Long Type Poems
Long Type Poems. Below are the most popular long Type by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Type poems by poem length and keyword.
...This rankled Ethan, deep down in his core,
his drummer just quit, but Ethan wanted more,
he pressed on touring, writing out new songs,
from catchy romps to grand epics, long.
Their next single climbed to thirty-three,
then the one after made it to fifteen,
they’re first album came out, Ethan was proud,
but the critics pounced, cried,’Sophmoric, loud!’
Some even proclaimed him a no-talent fool,
even rolling in cash he tasted failure fuel.
But he was not the type to stay settled,
they all would see his musical mettle,
so he set out to writing every day,
poured into his songs all he had to say,
for ten years it went, eight albums dropping,
hit after hit, four songs chart-topping,
until even the critics had to admit
that when it came to music, Ethan had it.
He stood at the top, secure in the truth,
you don’t get there without some failure fuel.
At fifty he gave a strange interview,
when out promoting an album, quite new,
He said,”They make one mistake, and they’re shattered,
too many folks don’t fight for what matters,
never told that failure teaches what won’t work,
that nothing is easy, and nothing deserved.
What wonders would they have brought about
if they’d simply learned to never drop out.
Nobody ever gets where they’re going to
without first topping off on that failure fuel.”
Meteors fall in wastelands forgotten.
Poets, bards, sing. Taciturn, red, rotten.
Silver at twilight, seeing stones kept clear.
Seer, grind gear in the severe atmosphere.
Barren lands are kept on rare landscapes clean.
Winter, thy withering tendrils. Machine;
When do we let white rage devour? Flower;
Belladonna, tremendous thy power!
Volcano, burst with the force of all space.
Calderas choose by a need to displace.
Every so often they've got to explode.
Souls bearing load are left sharing the road.
Thunder-gods, lightning. The code, consider.
O ornithopters, beat wild to cause blur!
Thinning reality, crazy is life!
Gold in old chest, quest on edge of the knife...
River, thy bank is a rare type of blade.
Ocean, thy floor stands a home to the shade.
Chasm, abysm, the dark backward waits!
O for the children with staggers in gaits.
Hammering metal? Best prepare thy tongs.
Enamelled panelling, vibrate in songs!
Nightingales, ivy. O serpents, thy ground.
Dole and duress, circumstances unfound...
Blossoming tulip, art planted in spring?
Hornets are elements when they all sting.
Rocks, in the desert. Where nobody goes?
Noxious obnoxious means feeding the crows.
Yellow-eyed predator, wait until dark?
Best if you can, but avoid tiger shark!
Always there's somebody bigger than you?
This may be true, Hope, yet still ye accrue...
There's sanity within my pen
A relaxing ease where I can win
Thoughts and comments they may be
But they all belong to me
In some a story may be told
Others came to me as I grew old
Some may even sound like a fantasy
But every one is special to me
With it's own time and space
Each one takes us to a different place
Words that seem to flow free
In the open waves of eternity
There is just a great feeling that I get
When at the key board is where I sit
My mind is busy with the pictures I see
And the voices that speak to me
I type some and even erase
But this is my very very happy place
Come on in no need to be shy
You'll know everyone before we say Good Bye
If for relaxing your in some need
Come on back and have a little read
Let your mind just slip away
For a minute forget about today
Let yourself into the fantasy
That no one but you will ever see
A minutes peace I hope that you find
As you with me and we unwind
Just like Calgon the take us away
But for now right here I'll stay.
An Uncle Charlie Original
© 2008 unclecharlie
Form:
Cleverly
Articulated as I type these words,
Cleverly thought up, diligently said.
Hence, this is where my story begins.
As words come, I should write,
No place to go, but what is right?
Thought up in verse,
You see, I know.
But about its sentences,
We will read, but how's it going?
The poem it is with arousal begins,
My brain is stirring out on this limb.
My rhyme, you see, has it to be,
Or is it this that is a joke?
My fingers, my thoughts,
These words that I type.
I am doing my best,
Do you see as I write?
I shall write these words,
In its simple of ways.
I think my story has found its end.
Not so fast I'll try writing this again.
Edited 04/27/2023
This is not about a train on the tracts picking up pedestrians all day. However, this is about a sub of God's blessing making its way to those who have no food or a permanent place to stay.
For the poor and the hungry are just as important as us in society.
Thus, some have just experienced a hardship of circumstance;
Not some sort of a bad deed or quality known as notoriety.
For the homeless and poor are human beings too and this is why good deeds don't go unnoticed in God's eye;
So take center stage for having a gentle heart of amazing size... and that's why I personally thank you for your selfless act of kindness, respect, and love for our fellow man of which this type of value...
Money can't buy.
So
When I saw your poster on Facebook it warmed me and others hearts... In knowing you're paving the way to a higher gift and standard that puts you on high ground and sets you apart.
