A literary genre that comprises of poems of a considerable length. Though there is no concrete definition of a long poem, this genre has the power to build on the theme in the most explanatory method. Ancient epics are the best examples of long poems. You are sure to get drenched in the theme and rhythm completely.
Sometimes, I just want to fly away and sit by a coast dotted with tiny creeks and gaze at the pebbles sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the stream while drenching my feet in water as pure as an infant.
This is about someone special Someone so special that any special person could be to anyone And sharing with you about this special person Makes me feel special too I look back to the times I spent with him Where
Whispered names falling simply off lips, Freckles that ripple on skin, Azure eyes that flooded dreams. Eyes may capsize stable thoughts, Blindly wade into unknown waters, Not knowing awaiting dangers. A siren’s melody put in a trance, A map to
index finger of left hand (likened to Michelangelo meticulously chiseling away at marble block), this poe whit attempts to coax (zealously tap into his latent indivisible quo shunt, sans self imposed quotidian literary endeavor slow lee witnessing, an emergent reasonably
Have you heard the skinny on Lenny Mangini? This fellow dreamed of a yellow Lamborghini And the good life of more, much and plenty, But Lenny’s pockets lacked any profits or pennies. Plagued by malaise and chronic sickness, Two failed
So I struggle everyday. Caught in a fight between my heart and mind, Tranquility impossible to find. The war rages on my mind birthing its evil spawn. My heart building walls. The walls are high, the light dies, my heart
I remember when I was just 16, So much of my life was yet unseen. I was searching for something to help me discover, What set me apart, made me different from others. And there in my neighborhood, where we
Life with my father has Never been magical If anything it has always Been tyrannical I go home Anger welcomes me I meet the instigator The abuser You, my father You cheated me out of a Parental relationship Which caused
Ladies and gents, You don’t know Jack. Hence I wax poetic To remedy that. Jack has a knack For following the pack. This fool dives in the pool To swim with the rules. He doesn’t judge it lame To remain
Step up, don’t hide behind words If you strongly believe in your hate, let it be heard What you’re saying is completely absurd I take what you say and let it fly with the birds You are backwards, backwards, backwards
Again I wake in this wretched place Where the devil glares with grimaced face Reading my heart, stripping it bare Savoring the scent of the secrets there I’m slipping and sliding, the ice too thin Carefully creeping, lest I fall
It has been raining I stood on the window Looking at the rain drops Silently tip toeing at moments Restlessly pouring at times I looked at the clouds As if walking hand in hand Like lovers lost, like frienjds found
Deprived of affection and a sense of belonging one retires to a sanctuary of isolation. Arraigned by the acute pain of rejection the walls become his or her world. Indicted with selfishness and antisocial behavior sleep is the best defense
You speak ill of my name Onto you, shall bring much shame Your actions should make you feel ashamed The finger points to you in blame Take my name off your tongue Don’t waste the energy from your lungs Instead
Clinging to fragments of memories, I search for love here and there, Walking the shores of eternal hope, But I sink in the sea of despair Just once, let me hear love speaking In a language known to no ear;
Stop laughing Start crying Stop trying Start dying Giving up Now giving in All because you think you can’t win This race isn’t yours You don’t keep score Anymore You hit the floor You say “I can’t and won’t take
He rides towards the setting sun Further and further from his special one The sound of his armor clanking with each hoof beat Perspiration horse and rider oppressive desert heat He rides through the desert to find the Prince. Commissioned
It has been raining I stood on the window Looking at the rain drops Silently tip toeing at moments Restless pouring at times I looked at the clouds As if walking hand in hand Like lovers lost, like friends found
Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security
Heavenly Father, I focus my thoughts on You. In the palm of Your hand, how can I lose? Your grace is sufficient for every need. All things are possible if I will only believe. Divine power through me is flowing.