Long Unroll Poems
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A Wintry Night
The night is dull, dreary and cold,
Yet my books I wish to unfold,
My aged pen I wish to hold
And divine verses to unroll.
The wind is cold, sturdy and strong,
My bones are frail, feeble and weak,
Yet my mind is robust and young
And songs with rhymes I long to tweet.
The clouds are dense, hefty and dark,
Yet my inner self is full bright,
Plugged with the radiant inner spark
And dazzling with the inner light.
The rains are wet, heavy and damp,
Yet my soul is light and full bright,
Drawing from the flame of the lamp,
Lit throughout the day and the night.
My frame is still, steady and warm,
But soon it will turn wintry cold
And laid to rest as food for worms
Or set to fire on a fold.
Yet the night will soon fade away
And anon a new dawn creep in,
Giving rise to another day,
May be better than one has seen.
Like the new dawn, my soul will rise
To reside in another shrine
Until, at last, time will arise
For it to reach the Divine Shrine
Where there will be no wintry night
And the light will be ever bright.
Written on 7 May 2023
For A Brian Strand Premiere No. 1215 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
LXII+ years old and he still carries a security blanket
Move over Linus
Van Pelt of Peanuts fame,
cuz yours truly
also psychologically lame
since prepubescence
mine noticeably long hair
delivered inner comfort,
yet found some classmates
calling me "hippy" by name
though other tormentors among them
hurled expletive laced offensive insults
even ethnic slurs much less tame.
Absolute zero
anti-bullying laws prevailed ahoy
when reasonably rhyming poet
just a little beastie boy
"mean kids" hurtful tactics
they did deploy,
though one bookish lad named Donald Hoy,
he rode the same bus as me,
and most likely practiced magic ploy
to ward off nemesis.
Impossible mission
to detangle mane reason why
I experienced omnipotent
hair reed bond neither thy
father, mother nor therapist
could understand or qualify
outsize (obsessive/compulsive)
significance well nigh
much more (hyperbolically writing)
blatantly mystifying and unsettling
versus comprehending meaning
regarding the bridge on the River Kwai,
whereat these long strands
emanating from scalp, I
imagined them extending
out into space into no fly
zone, and if adored locks threatened
with someone brandishing scissors
one puny lad would cry.
Parents did not berate,
when early within mein kampf,
no matter my mother did execrate
obsessive compulsive thoughts did instigate
long necked pencil geek son
did unwittingly irritate
analogous to Samson
(though Delilah not my mate),
I imbue power courtesy each golden lock
atop me addled sub tracked pate,
where fifty plus shades of gray matter
houses ticky tacky psyche substrate,
which doth bubble, gurgle and percolate.
Only upon taking me last breath of air
viz, when grim reaper delivers death,
I will unroll welcome me
Scottish Harris tweed mat without fanfare
(for this common man),
and just maybe allow, enable, and provide
thee opportunity for scissors
to lop off longish straggly hair
subsequently repurposed into a
security blanket ideally suited
to create creature comfort within lair
for garden variety and generic caveman,
who truth be told lives very near
yours truly in Schwenksville.
Without a shadow's kiss
How blooms a hidden rose?
Without a storm's embrace
How does an oak repose?
In Twilight's waltz, secrets unroll
the mystery it bestows.
Yet in its gently budding leaves
tales of resilience compose.
How should I yearn to climb
I lack the precipice's call?
Cragged visions of distant peaks and
fallow mind
a darkened silent beckon enthrall.
Oh, to forge within,
Oh, why, doubt cloaks my inner child.
In solitude's chains
I hear the introspective thrall.
Yet, tremors are in my soul
and yet a lonely seed begins to climb
A combination of growth
harmonizing with each chime.
Nourished by tears that sow
the fertile sands of time.
My garden of emotions still hints
at a poet’s
paradisiacal paradigm.
Suddenly, a sunlit coast where dreams
unfurl in storms
A canvas painted by aspirations
that gently adorn.
