Long Typical Poems
Long Typical Poems. Below are the most popular long Typical by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Typical poems by poem length and keyword.
Loneliness of Gray
by Odin Roark
Could It Be…
The mirror by which we see ourselves
This captive freedom of art in all of us
This necessity to communicate
Desire to become
Is but destiny’s
Loneliness of Gray
For if
As in physics
The typical complementary colors
Blue and yellow
Red and green
Passion's mainstay
When mixed
Yield gray
Then why
When one’s being
Claims gray
Must disappointment ensue
When there is such empirical truth at hand
When there is no opposite for gray
As it is its own opposite
It’s own quintessential purity
Of emotion’s blend
why
Yes
Some would say
The artist’s mind lives unique perceptions
Available to all
Yet determined by most
As out of reach
Few
Accept this fourth dimension
Others reject
Where hands and feet
Colors and viewpoint
Change about
Inviting the dual organs
Nostrils
Ears
Eyes
To express like colors
Embracing opposites
Allowing vocal cords of multiple mode
To render art’s communication
Imagination’s reverse tongue
Creativity’s spoken proclivity
To forever accept extremities of the mind
As wonderment
As living
Ever notice
How simple the artists’ walk
It appears to be on whatever surface
Imagination might volunteer
Be it floor
Path
Greensward
Or bomb-rutted road
Where surfaces creatively experienced
Reveal a virtually abstract pressure-balancing of gravity
Requiring little of tactile distinctiveness
But merely an accommodation
Today’s levitational force
Accomplishing needed transfers of altitude
Where the climbing of stairs
But a walk up from lower levels of existence
To higher realms of selection
To the Artist
Passage from one scene to another
Needn’t be a factor
Rather trust in gliding
Where shadow and blurred focus
Claim one’s mingled curiosity
Into a chosen whole
Where much of vision
Voids transient objects
Ambiguous appearances like
Furniture
Or details of vegetation
Seeking instead
A diffuse lighting of every scene
Rendering the scheme of reversed colors and texture
Bright red grass
Yellow sky
A conundrum of black and gray cloud-forms
Down to the white tree-trunks
Green brick walls
Embracing
A Lovingly
Angelical grotesquerie
Such reveals one’s essence
One’s creation
One’s smile at chance
Depending on how
The mirror might be hanging
The definition of normal
Is conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.
When I was graduating fifth grade
All of my classmates were crying,
They were sad
To leave.
Leave the school
Leave their teachers
Leave their friends
I on the other hand
Was ecstatic,
I couldn’t wait to walk off-campus and never look back
I didn’t shed a single tear,
And that's not,
Normal.
When I was graduating eighth grade
All of my classmates were crying,
They were sad
To leave.
Leave the school
Leave their teachers
Leave their friends
They were all taking pictures with their robes and saddened smiles
But, I on the other hand
Ran off that campus so fast
My only friend had to call me to come back
So, she could take a photo
I didn’t shed a single tear,
And that’s not,
Normal.
Now, in 11th grade
I have no friends
I spend my lunches in the library
Reading,
I read about
Other’s adventures
Other’s loves
Other’s lives
I can’t wait till I graduate.
I know I won’t shed a single tear,
And that’s not,
Normal.
I want to be normal
I want to have friends
I want to have my own adventures
My own loves
I want to live
But,
I’m
Not
Normal
So, maybe
I’ll always be stuck
Reading
Another’s
Story
Around 2004,
my family and I started
going on vacations to Erie
twice a summer.
Accompanying us on these excursions
were the Jenkinses--
family friends who were more like actual family.
In addition to our typical week at the beach,
they joined us for a sneak peek weekend
earlier in the summer
where we stayed at a hotel by the airport.
We'd sit on the lawn,
watching planes,
us kids running around,
the adults drinking beer.
The outside pool was
our home.
Cole & I would jump into
the deep end ad infinitum,
never ceasing to find the utmost joy
in so simple an act.
He commented on the blonde
strands of hair on my head,
I lied and said that was my natural color--
just wanted to be blonde.
But now the hotel is relegated only to memory;
the long, entrance hallway;
breakfast area where I burnt my mouth
by sipping hot chocolate
through a straw,
like a dumbass,
in 2005.
Maestro bows, a motion lulls thunder,
ovations a period of heeling, a clap
diverts a few, then attends silence.
A typical cough failed its challenge,
disturbed section promptly affects
a hall--indulges the jittery few. An
abrupt tapping expresses with
distinction and a Grandeur Hall
transcends towards the respective
measures that virtuous it's due.
