Long Unmet Poems

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


Premium Member Sunday 9 PM

When younger, less afraid of dying.
Even now, less afraid of dying
than fearful I am already too dead for fully functional 
resuscitation

Reviving reconnecting
inter-religious panentheism

Maybe it’s just another monotheistic Sunday 9 PM,
last dregs of responsible weekend parenting,
trying to remember, then forget,
why I thought parenting would be good for my spiritual life,
unlike eremitic vows
or even celibacy.

No, not for me
such traditional eco-mythologies,
our reconnecting regeneration 
will become egomind/eco-body therapists
of polycultural healthy 
re-ligious cooperativity!

What an exhausting anthrosupremacist ideation!
swollen with polyvagal win/lose mediocrity,
sad happiness of merry pathogens,
ungreeting alien unmet teenagers,
shape-shifting into truly terrifying young adults,
halfway between my eternally wise ZenZero 
full-peak/empty-valley bicameral
budding wokeness
and neuro-sexsensory wildness,
their unreformed perfect creepiness
stretching my boundaries of reasonable 
love-life expectations.

I’m far less afraid of dying
than I fear indigenous EarthTribes fading away 
without me
attending to over-spiritualized worship services
to reconnect us each 
and preverbal panentheistic all
with how utterly exhausting we are 
untogether communicating
in siloed sanctuaries of LeftBrain silence
sincerity
religioning EarthTribe's win/win potential integrity.

Another Sunday 9 PM
re-membering to not forget
my spirited-natural 
indigenous love
wise panentheistic life
if only drifting RightBrain prominent
feelings of ego-mindhealth
and safe eco-bodywealth
until a win/lose traumatic
disturbing
BusinessAsUsual 6 AM
alone
older
still surrounded by unsafe
homophobic 
straight monotheistic
anthrosupremacist hypocrisy

To think that a secularized human nature
could ever be as beautiful
as lilies in the field
or as wise
as an indigenous 
panentheistically nurturing
LeftCrown dominant
RightRoot recessive
MotherTree.


Dear Reader, P3, Please read P1,P2

I think about the person I thought I would be by now, someone stronger, more fearless, more put-together. Someone who didn’t cry over things that happened years ago. Things that happened last week. Memories from when I first wore a backpack. Memories now. Someone who had it figured out. I’m fifteen, and I don’t have it figured out. I have a boyfriend who loves me, and I love him too. Sometimes we write songs together and it feels like the most beautiful moment in the world. Still, I get scared that one day all the beautiful things I have will slip through my fingers the way other things have. Quietly. Gradually. Without me even realizing it until it’s too late. I don’t know if what I feel is regret or just the quiet grief of unmet expectations. Both? Neither? Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I’m already too late to become who I want to be. I know that sounds dramatic, and I know I’m still so young, but it doesn’t stop the hurt. I’m not writing this because I want someone to fix it. I don’t think anyone can. I just needed to admit it, to put it somewhere outside my head so it doesn’t echo as loud. Writing it down makes it feel less like I’m drowning in silence. Even if no one reads this, even if this letter disappears into the void, I’ll know I said it. That has to count for something.

With love and sorrow,
Your Amanda Nolan

2050 Under the Sea

Human greed will succeed in heating the planet to a dangerous degree
Consumption destruction evolutions function and strenuous need 
How brilliant are we? 
We the people structured to feed our unlimited want for want subsequently never satisfied with that what arrives immediately derive an idea from our minds eyed desire and stride forth to acquire obtain abuse and leave behind exhausted until haunted by our thoughtless past judging us in the future as bad      
Lazy or grandeur, the unmet demand for, the want to command more, neediness angle, superficial stature 
when invasions of land by polar capsules will rid us of shores as we sell ourselves short ignoring reports for the false the wealthy forged to keep wealthy wealthy which in time will make us walk backwards into the seas we once crawled free and so we will see the full cycle of humanity 
2050 under the sea
Put a man on Mars or this planet of ours
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Paper Tiger

        His two objectives unmet
          Bibi approves the ‘deal’ he gets
        from Trump, in an unconscionable rush
          to bully Israel into a peace made of mush

        For 15 months Bibi touted 'non-negotiable' goals 
          All hostages returned, and Hamas crushed
       This ‘deal’ achieves neither, though lauded in the West
          To Trump, Bibi caved, a paper tiger when pressed

       Past time for Israel to assert itself on the world stage
          Show itself and the world that it’s come of age
       Vote Bibi out, along with his feckless friends
           Elect someone brave, who neither breaks nor bends
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Wand of Kismet

Written: May 12, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann

Quote: “Set yourself on fire and seek those who fan your flame.” By Rumi
               **********************************

I sliced through the strings 
that thawed my dreams in shadow,
tossing them into the time tiara 
of celestial orbs and supple styles.
Periwinkle-plum dawns defy time;
Bright blooms grow in cosmic cracks. 
Dusk falls on barren land, esoteric embers; 
With an aching heart, I walk alone, 
serenading with blue lotus meteors. 
The wand of Kismet gleams akin to stone, 
as cinnamon-glazed magic unravels.
Each shift is a fascinating fight—
light-flecked drape, lyrical elixir, elegies;
curling mulberry-leaf marrow fades. 
After the kernel, I strive for clarity 
without crash or catharsis, without pain. 

A lovely wind touches my smile— 
In the pulse of erased promise.
An impending divorce is stipulated. 
In echoes of exquisite and ubiquitous, 
lavender-sequined crystals of shift,
I sail beyond the rhyming reefs to embrace divorce. 
Cut wistful strings, salty lines, diving into rhapsody... 
Torn uncanny links below heavy waves,
free to explore unmet routes 
amid vanilla plankton tears. 
May I find solace in every crooked teal smile.

