Long Writing poetry Poems
Long Writing poetry Poems. Below are the most popular long Writing poetry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Writing poetry poems by poem length and keyword.
My artistic side is begging to run into the studio and paint up a masterpiece.
My dance-y side is not ready to sit still one more minute.
We are sick of sitting.
How much more sitting can we take?
I pry my behind out of my recliner and
go outside. It is a surprisingly mild day for December
I do not even need a coat as I fill my six birdfeeders,
throw some sticks onto my campfire,
and walk a hundred yards to take corn to my deer.
On the way back up the yard I get a poem idea.
It is brutal, showing how much I detest snares and traps.
I am a hunter’s daughter, so I know well of them.
My dad was a furrier too, but I will not go into that.
My mystical side is calling for a nap.
The dog is trotting alongside me hopefully.
A connissour of naps, she is always ready.
I go into the art studio to try to figure out
my next step. Painting now, and quite happy
with a prone dog, lying on the floor next to me
after drinking my dirty paint water.
When December stills souls with its quiver,
Erasing shadows who make life bitter.
Warm hearths silence the heart’s crispy shiver,
Stardust blesses with joy like soft glitter,
Wonders who December will deliver.
Frost’s quickening is no counterfeiter.
Where Winter hastens are soft glowing skies.
Home to cardinals praising with their cries.
When December whispers on graying nights,
Promising its secrets shall grow inside,
Where the soul will remember sweet insights,
Gentle lights unfading can’t be denied.
Singing to lithe Autumn – her last rites.
Writing poetry of faith who’ll abide.
In a sweet voice, her splendor will remind…
December welcomes peace who can spellbind.
When December stirs the moon to glowing,
Stars play across the night, dazzling desires,
Leaving the heart with love overflowing,
Twilight drifts across dreams, troubling wildfires
Calming words of hope from an all knowing,
He cast the stars on skies, never tiring,
December brings Christmas, the birth of love,
Sent to our spirits from heaven above!
The Bumblebee
He grew up in a poor household, thought
sofa-beds were the norm, but his mother
an eager reader had many books that were
given and sometimes stolen, often from
those who thought books were decorations
beside a blue vase of flowers.
like many from, poor families, his mother was
A communist, at the time, the only party who
defended the working class.
This was the case until the labor party with
money (possibly dollars) and relentless
propaganda ended the communists' power
When his schooling ended after seven years
was offered a job as a trainee cobbler
refused and joined the merchant marine
The school board shook heads, they
had offered this younger laborer a solid
future, he said no!
as for religion, at bible classes in his school
were only interesting when teachers spoke
about the Old Testament, the new version
was for sizzies suitable for girls.
In Liverpool, he met a fine woman, married
her and got a loan in a back to buy a tiny home
an artless house with blank walls.
A bumblebee can live underwater for two
weeks, it took him seven years to see he
lived in a society where a worker with a small
house, vote for the Tory party, and no one
read anything but the newspapers.
He packed his suitcase, gave the house to
his wife and began a second career learning
how to become a counsellor in Norway
Hard life had taken its toll, with ill health
they gave him a sick pension, enough to
go to Portugal, where he bought a tiny cabin
and began writing poetry
He wrote and published in India several
poetry books never sold any, which didn't
bother him, he had at last found his métier
We need our "Eyeglasses",or we must learn to function in "Darkness"if necessary,and that is not liked,but can be adjusted to so that we can continue through faith to do what we need to do!"Some Doctors must do that too! They say that "The Eyes"are "The Windows To The Soul: Look in "My Eyes":What do you see: Some say I see someone trying to "Hipmatize Me"? We must realize that when we who wear glasses put our glasses on,whether we be young or old;It seems to me that we are "somehow revived on the inside,and on the inside:We are helped to come "Alive"! We almost died! We "LOVE Doctors Of "The Eyes"! We are changed positively,negatively,or spiritually:We being able to see or not see needs to be expressed verbally,so that "The Eye Doctor",and staff can "Really scientifically realize how "He or She""Helps you and anyone and "ME"! Scientific Reality! We sometimes wear,and some of us have three or four pairs of glasses,and contact lens to let us see more vividly,just to be able to see what is needed to be seen by the eye Doctor ,and by us you and me! If you have ever used a "Microscope" I am sure that you understand,and comprend exactly what I truely mean! We encourage "Doctors to maintain "Happiness an self esteen! They should maintain Love ,Happiness and self esteen at the V.A Hospital like Shoyre Payne,and "Eye Doctor" William Keen"!Gambrella J is "King"!They helped to give me sight when I could not see! Eye Doctors must know and realize that they are just as important,as any "Doctor",and that is fact and a reality that is expressed as "The Soul"teaches "The Flesh"through the "Eyes"about "The composition of you,and me,or any "Creature that is or will ever be! I am grateful to "Eye Doctors",because I am still writing "Poetry",and can provide inspiration to "All Doctors in "Every Nation",because they work to heal,and restore lost will in "Blinding situations"to creation ! Can You Feel Me? I can feel you:because words and eyes,and actions tells what is factual,reality,and true:You can believe me ,and I will believe you by the things you say and what you say and do! I Love You!