His first appearance in the luxurious
auditorium, covetousness befell the
many, save one. Maestro entranced
a curve amidst a grand hall, fulfilling
hopes of men who are dropping jaws
and the prim-n-proper ever-widening
pupils for cosmetics lost effects.
As the thickness of the drape-enriched
velour, entrenched symphonic, designer
concertos, intricate waltzes, filament of
operettas--richly curtained memories
bliss.
Maestro's music world is the gist of his
being. To suggest other worlds, why
bother, it's just the world of music, and
that's the end of it. It's not a peculiarity
when one's grasp of the world is finite
and specific, that's what defines him.
I certainly don't want to be in a spot
when I'm in a surgical room, having my
heart worked on and standing there in
surgeon's clothes is the local dog catcher.
There are no hidden agendas. His life is
an open book. Life can be much simpler
if there were more people like Maestro
when he made up his mind it be so,
assuring his notoriety and, without a
doubt, a place for his name in the annals
of music history.
Why is everyone upset?
I sink down in regret
I think of all the debt
We owe cuz of our sins..
Tossed down in trash bins
I am a dolphin without fins
I am down and about
I will rise above the doubt
There is an in, so there’s a way out
There is positivity to look forward to
I will try to be good to myself too
Holding on till the break of dawn times two
Delight will douse us with sweet dreams
We are swiftly tearing apart at the seams
he oceans of our miserable mindset
Burn the cowardice feelings and be brave instead of upset with regret
Why must we feel so much worthless fret?
We need some sort of optimistic outlet
The sweat of our lives is worth it I bet
Why are you and I not getting along?
Did I do you wrong? When will I belong?
Life is temporary like a typical pop song
We owe our praise to God Most High
Can’t deny the lies that make us cry
Replace it with truths and begin to fly
Can’t deny - we fret so much like a kid with an aching tooth
I long for spiritual touch and His truth
I miss the days of old in our youth
poets hate to get straight to the point, well she hates it, but she's clearly not a typical poet, she may choke on a metaphor or two, but she can express herself with the best of them, unfortunately this poem will not flow as poetically, she has a vivid point to get across, contrary to other works, this poem, well letter, is for him, she didn't just ask for a "just because" teddy bear, she asked him, she noticed him lost near a familiar horizon, perplexed if not tormented by his own thoughts, she noticed him, from the calming waters she danced in, knowingly stepping into shallow waters, that same horizon had her lost in translation, now words that once came easy she cannot convey, his sudden appearance in her life, scares her, she's frightened by possibility, for he could be the "more" she's prayed for, he could be colors to paint the gray skies she's accustomed to, he could be the world that revolves in and around her, he could hum her favorite song to save himself for the sake of her, he could be like a tree rooted deeply in her, keeping her cozy like her poetry, he could be human form poetry, he could be her poetry, the medicine for her sleepless nights, he could be her awakening that jolts her up at 3am to write, he could be as refreshing as rain, he could be here simply to combat her deepest pains, if only he knew more than just her name, if only he could adapt to the rules of her game, a tricky game where he could earn her heart, through writing this her anxiousness, her lion, her inner lion, is tamed, with hopes she ignited his flame, she hopes he runs into a crowd, pushing strangers left and right, all to see her, to seek her, revealing to her that she is worth the pursuit, worth being sought out after, she won't reveal a word, she vows to remain the silent southern hummingbird, but the melody, her lone melody, could come alive in him, now harmony, but she's probably overreacting, she knows she's overreacting, she knows why he's so overwhelming, she'll continue to write and vent to you strangers, she waits until she connects with him... this was her long-winded way of getting straight the point.. in short, this is why she asked for a "just because" teddy bear.. (she laughs)
The typical human cell is made of a hundred trillion atoms, give or take
Every second things conjoin, repel, attract, and then break
Exchanging hundreds, of millions, of molecules by the clock
Between membranes where thousands of genes lock and unlock
Ribosomes and organelles all go to work
Electricity rising and surging and falling
Generations of generators, a quanta of quirk
Make motors which turn, pumps that churn, calories burn
All happening in just one of your cells, by the way
Joining 100 times more than the stars which make "our" Milky Way
We contain a mere 60 elements out of 132
Less than half the potential make up me and you
70 octillion atoms whizzing about
Comprise electrons, protons, and neutrons on and on, in or out
Which team with quarks and gluons and other invisible (so far) things
In miraculous non-mechanical soup, a weight with no springs
All energized in waves that are rippling in space
Making up 99% of what sends you to this place
And when we come to what we all know as rest
All those things are still up and doing their best
To keep us from heading to that final place
Where resting is supposed to be that state of grace
But even when our walking and talking and thinking is done
The stuff of our stuff goes right back to where it's begun
All is one, one for all, all for nothing in some
Makes the some of what's coming and summing us all
(Numbers and research sourced from "What's Gotten Into You", Dan Levitt, HarperCollins, 2023)
Along this foggy daybreak stroll,
I tread along the intersection
between Mabini Street and EDSA boulevard,
crossing number 25 Ortigas Road.
