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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.

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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 it’s clear to see.
   What you really need is to be set free.
The answer to your problems they won’t be found.
   Coming from that bottle you just put down.
You don’t bend your elbow you bend your knees
   Trust me just once He’ll hear your pleas.
You’re hurting so, I can feel your pain.
   There’s a way out, and it’s so very plain.
I was where you’re at not long ago.
   But I had someone who wouldn’t 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 I’ve been there.
You thought you lost it all, that’s just not true.
   If you trust in Jesus I guarantee you, He’ll lead you through.
We all make excuses for the things we do.
   He’s heard every excuse there is a million times or two.
Quit trying to blame Him, He didn’t put you there.
   You know I’m right, But you just don’t care.
Listen little bud, you’re 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 you’re carrying all my demons and most of my fears.
I know you care for me a lot, that’s very plain to see.
   Now turn it over to Our Savior, let Him be the one to set you free.
                   


Long poem by Ronald Bingham | Details |

The Taste of Freedom

                 
My old daddy use to tell me about the war he had to fight,
   He said don’t believe those movies, cause killing ain’t no pretty sight.
He said no one is born a hero you just fight to stay alive,
   Cause when those bullets start to flying your only thought is to survive.

No matter what people may say, freedom it don’t come free,
   And I pray you never see the things that I had to see.
And he said son the taste of freedom is a taste worth dieing for,
   And that should be the only reason to ever fight in those damned old wars.

He talked about his comrades, so many now are gone, 
    He said I am a lucky one to see my son full grown.
So many young men back then were buried where they fell,
   You see son war is not a game it’s a living, breathing hell.

You’re fighting for what you know is right and they are fighting for what they believe,
   While mothers on both sides just pray and weep and grieve.
And when they get that letter that says their son will not return,
    They say one last prayer for others, Lord will they ever learn.

To say you really hate someone is a truly ruthless thought,
   But there are those that feel that way and why these wars are fought.
Son he said I don’t think there will ever be peace as long as men exists,
   Freedom is our gift and we must protect no matter how much they persist.

G………God
B…………Bless
A……………America

                                                                                  


Long poem by Le Incendié | Details |

VISUAL BLUR

The Cannabis Queen
Rides her Snow Chariot
A glass shard still remains in his heart
And his heart still remains ice.
This is his true state of existence.

He worships the Queen,
Because now, all is pure,
White and still.
He kisses the back of her palm
In deep submission
She smiles and takes him to her lap
And together they ride the snow filled country side.
Here, there is only love,
Only acceptance,
Redemption and forgiveness.
Together they merge into the fog,
Their silhouettes lost in a holy blur.



In a cold secret chamber,
The maid and the drunkard make love.
She kisses him not,
For his mouth reeks of wine.
N yet she clasps to him and does not let go.
There is,
Such passion,
Such want,
That nothing stops her from having him.
And as she moves rhythmically on top of him
She looks into his eyes
Where the power of wine
The power of an orgasm
The power of a sleepless night
Blur into a holy blur.



In a place called Xibalba
Through which the dead pass
From the confinement called life
To the liberation called death
One soul readies to take the plunge,
To come to terms,
To be one with the eternal.

In one cosmic leap, the soul
Splits into a million tiny pieces,
Of its many laughs
Of its many cries
Of its many loves and hatreds
And its each tiny emotion
Each tiny memory
That came to be in its journey through life,
Becomes a star,
Studding the eternal silver sky,
And transforming it into a holy visual  blur.


Long poem by Carolyn Devonshire | Details |

Fleeting Freedoms

Elderly man’s fishing net hangs in his shed
The fish he caught in his backyard stream multiply
Net use was banned; he couldn’t afford a pole
Joy and sustenance gone, a tear falls from his eye

House Bill 875 would ban backyard farms
Forcing vegetable growers to invest cash
In overpriced produce on supermarket shelves
Uncle Sam flexes his muscle, makes his whip lash

The right to freely worship is endangered
As prayer is prohibited in public schools
Government intrusion invades all our lives
Public pleas are not heard by those who make rules

Freedom to choose our doctors is now threatened
Socialized medicine diminishes choice
Speech censorship? Just ask the Smothers Brothers
Who canceled their own show with a stifled voice

As crime escalates, look to the constitution
The NRA spends billions to protect Americans' rights
To bear arms against oppressors while thieves laugh
And sue owners of homes invaded in the night

Can this be what our forefathers had in mind
When they sought to escape a king’s tyranny?
Our rights are being limited more each day
In a nation spawned to promote liberty

Natural disasters prelude Judgment Day
Eerie escalation – tsunamis, earthquakes
But perhaps when the dust finally settles
Those who survive will learn from our past mistakes

Governments will form only to preserve peace
Not to strip away rights ancestors pursued
Don’t blink!  Precious freedoms are now endangered
By those who feel they’re elected to intrude


Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/if_you_crossed_elvis_with_michael_jackson_youd_get_michael_presley_or_vice__314642' st_title='if you crossed ELVIS with michael jackson you'd get michael presley or vice '>

if you crossed ELVIS with michael jackson you'd get michael presley or vice

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET

‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  

I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me

Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 

I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be

The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance

To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb

Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  
                © 2011.….free cee!

