Long Transition Poems
Long Transition Poems. Below are the most popular long Transition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Transition poems by poem length and keyword.
A thousand bees never settling down,
buzzed within his head.
Their confused drone, into a ruffled rumble grew,
lengthening into frenzied drumbeats,
taking the might of roaring waves
or gaining the momentum
of a plane, prior to take off.
Mind lacking coordination
limbs receiving discordant commands,
He suddenly hurtled into the streets,
stepping out from regimented norms
and breaking loose the tether of reason,
never walking, never running
but scuttling from side to side
like a piece of driftwood over the current.
Hearing the cawing of a crow
suddenly, he into a prophet grew.
stood with arms outstretched,
waiting for the crumb of bread
to be dropped
in the manner Elijah was fed
by the raven in his lonesome cave.
Seeing the audience swelling bigger
he was enthused, greatly cheered.
The riff- raff and the scraps
swarmed around to see the show.
Mounting the steps to the pulpit,
in unfaltering voice
and with fire in his words,
to the congregation,
surveying him with fun and sneer,
he thundered………
“The Doom’s Day is near”
With finality in his tone, he said-
“Repent and flee from the wrath to come.
The tree that doesn’t bring forth,
good fruits shall be hewn down,
and cast into eternal fire.”
The transition was quite easy.
He scurried from Elijah to John the Baptist
and from John the Baptist to Elijah
oscillating between
sense and non-sense.
__________________________
March. 28.2023
~ Placed Second~
Writing Challenge, ‘P’ Words
Sponsor – Constance La France
In my school days, I used to see him very often in junctions and bus stops. He was unshaven and ragged in appearance, but in his eyes, there was a kind of fire and he paced about restless east to west and west to east as if he had an urgent mission to accomplish. His words still ring in my ears. My heart goes out to those whom we call lunatics!
I walked through the forest
or perhaps a small batch of trees
to find the creek
I waded into with my clothes on
and my shoes off
to find nothing but chin high water and stars
The water was cold and before long
I was shivering yet I kept my gaze
above to the stars, planets and the waning moon
This would be my end
my transition to the other side
filled with demons, hellfire and eternal pain
My pain and sorrow is too much
so I put my head beneath the water
and challenged myself to take a breath
But I couldn't do it
I climbed out back onto the marshes
Drenching wet, smelling like the ocean
And I began my walk back home
in the middle of the night where the stars
did nothing but laugh and mock me
It's okay
I'm stronger now
and I won't let the demons take me back to that creek
Did John the Baptist lack faith in Jesus and his mission?
Can blood that flows in and through the heart tread with pessimism?
John knew that the times, like a stream in flux, were in transition.
Living for the dawn of hope, he was filled with optimism.
He's the Lamb of God who takes away sins. John knew well.
Shouldn't he tell this to the world before he's faced with death?
Andrew and John found that each work of Jesus had a spell.
Even those who were arrested by the death regained their breath.
Baptist was the link between the Old Testament and the New
Like sides of the same coin, for him, were faith and repentance.
Unlike a reed swaying in the wind, life has a new view.
Baptist knew well that Jesus was the sign of transcendence.
The wisdom that was in Jesus changed the ways of the world.
As the blossoming of buds, slowly, God's kingdom unfurled.
I picked up an old recipe book looking for something appetizing to cook, the recipes were very old and something unusual was moving in my soul. I wanted a taste and resonate beyond the heaven, a taste that was different and one that would appease the global longinging. I have tried British cuisine but it was too cold and it would have rapture my soul. French and Italian was full of compassion; extremely romantic so I place an asterisk beside it but later I will see if that will fit. Chinese cuisine was too hot and Japanese was too flat, Vietnamese and Thai was too hard to comply; too much noodle would ruin my sleep and cause my spirit to weep. Mexican was too spicy and Middle East was too dicey. I still could not make up my mind and I want to bring the universe alive and appease their appetite and so I turn my head toward the sky and watch the cloud slowly transition in the sky.
He served with valor in the World War Two and Korean wars,
Earning The Combat Infantryman Badge for storming foreign shores.
Now that his grandson had volunteered to serve his nation,
The old soldier shared with the lad some useful information.
"Son, I'm so proud that you're carrying on the family tradition.
I have some words of advice that might help with your transition.
When you raise your right hand, take seriously that obligation.
There is no more noble cause than serving this great nation!"
"Though your sergeants may seem mean and are apt to harass,
Pay attention to their guidance, don't give them any sass!
The discipline they will instill may someday save your life,
Should, God forbid, you find yourself in some terrible strife."
"Shine your boots, square that cap, wear the uniform with pride.
Remember those you've sworn to serve, let that be your guide.
Salute the flag and officers smartly, you'll grow in self-esteem.
If others despair, urge them on, you'll be leader of the team!"
"Learn all you can and serve others with selfless devotion,
And you'll soon be selected for a well-deserved promotion.
When you face tough times, always look to the One who cares."