When writing poetry
I break the rules
It's not that I can't find them
For I'm no fool
Sometimes the problem
Is what works doesn't fit
Sometimes it just doesn't make any sense
Words are available on the internet
Going through the lists I can get really upset
When posting a poem on poetry soup
Sometimes it blows my mind
For I will have it perfect with many rhymes
But then it disappears into a computer
Grave yard, somewhere out in cyber space
Floating, floating trying to fine My Space
When going to LuLu Poetry.com
The lines can't be to long
Can't have those wrap arounds
Because they mess up their form
Then when you get to end
If its over 24 lines long
It will tell you not accepted
Remove some of those words
It is more than you expected
Sitting in my office
Papers scattered everywhere
Mid-term tests to type up
I've lost the heart to care
Sitting in my office
Reading some sweet rhyme
Wanting to write my own
But I'm so pressed for time
Sitting in my office
Typing fervently
No set theme in my mind
Just sharing part of me
Sitting in my office
Wish I could amaze
My words are all so...dead
Because I'm in a daze
Sitting in my office
Hoping my muse will bring
A dreamy gift of words
That makes hearts dance and sing
Sitting in my office
I let out a heavy sigh
Time to pack up and go
For now this is goodbye
Eileen Manassian
I know....Sometimes you just want to do anything but what you are supposed to do. You just want to give in your obsession to write....to taste and experience and live and breathe and live and live and live...and you're stuck in your office with deadlines looming over your head...wishing you were writing poetry tucked up cozy in your bed! :(
I'm in a crazy mood. See you all in a few hours when I'm rested. It's been a long day. Tomorrow is every longer.
John, John the preachers son
Writing poetry all day long
I tagged you on this day
Come on John you have to play
Micheal tagged me today
I answered without delay
Shar our everyday gal
Is all the soupers great pal
Fred our country singer fan
Get your computer out my man
Come lets play this game
Let's tag everyone's name
I know it's been a while
This new grandma has to smile
Get your fingers on the keys
Tag a friend, if you please
I am so blessed to come across so many wonderful people on the soup.
Blessing to all of you my friends. Oh and "your It"
Form:
I am often underused and often underestimated
a zing of a thing that often goes unheard, unseen
ginger beer is a tonic unlike me it can't be grated
a powerful root so astute, they bring from overseas
The captain gives his orders but I see you Mary Lee
sitting in your cabin drinking tea and writing poetry
flotsam and jetsam are marked on the ship, but me
I float above the rest and so I heal you, Mary Lee
The imp skipped merrily hugging his Jack Daniel
the sun was too hot so he knocked on every door
looking for a bed for him and his invisible Faneuil
she opens it a peep and finds him on the floor
Mr. Gargoyle tie askew in dire need of ginger root
"Oh Dear!" says Miss Lee, your drunk but very cute.
not for contest
I have found in poetry,
that a title should be brief and enticing;
no more than four to six words,
it should grab the reader !
It is like icing on a cake - tantalizing,
like a sign printed on a door that says open me;
a title can be one word or a name,
or it can be a statement or even a question !
I often title after,
because in writing poetry we never know;
where our poem will go wandering,
other times- I have a title in my mind !
Never give away the conclusion in the title chosen,
leave the readers devouring your words until the end;
your title should stir the imagination
it should reach out to readers with poetic fingers !
________________________
April 28, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/Class Is in Session
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1350-230-28
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, What's In A Title
sponsor, Line Gauthier, Judged 05/14/2021
First Place
I try to keep my brain alert
By writing poetry.
I am still trying to think,
But my mind is deserting me.
My mind is in a muddle,
As is my pitiful brain
It is a constant struggle
Am I going insane?
Or have I already gone
And I don't know it yet.
Will my mind recover?
Or is this as good as it gets?
I am becoming invisible,
Like a plain blank wall
I blend in with the surrounding
And cannot be seen at all.
I have become a spectator.
Not an innovator of life
I must keep my mouth shut,
Because my words may cause strife.
Plain and simple words
It is my language of choice.
Individual thoughts
That gives me a voice.
To share opinions,
And different points of view.
Every day teaches each other,
And learning too.
I try to keep my brain alert,
By writing poetry
I am still trying to think
But my mind is deserting me.
Maybe I have a writing cramp,
I am sure I do not know
Whatever you like to call it
I wish it would hurry up and Go!