With hopeful brushstrokes
life-captivating stories that plume.
A gallery of memories
a child’s kaleidoscope.
Once upon a solitary,
darkened
locked room.
Perhaps a gardener’s gentle hand
can stir the fallow ground
Fertilizing roots to depths
where true potential
once lost - begged to be found.
A dawn’s soft breath a gentle lure
perhaps to coax my dormant leaves unbound
Awakening possibilities in the quiet
yet, now fertile ground.
In stillness my thoughts emerge
unseen, a quiet vow,
An introspective voyage
on the sea of here and now.
My diamonds form from tears
not battles' echoing crown
I am a jewel of resilience
forged in the soul's darkest hour.
Death
Words rip through the night sky
They conspire to tear a hole through reality
A reality created in your eyes
Taped tightly to your mouth is a bill of lies
That you have yet to unroll
And it's constricting your ability to breathe
Like a dying bumble bee, your stinger is useless
And as such your threats often fall flat
As flat as the heart buried deep in the ground
Your eyes cause lightning flashes in my mirror
And the sparks cause my hair to stand on end
It's time I took the scissors and shredded your beliefs
So many times I have been expected to bow to you
To take a bow has been the song of my entire life
Faltering to the commands of the many Gods and Goddesses
And now here I stand with a green belt of insanity
Ready to beat the lackluster starlight from your eyes
Ready to watch them flicker and then slowly die
Your words ripped through my night sky
They conspired to tear a hole through my reality
A reality I created in your eyes
I taped a bill of lies tightly to your mouth
One that I have yet to unroll
And it's constricting my ability to breathe
I justify the reasons for my unintended assassination
With the cookie crumbs that litter the far reaches of space
Filtered through memories of a lifetime of torment
It will not be long now before your statue explodes
Sending shards flying over the entirety of life's greatest gift
This gift is what you unwrapped- Death
And now with a stick of dynomite I give you one last smile
One last smile to fill the confines of your prison cell mind
Which has grown frail and decrepit
Tears filter through my emotional machine belt
And slowly fall into a wasteland where they cease to exist
I turn and the butterflies erupt from your heart
The explosion blinds my eyes briefly
And yet I feel more pure than I ever did before
Death is the gift I give to you
Alas oh how grave and horrendous misfortune...
Relapse written all over whole
fudge besmirched countenance
American as apple pie garden variety troll
tell tale evidence eats away
at me heart and soul
argh so much for new year's resolution
straight and true healthy eating goal.
Lofty ambition to attain once upon time
coveted, prized, and
treasured toothpick physique,
no not necessarily becoming
thin as anorexic pencil necked geek
scores of years ago,
when yours truly resembled
quiet as mouse phantasmagorical
disembodied prepubescent freak
surreally bobbing long Battle Creek.
Morphological body distortion bid me
to allow, enable, and provide suicidal
grimly reaped tally ho
with feebly uttered see yawl
back in the day circa approximately
my thirteenth circuit round the sun,
I sought to disappear into cellular vacuole
formerly carefree boy
his loose higglety-pigglety
hogtied psyche psychological,
(not in yeast wryly bred) did unroll
severely psychological afflicted son
taxed his mama and papa where
somber appalling death knell
deathly silent lugubriously reverberated
figurative emotional bell toll,
Matthew Scott starved yet hungered
for sustenance of body, mind and soul.
Pact nearly signed, sealed,
and delivered signaling demise
(mine) unwittingly inflicting horrific guise
kickstarting pinteresting repercussions no lies
lifetime developmental delay no surprize
even now this aging baby boomer tries
to shake off pervasive thought process unwise
fending off punishing
self destructive reflexive urge
after experiencing wages
of culinary sin where surge
impossible mission just desserts to purge
thus sink dentures into sweet treat
taste buds relishing joie de vivre emerge
(think chocolate fudge) flashes me memory
prior lovely skull and crossbones
nearly acknowledged funereal dirge.