He proudly embraced the lad saying, "You'll be in my prayers!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
The world await to see my bride
The wait is over
To my family, friends, colleagues and the entire universe
I present to you… the mother of my children
The beauty that defined beautiful
She is the character that characterized the true womanhood
Her lifestyle set limitation for satanic operation within and outside her jurisdiction
She is the bridge that connect me to God and humanity
She is my queen coz she rule my kingdom
I call her my crown coz she crowned my royalty
She is rapturous, ecstatic… in her presence sorrow melt like wax
I call her miss independent coz she is dependable
She is my gold coz her beauty never fades
I call her treasure coz all the treasuries for a best life exist in her
She is my epitome of a true bride
Her physical physique is flawless
She is perfectly short and gorgeously tall
Her front view is impeccable and her back side is without glitch
Her point nose sat between her dove eyes
Her lips is impeccably shape like palm wine cup that invite everyone for a taste
Her complexion oppose my dark complexion
Thou are fair oh! My lady
Words are feeble to express her beauty
She is my epitome of a true bride
She is the native of south
Her tongue justified her nativity
The place where young women are prepared for life
House chores is her hobby
The meal from her magic room satisfies my soul and nourishes my body
She is from a place where husband enjoys royalty
Respect, humility, care, submission and above all unconditional love is written in their play book
The place where infidelity is a sacrilegious and it never an option, hence Endurance and hope for a better home overruled the option of divorce
Her home land is an epitome of where a true bride should originate
My bride very soon the traditional rite shall be fulfilled
Two different cultures shall be unified as Christ and church
Our languages shall be unified as understand and love
Our families shall be unifies as one
Altar is calling at the penultimate month
This is my transition to manhood.
With swirling colours all around, bright hues of yellow gold
A picture painted russet red, a story to be told.
Of new beginnings, tiny seeds were planted long ago
By loving hands so carefully that placed them in a row.
And so, with time their little shoots all sprung up from the ground
Survived the seasons early years, their roots are now earth bound.
Each year they’ve grown until at last, their canopy embrace
With branches strong, all reaching out, each other they do face.
Soon scattered all around are leaves of russet red and gold
As carpet beds lie on the ground their beauty to behold.
This wondrous spectrum now is seen, as Autumn’s breath is close
An artist’s brush cannot compete with nature's simple prose.
Like Autum leave these words come down and scatter on the page
But wither not, these words survive and with this poem age.
Transition time of seasons bring, this change and will not care
But Autumns beauty brings delight, no other can compare
he is a guest in another beings dream
a stranger sleeps behind his eyes
when he thinks about this
he shivers and turns to the window
letting himself be distracted by the dusty fields
the wind cranking farms
the bus is half-full
empty seats are occupied by the soon to be born
the soon to be dead and those in transition
hinterlands overlap and leak
a young man yet to be conceived
stares about him thinking he is in a movie
people speak a language known only to hollow trees
and wooden owls
there are no subtitles for his state of mind
passengers cling to the long straps of their thoughts
as the coach sways
some occupants are uncertain
if whether they have a real ticket for a real life
others think they may have purchased a ticket
with no destination
they fidget in their seats
wonder why the trip is taking so long
under spinning rubber
the ground sinks away
while an inverse sky
rises
Look at this throne
Riddled with cracks
And covered in bone
It's time to drop the facts
I'm the best at verse
When writing spoken word
It erupts in a burst
And you know I'll be heard
So just chill out
Listen to the smooth transition
And obliterate all doubt
This rhyming game is my mission
I don't even think twice
I just follow the nice flow
Like a roll of the dice
And let it go where it may go
My poetry is dandy
My stanzas have flair
Don't you dare call me Randy
Or you'll get an RKO out of nowhere
I sat right here
For so many years
But I had a deeply rooted fear
And shed manly tears
This decrepit old thing
It was the seat of my very soul
Once decked out with bling
Now suffering time's great toll
My life could go down the drain
But I could mask the pain in rhythm and rhyme
And even though it left a stain
Ironically it was a joyous time
I get contemplative over the past
As I reclaim this throne that was always mine
Those glory days were a blast
But my verse is like wine, always fine
I may lack social graces and common sense
But in poetry I found courage to be me
Let me just eat a few peppermints
Because my rhymes are still fresh and free
I found my throne
And I've thrown my game
This is what you've been shown
It'll never be the same
A deep pit, a crumbling edge,
at the bottom, a pool swarming with sauropods.
There is someone, a boy.
I shouldn't have taken the child here.
I'm slipping, taking him with me;
he won't let go of my hand.
We are sliding on the scree.
A gun heavy on my hip,
its weight drags us down,
to where saw-toothed muggers
thrash in a melee.
It's then that I transition.
I’m a visitor, two-dimensional
in a hurrying cityscape.
I've lost my car
in one of many similar concrete blocks.
Home is a door in the back of my mind
A door not opened yet, I suspect behind it
is a child who knows his way back.
He’s holding a tin wind-up crocodile,
one his dad once bought him.
At his side a revolver,
the same type I purchased
in Florida
in the event of alligator attack.