Hopefully in God's name you have opened the door of example for other
establishments/ corporations to follow in making a better tomorrow... but until then...be proud of this momentous and priceless day because in many ways you're saving lives in your own special kind of way....by extending your hands and chain of fast food known as "SUBWAY"
Never-ending aftershocks of yesterday’s tomorrow has settled in my mind’s eye…there’s so much out there to look forward to…I’d rather not die, but indeed, I must live to see the light of day take wing from on high! Cleanse me with your hope, oh Lord of Accord and you are so perfectly imperfect to me…and you shine bright like a diamond in the cave and you mirror my pain with healing, crystal-clear rain! I’m out of my mind in the past, present and future…what’s my fate? What is there in store for me? Why do I hestitate? I hesitate for the sake of Your honor-packed jubilance, not his blasphemed envy! Good news (It’s intriguing! Very!) – I’m suriving and still standing tall; bad news (nothing brand-new or exciting really): I failed the test with a F- for failure to the extreme…your sub-zero eyes see right through me and I can feel the coals heating up in my heart! I’m mad to begin with and I’m sick of breaking apart! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! Deal with the cards, roll the dice. Feel my words – you’re my livin’ sacrifice! We need a happily ever after after all! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! You kill’d me inside and out and I won’t pout like a child, running about! You killed me with your lonesome song and I have no slight doubt about that, if you know what I am speaking of no doubt! Are you damaged by your suicidal depression? Do you have any clue what I’ve been through? Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! I am a money saver, but a worthless beggar or an ungrateful waster OR a real big spender ~ I don’t mean to offend a single soul or drive anyone insane in any way, shape or form…I am just telling you the truth straight out of my brain while I lay down and type this verse up in my solitary, yet unique, wild and stunning-blue dorm…avoiding a bee swarm like escaping a windstorm with stingers flying all around me every direction I turn! Every angle I watch, there is danger looking at me straight in the eyes…replicating the death stare of the Lord of the Flies…my hope and faith withers and dries like a weed, left in the sun…pulled up from the ground by the gardener himself…rotting away…today…
The Cape Cod Museum of Art had a show
And we caught it the very last day,
Displaying the various works of Bob Staake
In a can’t-help-but-grin type of way.
If you don’t know his work, you must catch up at once
For each piece is a total delight.
There are mobiles and posters and sculpture galore,
Plus the many kids’ books he did write.
In addition to works, what he really does best
Is to illustrate, so you may find
That his fabulous artwork accompanies, too,
Others’ story books that he designed.
If you read The New Yorker, you won’t be surprised
That his covers have often appeared
And each one is a gem with a sly kind of wit
That is perfectly, charmingly weird.
Luck was shining on us, for the day we were there,
We were in for a most special treat.
Mr. Staake paid a visit and we got to join
An impromptu but sweet meet and greet.
What a wonderful way to be able to share
Your esteem with the one who inspired
So much joy; it was thrilling to let someone know
Face to face just how much he’s admired.
Your energy level’s
Related to age,
Though not everybody
Is on the same page.
Most babies and toddlers
Need hours of sleep
And after some playtime,
Fall down in a heap.
Yet others run circles
Around those routines
And when sent for a nap
Make the loudest of scenes.
Often as you grow up,
Those proclivities stay
And the sleep you require
Will keep holding sway.
However, when reaching
Those senior-type years,
Your energy lessens
Or plain disappears.
So, just like a baby,
Your pep seems to sap
And, although you may fight it,
You’re needing a nap.
The circle of life
Brings us back to the start
Where the young and the old
Aren’t too far apart.
Witnessed a robbery take place yesterday
As incredulous as this may seem
Was sitting in the food court at the local mall
Happily minding my own business
When all of a sudden I hear this guy ranting and raving
Slamming his leather bag down on one of the tables
Marching over to the coffee stand
Which had an assortment of sandwiches and drinks
Displayed in front which were accessible to the customers
Proceeds to pick up a sandwich and a bottle of juice
And goes storming off into the mall concourse
Without paying, yaking incoherently as he goes
People just sat there dumbfounded
Wondering what the hell just happened
We all witnessed this act take place
None of us reacted or believed what we just saw
Now this was either a looney toons type guy
Not responsible for his strange behaviour
Or a very clever, creative crook
Making us think he was looney toons
Assuming the average person wouldn't react
Enabling him to get away with this unimpeded
He was later apprehended by mall security
But we never did find out the whole story
Hmmm! Pretty creative I must say
If indeed it was a preconceived masterful plan
© Jack Ellison 2014
I hear you on your knees again,
Crying out to me, asking for peace.
Do you remember that girl you met then?
She needs a friend too, so desperately.
I have all power at my word and will,
And can do all things, glorifying.
I’ve given mankind their blessed agency still,
To help all my children learn in yearning.
With all the angels I can send,
And all I can do, may I please send you?
Will you do this for me, friend,
That I’ve given, because you are true?
You will find she’s quite the thoughtful type,
With so much of yours in common.
I made you both, so I know aright.
You’re a perfect fit, so rare, such promise.
Do you remember how you felt,
When you talked with her so?
She is one who’s knees are ever humbly knelt,
With whom you can truly get to know.
She’s been around many different places,
And has seen so much of life,
Yet she still remains a brighter hope, with graces,
With a burning flame in her eyes.
What a treasure of a soul,
My angel love, with whom we can help mend.
A woman in whom you can truly console,
At being her true love, and best friend.