O, if sepia pearls and reverie state a split,
I release and love what is not meant to stay.
Even with moon megalomania, using past wisdom,
the plants wide wings amid the warm sky
and herbs flexed with a deceased breeze of joy.
I sip in the glorious, gold-and-cherry air, 
Clouds of bewilderment have dissipated.
In a captivating cosmos, clarity clings. 
Hunger, turmeric-tinted roses follow an idyllic climb,
and whispers shout boldly—unafraid, Nix!
Ominous night glows appear as we fly across the sky.
We claim our position under brilliant beams 
and the rose-glazed moon,
while myths merge across endless twilight.
Heartbroken after its fateful odyssey,
among the stars, free from a fixed kismet.
I will sleep calmly, wishing for plum rings
to create a pearlescent paradise.
The Estuary of Esoteric Embers 
laces my home with soul-searching chimes, 
                    whistling away in flavors of forgiveness.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.


Never Ending Event

Staying present within myself,

A shelf reveals itself,

An elephant in the room.

Zooming in on the items,

I light 'em on fire.

They were nothing to admire,

Only limiting me from going higher,

A past full of unmet desire.

I'm working to acquire a new perception,

Head in a different direction,

Making a better selection.

Choosing to accept rejection,

As a form of protection,

A lesson to glean from,

Forming into freedom.

You never needed them,

And planted seeds in them,

Some growing through the years,

Rising above their fears.

As unknown treasures appear,

We stare into our present.

Stretching every moment ,

Into a heavenly sent,

Never ending event.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Kaleidoscope Of Emotional Suffering


Within the fragile frame of my fervent heart, 
tinged with the tinsels of the amorous night, 
my love gleamed with a gorgeous glow, 
swathed by the sequins of your enthralling elegance.

My heart draped by silver streaks of stardust sparkle 
pulsated with the concerto of ecstasy crescendo, 
where the beauty of your enticing identity I saw imaged  
in the moonshine motif of my mesmerized mind.

You drifted away blowing a devastating storm of apathy, 
my fervor lay fragmented in the wreckage of rapture.
The lattice of life seen through the turning languid lens 
magnified into crooked contortion of your deceiving mind.

My yearning blazed in the inferno of your abandonment,
with the winged blizzard of winter the flame flew away,
morphing my mind into doused  embers of the burned past,
piling up in the rubble of memory, wrapped by gloom of ash.

Unmet expectations demolished my emotive essence, 
futile promises smothered  the rays of fading hope. 
Unkind words shredded the image of my mangled mind,
my life turned into an urn filled with your harsh feeling.

The scorched petals of my floral essence got dislodged    
by the fierce dust storm of passionate perturbation.
The lacerated flower saw the dreams turn into debris, 
created a kaleidoscope of silent emotional suffering.

Premium Member Forgotten

Can she who births a human flock,
forget to give her newborn suck.
Oh yes indeed! She may forget,
and leave their basic needs unmet.

To amnesia our minds are prone,
As by wild winds our lives are blown,
seniors in nursing homes alone 
forgotten by their flesh and bone.

And what of children on the streets
who forage bins for food to eat.
Clothes dark with dirt, disdained and scorned,
Forgotten as though never born.  

Some soldiers who return from war
Are left to suffer from their scars.
They fought to secure freedom sweet,
Forgotten now they roam the street.

Worst are the infants strapped in seats,
and left to perish in the heat.
So many die, it is so sad
Forgotten by their mom or dad.
 
Feeling forgotten in your soul,
like a sole mole inside a hole?
Cheer up and ponder well this thought,
humans forget, but God does not.
Form: Rhyme

God's Strength, God's Word, God's Love

trijan refrain 

The heart half full means something’s wrong -
the Spirit’s oil runs low.
When emptied, broken, we are strong
refilled, and ready so -
God’s strength can fix a heart gone dull
our selfish contents He can cull.
       God’s strength restores
       God’s strength restores
each day to keep our mark on full. 

The heart half full means needs may go
unmet by God’s own grace.
We’re called to let our fellows know
that they can win this race.
God’s Word abounds with help each day,
it must be read to find the Way.
       God’s Word abounds
       God’s Word abounds
to fill the empty hearts who stray.

The heart half full calls us to prayer,
it’s time to take a break.
Engaged with work, no time to spare
another’s thirst to slake?
God’s love pours forth when we look up
and ask for wisdom in our cup. 
       God’s love pours forth
       God’s love pours forth
enough to share, our neighbors sup.

posted September 19, 2014

**I realize this is a combination of iambic verse in tetrameter, trimeter, and dimeter but that is the requirement for a trijan refrain, a variable line length. If it does not meet the rules of your contest, I will understand.
Form: Verse

Where the Lemon Trees Blooms

I know the land where the Lemon trees bloom
It's a place that's beyond compare
The dew on each tree sparkles oh so bright
That no one  can despair 

The critters they romp and play in the fields
They have no worries or cares
Their life  is full of wonders and love
Whatever they have they share

I've seen the land where the Lemon trees bloom
When at night I lay down and dream
I've no stress or work to do their
I simply enjoy all it brings

The people now care for each other too
As they share all their hopes and dreams
No hunger or thirst is unmet in this land
It's a wondrous land it seems

When I sit down to watch the sunsets there
The site that I see is superb
The colors all seem to be catching fire
It's certainly not like the burb
I know the land where the Lemon trees bloom
 
Written 7/17/18
Sponsor Julia Ward
Where The Lemon Trees Flower
For the Pretty Poem Please poetry contest.
Form: Lyric

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