Long Upon Poems
Long Upon Poems. Below are the most popular long Upon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Upon poems by poem length and keyword.
There was once a woman— not of vice,
Nice, she’d warm lonely beds for a price;
A poet hired her once...
He says, not for romance,
Get inspired, and no thanks, that'd suffice.
Poets pine for a muse,
Think, muse is of great use.
Still, of all by such a frosty ice?
The poet perhaps felt:
Ice, sooner than late melt!
______________________________________________________
What a job, getting into cold, lonely beds! An enterprising Russian woman (Victoria Ivachyova, 21) hit upon a profession— warming beds for a price at £65 per night (no physical contact). She was inspired by a book wherein a poet paid a female typist to warm his bed. It did help him regain his writing inspiration. Well, she must be a woman of ice, as this ditty feels.
Happenings | 03.02.2017 |
I sought a theme but it was in vain . . .
so, I let my MUSE take me by the hand to this place
that I will tell you about with a s i g h -
oh heart, oh troubled, shattered heart-
I recall the sweet girl, who was me in yesterdays
we lived in a beautiful Victorian house on a shady street
and it was full of love every single day
but then . . .
my happiness was d r o w n e d in reality-
oh dripping,
dripping,
dripping
death, one by one
my beloved left upon a fading gleam
to dwell with the birds and their sleepy songs
echoing among the dark and deep green and shadows
of the rows and rows of tombs-
and I was left to dream . . .
and dream of memories and loving scenes
locked in the corridors of my mind behind a wall, that
I built one brick at a time until it is a MASSIVE fortress . . .
will I accept my slow d e c a y or rise in pride
and break down this wall of mine
remove my mask of sorrow
I stagger terrified . . .
my heart beating wildly in my chest
then suddenly my wings unfold
in feathery glory . . . .
oh, here I am-
______________________
May 30, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/oh, here I am
Copyright Protected, ID 17-1151-595-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest,Your Choice (7)
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Hope speaks “In the beginning… “ i believe
that every tittle, cross, dot, word is light.
The narrow path - he leads us by the hand.
He did not leave us to misunderstand.
I believe he chose Abraham with his
descendant yield - multitudinous stars.
Many were flawed, as man has many sins.
The line of David, too, from which came Christ.
I believe that he arrived right on time,
new born in Bethlehem, brought to Egypt,
settled in Nazareth - and nothing good
comes out of Nazareth, but someone did!
I believe that he chose twelve men to teach
and reach the lost, but one would be replaced.
Judas, indeed, was lost, but never saved.
He did betray the Son of God with kiss.
I believe Christ suffered and died upon
a curs-ed cross then rose again from grave,
and i believe he was the sacrifice
for the sin of man - the unblemished lamb.
Because of Christ, we can be born again!
And I believe many saw him alive
he walked and talked and ate with them, and then
they saw him rise into the clouds. He left
mankind a promise to return once more.
And I believe his Spirit lives with us
to reach the lost. As tongues of fire rain down
and teach all men, show compassion, and grace.
I believe - Father, Son and Spirit - One!
At end of holy book, he proclaims this:
“Yes, I am coming soon.” and then he says,
Amen! Come Lord Jesus! - and I believe.
I wait for Christ - His open arms of life.
3/10/2023
Contest: B Forms and Words/Believe
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Turning and dipping in graceful, acrobatic flight,
my spirit soars against a sky brilliantly blue;
from these heights, I view life in its completeness,
its complex boundaries and limitations sharply defined.
I maintain my composure, calm and unruffled by the storms . . .
I sail above the strife where the sun spreads warmth upon my wings.
From this lofty perspective, I watch over my dearest ones.
This clear air provides treasures of wisdom, beauties like the facets of precious jewels,
sparkling with the vibrance that makes joy complete;
I glean and feed them to my little ones, giving them nutrients to enrich their minds.
Home is my central focus.
I learn and implement all that I can to make my nest comfortable and complete,
a rich environment for growth.
Do not intrude; I protect what is mine.
© May 11, 2015, Faye Lanham Gibson
My mom and dad had an effective parenting technique…
They were never too strict…unfair…or mean…
They were constantly reminding me how our family tree
is not deciduous…but an evergreen.
How each year our tree grows taller…
How I am but one branch upon that tree.
How all I have to do is look up…
so see my ancestors watching over me.
Yes, it’s been quite easy finding meaning and balance…
keeping my life in sync.
because before I say or do anything
I look up…then ask my self…what would my ancestors think?
I’ve had this wonderful feeling all my life…that I’ve never been alone.
It’s brought me peace and happiness…no matter how old I’ve grown
My ancestors have always been with me ever since I was a little boy
They’ve shared in all may sadness…they’ve participated in all my joy.
In everything I do I try to honor those who came before me…
It is my hope I’ve given my ancestors reasons to adore me….
And I like to think I’ll be ready…when it’s my turn…
when it comes time or me…
to join my ancestors as we watch over
the newest branches growing on our family tree..