 








Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details |

i NEED a quarter o, i AM sorry I MEANT A QUART OF VODKA

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET

‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  

I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me

Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 

I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be

The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance

To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb

Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  
                © 2011.….free cee!

 








Long poem by Chuma Okonkwo | Details |

Outta Love Wilderness

We exchanged glances
Slugs from her eyes exploded into 
blazes
I couldn’t dodge, maugre I flinched 
hard
With a flick of her blinkers she 
brought musical box
Playing unceasing medieval ballad in 
my head
I realized the duration I had 
whistled in the dark.
 
As a deer fly pants to spread 
tularemia
So my  gentle soul hankers after her
My eyes glued to her inviting 
cleavages;
Epitome of a pictorial archetype 
depicting an Arabian princess
I read the instructions on her face to 
the letter
I could make out letter of intent on 
her fickle lips
Her lips are nature’s nectar!

Take me out of this wilderness, she 
whispered in hushed tone
Beneath the veneer of my tender 
ears
I felt the gentle touch of her auburn 
hair
The smell of her womanly scent 
smeared the tip of my nose
Shivers fluttered in drops across my 
body
If only ululation could bring down 
angels from heaven
I would summon the whole angels in 
heaven
Feelings of unfailing anticipation 
buck up every nerve in my body.

A gentle touch from my velvet hand 
moistened every fiber
She had in her squishy and tanned 
skin body
All over her plummy body were 
honeypots
In plain sight even to the blind eyes
We were receptive of our tingly and 
sensual hunch
Leaning on each other nakedly in 
brazen openness
We could feel our spirit sync our 
heart desires
In deep winter garden our burning 
passion streamed
We serenaded our souls as we 
prayed to live in winter melon.

©


Long poem by AJ Lekobane | Details |

Thief of Grace

You’re certainly missing out
Whilst you’re fooling about
And you’re swimming in doubt
So I shall certainly you out-rout
I’d advise you to be on the lookout
For I’m your rival, far more worthy a scout
Take heed or you’ll end up looking like a lout
All I can tell you for now is that you’re missing out

While you’re looking away
Twirling in relentless dismay
Your insolence successfully leads you astray
So He finds me in greater favour every day
Unlike you, I’m eloquent with words that gently sway
The God with whom for hours on exhausted knees I stay
‘Till the last hour of the night a dear prayer to say
With heartfelt sobs and a submissive heart I pray away

I whisper, “Dear God of mercy, show me your face
For I am a sinner in need of Your saving Grace
For years in meditation and supplication I’ll chase
The benedictions You bestow unto the winners of the race
The so-called ‘faithful’ ones who cautiously pace
In the promising path which for them You daily trace”
I solemnly utter, “My heart with Love and Faith do interlace
So I can one good day be worthy of seeing Your glorious face”

If you were smart, you’d take after me
Vigilant and sober at all times you’d be
So from the snares of the enemy you’d easily flee
Who’s literally got you down on one knee
Yet too proud you are for your life to humbly plea
No diligence whatsoever for efforts to be free
Indeed that thief I am, the thief of grace, you see
Watch out, or you’ll lose all your blessings to me


Long poem by A. Kathy Moss | Details |

Among Elk

Up before dawn, a feeling has drawn 
You into the mountain and trees.
Till the silence within, upon the whispering wind
A chime of bugles tease the breeze.
That majestic call, that is heard each fall
Since before our forefathers birth
And for those who take time, through rim rocks and pine
Listen and value their worth.

Each note high and low as each bugle ballad goes,
No two ever the same
They are all unique and if a chance to critique
Upon our hearts they claim.
We are put into state and can hardly wait
For the dawn of the upcoming morn
To glimpse hoof print in stride or a patch of hide
Or a tip of antler horn.
Just out of reach, lessons he’ll teach to those who play the game,
The tension and pull of a phantom bull, a soul never to tame.
While waiting and yearning, eyes straining, ears burning, 
Ringing till you can’t hear a thing,
To early to late, can’t hardly wait,
Patience like a bee sting.

Like a ghost in the night they filter through site
They tease and bugle and  brag,
As tell tale sign, weave and wind
Through timber, rocks and crags
Where a sapling tree, used to be
Now a twig broke scarred and torn
Velvet left there and shed of hair 
To tell the rut has been born.
Strong elk scent, down wind is sent
 From their bedded layer    
They are up once again and start to transcend 
 Letting us know they were there.
A little to late can change a state
Hopes almost fell,
But all rise again when a bugle begins
For among elk, we dwell.


Long poem by Helen J Radford | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/and_the_walls_came_crashing_down.........._114038' st_title=''and the walls came crashing down..........''>

'and the walls came crashing down..........'

A knock at the door, who can it be? 
Probably Sarah coming for tea. 
She usually calls on her way 
back from work to share some time with me. 
  
A look in the mirror, 
I 'tut' at my face: 
Why do people always call 
when there's junk around the place? 

I open the door - a man is standing there. 
I wish I'd worn some make up 
I wish I'd done my hair. 
It's then I spot the uniform: 

the buttons made of brass; 
the stripes that grace the khaki sleeves; 
the boots that crunch amongst the leaves. 
I question with my eyes? 

It comes as no surprise to hear him ask 
can he come in, and would I like to sit?' 
He has some rather grievous news - 
- I dread to hear it. 

I know what he is going to say. 
It's all a dream. Please go away. 
I'm not in to truth today 
I scream inside my head...... 

I know what he just said to me, 
but I didn't hear a word. 
His lips spoke out in silence, and me, 
I never heard. 

He's 'so sorry'. He gets up to go 
and heads towards the door. 
I try to rise to follow him 
but my legs will move no more; 

for they have turned to jelly and 
my head is going to burst. 
It's funny, when you're a soldier's wife, 
you always fear the worst, 

But it's only when you hear the knock, 
the knock upon the door, 
and see the face you've never seen: 
the shining boots, the uniform; 

the mouth that speaks the silent words 
the apologies and platitudes; 
'killed in action in the war" 
The widow thoughts ring clear.


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 !!


___________________________________________________________


Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

Hector

Poiseidon's waters roil and roar
All up and down the craggy coast;
Their winedark waves have brought the host
Of foreign men all drunk for glory,
For the sake of one man's vanity
They traveled to your alien shore
To write with blood and bone a story
Of the Gods' capriciousness towards men,
Of passion's triumph over sanity
Which they shall repeat: again, again.

The men will surge against your city walls
Ten long and doleful years;
As your children, born to violence, shriek, and widows' tears
Appeal to you, their hero Prince,
To drive them back to whence they came
As your father walks the palace halls,
As does his shade now, ever since -
Ever since you went out to face the foe
And pass to time your noble name,
Their legend and their martyr, hope and woe.

It would be asked by what Creed you chose to live
Before you fell to the Fates' perversity,
Before their undeserving Champion dragged you 'round the city.
"Honor the Gods", you said, cruel though they may be.
"Defend your Country", you said, though it be doomed.
"Love your Women", you said, as only they can give
Meaning to the madness from across the sea.
Your father forced to beg for your battered corpse; so many dead,
Their faces still now, 'neath the swaying plumes
Of shining helmets, others waiting in their stead.

     "Honor the Gods
       Defend your Country
       Love your women."

- Oh you grey heads who start your wars for Pride,
Go ask Andromache's ghost
What it meant to her.


Long poem by karl marszalowicz | Details |

Images

"Images"
The God that never was, puts one shoe on at a time
And spends four hours in the make-up room 
Putting on mascara and eye liner for the darker look 

Occult man of seemingly rebellious nature 
Is deified by the masses that show up to performances
He, a man of strong portrayal even at a skinny 155 pounds 
Grows stronger with every compact disc sold and the overuse of base 
Blowing out of a sound system which rocks the car next to you
While you wait for the light to turn green
Abandoning social mores of quietness well into the night

The appeal grows everyday for a man really just making a living
Out of his fans age group they have no idea what he is
Whether the media builds him up or tears him down
As a good guy to hate and a bad boy at heart
Any press is good press, though infamy might be better for sales

Topping the charts and making parents sick of his songs
He is a beneficiary of childhood splurging and so inclined to be
The adults wish for a mere fifteen minutes of his fame
So their children would listen to them with the same respect
But who were they when listening to cassette tapes?
And the bands of the eighties put on make-up then
 A man of mixed persuasion people are drawn to his ambiguity 
The role model singing about jail time and Hennessey
A toughness to some is a weakness to others
It makes you wonder if the man knows who he is! 
Whoever that is and for all it's worth
There will be more than enough of him to go around
In his image that is larger than life


Long poem by Robert Stoner Jr | Details |

Biker

Biker

the bar was packed and booze did flow
shots of Jack Daniels and doing some blow
Striker was out for an evening of fun 
planning to party and greeting the sun

the music was blasting as the band played on
dancing and rocking into the dawn
leather clad women moved wildly in dance
leather clad men had thoughts of romance

tattoos and patches on vests were seen
knives and guns concealed by the mean
drop of a word or look the wrong way
fists would fly and turn into a fray

the smoke filled room seemed to twist and spin
to Striker this evening was not new to him
the barmaids were serving and taking his lip
long as his money included a tip

two am and the bar must close
Striker was drunk as often he chose
walked to his bike and kicked it to start
shook his head clear as he prepared to depart

onto the highway deserted and dark
the cold air was manna light as a lark
the motor did rumble the pulse of the night
everything felt so perfectly right
 
the center line guided Striker this night
till suddenly blinded by oncoming light
unable to see in the blinding flare
there were no seconds for him to spare

he pulled on the bars hard to the right
racing at speed into the night
the bike it did wobble out of control
whiskey and speed going to take it's toll

the bike went down and into the ditch
his last thought,” ain't this a bitch”
the mornings dawn in flashes of red
the cop said ” DUI, this one is dead”

Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
11/15/14


Long poem by liam mcdaid | Details |

Making You Happy My Precious Love

Upon the winds whispering so gently a love story unfolds
Under soft beautiful clouds with rainfalls splashing love
With two lovers holding, caressing, and kissing one another

The radiant azure sky fresh with recent rain and a rainbow
Gives way toward evening to a cold moon face wishing to 
Take the two lovers to a faraway special place full of sunshine

This magical place is where the sun shines forever beautiful
And the feelings, desires, passions, and emotions of love are 
Always together true as ONE of a much bigger love portrait

This young man and woman walk hand-in-hand very much in 
Love while listening to the far distant echoes thundering from 
Surrounding cliffs while near the ocean dream seagulls cry aloud

As the man opens the gates of this paradise with his special lady
They both experience at once blinding tears of warm joy, and he 
Just wants to fulfill immediately her every wish to be happy in love

The young man tells his sweetheart with a most earnest passion: 
 “Dearest One, I want so much to make you happy my precious love!”
Our love My Sweet unites our bodies and souls so complete and whole

These two lovers have found their paradise fulfilling their dream of being
Together always walking under a wonderful star-filled sky dazzling pure
Sharing their love and seizing their very destiny now—Two now as ONE  

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © 
All Rights Reserved (January 11, 2015) (Unrhymed Tercet)


Long poem by Spidey Williams | Details |

Nobody Told ME

Nobody told me that the road would be EASY,
Believe ME.
With every BREATH,
I begin to feel one with DEATH.
Wondering why it’s not me lifeless in the GRAVE.
Wondering why my life is being SAVED?
The more I breathe in this world’s AIR,.
The more I seem to CARE.
The more than I APPRECIATE,
Every time I AWAKE. 
Every time I CRY,
Every fear I FACE,
I’m realizing I’m living NOW,
 for a purpose, while preparing MYSELF, 
for a better PLACE.
I do not know what tomorrow BRINGS,
But I know what today IS.

My tomorrow results from what I make of TODAY!
Today determines what my tomorrow may BRING!
Yesterday helps factors a fraction of my TODAY!

But nobody told ME!
The weight of the world would be carried by ME.
I knew it would be HARD,
but never did I think it would be this DIFFICULT.
I never thought I would actually loose so MUCH,
before I gain so LITTLE.
I never thought the little gain, would mean so MUCH!

I never realized how little I CRIED,
Until when I TRIED,
 		no tears would FLOW.
And when they started they would never STOP!
And when they stopped, the feelings would still REMAIN!


Nobody told me I would loose so many KEN.
Nobody told me I would loose several of my close FRIENDS.
Nobody told me I would feel so low DOWN.
Nobody told me I would be hurt by words SPOKEN.
Nobody told me my heart would be constantly BROKEN.

But even if they had told ME, 
all of this and much MORE.
It would have never prepared me to be the CHOSEN!





Long poem by Sierra Biersack | Details |

If I Had The Guts

I know i have kept a lot from you.
I know its not fair. 
I know i should tell you.
I know i have to tell you.

Maybe i can tell you some, but not all.
Maybe i can keep it secret just a little longer.
Maybe i can hide it from you more.
Maybe i can get the guts to tell you everything.

