Long Venture Poems
Long Venture Poems. Below are the most popular long Venture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Venture poems by poem length and keyword.
Another lost noon,
engraved as unforgettable
memoirs within my mind,
I’m rethinking of rewriting
and rewinding revoked
reflections of a love rekindled.
My eager heart
is now hanging in the void,
yearning to swirl
through desert dunes
to exhale one more
dandelion dream
in the same air as you,
where quill and paper
were no longer needed.
For times that I
was inking
meaningless phrases,
were buried
deep down under,
as you were softly
scribbling dewy verses
of desires upon
my desolated skin,
rescuing darkness
with starving sincerity,
illuminating and hydrating
my urges with
prolific praising,
moulding every
imperfection of mine
into an abstract art,
naming them
with prismatic gems
on the night of confession,
beneath a sky full of stars
that were burning.
I’m now left with no
adjectives to alliterate,
how this sunflower
soul’s cry bloomed
within your
healing embrace,
where hailing
emotions were eased;
I knew then,
that’s where
I’ve for so long
wanted to belong.
The whirling gusts of
greedy gardenias
may say
roses aren’t fragrant,
but why am I yearning
to be the Juliet rose
in your graceful garden,
where petals glow
like rainbow-hued stardust,
I’m on a virtual venture,
wishing I had
Aladdin’s vintage lamp;
to grant me my
dose of you and I.
If only I could ride
above Arabian valleys;
on an amethyst
magic carpet,
stitched with
crystalline crescent sequins.
If only you could feel,
I’ve been dreaming
of daisy meadows
and dahlia lawns,
where memories
are fatal,
pushing me into a
labyrinth of
mourning magnolias,
searching for
balanced brightness,
although you
still wander
through a
foreign land~
faraway from “us”.
I hear your wings
adorned with
orchestric ornaments
ascending into
the celestial fields,
leaving me in an
astral connection,
with a jar of memories,
where I still keep
falling for you,
time and time again,
as you are my
beginning and ending,
the amorous poet
that wouldn’t
take love for granted~
like the pirates of
this heart-shaped odyssey.
And I shall forever be reliving
the fabulous February,
spent in your golden presence;
although, days together
were somewhat short
and nights were long,
we will rephrase this romance
relentlessly
into an everlasting love story.
When the wood to the fire that fuels us runs out and our flame flickers within, we can fully rely on God’s illuminating lantern that can be seen through all forms of darkness, confusion, and has the everlasting flame of hope and a wick that never runs short. Stay in the light.
Hope is like a flame that never gives up its brightness or shine. Some days the ugly side of life opens its mouth wide and spews troublesome wind that howls and screams, trying to snuff out that flame. Other days the still flame stands alone and just wants to be found so that it may give you comfort and relief, but is often overlooked. Nerveless the flame shines on.
Hope is the security that you attain in life so you can have reassurance within you that you will not be overtaken by adversities. It is a free gift of precious armor constructed in Heaven by the finest of angels. The armor was melted down into shape, measured perfectly, and given to you to wear for all of this life like an inflated vest that keeps your head above the violent waves that this life can try to drown you in.
Hope is the promise of rain when the sky is full of storm clouds. Hope is in the night when you’re praying for morning to come quicker. Hope is in the young and the old. Hope is for the hopeless. Hope is a robe of love that is a one size fits all. Hope will find you before you seek it out. Hope offers itself to you like a secure shelter to take refuge in like being in the middle of a relentless storm. Hope always has its arms wide open for you. Take a step closer and embrace hope in an everlasting bond.
Hope will make you put one foot in front of the other to the point where your left foot will be jealous that your right foot is taking a step ahead and then your right foot will be jealous about your left foot going forward until that gentle walk in the light becomes to be a joyful and exciting sprint to the next part of life.
Dear Lord,
Lead us to stable ground and refuge for our aching hearts to rest and heal.
Help us not to overlook the hope that You offer.
We venture to far places in this life God.
We know that You are before us so that we may follow You in Your loving foot steps.
God, You love everyone and anyone.
For Your love is infinite and gentle.
Jesus Christ, blow Your powerful wind our way so our sails can catch the current and lead us to smoother sailing. Amen.
Form:
We were extremely delighted when we picked up the keys to our brand new house and starting at the front door, we made slow anticipative steps desirous of testing the key making sure it was correctly made. But to our utter surprise, it did not fit in the keyhole, and we were left outside our new house like house-citing strangers admiring all the landscape and beautifully designed exterior. Although my wife was calm and patient, I was steaming hot in the dead of winter sending out smoke signals both from heat and cold with unspeakable emotions which were overwhelmingly joyous just seconds before. What now and what was I suppose to do? How does one go from 'cloud nine' to free-fall far below the clouds in milliseconds? Not only did the key not fit, but I wondered if there might be some other surprises waiting for us on the inside. Although I pretended to be at ease, my wife was reading the 'waves of intolerance' forming inside of me. My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a quick peek through the key hole never imagining that I would observe such disappointing craftmanship.
That peek filled my emotional cup to overflowing and left me angrier, devastated, frustrated, most utterly confused, and my imagination grew more bewildered when I considered what it must really look like beyond the peek hole. This entire venture of home building was supposed to fulfill our quest and life-long dream of a brand new home, but it appeared that our dream was rapidly turning into the greatest nightmare by the aid of a peek hole. We wondered what revelations lie behind curtain number three or the fourth peel of the banana.
My wife suggested we get another peek from the back, and you guessed it, "The beat goes on". In our view from the front peek hole, we only looked toward the walls and ceilings, but instinctively my wife looked down toward the floors and the nightmare grew bigger. My already painful headache took on 'jet propulsion speed with the beat of the wildest rock band. Water was every where because the furnace had been left off causing the pipes to freeze and brake. Smiles and peace were nowhere to be found as my lovely wife began to cry. The beat goes on but .......
12312018PoSoupContest, Slap The Muse And Turn It Loose, John Lawless *Fictitious Narrative
It’s okay to be nervous
But there’s no need to fight
When colors flow inside of shapes
You have taken flight
Directions will be pointed
But you’re flying much too high
Caterpillars may inhale smoke
But eat plants to Butterfly
Put that in your pocket
It’s still too soon to see
Calm child, your only worry now
Is how to Drink More Tea
It is the glue that binds us all
Like a Milky Way of toads
Not all venoms taste so sweet
Not all Big Bangs explode
For this place holds a balance
Despite its ever scattering mess
The brightest stars super nova
Within their ego deaths
The implosion of undertow left
Is so dense that it is black
Inside of it light cannot escape
And that’s your beacon back
Now we’ve reached a point
And would you look at that
You’re looking more and more like me
And I a Cheshire Cat
You’re getting so much bigger
And the hang of this place
You’ve eaten the right mushroom pieces
And now you want to race
But before you venture off
And go be on your own
I must forewarn not all that live here
Want this fabric sewn
See while this place’s purpose
Remains to figure out one’s toll
There exist a house of cards
That aims to take control
And if they knew the things I’ve told you
Already I’d be dead
I can still hear the shriek of her voice
Screaming “Off with his head!”
They torture us inside the courtyard
For being who we are
For contemplating philosophy
And expanding minds too far
They’ve found a way to take our treats
And replace them with their tarts
They are boy and girl, but not like us...
The king and queen of hearts
The famous duo and powerful friends
Only want control
You’ll find them at the very bottom
Where demons infect your soul
See, the tarts they manufacture
Once you try you cannot stop
White coated hares recommend them
While their masters sit on top
Once you’ve tasted just a few
For an even smaller amount of time
You can no longer live without them
No matter how many times you try
And once you’re on their hooks
They take away your life
Drug to the courtyard to be judged
More pain, agony, and strife
But it’s at this point you should realize
Before you hear her shout
That I warned you of all this
And have told you the way out
Just reach deep in your pocket
If the situation becomes grotesque
And if you figure it out you’ll know
Why a raven is like a writing desk
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
Loneliness is not what I’m looking forward to
Distress was not part of my gladness, so true
Oceanic, ominous waves bring me down sometimes, darling so free
Tension-packed, traumatic nervousness gives me moments of mere bravery
Oceanic, ominous waves swallow me whole and silence takes its toll substantially,
Eventually washing away the jubilance that blooms like the sun of the afternoon
Gladness and God’s grace makes me flutter away and sway away oh so beautifully
Like a suave butterfly out of a vicacious cocoon that flies in the month of June
Love from above is essential and beneficial to my heart of cold stone
I’m like a resonating, dynamic dove in the sky, then captivated in descending disheartenment
I rove in fields of blues and grays - the ominous waves, alone,
Have scared me off and made my optimism die and now, I am facing dire discouragement
Emotionally inclined and woeful waters spill out from my oceanic eyes
Getting rid of the guilty conscience and fighting back lust and lies
Crimson rain, like waterfalls, collide from the wounds of my heart’s desire
I want to be as pure as amber-colored auras around the rather dazzling fire
I’m as freezing hot as fire below the waters of wistfulness
I want to boil up your wondrous waves of blissfulness
I don’t want to look back at the ominous waves of fearful fretfulness
I don’t want to backtrack the sorrow from within you and I regardless
Majestic, mesmerizing movement of the sparkling sea moves us for an eternity
It brings me benevolent bliss and leaves the gloomy waves envious of our serenity
I just don’t want to be humiliated by hatred and its horrendous thunderstorm
Instead, let me feel the monsoons of meandering magnificence unfold and keep my kindred spirits warm
Evaporate the oceanic, ominous waves from tearing us apart -
Drown not my hopes and joys of my youth from my heart; give me a reason to venture on my own
We are a ship of vital vigilance and shimmering might from the start
I am much like a seashore-bound shipwreck, once wandering through the abyssal waters all alone
Ascending awesomely like the exuberant, extraterrestrial mountains
Oceanic, ominous waves try to break me into shards of empty misery,
Expressing my solitude’s serene solace through my poetic words
Loneliness is not what I’m looking forward to, but to release it like birds
You took off for Christmas and New Years Eve, and you came back high and chirpy with a rosy face looking like daisy blended with charming lips and an attitude that could pull me off the cliff. I saw you sitting there, acting as if you don’t care, you are so obsessed with the show and I have no other place to go but to sit and watch you and try to get a sensible clue from you. But the hours slip by quickly and the show ended in a jiffy leaving me high and dry with a new ambition waving in the sky.
Suddenly everything around me become obsolete but hopes catapult me to my feet, there was nothing to hold to and a sudden emptiness that I have been fighting for weeks captivate my body. I took a walk up the street hoping to find someone to lay it on, but no one was there, but the cars driving along the street they were just few but they appears to be many.
I walked into the grocery store and stood behind the door so as not to distract the customers, the shopkeeper saw me and wave to me. She forced a smile and went around the back and left me standing there looking in despair as the harshness of life has taken its tolls in the environment and everyone was paying the price.
I felt the tears springing up in my eye and suddenly I started to cry. I tried desperately to hold back the tears so as not to embarrass myself on the spot and so I suppressed the emotion. My body took on a different figure and I could feel all my joints getting stiff and so I clenched my fist and stood silently behind the door and I could hear my own heart beat racing towards the shore and my body moving to an unfamiliar rhythm. The customers come and go staring at me with budging eyes, some had no purpose there they only wanted to look at me.
I kept squeezing the tears inside hoping someone could understand how I feel and touch the pain in me. But my spirit kept draining and my heart continue to ache. I bid the shopkeeper goodbye and venture out the door stumbling on the brumby side walk until I was able to hold my grounds. I walked slowly along the path and each step that I take I could hear your voice shaking and telling me to go. I like watching the show because that’s the only time I can be with you. My hands are stiff my heart is pounding and my soul is waiting for you. Just one more day and I will board the plane and go away from this wretched place.
Times were hard – that is what they said
When they told me about their early years -
before I was there, their son
Filled with the hunger of youth, the lust
For life, passion – the truth
Times were not easy – and I could tell
Life had been a journey
Through fears, tears and years
Between rocks and hard places, through
Darkness and dread, doubts
That left them with questions
And uncertainty that bled through the
Joy that longed to give them hope
Wipe the slate clean, so they might see
What love reveals when it stills
The beating of heart who is living
With a past that is so unforgiving
Times were hard – and their souls bled
From the wounds they’d acquired
Damage that couldn’t be settled
With bandages or dressings that might
Seem like the thing to do
When pain erases all the good
Times were hard – but they never let go
The blessings that comforted, the ones
That soothed and uplifted,
Blessings of love that came from believing
Despite the worries that erases hope
Despite the struggles that bring mistrust
Despite all the differences that came along
To destroy their faith, their joy, their peace
They found a way to believe in their hearts
That His love would see them through
Cleaning the slate so that they could find
The beautiful secreted
Beneath the darkest of nights
Times might have been hard, but they knew
With love, they could travel
This world with one assurance –
Light and love comes alive inside those
Who know that the struggle
Is actually a blessing in disguise
Because when He decides to erase the pain,
Hearts have so much to gain –
As He wipes away the past, there is a promise
That, with time – these will only become
Memories of hard times, memories
That assure hearts – they can survive
They have what it takes to face their hurt
And, despite the damage, venture
Into the future with assurance that,
With love – anything is possible,
And everything, surely, will be made good again
He cleans the slate every morning
When we wake to the new dawn
Lift our eyes to the fresh thoughts
Delight in the beauty of our hopes
He is love and as long as we live, we know
His love is the truth that reassures
In spite of hard times, there is so much good!
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Blank Slate
February 7, 2023
In the heart of the forest, where shadows creep,
Where whispers of darkness bind all in sleep,
A tale unfolds, of a much-feared witch,
With eyes like the void and a malevolent twitch.
By the edge of the village, where children dare not play,
The elders recall what the old tomes say:
"To catch a witch, you must be brave,
And venture where the lost souls wave."
Gather 'round, young hearts of night,
With flickering candles that hold back the fright,
Listen closely to the words that bind,
For the witch, dear friends, is not far behind.
First, find a mirror, cracked and worn,
Reflects all your fears, where shadows are born.
At midnight's stroke, let your courage ignite,
For it's said she appears, in the pale silver light.
Mix salt with the ashes from last summer's fire,
Sprinkle it gently, let courage inspire.
For witches are drawn by the scent of despair,
But salt binds the spirits, keeps evil aware.
Next, weave a wreath of thorny vines,
Crimson and tangled, with signs of the times.
Place it upon your door with care,
For only the foolish would dare to compare.
Gather some friends, with hearts full of thrill,
For the witch feasts on fear, on dread, and on chill.
Hold hands in a circle, chant low and slow,
"Come forth from the darkness, oh spirit of woe."
If the air turns thick, if the shadows conspire,
If the howl of the wind begins to grow higher,
Know that she's coming, you'll sense her near,
With a laugh that could chill even the bravest of deer.
But do not be frightened, stand firm, stand tall,
For you’ve called her forth, now heed to the call.
With courage entwined and a dappled fright,
Face the dark force with all of your might.
And if you should glimpse her, with warts and with claws,
With a grin sharp as knives and a rancid breath’s jaws,
Do not look away, hold your gaze steady and true,
For witches can vanish, if they see fear in you.
As dawn paints the sky with a whisper of gold,
Wrap her in silver, let her secrets unfold.
In shadows she lingers, but power you'll find,
For wits and the brave can leave her behind.
So, heed this advice, young hearts of the night,
For the witch is a puzzle wrapped tight in your fright.
With a mixture of courage and wisdom so bright,
You'll catch her but remember: never leave out the light.
I am in the Doctors Waiting Room
Waiting for my name to appear on the screen
I’ve been here for twenty minutes
Oh how much longer before I am seen
It’s embarrassing enough for me
Without the whole waiting room learning
That every time I use the loo
My pee has started burning
I sense the receptionist is highly amused
Though she tries to hide the fact
Then proclaims at the top of her voice
“Sounds like an infection in your urinary tract”
I can see all eyes upon me
As I go to take a seat
So I make my way towards it
While looking down at my feet
The TV on the wall blares out
An advert about a man called Giles
Informing you what measures to take
If you’re diagnosed with piles
There is an air of misery
And impending doom
Everyone thinking of all the flu viruses
Floating around the room
The lady sitting next to me
Stands up and shouts “outrageous!
If I have to wait much longer
I’ll catch something contagious”
A small boy is building with plastic bricks
Sat cross-legged on his own
While mum totally ignores him
Too busy on her mobile phone
I point out to her
A large poster on the wall
‘No mobile phones ever'!
She says “I’m talking to my boyfriend Paul”
There’s a sudden buzz of excitement
As a name appears on the screen
It’s of someone who'd got tired of waiting
They went home at two fifteen
There is the distinct harmonic sound
Of sniffing, coughing and wheezing
With an equal measure
Of moaning, groaning and sneezing
A sudden smell of disinfectant
Makes me catch my breath
My mother always said the waiting room
Had a distinct smell of death
My nose begins to run
And I really must take issue
With the man who stole my seat
When I got up to grab a tissue
My bladder's feeling full
I should have gone before i came
I daren't go to the loo
Because knowing my luck, they'll call my name
I really need to go
And decide to take the plunge
So I start upon my trip
Towards the toilet door I lunge
Safe inside the toilet
I am suddenly appalled
When I hear the tannoy whistle
And my name is being called
I pull myself together
And venture from the loo
It appears I’ve missed my turn
Someone took my place, I don’t know who
I approach the receptionist
And say “I really had to pee”
She says “Come back tomorrow,
Your appointment is ten past three”.