Long Well Poems

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


Premium Member Pick Me

You made the right choice
Sign right here, be a pal, oh..
One more thing can I ask?
Though I know I seem shallow..

Could you just click a like?
Or a heart, that would do
I don't wish to impose, but
It makes our friendship SO true

Then I'll visit as well
Send our numbers to maximal
I do love you and this is
In no way transactional

You can stroke me and hug me
With your words affirmational
My reply will be Shakespearean
Or at least dissertational

When we're done with our tags
Or the half dozen kisses
With the hearts and the stars
Loaded high with best wishes

We can sleep safe and sound
As with nuclear fission
There's nothing to fear
From our popularity mission

xxxxxx
© Sam Scott  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Redeemed By God's Grace

Redeemed* by God’s grace toward eternal regeneration
Offering to the Lord am I my everything obediently
Called as His child along His compassion and care
Hoisted for faith increase through fervent prayer height
Loving my Saviour, and for Him, gladly living
Learning from His Word with great lessons
Ever-faithful to Him, aiming for His exaltation.

In the Almighty can my testimony create good impact
Thankful am I to Him for trials toward triumphs
Letting Him direct me with His wise leadership
Instilling in me truth needed for godly influence
Only around His fellowship is peace-optimization
Nourished so well by His blessed nurture…
Gratitude fills my heart as I serve Him with gladness.

*Isaiah 43:1 But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, 
… and he that formed thee, …  Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, 
I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.

January 17, 2022

Dear ROCHELLE, a belated very blessed birthday to you.
Love, Ma’am Bhee
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Applause

Ask apt applause to taste true tell,
Ply profound peep prompting pure prime;
Pique precious pause where worth words well,
Live lasting leap lines leeching lime;
Aim answers apt that thrilling taste,
Use unseen urge in inking ire;
Sense story sap work willing waste,
Each ends emerge free festive fire.
Prize play picks patch where works wander,
Live lasting lines that tell taut tale;
Effect each etch to thrill thunder,
Asking aligns subtle soft sale;
Seek sensuous spend willing words woo,
Entice each end delight dares do.




Leon Enriquez
21 June 2016
Singapore


(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet with Alliteration.)
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Epitaph

(Dedication: To the memory of my parents, RIP)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Rows and rows here
As silence keeps
Soft stillness clear
In waves of sleep


Faces stare blank
In endless rows
Such file and rank
In an odd glow


Through sun and rain
Passive looks tint
Sans stress and strain
Where no sound mint


Calm desolate
Beyond mere grief
Tell of our fate
For life is brief


Embossed faint lines
In names now lost
Stain yellow shine
For death bears cost


Silence speaks well
Beyond our reach
As dead souls tell:
Can sepia teach?


Here for a while
Till journey’s end
Through tears and smiles
Just round life’s bend.




Leon Enriquez
17 January 2018
Singapore
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Mind the Painter

       Mind paints canvas of life as amateur
     Some hues taken from palette of events
     Some contributed by human nature
     oozing from emotive urge at moments.
     
     Heart gallery frames happy happenings
     Those turn weepy are mercilessly torn
     Ugly chapters showing spastic paintings
     Some to erase and some get forgotten.
                  
      Brush browses on multiple episodes,
      Patches of pigments collide in collage
      kaleidoscope of memory decodes
      Some pictures go hazy, some to enlarge.
     
     Throughout life did ‘Mind’ the painter paint well?
     Canvas of life with overlapped hues can't tell.
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member Mrs Robin

I am looking out my window
The sky is overcast
Mrs. Robin scurries across my lawn
Oblivious to the weather forecast

They're calling for rain and thunder
But Mrs. Robin is not alarmed
Her only concern is finding worms
And protecting her babies from harm

She's happy with her simple life
Just carrying out nature's plan
We would all do well to pay attention
Good advice for our fellow man

Get back to a simpler way of life
Just be happy you're alive
Feeling the love of family and friends
It's the only way to survive

Sound like a Utopian existence?
I've been called a dreamer before
No doubt we've got to start somewhere
Before the world we know is no more

©Jack Ellison 2012
Form: Quatrain

Man

4/8/17


Across the land
There was a man
Whose journey had just began
And due to a decision that was bad
He lost all that he ever had
While feeling his most prized plan
Slip through the palm of his hand
Faster than sand

He was briefly sad and mad
But then became glad
When he was able to understand
What was done wrong, and how he can
Reach the goal and help his clan

It wouldn't take a couple hundred grand
Or to be sponsored by a well known brand

Nearby a dam
His skills and knowledge started to expand

While starting to scan the entire span
Many insects scrammed

As well as a ram and a lamb
Above a stream filled with crab and clam


Far away parked in a lot was a sedan
And minivan

Nearby you could see an area full of water where many people swam
Whether they jumped in, walked or ran

Traffic jams
And braked being tapped or slammed


People only out to scam
With shams

Some content looking for gems and gold with or without a pan
And others only concerned with glam
Or famous people's and their own instagram

By:Dalton Ogletree
Form: Rhyme

Fallen Love

Did we fall in love for the wrong reasons?
Or because of it we do?
Have we known too well the patterns?
Even though knowing, do we get ourselves into

You told me you have someone
And I told you likewise
And it becomes for each of us to want
What we cannot find in our partners otherwise

Can you imagine what a human would go through
In every aspect to what we call love?
Even to the point to knowing what we supposedly knew
Is it ourselves we question or what we deserve?

I would very much like to fall in love again
Because falling and staying just isn't the same thing
I need to be falling and not maintain
I need to breathe life to what love dreams

We do not fall in love for the wrong reasons
We fall in love because we do
And we learnt so many... the many patterns
Still... we will get ourselves into
© Joel Lee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Ten Percent Brain Myth

Medical and/or scientific experts
     doth now corroborate,
promulgate, validate...(wait
don't go there's much more)
     linkedin with falsehood
     that requires me to terminate,
an average dumb founded guy
     (noir) tasked with rectifying

     (with quiet riot) eek quate
absolute zero truthfulness humans
     only use 10 percent
     (or other small percentage)
     brain power in (Jean) Nate,
or anybody else for that manner
     ("say hypothetically
     gals named Kate)

which unfounded,
which urban cowboy legend
     persisting in perpetuity, I hate
tubby the bearer
     of unwelcome news
     (doubling up and
     down as a pernicious
     cherished rumor squasher

boot nada one
     reputable specialist studying
     intellectual potential,
     would unilaterally vouchsafe,
     (and risk their judicious, marvelous,
     and prestigious reputation,
     which years to elevate),
yet such stubborn presumption

     firmly maintained latched onto
     (analogous to fish unknowingly
     snagged with "FAKE" bait)
nonetheless specialists of the
     (egg shaped) noggin
     do attest in aggregate
that some n'er
     do well (christened

     Matthew Scott Harris)
     did whimsically create
believable Trumpism,
     which invalid conclusion
     adopted to enervate
his own cognitive impairment,
     thus motivating him
     tubby poetically great,

and even though, he got told
     afore stated said
     baseless, groundless and/or
     premise, aye intimate,
the sure fire way
     to expunge (purge) nagging notion
     (short of a karate
chop to his fountain

     head of noodle,
     which idea to in Tim mate,
would not rank as emphatic,
     dramatic, and/or climatic,
     as electric shock therapy
     last ditch effort to operate.

Premium Member The Endless Wilderness Trail

My place of residence is where I receive all of my mail,
but my home is the endless wilderness trail.
If I didn't have these rescues who need me to care for them,
I would leave all of this behind, my possessions and apartment.
Every night I would fall asleep beneath a galaxy of stars,
to the sounds of chirping crickets and croaking toads and frogs,
and in the morning I would awake to a fantastic panoramic view,
never the same, always brand new,
and whenever my journey would venture close to an established town,
I might just wander off that trail and stick around,
for a few days in the comfort of some motel,
where I could bathe, charge my devices and sleep in a bed as well,
and treat myself to a suburb restaurant meal,
then maybe hang at a local pub and get familiar with the locals.
After a few days of that and all restocked on supplies, 
until the next local established town arrives,
I would then head again back my home,
to my endless wilderness trail, free to wander and roam.
I would hike through out the northern region,
during the spring and summer season,
then hike my way down south during the fall and winter,
where the temperature is higher and noticeably warmer.
A new adventure and journey every single day.
Oh how I wish I could be living the rest of my life presently that way.
One thing is for sure, I will get there one day,
and finally be home all night and  all day.
Form: Rhyme

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