Long Writers Poems
Long Writers Poems. Below are the most popular long Writers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Writers poems by poem length and keyword.
What inspires me are the trees that surround me,
how they green in the Spring, how starlings
become leaves in the Winter, and the melodies
of sparrows, bluebirds and robins tug at my heart.
What inspires me is watching my grandkids,
they’re verve, vigor, and nerve make me float;
me and my muse amused by their mischief,
compassion and funny business.
What inspires me is my belief, my hope, my unwavering,
spirit-filled field of vision. I’m inspired by every whisper,
every word, every mystery, truth of the living God; by
the cross that brings me to my knees, and I find no words
to convey my salvation and relationship in Christ, yet
I do my best, dance around, meditate, pray, trust I
will say something weakly profound.
What inspires me is all around - nature, my family,
silly and serious things, aging, moods, night and day.
I could go on. I write. I write. It is right. Don’t stop me now.
I preach, teach, grieve, fall down, get up. You, dear reader
inspire me. Forms and other writers inspire me. I’m inspired.
Yale student radio (wybcx) is playing throughout the suite. I’m working on chemistry problems but when a song I don’t know is good enough to catch my attention, I add it to one of my gazillion Spotify playlists - God, I love the Internet.
One of our roommates, Sophy, is from California. She’s brilliant and friendly but almost never leaves her room, which she keeps hot and airless. If I’m in there for more than two minutes I have to start peeling off layers of clothing, one by one. She didn’t seem this odd last semester. We take turns, mediating between Sophy and the living, picking up her meals and packages, like vampire assistants.
Then there’s a nice but nerdy guy named Andy, who Anna’s adopted. He’s sitting on our deep, red, four cushion corduroy couch, crafting an essay on his laptop. He’s a divinity student who I rely on to answer my deeper religious questions.
“Do you think Jesus went around telling people his mother is a virgin?,” I’d asked.
“Jesus had brothers,” he answered, “Have you ever read the bible?” He asks.
“My bible is Seventeen magazine.” I say, hand to heart.
“Listen to this!” Andy says - a peremptory order to the room - as he begins reading from his paper. “Disruptivist writers who no longer strive for agency, circumventing narrative in order to resemble the fiction construct, risk losing what Robbe-Grillet called the “intelligibility of the world” and themselves illustrate the exhaustion of forms.” Andy paused. “What do you think?” He asked the room.
No-one says anything. No-one ever understands what Andy’s talking about.
Anna and Sunny are studying and sunbathing in the common room like they’re on some kind of permanent holiday. They occupy two generous rectangles of sunlight streaming in through the closed picture windows.
They’re laying on yoga mats, almost shoulder to shoulder, wearing bikinis and Wayfarer Ray-Bans. It’s 12° degrees outside but there’s an oil heater with a fan blowing across it that provides them with a sun-like warmth.
Welcome to higher learning 2022
Pen pals from the very start
scented paper and feathers of pink
inside a pre-kissed envelope of white
You, writing about the taste of Trinidad
by the sweet-burning smoke of a pipe blend,
me, whispering to you about the beauty of a snowflake
as it comes swiveling down from heaven;
Letter writers of ancient times, hoping for love's arrow
You, singing a Christmas Parang in a Trini voice of honey
me, with my faux fourrure and Christmas boots of leather;
Lovers yet to be my love but if this year I get my winter wish,
I will meet you by the Pigeon Point, on December 29th,
with a glass of rum in one hand
and a plate of festive rice on the other
Together we will melt the last glacial memory
from our burning waiting hearts.
December 7 2021
Meaning of Fourrure / french word for fur
As a bird I am,
blessed with these wings
that have caressed the
winds of wisdom, and
flown me to places far,
and shown me
the ends of the Universe -
a bird indeed, yet one
entombed in a
miserable cage, even as
the whiff of free air
outside my inculpable prison
does fill my nostrils
through the holes in this
rotten mesh.
If those gates are shut
so be they, for they may
keep me from those worlds
which I've cavorted in,
but my eyes, kissed
by a thousand suns do see
beauty even in that which
deprives life of beauty,
and this voice, once subdued
shall speak again, crafting
another world in this
lonely abode.
How did you get here, little one?
You are such a contrast to these dead leaves and sticks
They are gray, tan, and ugly
You are a misfit in the world of the unseen.
You usually fit onto a rearview mirror of a car.
I cannot see anyone wearing you as an eyepatch
I doubt you fell off someone’s backpack.
Wait a second, here is a thought.
A persnickety camper who attaches an air freshener to his backpack?
I smile at this absurd idea.
Should I leave you here for others to discover?
Or should I pick you up, risking my life, for you might be germy.
Playing it safe, I take a photo and leave her there to delight other writers.
I have the whole day to write eleven hundred poems
The paper is crisp and fresh. I sit, poised, waiting.
Nothing.
I try again in an hour. This is my day off.
The perfect time.
An opportunity that comes around not often.
My muse is silent.
Not even laughter.
I go to bed, irritated.
Wake up at three a.m.
A poem is dancing all over the place.
It prances a jig on my back and slides off the bed.
I watch it dance out of the door.
My eyes are blurry, but I have the last line.
It is pretty good.
I crawl out of bed.
Have to go to the bathroom.
Wash my hands, sit poised, waiting.
My muse laughs.
Even the last line is gone.
*Image of Make A Paper Airplane by YT.
Pen Am Expression Airplane
Welcome, all writers and riders on board,
Pen Am Expression Toss-N-Throw Jetways,
Piloting, Captain Armstrong Paperweight,
And Co-Pilot Ace Bellwether Coxswain,
Thanks flying this all-expense paid--by you!
All poet and poetess, pens ready,
The younger riders can enjoy their snacks,
Ready for take-off, all seat belts fastened,
Note that the No Smoking Ever signs on
Hi, I am your head stewardess Pam Ann,
And with Rex, our strawberry blonde steward,
Pen Am's very own Golden Retriever,
Now, for your listening pleasure, playing,
The Beatles Magical Mystery Tour
Who're the Beetles, and what is that noise? Ugh!
First, there will be numerous short-hopped flights,
Followed by enjoyable longer flights,
In flight, on the left, our own baseball field,
Junior's holding a picture of Babe Ruth,
Had the most home runs and the most strikeouts,
Was well-balanced and All-American,
Now we're passing the mall, ladies, and gents,
Ah! It's easy sailing through Big & Tall,
There might be turbulence in Wanda's World,
And a brief stop at 31 Flavors,
We'll return, but it's the height of rush hour,
The Bully Boys and Gang of Toys are here,
They have papered up and ready to throw,
First one to land at home plate wins the war!
Paper trays in their upright positions,
Whirlybirds ready for topsy-turvy's,
Captain Armstrong here, I'm ready to throw!
2022 August 22
*7th Place*
PAPER AIRPLANES
~~John lawless: Judged 2022 September 15
You people from the Caribbean are a pleasure.
When you joined here, it was like finding buried treasure.
With the sand and the surf, and the beautiful palm trees,
how do you find the time to write poetic entries?
Crystal clear waters and blue sky with the fish and birds
make great subjects to write about with all of your words.
Where the sun is bright and warm every day of the year,
you manage to write poetry that’s pretty and clear.
You are some of the most brilliant writers we have here.
We respect and admire you, and we hold you so dear.
May all of you remain with us for quite a long time.
You continue to produce works that prove so sublime!
This is the real world
expressed in the form of several days
worth or ghost writing.
Kowloon: The Walled City of Imagination; cosmetic dentistry;
REASONS TO STOP THUMB SUCKING;
New York's most iconic photograph; container shipping;
How are pets handled in divorce?
Medical cannabis and kids; plumbing and drainage inspections;
immigration counseling lawyer in Chicago;
Metal fabrication in Chuckey, Tenessee; How home security alarm monitoring works; How to make an HDR Photograph;
toxic torts; audiologists; plumbing and drainage inspections;
Tenth Edition, Calculus Early Transcendentals;
ISEE test preparation in los angeles;
vinyl windows in Beltsville; great printers for Mac computers;
orthopedic doctors in Herndon, Virginia;
container shipping; public adjusters in philadelphia; custom order fulfillment in Golden Valley; Minnesota; land surveys. Ghost writers know the real world better than poets.
her thoughts are mighty and marvelously influential to me.
I call her Trixie, my muse, she is truly the ultimate queen bee.
She won’t leave me alone, she’s like a dog with a hankering for duck.
How do you write so often? Other writers ask. Is it some kind of luck?
It is my muse, she is persnickety, tenacious and she must have her way.
She forces ten poems out of me every single solitary ordinary day.
If I want to sleep, she laughs me awake with a lovely ending line.
We don’t need any more rest she tells me, we will do just fine.
Her insistence and persistence keep me at the edge of my seat.
She wants a pen in my hand so often, I hardly have time to eat.
Trixie is my nemesis, but also my savior, she keeps me wild and free.
You see writing down my feelings is brilliantly therapeutic for me.