24/12
24/12 at age 5
Christmas Eve by age five,
an eve of my parents’ plan.
In glittering dress so naïve,
kisses from kith and kin rain.
back home, my wish list in my stockings,
through chimney Santa Claus to come,
good boy Jenish went to sleep singing,
“silent night, holy night, all is calm, Santa, you come”.
24/12 at age 18
Christmas Eve by age eighteen
ultimate fun, a great sense in teen.
*** ,booze,from evening five ten.
my friends, I ,crack fire works by all den
in richest dress, bothering others least.
In Church “impressing: our goal” silently
for bad boy Jenish, no Santa his eve .no gift.
Slept,Know not when gently
24/12 at age 27
Christmas Eve by age twenty seven
Me and my wife. Alone we were.
a silk saree for her, beauty! Divine!
my dress ,all her choice, I wore.
“her choice” made me a Gentleman,
for my wife, in-laws and their big family.
My wife tried crackers,great is my woman.
atom bombs, hydrogen bombs, rockets no silly.
her courage instilled great confidence in me.
all bombs cracked noisily. Stood fearless my Victoria!
My darling by my side, I would dare the sky for we.
This time, I believed Santa would gift me and Victoria
for, jenish and victoria, the good boy and girl.
My sweet heart wrote a wish list to Santa
I pretended as if I sleep, once she slept I whirled
to unroll the list written for Santa,
“Santa, pray for me and Jenish.
We need another Jenish and another Victoria”.
I saw a great woman in her. Slept peacefully Jenish.
I dream the kids of my Cinderella,Victoria.
rest for same contest next year………….
Started writing by 20-11-2013.
completed by 26-11-2013 by Jenish Soosai Anthony
for Poet. Debbie Guzzi‘s contest “Happy Holidays”.
Hidden Beneath the Rainbow
Guatemalan villages have rainbows of dreams.
Magical thought whereupon each soul gleams.
Locked by a culture engraved on the soul.
Harvests where births’ golden customs unroll.
Living antiquated amid pompous brochures
Sleeping upon mats on plank beds or hut floors.
Boys and girls may not date or co-mingle.
Marriages arranged without knowing lust’s tingle.
In homes of adobe an empire is stayed.
Within those four walls, the future is laid.
Bounded by mountains and winding footpaths
Encroached by the world, walking different paths.
Families stay warm around a hearth of three stones,
Braving the simple life without moans and groans.
Stunning people clad in colorful handmade clothes.
The earth is their friend, their skills, and maestros.
Milling their coffee, chili peppers, and corn.
Homegrown products produced feed these freeborn.
Harvests of sweat and self-satisfaction
Hand worked acres and strength still in fashion.
Hidden near volcanoes; tucked in God's hands.
Generations of peoples have loved on those lands.
Glowing beauty shines beneath heat and straw hats.
Faces aglow, tourists hoping for chats.
Gleaming simplicity knows modernization's foes.
That exploited attraction where vacationers go.
Escaping the fast pace and the greediness flow.
San Pedro la Laguna, hidden beneath the rainbow –
© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
REFERENCES: http://www.artemaya.com/artist_life_bp.html
http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/05-12/a-taste-of-tranquility-life-on-the-shores-of-lake-atitlan-san-pedro-la-
laguna-guatemala.html
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS LAM HSI ANDRESS
(Chinese, Vietnamese, French, German, Italian, Russian and Lithuanian...
'Three-DNA' Tests Show!)(Currently...Six Feet and Two Inches Tall...on my
way to Six Feet and Four Inches Tall & 250 lbs., AND, eight-and-one-half inches
'Down-Under' THICK TOO!)
Long legs make NO SENSE...when the MUSIC is OFF BASE!
And when the RAT RACE...doesn't see RIGHT or WRONG!
'Cuz the RAT RACE...is THE WRONG RACE...!
