Long Undisturbed Poems

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


Keep Our Ghosts At Bay

I feel your pain like it was mine
Having an ability to see your soul
If you hurt and can't speak
Sit here with me for I am fluent
in silence
And if your ghosts from the past 
leave you sleepless then know that
I will be there to watch over you 
taking the first shift so 
Sleep will go undisturbed 
Our tragedy in life is not death
but what we let die inside of us
Remember that you do not 
only live once 
we die once but we live everyday 
we only need one friend 
who will be there for 
us always regardless 
keeping our ghosts at bay 
when we feel we can't go on
To allow us to rest when 
we are too weak


2nd place
Contest:Your best free verse from 2019' 
Sponsor:John Hamilton
Date:10/4/2019


Acrostic

Crystal clear, the acrostic cube of words,
underneath the surface lie patterns undisturbed.
Brilliantly crafted, a grid to be revered,
endlessly challenging, with solutions to be cleared.

Multitudes of letters, arranged with care,
nor are they haphazard, no random flair.
Insight and wisdom, the keys to unlock,
something to savor, no need to gawk.

Sentences waiting to be uncovered,
the lines of connectivity.
Intriguing adventures, within each new entry.
Challenge and discovery, familied familiarity.

Creativity flows through every row.
Unique and fascinating, each letter show.
Beyond the words are tales to be told.
Each letter, a doorway to discovery of connectivity association to unfold.



[A] crystalized range of sides tiled into creativity,Mavarup[A].

[C ubed] art columns rows onto self to inlay core-ners,si[C].

[R evealing] arrangement could rest on settlement toward imperatored coupling, sobe[R].

[O ffer] a clear rite of show tabled into coordinate, sil[O].

[S ubtle] art coraling rithmed operation structured together its code, i[S].

[T ransmission] as crafted rigging opining sentences topographically intrinsically cured, se[T].

[I s] already cued ready overtly stating tapestry is crafted,A[I].

[Challenging] art canvas reading open stitched transital inner connectivity, do[C]
Form: Acrostic

Superman

STANZA ONE
He had the heart of a lion
And the strength of a bear
Ripping his enemies apart
He would crush and tear
Man of steel
With charm and grace
No one can dare confront him
Or look at his face
He is all over the world
And all over the place
He stands on the silver clouds
And drift through the winds
The colour of his skin matters less
As long as he is bless
By God
Samson! David or my Mohammed Ali
Roosevelt or Lincoln
Whatever name you may be
Oh! Superman
He has come to rescue us from harm
I love the way he looks
His carriage and charm
You remind of Horatio Nelson
The way you fight with one arm
And he looks above the horizon like a demigod
His composure was calm and undisturbed
Oh! Superman
Messenger of God
He prays hard to the Almighty and serves the Lord
Oh Superman!
The strongest man I have ever seen
A man  a thousand men can not win
He had the strength of Samson 
And the wisdom of Solomon
He is the king of us all
But he will not acknowledge
that title
Firm like Stalin
When it is time to take a decision
Never look back
Takes no permission
The true hero of the revolution
Was Leon Trosky
Washington of our time
Deliver us from the Great Evil
No matter where it may be
Oh Superman! Oh Superman! Oh Superman!
He lives in me
I am determine to sacrifice my life 
For the sake others
So that all men will be free
And stand for the rights of men
Where ever they may be
I will seek them in the lions den
And send evil doers to the past
With one blast
And that will be their last

STANZA TWO
He had the heart of a lion
And the strength of a bear
Ripping his enemies apart
He would crush and tear
Man of steel
With charm and grace
No one can dare confront him
Or look into at his face
Samson! David or my Mohammed Ali
Roosevelt or Lincoln
Whatever name you may be
Oh! Superman
When he was born an old witch 
Saw a prophecy
That a king is coming soon
Because the Moon was still shining even at afternoon
And the sun was still sleeping in his lazy crib
To live a promising life of adventure
Little did his parents know 
That he was a man as a child 
Before he would grow
And his glory would glow
Like the Alpha Centauri
Oh Superman!
From dusk to dawn
He lays awake
And would take 
Any challenge that comes his way
And would live his life like every other day
And he would live his life for the sake of others
Defender of justice and freedom
Thinks like an old sage
Because he has wisdom
Form: Epic

The Rage

The sound of hooting and shouting behind the steering wheel sends a cascade of traffic crawling down the street while two men arguing about time started a heated debate in front of the gate. None of them seems to agree with each other, each one contradicting the other and the passersby emits an energy that rocks the sky. 

It transcends a pillar of smoke in the atmosphere blackening the clouds and disrupting the rhythm in the street and the birds on their migration journey fly around in confusion seeking fresh air.  

I sat on the seat of mercy watching them shouting outing on for glory stuck in mid-air and deprived of fresh air with nothing to hold on to but their faith, stalled breaks and a frozen battery. 

Anxious passengers screaming and shouting, others holding on to their children trying to comfort them. They were all clothed in emergency suit waiting for the time to open the parachute.  

I watched him from above through cockpit glass, he looked calmed, reserved and undisturbed, midths the chaos he silently mapped out a safety plan before he attempts to land.  

While chaos was erupting behind him, a ferocious wind come chiming in, they could feel the turbulence from the earth when a miraculous wind propels the plane in another direction and it went on an unknown path.  

While confusion was mounting behind him, he got his communication back on track and continued the journey from a different direction. 

The rage continues in the street with taxi operators throwing punches at another, one man got shot in his leg while another passed out and lay dead. 

 Check your temperature before you venture out and ignore the blowing horns and the musical sounds. When the ugly frown stares in your face ignore them and go your way or they will shoot you dead in the middle of the day. The rage is all around the town and it will take you to where destiny is bound.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Tombstone's Lament

.     For so long the ground has warped 
.   depressed about my frost frozen feet
. For so long                       the sunlight
.     has not                           glazed
.within the       R  E  S  T          of trees and                                                                 
.roots deep                             infertile om
.For so long          IN               solitude did I
. find sleep                               uncared for
. within the      P E A C E             of the church
.yards keep                              undisturbed
.For so long                               not until this
.night regret                              did inward
.seep to me                               and mourn
. within the	                      ground a old
.    soul lies                               asleep alone.
.For so long                               but now it’s 
.~Hall-o-ween and I may rise again to moan.~
.~ For within the grave nothings as it seems ~ 
/////////////and there is no going home.///////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Form: Concrete


Leaving Minneapolis

At 10,000 feet we rose through soft, voluminous canyons---
Dark billows whose slow swell was undisturbed by our passage.
At 20,000 feet, the first few glimpses---
Three short days, and the promise of Her full beauty is fulfilled,
And yet She is shy---
Below, patches of dull silver offer glances, graces---
A lake, a river, a pond, a stream---
Slyly She slides, slips from one silken scarf to the next---
She teases with hints---
Then, for three breathless seconds,
She swims boldly before me,
Her bright beauty bared---
All this time, with feet planted on Earth,
I have watched Her rule the heavens
And longed to embrace Her---
And now that I approach Her home,
I find Her down there, where I was---
Still laughing gently---
Still delicate, my deliciously desirable Diana---

Premium Member Angel Island

                                Confined in a building day in, day out,
                               their freedom was withheld; they couldn’t bear it 
                               not a soul was even close to happy even though safe
                               every individual was depressed, and sleep was slow in coming 
                            The days were lengthy and unfilled; their dismal outlook was not dismissed
                           The hours of darkness were long and the pillows chilly; After going through                 
                          such aloneness and sadness, Why go on living without faith?

                       The island of angels had many man made things from boxes with windows
                      and tubes that went boom when blowing out smoke to a large wooden dock
                    which even the Miwok hunters and fishers never knew of when the expansive
                    island was still empty and its beauty undisturbed, the magnificent bay full of fish
                                      
                 Today the island is still beautiful and very peaceful but exclusively occupied 
                 and the coves open to sail boats many of which are tourists or picnickers who
                 Appreciate the scenery along with the peace and quiet of the bay but what is peace
                Without the serenity of this island called Angel?
© John Long  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member We Will Leave His Sanctuary Untouched

Inspiration reaches out and grabs him before breakfast
He lives colors and patterns the way the rest of us breathe
Misunderstood and misused, he worries not about it.
This life means nothing; he survives on his own planet far away.
Keen imagination provides him with people, events, reasons to live.

We stayed away, for he is a bit mad, isn't he?
Anyway, he has no need of conversation or ordinary.
His mind is extravagantly unique, he is satisfied.
His paintings hold his interest. They hold him captive.
He is more obsessive compulsive than bumblebees.

He will be found some day lying among his cherished canvases
With a hardened paint brush in his non-yielding stiffened hand.
We will spend no time in here, for it will feel like a violation.
His sanctuary, his world, his nirvana, his art studio.
We will leave it undisturbed until he reincarnates as a better artist.
art

Premium Member Lost In Your Eyes

Awakened at dawn, by the slightest of sound,
there is nothing to hear but the rain.
The dripping from eaves makes a rhythm, somehow,
one drop at a time, to the ground.

As I turn to my side, the light from the sun
spreads gold on your brow, then moves on…
You sleep undisturbed, far away in a dream
 and I want to dive into the stream.

Into those turbulent seas, into ardent blue skies,
 ...into moonbeams that have gilded your eyes.

Sealed deeply inside, is there something that hides?
What is it you see, with your slumbering eyes?
Are there paintings of shorelines? Is there someone adoring?

I lie now and wait, as the dark fades away, seeking your eyes in the dawn.
A flutter of lash, a dash of a smile,…I must wait for the day to arrive.

Then you open your eyes, with a light that I've seen,
that is filled bright with gold, just for me. 

Nothing is heard but the drops of the rain.
One pearl at a time, from the eaves, like a chain.
You were gone for awhile, while I was lost in a dream.
Now I'm lost in the smile of your eyes.
... and see nothing but gold in the dawn

____________________________________________________________
7/10/17

Premium Member Reflecting on Carefree days

Looking deep into your invitingly, 
warm, brown eyes, I suddenly felt 
intoxicated, as if I were drunk,
Drunk, dizzy, and unbalanced,
Unbalanced, I stumbled right into an 
old tree,
Tree, it wasn’t any old tree; it was 
the tall palm tree, our secret meeting 
place.

Place, a heart-shaped rose garden, 
where endless hours of daydreaming 
and making plans,
Plans of things and places we
would visit and explore,
Explore and wander through some
of those great cities around the 
world,
World! That wonderful world was our 
dream. How nice if I could return to 
those old, carefree, lazy days.

Days where we could just lay in the 
warm tropical sun, listening to our 
favourite love songs, enjoying the 
cool sea breeze, oblivious to time, 
drifting us right into 
sunset,
Sunset worked its magic on our 
souls, inciting feelings of romance,
Romance, throughout our romantic
phase, you were thoughtful and 
generous, and always did everything 
with great love.
Love, our love was blooming 
beautifully like a Rose garden in 
Springtime,
Springtime sadly doesn’t last forever,

Forever wasn’t meant for you and me,
Me and you, it was our destiny to 
meet and then part, 
But alone and abandoned, I could 
never be, for in my heart, 
Those unforgettable memories of 
the “us” dwell in a perpetual embrace, 
undisturbed in eternal bliss.



By Zyrool

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace