Long Visibly Poems

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


The Escape Route

Down many of the coalmines in Yorkshire , Safety dictated that an alternative means of escape
had to be found just in case anything ever happened to the shafts that raised and lowered miners to their work.
This usually involved keeping a single route open underground to the next nearest colliery .


Old George waiting by the mineshaft 
Spitting his chewing tobacco juice 
Today with his apprentice 
They must survey the mines escape route . 

1000 yards underground  
In darkness as black as pitch 
They reach up to their helmets
Turning on the headlamp switch.

George prodding at the timbers 
That support the roof and sides
His apprentice grows more nervous
With every single stride .

A mile down the escape route 
The roof is seven feet high
They see a little fallen rock
but manage to squeeze by .

The roof is getting lower
George hears the scurrying of mice 
Brought down the mine in bales of hay
When pit ponies and the miners destiny were spliced.

The apprentice is visibly shaking 
but only one more mile to go 
When a piece of falling timber 
Dealt his torch battery a glancing blow.

George could see the boys panic
and as the leader of his team 
He reassured his apprentice
Then they shared the single beam .

Suddenly they hear a crack like thunder
Then the splintering of wood 
George pushes his apprentice 
but a fall of rock stands where George stood.

Young boy on his hands and knee's
Screaming Georges name
More terrified by the second 
When no answers came.

Now in total blackness 
He inhabits the world of the blind 
If he is to help his leader
The boy must use his senses and his mind .

The faintest hint of breezes
He feels on his face 
Air sucked down the mineshaft
Just might be his saving grace 

He crawls along the jagged floor 
Using his sense of touch 
Soon in the distance he hears machinery
A sound he has never loved so much .

He tastes the ever freshening air
Hope inside him grows
Then the tiniest speck of flickering light
His tears overflow. 

Help,  Help,  he's calling 
As the miners come into view
Two men want to hep him to the surface 
Burt he awaits his friends rescue.

Old George didn't make it 
He sacrificed himself to save the boy
Broken hearted the boy had a breakdown 
and had to leave the mines employ.

The boy became a father 
Then a wonderful granddad 
but he never tired of telling the story
of the best friend he ever had.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Six White Roses

The same striking man, the same lush, green land,			
cushioned and delighted her heart in sleep.					
Her romantic dream of senses was most grand				
unless repeated fears began their slow, dark creep;			
drowning and stabbing frights would often expand.		
She would then wake, shaken, and try to understand.		

This consistent dream had always just been.				
Each night, the familiar reel repeated					
with new chapters unfolding now and then.				
Six sweet, white roses were never deleted		
and repeatedly appeared at her dream’s end -			
always pure white of a love intense blend.

She touched the new, glossy travel brochure,			
ran her fingers along the pictured tree,				
reminding herself that she was quite sure				
it was the same tree her sleeping eyes did see.				
This tree of certain enchanting allure					
is what urged on her travel towards tomorrow's tour.					

**********************************************

The guide led her slowly to the charming tree.			
Its presence moved her into a faint-type sway.			
When her trance-like eyes finally broke free			
they took in surrounding nature’s breathtaking array,				
and paused at her dream recalled mound of clay		
where six, white roses lay in a love intense display.			

Visibly shaken, the guide sat her gently down.			
Sitting, too, he began sharing an ancient tale.			
“Centuries agone, the prince loved a poorly 
maiden from town.  Family, foes and doctrine bid 
this love to fail. They eloped, cloaked by soft darkness 
draped all around. He wore armor and his beauty wore 
her plain gown.”		

“They returned after six love-days of bliss.				
Only hours back 'fore his true love vanished.				
No sign, no clue, the prince sought all amiss				
and threatened the guilty would be banished.			
The prince finally found her in the sea’s mist
with stab wounds he would not ever dismiss.”		

“He buried his love and also a spell in this clearing.				
He left no marker but a white rose for each day			
he and his wife had shared perfect, loving, pairing.
So sure his spell would bring her near with love revered,		
he vowed to watch over her grave using spell's sway
and to join her within three moons after she appeared."	

The guide asked, “how much longer do you plan to stay?”		
She glowed, “I must linger at least three moons after today.”
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Sassy

She was alone in the pen at the end
visibly frighten
Shaking like a leaf
wanting reprieve
So young a volunteer stay by her side
If she could she would of cried
It was free adoption day
and the dogs knew they were on display
Barking loud and clear
someone take me out of here
But she so shy and scared
she seem to need so much love and care
The little dog spoke to my heart
so with her I did depart
Adopting her that day
she was bewilder and afraid
A friend  drove us home
I held her so precious to own
She cling to me so tight
Celeste her name seem right
Calm and peaceful and shy
With my two old boys would she survive
Finally at home we arrived

Ghengis waiting at the window was barking with joy
for his master was home such a happy boy
I placed her in a fence area and closed the screen door
I let my boys out and they were shocked and floored
What was this new dog and why is she here
I let them be together but the boys showed fear
She tried to sniff them but they ran away
I realized of her my old boys were afraid

I let her in the house and she began to run around
the scare little dog was nowhere to be found
Within five minutes she evolved from Celeste to Sassy girl
she was so overjoyed in her brand new world

I had to catch her and bathe and clean her good
Gave her a treat she was home understood
She ran and jumped for joy and with the boys tried to play
but each time the fat boys would run away
Now Kublia who wants to befriend every dog a stray
whenever they are at the fence between it they do play
They bark and run along it, sniff and wag their tails
but with little Sassy Kublia heads for the hills
And mighty little Ghengis with anger always on display
with his new sister Sassy he shys away
It was so wonderful for Sassy to come out of her shell
I thought it would be weeks employing all my skills

She slept with me that night laying next to my side
the boys fled under the bed stayed there to  hide
Sometimes she softly whimpers as the boys run away
It will take time before the old boys get comfortable enough to play
We were three bachelors living in our house alone
now we have our Sassy girl to make it a home
She is sweet and funny and has energy all day
Lively and cute she's in my heart to stay
My new big puppy is our Sassy girl
upside down she playfully has turned our world.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Lord God, You Are My Hope Upholder

June 6 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 78-82

Key Verse – Psalm 78:7 That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments.

LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY HOPE UPHOLDER
                                                               
Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
valuing my words of supplication
Thank You for vitalizing me with Your might to vanquish sin and temptation 
Very powerful are Your commands for my commission…
Voluntarily, I submit to You, the Author of my salvation.

Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
vindicating my soul from hell’s devouring 
Thank You for leading me with Your guidance along Your caring 
Very loving is Your pardon that cleanses me with Your nurturing…
Vocally, I praise You, my Saviour of deliverance-bearing.

Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
validating my satisfaction in Your fullness
Thank You for pouring unto me Your blessings of goodness 
Very bountiful are Your provisions for my wellness…
Visibly, I come to You, enjoying Your compassion’s greatness.

Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
verifying my motives against fleshly defilements 
Thank You for forgiving me of my confessed sin-entanglements 
Very strong is Your might that braces me against iniquity-engagements…
Victoriously, I cling to You as You enable my accomplishments.

Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
varying my challenges for my stirred-up trials 
Thank You for fortifying me to overcome hardships of personal denials 
Very timely are Your answers I can’t measure in several vials…
Vigilantly, I beseech You to empower me for my faith-portrayals.

Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
vouching my integrity by Your redemption-glow 
Thank You for imparting to me Your wisdom along instructions I must follow 
Very lawful is Your justice in defending me from deceits’ blow…
Valiantly, I serve You, my Almighty Sovereign from where my supplies flow.

Lord God, You are my hope Upholder, 
visiting my heart for my pleasant testimony 
Thank You for teaching me to walk along Your truth, whether sunny or rainy 
Very assertive are Your counsels that brace me up despite troubles so many…
Vibrantly, I seek You, meditating Your Word, sweeter than honey.

June 6, 2023
Form: Rhyme

Visceral Intervals

Romans 13:1 - “The authorities that exist have been established by God”… 

Though that seems more of a facade, long shot and a fraud from a world long gone
Since sin no longer seems fiction in this depiction of friction with biased predictions
An election... with no intention of protection for the derelict despite respective messages

Seems like these cycles are a hit-miss of plot twists and taut fists that obscure who God is 
But we make no connection that contention from our own predilection sows dissension
And without intervention comes resentment, we need spiritual direction 

But instead of resting in God’s embrace we attack others with a verbal mace 
while we brace our own heart for impact, still intact, rate of pace faster than light in space
We’re caught up in the race but instead should race to erase the rays of hate from our own race.

Why do we debate the debates as we relegate and castigate with hate, then demand a rebate
or hammer their manner like it’s grammar, then try to conjugate what they obfuscate 
Our minds are lost in space while propaganda confiscates our thoughts of late

Then traps them in relapse, perhaps inaction would produce the largest fraction of satisfaction
But our thoughts are funneled and fueled into to a brew of psychological stew 
so heated and cruel it boils over derision and division, it’s no wonder we have tunneled vision.

Then when the door unhinges, pops open, it’s rigged with bigoted dissonance, explosives
 that spring from an ocean filled with commotion from springs of offense overflowing 
because we dared to confused fact with opinion and reasoning with motive

America caught between a persona gargantuan and aroma of pantsuits and emails scandalous 
The purposes of service is not to deter with private servers or privates and perverts with backers
in reserve or greenbacks in reserves, we reserve the right to deserve more than this disservice

So when we venture into this realm of guesswork where conjecture is turned into  adventure
When the cyclical turns visibly unbiblical with violently physical intervals fueled by the visceral 
Instead of surrendering our heart’s rhapsody of magnitude into apathy and lassitude 

...let us pray for strength to maintain a God sustained attitude of positive aptitude


Inside the Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary

Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth 
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,

this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time

emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing 
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train

while kibitizing with longfellow 
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits, 
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie

tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and

leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century

tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly

analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,

worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor

revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven

soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath

to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy

of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Last Sigh-F

Father was strong, and there were only two emotions I remember.
One was the kind he portrayed when filled with anger. Secondly,
our father often laughed with his friends, but seldom with his family.
But that observation by me and my siblings would not hold forever.

It fell apart one evening when he came home after drinking, and
clearly, he was very 'high' and talking a lot. Our father invariably                                                                     
never drank alcohol except on weekends.  However, we also                                          
discovered that night that something had gone seriously wrong.

We all were taken by surprise as daddy came home, and not only
had he been drinking, but he began to cry in front of his entire family.
I can see him in the bed now. More than 59 years have passed, but I can   feel my present emotion responding to this story as I write.  I don't  remember how or why the reason for our father's crying was clear to us,    
but our father was visibly crying, and it proved to be his last sigh.

Four years prior, our father had a serious illness and was informed that
he should expect to live four more years.  Well, the four years occurred,
and daddy knew that his time was near, that life was about to end.  The                                                        
prior four years had been good ones. He returned to Christ and his life had                                                
changed from drinking and gambling on weekends to becoming a deacon                                                       
and going regularly to church.                                           

The doctor's accuracy was amazing.  The moment of truth had arrived,
and we all knew.  The knowledge of an impending death is one thing,
but accepting death is one giant challenge to the best of us.  We had 
never seen daddy cry, and this cry by no means revealed any weakness.

I sense that daddy was not afraid to die, but I think that years of loss
flashed before him, years that were now history.  Presently, he wanted
to make our lives better, but it was too late.  The crying was not about him, but us.

082621PSCtest, This Or That, Vol 6, Edward Ibeh
Title chosen, 'Last Sigh'. 4P
Form: Narrative

A White Space Part 3

(Eliza strokes the door. A thought is visibly pushing through her mind)

Eliza: I think...I want to know.

Martha: How does it feel?#

Eliza: There''s something there. Right behind it. Someone. Pulling me.

Martha: Eliza...why are you here?

Missie: Oh stop prying. She''s just gonna leave soon anyway. They all do.

Eliza: We tried for months. Toby and I. You know, we never quitre fit, and I always thought that a baby would be the glue that we needed to fit us together. A little kicking screaming ball of glue. And when I fell pregnant he looked at me like he loved me, genuinly loved me, for the first time since I had met him. People held us like we were real. Held me, like I existed. All fat and full and real. Four months. That''s all it lasted. It ended in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor. He did his best, Toby. He held my hand when I cried...for a while. Tollerated me lying in bed for days on end...for a while. He just didn''t understand.

Missie: You mean he didn''t care. Look, the guy didn''t want a baby. God, move on already.

Eliza: I tried! But we weren''t right. We didn''t fit. Just going through the motions. In the end we were juust faking...we both knew it. We were off to my brother''s wedding, big fake smiles painted on, and I ended up here.

Missie: He sounds like a right catch...

Eliza (deffensively): Yeah? And why are you here? You don''t have enough compassion to mourn, let alone to be a mother.

Missie: I didn''t have a kid. I had a cyst growing under my school shirt. An ever expending mistake, for the whole world to see, so fat I couldn''t see my own feet. I found the thing parents. Soppy freaks like you guys. You know, people who would actualy give a ****. And the ungrateful thing stripped avery inch of life from me. Died and took me with him. I was forteen. Fourteen. Tell me how that''s fair.

Eliza: Do you know what''s not fair? I wanted, needed nothing more than a baby. You drop your nickers in some dirty nightclub, get given this, this gift, and you want to give it away! That''s what''s not fair.

(Martha hasn''t seen such confronation in fifty years. She pulls Eliza away from Missie)

Martha: Eliza, give her a chance. It''s all front. She''s not as awful as she seems. She''s sad. Just like us.

Our Final Stand

By Kevin Robey
February 14, 2013

Wind flows through our hair, with front lines waiting on
Waiting for sirens to sound that fighting song
With knuckles turned white, our eyes shining bright
There’s no question in choosing fight over flight

The air is slightly crisp, cold and untamed
Armed with fuzzy weapons that bear a given name
With shaky nerves, sweat dropping from every pore
We’ll Bleed till the end, regardless the final score

A thought of comfort for you and I
That soul mates never, truly die
It’s about time I reached to hold your hand
‘Cause this could be our perfect and final stand

Fading to white, the moment stops in time
We look down from walls we had to climb
You with your heart, me with my soul
Gave us the heat to survive the cold

As the world returns to focus, I look around
At our sides, no soldiers to be found
No sirens to sound, no cavalry to lead
To think all along, it was just you and me

The coming army, demons shrouded in dark
With scarring blades that have left their mark
We are damaged, but far from defeat
Between us two, we can’t be beat.

I turn to you, and hold you tight
One last time, face the world to fight
We see the demons, this time unfazed
We charge ahead, with our weapons raised

Revenge is ours, as our strikes ring true
Bruised and broken, we make it through
We lower our weapons, hearts no longer fake
We slayed the demons, Lying in the wake

Suddenly, a sobering clarity ensues
The bittersweet truth, I’ve finally construed
Without being there, you made me strong
You were my battle cry; my fighting song

I stand alone, and so do you
There’s space between us, now visibly true
You were not here, I was not there
Even apart, know I’ll always care

Our paths may be separate, but we’ll journey together
We’ll find shelter from this tortured weather
One day soon, I’ll see you my friend
I don’t know what you’ll call me then

The battle is over; the war is far from lost
I know we’ll survive, no matter the cost
This isn’t the end, but we’ve made it this far
One day the wheels, may even fall off my car

You’ll look over while I’m kicking my door
Remembering what was said of that final score
With our walls down, hearts out of their cages
The story unfinished, we write the next few pages
© Laura Dee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epic

Material World

How many of you are really blind to what's going on in the world? Visibly awake but consciously asleep; buying into the latest but not so greatest brand name clothes. Do anything to get the gold even sell your souls; so many of them talk about I believe, but yet they're thieves stealing truths, plus selling lies, equals bad fruits. Is that what we call, TRUE RELIGION?

Oh, VERSACE you think you got me with your snakes for long hair don't care I won't stare deep into your traps for eyes that only work on the Men-tality to cause they're fatality my God the calamity.

Isn't it amazing that LRG has so many following them look at the loyalty even when our loved ones were sacrificed and hung from all types of trees, TIMBERLAND.

GUESS what it's only a matter of time before they set the line and hook you in, where's the bait with all the hate for mankind NAUTICA so tell me who's really the B.O.S.S get it together or it'll be your loss. LOUIS VUITTON got it going on, enticed with their LV strong question is who's gonna pass the baton?

DOLCE & GABANA telling the world that they prefer the banana using what God gave them to please a sodomite's world and cease to multiply instead they multiply the divide, CHRISTIAN AUDIGIER at least he's not gay, but that doesn't negate the fact that he promotes blasphemy instead of promoting YAH or could it be that DONNA KARAN is not so caring and please don't ask me why (DKNY).

What do they really know about FERRAGAMO okay , so maybe he constructs well made belts that could perhaps whip y'all into shape or the love that society has for material possessions has made a way into your DNA.

MICHAEL JORDAN'S number was 23 and everybody so quick jump on his team, while the women play pretend with they're false lashes when in spirit and truth JESUS got 39 real lashes, yet most people are swift to show the rift between those who are Team YAHWEH all day or some days depending on whether or not it goes their way.

I refuse to be a MATERIAL GIRL in a MATERIAL WORLD
chasing after the things of MEN and not of GOD, faithfully humbling myself so that I may live up to everything ordained by my Lord and Savior, this I pray
in the name of YESHUA. (Selah)

Amen.
Form: Rhyme

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