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Long Poems | Long Poetry

Long poems. Read long poems, search long poems, and filter long poetry by category. These are the all-time best and most popular long poems by poetic form, category, length, or keyword. See also long poem categories and Famous Long Poems

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12
Long Poems
Long poem by Ronald Bingham | Details |

When The Bottle Lets You Down

 

Can I ask a question of you my friend?

   Have you started drinking from the bottle again?

You look so down its clear to see.

   What you really need is to be set free.

The answer to your problems they wont be found.

   Coming from that bottle you just put down.

You dont bend your elbow you bend your knees

   Trust me just once Hell hear your pleas.

Youre hurting so, I can feel your pain.

   Theres a way out, and its so very plain.

I was where youre at not long ago.

   But I had someone who wouldnt let go. 

Now I want to be that someone that you can turn to.

   Help to guide your path and the things you do.

Are you really proud of your life thus far?

   Drowning your sorrows in some dim lit bar.

How many times were you too drunk to care?

   Well I can relate, yeah Ive been there.

You thought you lost it all, thats just not true.

   If you trust in Jesus I guarantee you, Hell lead you through.

We all make excuses for the things we do.

   Hes heard every excuse there is a million times or two.

Quit trying to blame Him, He didnt put you there.

   You know Im right, But you just dont care.

Listen little bud, youre like a son to me.

   I care for you very much, I just want you to see.

I know I led you wrong for many, many years.

   Now youre carrying all my demons and most of my fears.

I know you care for me a lot, thats very plain to see.

   Now turn it over to Our Savior, let Him be the one to set you free.

                   

Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007

Long poem by Rick Rucker | Details |

The One

<center>



The One

by Rick Rucker





When you have found The One,

That person that outshines the Sun,

Then you will understand  the fuss,

Your heart convinced with the first buss!



Your lack of  focus is normal, don't worry,

Love will guide your heart, don't hurry,

True Love is the force that cures,

Your heart of all the past sutures!



True Love has the power to change,

Your mind, to rearrange

Your whole life,

To take a husband, or a wife.



If all your life, you've lived alone,

Talking to suitors on the phone,

It's so nice to sit together,

Without the phone cord acting as a tether.



Something as simple as holding hands,

Takes on new meaning with wedding bands.

A wedding changes everything,

Makes you feel a Queen, or King!



That this person wants to spend

Their life with you, 'til the end.

What might have started out with lust,

Has ended with a promise: 'til dust!



Marriage won't be only Wedded Bliss,

But if each day  starts and ends with a kiss,

Doing this, and other things,

Will mean you don't have to pawn your rings!



If you don't marry, out of fear

Angel's bells you'll never hear.

That gentle tinkling far away,

The one that makes you want to stay.



Imagine your surprise,

When you look into your lover's eyes,

Your Love, your spouse,

The one that shares with you a house.



Being in Love, after decades still,

Each one  feeling marriage is a thrill

How long can True Love last?

I'll tell you when a century's passed!

</center>

Copyright © Rick Rucker | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Details |

The Powerfool and The Powerful

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

And I saw the duo on the road,
Together on a journey in a tussle,
Behold! The powerfool and the powerful.
The powerfool: a powered fool, the power-fooled:
Tooth and nail he fought,
Burgled the mandate, picked a race,
Unwary was he that
Power-fool-ness is not powerfulness.

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

I was fated to behold it all:
How the powerfool took the hold by force,
The power bought he, with the blood of the innocent and the guiltless,
Who in allegiance went, their duty to do.
How the powerful came calm with query;
And chased after the powerfool 
In a slow steady struggle sealed 
In patience, persistence, perseverance

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

I was fated to know it all:
How at the first three junction of the road
Which was destined for four,
The auctioneers label was hung on the truth;
Our trust betrayed for a trifle;
And our lynchpins victimized with riffle.

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.


But the fool cannot but fool a fool.
At the fourth junction I saw it:
As the powerfool in a derisive confidence
Met his dreaded waterloo in a corner,
Where stubbornness is stupidity,
And where all help is no help;
Caught unawares; the end of the road in sight.
And the powerful in a gallant gesture,
Given the power that to him belonged,
Sighed VICTORY AT LAST!

He that laughs last laughs longer;
He that laments last laments longer. 

Copyright © OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Details |

The Powerfool and The Powerful

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

And I saw the duo on the road,
Together on a journey in a tussle,
Behold! The powerfool and the powerful.
The powerfool: a powered fool, the power-fooled:
Tooth and nail he fought,
Burgled the mandate, picked a race,
Unwary was he that
Power-fool-ness is not powerfulness.

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

I was fated to behold it all:
How the powerfool took the hold by force,
The power bought he, with the blood of the innocent and the guiltless,
Who in allegiance went, their duty to do.
How the powerful came calm with query;
And chased after the powerfool 
In a slow steady struggle sealed 
In patience, persistence, perseverance

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

I was fated to know it all:
How at the first three junction of the road
Which was destined for four,
The auctioneers label was hung on the truth;
Our trust betrayed for a trifle;
And our lynchpins victimized with riffle.

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.


But the fool cannot but fool a fool.
At the fourth junction I saw it:
As the powerfool in a derisive confidence
Met his dreaded waterloo in a corner,
Where stubbornness is stupidity,
And where all help is no help;
Caught unawares; the end of the road in sight.
And the powerful in a gallant gesture,
Given the power that to him belonged,
Sighed VICTORY AT LAST!

He that laughs last laughs longer;
He that laments last laments longer. 

Copyright © OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Sahitya Poonacha | Details |

The Injured soldier


He fell, fell to the ground
At the gunshot that created such a sound
Nobody took notice of the injured soldier
He was left there lying as the war grew thicker.

He screamed from the pain growing in his shoulder
Nobody realized the pain he would suffer
Trampling feet and screams grew monotonous
The injured soldier tried to ignore the pain that was so venomous.

He made a decision for himself
If he was to survive he'd have to help himself
Nobody was going to come to his aid
Not when each one was looking out for their own head.

He winced in pain as he got to his feet
He wouldn't give up now, not when he still had an army to beat
His shoulder cried out to him in vain
He had already chose to ignore the pain.

He took his rifle up
He adjusted his helmet and refused to give up
He kept fighting till the war was over
Each soldier fighting for their country, their home and their lover.

When the war was done and the battle was won
Every single soldier put down their gun
the injured soldier's shoulder still bleeding
now blinded him with pain and made him lose all feeling.

This time they gave him attention
This time he was treated to friendly affection
He wondered what would have happened if had given up that night
Would they have still won after all that fight?

But he was glad he hadn't for he would have been seen
As a pitiful injured soldier who wasn't keen.

It's the choices we make
And the chances we take
That set us apart
Only when, of course, the decision is made from the heart.

Copyright © Sahitya Poonacha | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Shea Hunt | Details |

Your Doll

Why are you the way you are
On minute you seem like
The Best thing that this
World can ever do to me,
But then you can also be
The worst thing that I have
Ever and will ever know

Why do I even feel like this?
I said to myself that I will
Never again feel it but now
Now that I know you I can't keep to that.

I hate myself for even knowing you
At times, but just another smile
From you change everything
You stealing my heart right
Out of my clutched hand.

How can this even be possible?
I try so hard to say away,
But when I do all I think
Of is you and your smile.

You make plans to see me,
But do you think that you will
Ever see them through
You say that I am special,
But you never act like I am

Yes your words make me
Think that its so true but 
Your actions towards me
Makes me feel that you
Never want it to be.

I feel like I am your doll
That when you feel lonely at night
You divide to take me down for
A game or two, but when the sun
Rises you put me back up there
And act as if I never existed
In your life not even as a friend

I am over playing this game
That you are into
I think that you should look at
How you are acting and make
Up your mind on what you
Want, coz I am over playing
This gamiest either me
Or not once you have made
Up your mind let me know
So I don't have to sit here

I am over feeling empty
Just want to feel complete
Again, but I just
Guess at this point in time
Its not meant to be

Why just like someone
When you can love them
Or in fact even
Die for them

Copyright © Shea Hunt | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Olive Eloisa Fraser | Details |

WAVE DANCER



<em><center><b>WAVE DANCER</b>



In

the 

stillness

the sun smiles 

spanning wide her

golden yellow teeth

blowing wind is shadow quiet

she is waiting     waiting   waiting....

Waiting and feeling..



slowly the stillness trembles!

It is disturbed...

little waves begin to creep and crawl..

Unabash! She goes!



Brave and graceful to take the ride...

Daring and excited to play with the waves...

Up. Down. Left. and right sways...

A rollercoaster along the foamy surface of sea 

She was not taken aback by what she lacks...

An arm bitten by a stark sharp shark long ago

Instead,  

She pursues the waves

Fearless to  stand - tango with the wave curves!

a ballerina with a surf board moving ahead..

ahead 

ahead each tunnel wave...

balancing on side and top of the wave..

power hugging made by the currents..

mind blowing love affair with the tides!!!



her missing arm not forgotten

but 

a precious welcoming history

in embracing the world 

with her inspiring story

of not ever ever quitting!

of keeping the faith afire with each rough tough situation!

of trusting Gods' reasons and purposes to everything..

of making the most even when something is lacking!!!



a conqueror of weaknesses!

a wave dancer of water tides and beyond!

She is BETHANY HAMILTON!!

______________________________________________

Best free verse poem - Poetry Contest

Sponsor	SKAT A

~~~7th Place~~~



Olive Eloisa Guillermo

3:04 am, July 18, 2014</center></em>





















Copyright © Olive Eloisa Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Rhoda Monihan | Details |

One Direction

One Direction is the best pop group ever,

In lyrics and harmonies they are strong;

They take me to a place better than words, 

It is to them that I happily belong. 



They are all beautiful to me, 

But Zayn is my favourite right now, 

I am in the clouds when I see him, 

Hes my you and I, to him I bow. 



Louis and Niall are footballers, fireproof, 

And Zayn does graffiti in public spaces, 

Its not fools gold to create known meanings, 

To rock almost anyone in different places. 



But Harry was popular instantly, kiss you, 

Little things he did meant that many he excited; 

So many teens over and over again, 

Such that summer love was ignited. 



Previously, I would like Liam the best, 

Because he had that one thing for me,

He is sporty and lived while he was young, 

A heart attack was just waiting for me to be. 



But now its gotta be you, Zayn, 

Your vocal runs are something great, 

I wish that youd write about your art and creativity, 

When no control is your date. 



Cmon cmon One Direction, 

Reunite once more and wear that little black dress, 

No little white lies about why you cant, 

Don't forget where you belong, just say yes. 





22/9/2015





I hesitated to post this one, because I'm somewhat embarrassed about liking One Direction. But it's better to be what you are than to be somebody else. So I'm happy to admit with both my hands up, I like One Direction.



(you may notice that there's the title of one of their songs in every line)

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

The Ghost Dance Part II

                                                   2.



                                     Waiting for Wovoka



For some time the old ones gazed that way,

When there came a seer,

A man named Wovoka.

Who told them he had heard their voices calling in the night to him,

That voices spoke to him of better times soon to come,

That might be brought forth by a special way and a special dance

That would bring to birth a stronger magic than that of Progress,

That would dispel the evil changes.



They listened and they took heart

With the pitiful fervor of the desperate.

He taught his new believers his way and his dance,

And for a time,

     A fragile time in their trembling twilight

The sacred songs and their meaning returned to the silent brown lands,

And a joy was felt and shone in the proud faces of the faithful, 

And the long lines worn of care cracked and smoothed to smiles.



     The young know nothing of these things now,

     Nor do they care to know.

     Their lives are resigned to the long slow fade.



But the old, huddling close to their quiet cares,

And closer still to the quiet face of death in the shadows of their rooms,

Feel the spirit of a former time lying still upon their hearts,

A thing beyond the shallow grasp of youth.



     They sit stonily, unmoved in their fogs, remembering tales.

     And when no one looks,

     They turn their failing eyes back to the red mesas

     And recall the Dance of the Ghosts.





     















Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Mystic Rose | Details |

Reindeer Games





Pirouettes and dips, she dances round the floor  

the music is intoxicating, the lights are asking,  more?

Little feet keep dancing on the shiny waxed floor  

as the winds of Utopia, sift through her darkly hair;  

She hangs down like a rag doll, made of porcelain and stock 

and he brings her to a tap dance on wooden shoes of knock; 



Puppet is her nickname, he clips her like a ranger  

up and down he pulls her, on a roller coaster ride 

Prance my little reindeer prance and sing carefree   

Petticoats of frill n' dainty, ruffled views are free   

Essence of her beauty strewn, for every eye to see 

Time elapses, viewers change, still she dances T,  





He the Master her the Puppet, both are in disguise  

when he fools the ignorant he also fools the wise 

Claps of thunder from the peek-faced angled ones  

and how he puffs with prides then wonder, 

as he descends his Pagoda castle in the sky. 

He goes to re-assemble his puppet of Di-la

but to his chagrined stumper, 

she's gone to la-di-da...



Marion moments of joy ascend her as she dies with lastly sigh  

All her parts are put together and she waves her last goodbye   

Sonar sounds of sun and moon, light displays of stars and sky 

Truth be told she never dances, just sits and looks and smiles 

Ever heard of a good ending? Well that's what I'm getting to, 

Regardless of a lifetime anchor, she's now dead n' turning blue. 







Don't let this happen to you...





Mystic Rose 



November 13, 2015

Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Carrie Richards | Details |

Distraction

I meant to do my work today
Instead I spied a nest among the maple leaves
 where birds were singing in the trees
   and others splashing soft brown wings 
                in the birdbath by the old porch swing

I meant to do my chores today
  But clear blue skies, a soft spring breeze
This cloudless day, and blooming trees...they filled me with distraction...

I had my rusty rake in hand, some ground to till
   a hedge to trim, some weeds to pull....but clouds above the rolling hills
                                                                                    all led me to distraction....

 A butterfly, all black and gold, flitted soon across the field
             And once again, it took my eyes yet further still...

The garden hose, curled sleeping by, in noon day sun, awaiting me
        instead I sigh, and 
           once again my wandering eye, 
                among tall grass, some bugs I spied, 
                            I must explore the whole outdoors before this lovely day has died

I hesitate, ....my chores can wait, 
                                it seems that fate says "Work can wait!!
                                                      Enjoy!! It says, this splendid day!! 

These  most worthy,  so pleasing, never bothersome, soul satisflying, quite heavenly 
                                                               
                                                  distractions !!


___________________________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

Long poem by Gloria Benton | Details |

I LOVE YOU



                                              With all of my heart



                                                 At first sight



                                               From the very start



                                              Simply cannot explain



                                              How you make me feel



                                                  I just know



                                          My thoughts of you are truly real



                                                 Just want you to know



                                                 I need to really share



                                                  How much I do care



                                               This letter I write today



                                            Express my feelings in every way



                                                  You are so kind



                                               thoughtful and devine



                                                 When you are near



                                                  I feel no fear



                                             Just knowing you are here



                                             Words are hard to impress



                                               I'll do my very best



                                                  To let you know



                                                     I love you

Copyright © Gloria Benton | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Monica Contreras | Details |

THE UNIFORM

I noticed the uniform, and the heavy soled shinny black boots

Not the man within it, I apologized.



I remember the clean fresh smell of maleness, as they stormed into the house,

Broken glass, ripped down hangings, a slashed sofa, a pulled curtain,

A sudden maneuver to throw my brothers bear across the yard,

Such military worries, hidden bombs in a childs best friend.

Your broken cross I buried in our garden after they left.God, come back to my house, I am 

waiting.



All I saw were figures painted the colour of grass and bark,

with gilded edges traced by some crazed church painter's brush,

faceless with pockets full of bullets and chords,

Their arms intertwined with red eyes and swollen hands of my teachers,

Stiff figures against the soft jeans, sweaters, and knitted hats below.

Standing witness in the yard above watching, I waited for her to die.



Shinny black like the dirt dug from the mass grave,

Full of crumbled human bits, decaying coloured cloth,

while the sun scorched the group sorting the cellular samples

I saw the black boots etched into the bone fragments.

Lost bones of lost loved ones from empty families,



Standing in the desert, I wait for a name.



No, I do not see you the man, just the uniform.

I see the butt of the gun, the dent of the boot, the slickness in the air,

the cruel power of the swirl jungle green print with gold trim.

As a witness God left me, and I was waiting.



Change, let me meet the man,

maybe the waiting is over.

Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Edward Orozco | Details |

A light forgotten

<center> I do remember you, your brown curly hair that stole scene entirely

The day my eyes met yours, and how I dreamed of having you in my arms

Then they moved; your lips and out came the most beautiful voice that to an angels

You stood no judge and took me in to a warm embrace

Your heart felt the sorrow, and scars that my soul carried, and yet you held me

Hours came to be days and days came to be months and our hearts grew

I awaited the sun to wake up and stand on top of the day, so that I could see you again

Your laugh, your scent, your smile that drove my heart to swell in affection

The butterflies that you made come to life within my stomach grew and I took flight

Then only the heavens were the limit

A glimpse of hidden light I called you, and a verse I wrote for you that stole your heart

I too recall the glow in your eyes as I held you and kissed you

You said it was too good to be true, and then the truth came to surface

Fear was rich in your heart, and slowly you drove me away

And I stood to do nothing but see and feel the fire draw to not exist

Seconds became weeks and all in that you became a memory

A beautiful memory that I will not forget, as I became stronger at your side

I wonder if you think of me, as I think of you

Our first kiss beneath the sun, our first hug our first laugh

I see your smile from a distance every now and then, beautiful still

I will always think of you and what we could of had

You are a star forgotten











To G.V.R

Copyright © Edward Orozco | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Sarai Romani | Details |

Game Day

Mighty Ducks win the game

Pass the ball perfect the play

There's so much riding on your fame

Men clad in armor win the day



The crowds are grumbling they've all gone wild

The stripes bad call has hardened your trial

Yard by yard your penalties mass

But you'll take the lead with a touchdown pass



86 yards with a kick return 

Your rival now should show concern 

We love your power your drive your speed

The beer the bets the company



Football Game day 

Phones be texting

Tailgate fun scores projecting 

Simple fun that's life affecting



It's more than manly testosterone 

That compels us to the game

It's teamwork pride the thrill of the fight

How the underdog pushed and overcame 



Sports and competition have always been a way of life 

Revealing the mighty but also the contrite

Teaching lessons of brotherhood

More victory together than alone we ever could 



So when we gather scream and shout 

Seemingly insane over a meaningless thing

Remember this on Game Day proud

When from the rest of life we simply check out



Is it really so bad to drink too much 

With Oregon's O displayed 

Colored faces worshiping the Duck

When they fumble we yell O  F_ _ _ 



Be it victory or cruel defeat

There's more to this than meets the eye

It's about families, lovers and the best of friends

Gathering to play to laugh and to cry



Game Day for the Oregon Duck

Of our team we're so damn proud

As a fan have you made the cut

Or resigned to just miss out 













Copyright © Sarai Romani | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by J. W. Earnings | Details |

Don't Worry

Once upon a time,

The Orange & Pink Dragon

Popped out of nowhere, 

Blowing pink flames in all directions. 

The Shapeless Robot walked down the street 

With a blank expression on its robotic face.

He made a Snake Bird friend,

Since he didn't have a friend of his own;

Loneliness crept in on him & he wept despondently.

"I want a friend to sweep away these feelings of loneliness!" 

Cried the Shapeless Robot hopelessly.

The Snake Bird felt empathy towards him & wiped his tears away by his serpent tongue.

The Non-stop Growing Vines twirled around them in all directions suddenly...

Vibes of discomfort crawled up and down the robot's back,

Electricity, originated from energy, zipping through him constantly...

Lizorse and the gangster red-head girl ghost named Gingah were playing chest with each other,

Exchanging love expressions flirtaciously...

They blew kisses at each other time and time again.

Bubbleman got bubbled up with benevolence when he felt an Angel Hand touch his shoulder;

At last, he witnessed miracles in disguise.

All of the characters hung out and listened to old school rap,

Partying and dancing like crazy monkeys at the jungle-like zoo during their leisure time. 

The Incomplete Ship flew towards them, 

Silence slipping though the merry atmosphere...

The palm tree, excluded from the rowdy group,

Acknowledges the Stripeful Fish happily.

"Don't worry..." said the palm tree sheepishly with content, "You can be my friend always and forever"

The End

Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by James Horn | Details |

To Retrofit a Response

In Response to Another Poet's Poems.



Who said for whole world I was not caring

Making many mistakes and continually erring

While under her clothes things were well-stored

Being two breasts big beasts I highly adored.



I always liked her face and its colour

Which found me as it did allure.



From high on head to each tiny cuticle

Her whole body was bound to be beautiful.

Eventual down she tried to simmer

Even though her lips would often tremor.



To me each one I saw was God forsaken;

All those selfies of herself that had been taken

And if of all her clothes she were to divest

What would she do with all of the rest?



Used palette knives for appearance which was palatial

After finding a frown which had been occasional;

Only reason husband had been on bended knee

Was so up my dress he again could see.



Both my eyes jumped high like over a hurdle

And all I ended up seeing was her girdle;

Guess what when I looked into her eyes;

She said, "Your turn to make the French fries."





What I always wondered about our genes

What will they be like in our teens?

And to say and ask question hope I will be at liberty

Which sex will be first to end up in puberty?



Oh, and will sustaining be well-worth in her hub

While you love drinking another round at local pub

If I were intrepid and ended up being remorseful

Did it first require a fin destined to be a dorsal

(And to eat each would only munch on a morsel.)



James Thesarious Horn

Whew. What a bunch of BS

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Funom Makama | Details |

Dont Ascertain When You Dont Know

<center>Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia

and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning

the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned

and assumptions simply made real and absolute



Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that

the banana and plantain are the same

a superior race surely exist

leg size has a great correlation with the males genital

the measure of ones success is solely factored

in his accumulation of wealth

and money is the root of all evil.



This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points

Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas

bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind

women are subordinates to men

and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe



This mind can even tear its clothes to rags

in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as

Sydney is Australias capital

the earths evolution is the cause of day and night

Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange

morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee

and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space



Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams

and having global captions mixed with daily breath

assumptions such as these are nurtured

religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance

the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one

who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn

so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.

Oh sorry! The American futurist

</center>

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by TS Lewis | Details |

Anniversaries

My grandparents have sixty plus years of union under wraps. Five kids, a miscarriage, seven grands, ten greats, two soon to be great-greats, cancer, funerals, weddings, divorces, baptisms, winter and spring just a few moments they've seen. Words can't put it into comprehension because in order to stay sixty years there has to be a lot of love, but I know there were plenty of coming to Jesus moments too. She's dark skinned wears a hat, sunblock and an umbrella. He's high yellow, and absolutely, the coolest fellow. 

If you spent half a day with them, you'd be tickled silly watching them fall in and out of love in the same conversation. Godly individuals. Read the word and pray twice a day, quote scripture better than a Hebrew. My accrued time doesn't even come close to a third of theirs. Pales by comparison. What's the right mixture of want and necessity, of desire and get away from me,  of forgiveness and repentance, of hugs and kisses? They make it look easy, however difficult it has been. Maybe its the Jesus in them. My cousin said we won't see this again. I asked her what she meant and she said no one stays together like this anymore. Perhaps we're witnessing the outgoing of greatness. Perhaps there's a generation forth coming saying wait'll you see us. Maybe we'll see a love grow out of necessity and reach desired heights that overcome winters, and rejoices for everything. Perhaps we've seen the greatest love of all. Perhaps its as simple as blending light and dark colors.

Copyright © TS Lewis | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Judith Angell Meyer | Details |

Rebuilding the Shed in the Backyard - Again



My son is out fixing up the shed.

Winter is coming on. Needed doing he said.

He had the time and the bound-tos.

Im not used to this thought process, Im not. Not from a child.



I watch him for a while.

Opening and closing gates as needed.

The dust, sifted into powder from summers heat, poofs with his steps.

The heels of his jeans dragging strings on the ground, erase the tread of his 

boots.



The shed is old. There is algae or lichen on the north side boards,

where the wood is splintery gray.

Some of the lichen florets are the color of sage, some the color of a bright orange 

rust,

Circled with gray ones and black, their life cycle played out.



He hammers nails and screws in screws while holding boards in place.

Sweat glistening where skin is exposed, making long dark stains in his black 

shirt.

Veins standing out against the strain, and

Muscles laboring to prove he can do the job well, without a mothers help.



While he works I think about his father and how differently they work.

His father preferring team work and orchestrated smooth motion

working side by side, no extra movements  and he whistled.

My son needs to prove his skills first  alone.



The shed is done and it will brave another winter, keeping the horses sheltered 

from the elements.

The wind, snow and horses milling about, will obliterate the trail of pant cuffs, 

Along with the memory of one cool day at the end of summer, 

When a man worked hard to rebuild their shelter.

Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer | Year Posted 2007

Long poem by colin mitchell williams | Details |

Senseless ( part one )

Senseless



What is it inside the heart of man

That cannot appreciate anothers suffering

Were we born with this senseless implacability



Is it from life itself we grow these calluses of the soul

Are we created not to care

Is the face of nature so coldly ruthless

That we must come to be so



For what belief in anything in which to believe

Should we maim and destroy and kill

What is it that we know so well

That the idea of difference can cause such conceited violence



How do we become so voluntarily indoctrinated

Is it some desperate need to have sense amidst the senseless

To have at least the illusion of a purpose



When then do we celebrate the diversity of our sense to make sense of the senseless



Should every woman and man dream and aspire

And have every man and woman dream and aspire to the same

Or say this love is stronger or this way is better

This truth more truthful than anything anyone else can know



Whos despicable spirit can live with out some measure of guilt in overfed luxury

While others starve and die in poverty

Ar