I breathe in the same grain
of Manila pollen and dust itching
my throat ; an acrid mound of city garbage
gathered by rain’s aftermath,
as if to beckon another tropical deluge;
and the loud chatter of headlines
from the newspaper stand pierces
the lobes with a burning jolt… a bundle
of political scoops and trade rumors
grating an otherwise neutral hour.
Few distances away, a flea market stand
vibrates with energy; pedestrians milling
around to check buko pies, plum bits,
and homemade guava jams… the exotic aromas
mixing with smoky flavor of dried bamboo leaves
on top of abaca wares; all these catering
to small pleasures of the low-middle working class.
Curving through Francis Square, a deluge
of movement initiates the 7 30 am rush…
buses, cars, and taxi- stands unload
a giant hive of wayfarers coming from
different points of the map; dragging
their skeletal frames like ticks of a clock.
Amidst a Friday hub, I stop to glance at the
towering statue of Mother Mary as a
cart-pusher slowly wanders by; his warm
smile bearing a contrast in a region
where the rat race of man is typical.
Surrounded by a collage of fragrant
eucalypti and mango trees, I breath in
a sense of delight likened to my
yard’s garden, this time, with heady scent.
The plump oaks at the front lobby
of Pharmo Industries are shedding
foliage, while a painted splash
of native robins cruises from laced twigs,
far beyond the clutter of newspaper stands,
market place, and taxi-stands.
My gaze casts inward to balance my thoughts,
as I begin my protracted stay at work.
Stand Contest of Debbie Guzzi
and Nathan's One of Your Best
by nette onclaud
Shadows are constant like a friend, but unlike a natural friend, shadows do not bear human emotions, or traits, which offers clarity and understanding. That is what makes shadows powerful, for it's not vulnerable to the frailties of human emotions that openly display individual weaknesses, where those who have control of said emotions can wield them to their advantage whereas the weaker willed individual, will succumb to theirs.
hungry and thirsty
solutions need to address
address replace need
Intellect is my shadow and friend as neither will cause harm to my person. Harm befalls the unheeding, an act caused by intellectual abandonment, thus, my shadow observes the folly and acts as a reminder and sets it to memory.
the moon makes a night
the sun makes a day and I
make the sun and moon
The church has a shadow, where I share familial upbringing as the intro factor, thus, 'A recent change of mind/acquired conviction', befalls upon longstanding, albeit, not 'belief' as it is subjective. I cast objective reasoning based on juvenile tendencies of a rebellious nature, but not a typical juvie as I toss intellect into the mix.
sensed observations
deduced logical outcomes
impacts life status
Present day, and counting ... The church and the families of my life, along with their shadows are now parted. I trust that the subjective beliefs that they held while in their lifetimes, they are all there now in the afterlife. Now, my intellect serves a greater part of my life as the shared shadows no longer reflects upon me, but not a smidgen less from my heart, soul, and mind. As my intellect moves with validation and purposed fulfilment, I believe I'm reflecting my intentions ... until my shadow advises change ...
once a family
a singularity now
The Word waits for one
Quora Originally Answered: What is the reason for your Trump hatred?
"One reason I am “spewing hatred for Trump” (and mind you, this is just one emblematic reason): upon firing the commander of the Coast Guard, he evicted her from her house with 3 hours notice. That was done purely for the sake of cruelty. This is who he is and who he has always been. He’s a criminal, a thug, a rapist, a conman, and a thief.
I do indeed have other things to do, which is why I don’t spend all my time doing this; however, I am retired, and I’ll do whatever the £uck I want, punk. Don’t like it? I really don’t give a shït whether you do or don’t.
You are lying about “100 million people like Trump.” But then, lying is typical of your ilk, and it’s to be expected because you have no honor, no integrity, no morals, no ethics, and no £ucking clue.
He’s an insurrectionist, and is currently attacking the very constitution we’ve held more or less sacred for 250 years. He just gives you a stiffy, that’s all. Or is it Melania that does that? No, it’s probably Trump.
Do I think I could do a better job? Than a convicted criminal? I’m smarter than he is, better educated, actually served my country voluntarily, have run a successful business, and don’t think I’m the smartest guy in the room (people that do think that, like Trump, never are)".
Now take your pandering, lying, orange-tinged lips and waddle off.
Sincerely;
Donald D________a .