Muffled voices in clouded corridors,
where legends mold the unseen,
drifting through thoughts like specters
bestowing authority upon the mysterious.
In politics, a performance:
marionettes on a dream-filled platform,
ballots cast for favor
lies woven with words
strands of optimism and dread
woven in imperceptible restraints.
Religion, with its narratives,
deities and monsters depicted in faith
comfort sought in fables
significance discovered in customs,
fleeting peace in their presence
prayers ascending, vapors in thin air.
Daily rituals of superstition
a black cat crosses the path, a broken mirror
navigating through symbols
interpreting with outdated understandings,
guided by obscure beliefs
apprehensive of uncertainties.
What if we dared to look behind the curtain
to view the myths we hold;
What secrets lie beyond?
Classical infusion, Beethoven’s “ode to joy”
playing on blaring audiophile speakers annoy
purposely looped to destroy vagrants with electronic music
blends of subversive elements and anxious acoustic
the solution to loitering the bodega doo dropping
spicy Shiitake broth smelling pissy store front,
jaded daily stunt, at midnight wino corks popping
abruptly segway into a film from one music scene
to a melting hallway, a lipstick alley with animate occupants
disconnected unmoored, appearing eerie and dormant
fluorescent lights unleashing a hum buzz in duress
hissing sizzling hornets’ nest of unsettling unrest
illogical levels of unease, an iniquitous den
such madcap absurdity is beyond my ken
not a shack, mall, nor a Holiday Inn,
a queasy Quasi-Moto mood which lies within
backrooms filled in with discarded filets
of fishy maceral that have no place,
frolicking pixella's in a glossy abyss of liminal space
plump puce brushed lips affixed
swollen browns and purple mixed
deep maroon and dusky rose,
make-up art is what they pose
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
Crescent shaped moon portions mounted in pseudo walls
mounted upon the glare in unpleasing patterned halls
side by side quagmired half discs dawning a contorted face
in a half dazed-half-moon crest loon’s invisible phase
not unconscious but in some in-between state
bored while in transition and abandoned as they await
whimsical moldings who see me try not to take a peek
an exit to this madness is what I and they seek
maybe re-evaluate my sleep number, for gravity defying rest
What insight imports this encounter and what test?
what it means for a doomed generation Xer or baby boomer,
tacked in stucco, Silly Putty it seems, in a warped sense of humor
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
For Timothy Lee
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
Let me nestle close upon your shoulder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Sweetness, as our fingers now interlace
I feel your kisses grow fiercely bolder.
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
My Valentine, my eyes touch your sweet face.
I submit my heart to you as holder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Your true love is mine by Heaven’s good grace.
Our gold love glows more as we grow older.
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
You are my every day, my secure base,
And I, your soft committed beholder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Valentine, I cherish our loving pace.
~ My heart is your clay and you, its molder.
~ Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
~ Being next to you is my perfect place.
Poetry garden, rapidly growing sanctuary
Rainbows blooms and foliage started,
Fairies nurturing nature with their magical peace
Enter spring, summer, fall, winter,
and season’s only temporary fix for a reason
Dreams shaped themes formed that never cease,
expression of feelings and ideas upon a lifetime
Castle raise brick by brick,
rising days, slumber nights,
lovers nestle frozen in time
Lullabies sung from bedtime stories,
smiles of happiness, and tears of sorrow
Dandelion fluff scatters by the slightest breeze;
Ocean’s breathe music of lapping waves,
streams and rivers flow as salmon run
Rhythm, Rhymes, harmony, verses unravel
Poetry garden, a family dwelling on the beauty of life
10/23/2016
Community Builders Free for All Tribute - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
A tribute to all the poets that or constantly inspiring,
constantly capture a moment Thank you
No! It is not a tragedy of love unfulfilled! Let us see why ...
Upon kundalini reaching the crown, it encounters a narrow orifice
A stream divine and subtle flowing through it into the sky
Kundalini must die, dissolving in the current, spake a divine voice!
By now we have realised that we ourselves are the energy
Initially asleep, inert and sedentary
Yet wishing to become infinity
Thus singularity calling duality beaming us back to unity
Upon choosing death over dishonour we plunge into the current
Dissolving our identity in totality
Form dissolved yet strangely we remain aware and cognisant
Entering into space in wholeness and interconnectivity
Within the vibrant void of oneness awareness
We are the wholeness of Absoluteness with love our attire
We be to become a co-creator in loving kindness
Yet centred in the spacial vastness we choose to retire
Back to form we sense a consciousness shift beginning
The colouration of love present as bubbling joy & empathy
Manifesting as a magnetic current within tingling
All energy centres resonating joy in harmony
It would seem that the journey has reached a conclusion
But as we know every ending is a new beginning
So as the hues divine transition to bliss and compassion
We cognise the enigmatic heart gently singing!
02-August-2020