If the WHIRL and TWIRL...is OFF BASE...!
GET ON BASE!
ROLLING TO THE LEFT...AND ROLLING TO THE RIGHT!
GET ON BASE!
Unroll that parchment...to see A DIFFER-ENT FACE!
DAMN THAT RAT RACE...get onto FIRST BASE!
ROLLING TO THE LEFT...AND ROLLING TO THE RIGHT!
GET ON BASE!
WEREN'T you meant to be FIRST PLACE!
DAMN THE RAT RACE!
WHIRL AND TWIRL...or go OFF BASE!
ANOTHER RAT RACE...tounges and LIES!
'NOTHER...F'ing...RAT RACE!
GREAT-NESS AND DESTIN-Y...F-THAT-RAT-RACE!
GREAT-NESS AND DESTIN-Y...F-THAT-RAT-RACE!
ROLLING TO THE LEFT...AND ROLLING TO THE RIGHT!
GET ON BASE!
PITCHED-RIGHT...DOWN-AND-OUT...KNEE-TO-HEEL!
PETAL-TO-THE-METAL...DOWN-'N'-DIRTY-'N-HOT!
TOO-HOT-FOR-YOU...TO-HANDLE!
I'M-TOO-HOT...FOR-YOU-TO-HANDLE!
PITCHED-RIGHT...DOWN-AND-OUT...KNEE-TO-HEEL!
PETAL-TO-THE-METAL...DOWN-'N-DIRTY-'N-HOT!
TOO-HOT-FOR-YOU...TO-HANDLE!
I'M-TOO-HOT...FOR-YOU-TO-HANDLE!
It's My Flight...and Crystalean Visors...Bronze to Blue!
My Flight...and Crystalean Visors...Bronze to Blue!
PITCH IT RIGHT!
PITCH IT RIGHT!
REGAL ROYAL LOYAL LOVE
Your royal regal entrance in my budding youth
placed me on peak of heaven.
My pearly passion plunged in your pellucid heart.
My ardent ardor shimmered, glimmered in your placid glance.
Seed of amour sprouted on promising seedling.
Twin tender leaves of emerald emotion
trembled in divine devotion.
Ripples of charm rose on rosy romantic relation.
Dreamy days of quiescent thirst danced delight on splendor.
But flow of life did not merge in unison
Yet we are inseparable satiated souls.
Both of us know very well: So! No, farewell.
Now in senile decay,
hollow heart to follow shadow of sweet memories.
through lattice of reminiscences.
Scroll of bygone days to unroll, unfolding loyal ethereal bond.
I swim and sink in reverie.
05/11/20
Second Place
'Regal Royal Relationships' Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Third Place
'Your Best Free Verse 2020 ' Contest by John Hamilton
I never knew that love was like this.
I thought that love was showers and streams of happy meetings and good intentions,
But you show me that love is an ocean.
And it is as if you have unleashed that ocean to pour over me, overtaking me with its weight.
YOUR love is heavy.
It covers me.
It suspends me.
It moves me.
And that same overwhelming love that rushes over me and envelopes me, holds me tenderly.
The same love that pools around me, stretches farther than I can see
Into a horizon that meets both sunrises and sunsets.
It unfolds like waves unroll themselves on the shore.
It is as familiar to me as my own hand and as new as the wonder of moonlight on the sea.
It is both brand new and as constant as an old friend.
I forgot that you were my best friend.
Even still, the swell of your ocean, the rising tide of your affection
Reaches out to me on the sand and it remembers me well.
Your love knows me and has waited all these years to sweep me up again.
I do not know how to resist it.
I can only surrender to it as it breaks over me.
And I find myself loving the undertow, caught up in the billows of you.
So, here I am wanting to be pulled out farther, wanting to get lost in you, to sink into you.
For, you flood my reason.
You wash away my inhibition.
You invade the whole of me and it leaves me wanting more of you.
Form: