night of a Thousand Stars, in sight
Our first topic of conversation would be that night
As we looked at Heaven's Endless Door, with wonder
Does true love even exist and live for evermore
And is there a chance for us, my Amore Mio
To walk upon its heavenly shore
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Amore Mio: Italian for my love.
#Snippets,Tidbits, and Pieces minus Peace...
Flecks and Specks sprawled evenly and eventually...leaving no room for possibilities and puzzle pieces scattered haphazardly; no room for building inevitably, it's a choice, depending on a conclusive voice and it would be made known a Full understanding, of shards of discards desired to be left outstanding; BOULDERS BOLD OF TRUTH in this bit, built branding...No Tresspass* on this "BUILT TO LAST" Landing; Gated and Guarded Mentally; Let's Zoom In More...
Fragments Form Finalization For Formation
*ALL* Information Is Not Usually Deemed Necessary...On the Contrary, it Depends On *WHO* You're Talking To...Such a BROAD View Skewed and Selectively the "fine print" goes unnoticed, unobtained and UNANSWERED
In conclusion, there's no illusion on this microscopic topic and poem; just like a house is not a home that always encourages understanding beneath it's dome... pebbles and fragments forms a foundation that stands alone; peace is not a negotiation, when missing pieces has no consideration and that's what happens when snippets and tidbits holds it's own...WHOLE OUTCOMES determine those snips* of seedings that's been sewn.
©Renee Denise Gross 12/9/2017#
It’s nice to have some holiday downtime and not be all go-go-go. I’ve even gotten in some Animal Crossing play. After 40 minutes of picking up weeds, Bianca, one of my villagers, told me she’d heard I was dead.
Later, we’re in Lisa’s living room taking turns playing songs from Spotify.
Lisa just played “Woo”, by Rihanna. When the song ends, fading out, Leeza deadpan said, “That song is pure evil.”
“You guys, I forgot to mention it but that is my energy song, it makes me feel so HOT.” Lisa adds with a chuckle.
“It has an evil vibe,” I admit. “An evil vibe,” Leeza confirms.
“Don’t be judging,” Lisa reminds us.
“Your next,” Lisa said, nodding to Leeza, “What’ve you got for us,” she speculates, “some mental health rock?”
Leeza’s had this girl-punk-rock group called “Vancougar” playing on a loop in her room. At first, I wasn’t enthusiastic but now I think they slay. Her mom’s even gotten on board, dancing “the twist” to “Philadelphia” when it rolls around. Leeza has great taste in music although she leans a bit EMO (emotionally hard core) for me. She makes me feel old by introducing us to all these new bands like “Youngest and only,” “Calling all Captains” and “Beatrice Dear.”
“I’ve got one song to play,” Leeza says, “Paparazzi, by Lady Gaga.”
“I’ve been listening to that song all WEEK!” I gasp, “I love that song, it may be her best - that’s so random,” I finish saying as the song starts.
As Paparazzi ends Lisa says, “That song has major Gwen Stefani vibes.”
“It DOES,” I agree, “It could be “Cool” or “Sweet Escape.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Leeza agreed, “shoutout to No Doubt.”
Leeza says, “I have a conversation topic: What’s something we all acknowledge is cheugy but we still do anyway?”
“Being blonde,” I say, which gets stitches of laughter because it’s true and Lisa and I are.
“That’s true, that’s fair,” redheaded Leeza laughs. “Anyone blonde is dead to me,” which gets her a pillow in the face.
“Ok, I’m going to come for a lot of people,” Lisa says, “but yogurt, yogurt is cheugy.”
Leeza gasps, “You think yogurt.. It’s not cheugy!” she practically yells, “It gives MOM.”
.
.
slang..
cheugy = something off-trend, or behind in an awkward way - millennial, but not fully vintage.
gives mom = a comfort activity
She studied the Space exploration
act of 3033 to find where
in history she might
use her Time traveling Machine
It had been said that
she was likely to be seen
as one who interferes in
the activates of space
and would cause others to
form a distrust of her..
Yet she pursued her freedom
to explore space
with the People of Earth in mind.
The functions of Functions
Where Space is Topic and Topic
All things are Space and
the Preservation of Space
Space to be used by Mankind
It's recourses explored and considered.
She made a List of People and Creatures who were" The Enemies Of Space"
On planets and Moons: in Nebulas, On asteroids and
Cosmic storms she Captained her Vessel: until she became the enemy in space
and her co-captain rivaled her to secure his position
as Captain. They used force feilds to create her residence on the lower deck.
Their she built a secret tine machine using the onboard computer which spoke to her as she was twenty year prior. Somene made a program that addressed her as the captain she had replaced." The men Called her
An enemy Of Space" due to her dating practices.
Death, be not so proud,
Today might roar thine dark clouds,
Be not still so proud,
Morrow, life will call aloud,
Thou shalt in a crowd wear shroud.
_________________________________
Tanka |15.05.2021|
Topic: death, life
Poet’s note: COVID has been wreaking havoc all around. The other day I saw a picture of a newly made crematorium burning scores of pyres, dead bodies awaiting last death rites, the funereal shadows creeping slowly by, pre-monsoon dark clouds hanging overhead, and it looked as if Death has still been spreading its ill-gotten empire all around. Silence possessed me for a few seconds and from the resulting speechlessness was born this Tanka.