Everyday, i wanna tell you.
Everyday, i hope i get the guts to tell you.
Everyday, i feel bad for not telling you.
Everyday i think about you.

Sometimes, i dont want to tell you.
Sometimes, i just want you to know it all.
Sometimes, i wish i never knew you.
Sometimes, i wish you were all mine.

If i had the guts, i would tell you everything.
If i had the guts, i would tell you how much you mean to me.
If i had the guts, i would tell you your the only reason im alive.
If i had the guts, i would tell you my biggest secret.

Just knowing that i love you.
Just knowing that you may or may not love me back.
Just knowing that i care.
Just knowing that you probably dont.

Breaks my heart.
Breaks my soul.
Breaks my dreams.
Breaks my life.

If i had you, my life would be complete.
If i had you, my life would be perfect.
If i had you, i would be happy.
If i had you, i wouldnt have to search anymore.

I know i should tell you.
I know its not fair.
I know i have kept a lot from you.
I know i should tell you.

But, i dont have the guts, 
The guts to tell you i love you,
The guts to tell you your the reason im alive,
The guts to tell you,
I need you in my life.


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 it’s 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
It’s not meant to be

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


Long poem by Jim Pemberton | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/our_countrys_soul_is_being_torn_apart_400833' st_title='Our Country's Soul Is Being Torn Apart'>

Our Country's Soul Is Being Torn Apart


Our Country’s Soul Is Being “Torn Apart”

The very soul of America is being “torn apart.”
It’s a problem that’s striking at our very heart.

There’s a “blowing wind.”  A “time for change.”
As the country’s moral fabric is being “rearranged.”

As many question what the true meaning of life is for…
Many don’t seem to know what’s wrong or right anymore!

As so much pornography is allowed into our homes…
The moral decay is “eating” right at “the bones.”

Many have a hard time “defining what marriage is.”
So many are really “messed up” in how they live!

The news seems to be “fascinated” by man’s depravity…
Leaving a huge vacuum of a monstrous “moral cavity.”

Many who attend church want what’s
 “soothing to their ears.”
A God of holiness and righteousness
 is what they “fear!”

As we look around as to what our society is becoming…
God’s judgement is soon!  It is surely coming!

We must come back and leave all of our “false idols!”
We must come back to the God of the Bible!

Jesus must be our cord of love the forever binds!
It’s only in him can we find true love for our minds!

It’s only in Jesus that we can find a purpose and meaning!
It’s only in him that we need to put our
 trust and start believing!

He is and always will be the right choice to be taken…
Without him, our country’s is “doomed and forsaken.”

He brings healing and righteousness
“beneath his wings…
He is what we truly need!  
He is our EVERYTHING!

By Jim Pemberton


Long poem by Tammy Flanagan | Details |

Music

MUSIC

The rythme progresses through me
Reaching to depths unknown
Leading me to another realm
Only I have ever gone

A place of solitude
Where I can be free
For my soul is the melody
To which I shall dance alone
And the beat is my life walk
Opening the walls that have never been shown

Oh how I love to sing
Especially when I hear that old familiar
That takes me back to the day
That I could just proceed along
No cares, no worries, just me and the world
Being free...... to my song

How many memories are wrapped up within tones
That have touched our lives 
How many people can we recall
With just one sharp# climb
Or with just one flat fall

The power of our melody is our own
No one can hum it 
No one can take it
Because our life walk is our song

We can take this empowerment as high as we want
Or we can take it to the lows
No matter how we play it 
It still grows

With each and every encounter
Down our blessed path
The music follows
With our every step

So embrace your sharps and flats
Knowing that it is helping you
Through this turbulent ride
Sing it loud and don't be ashamed
For your song knows you are doing your best

Don't let the bar line tell your ending 
Keep the melody flowing
Continue your lines without cares
And when your curtain rides low
And the rythmes come to a sway
Just look at the pages before
To where you started from
And to how you have become so much more today

Keep the music alive....even with a hummm


Long poem by Mark Vander Poppen | Details |

Path we Persue

Life as understood by many resembles a journey traveled in a daze.
yet you feel lost, we can't help but carry on.
As we travel up the hill not knowing whats on the other side, 
where the next curve begins,  when to speed up,
or when to slow our pace.
Even as it seems at times we are blindfolded at very least,
human nature tells us to keep pushing through.
our best interest at that time is to put the path of life on hold,  
and asses our situation. Even if common sense makes you believe it would be difficult
or even impossible to resume the path started so long ago.
When it all seems impossible or hopelessness stares you in the eye.
Now is the time to grasp our greatest tool in life, just as God said let their be light.
let our light be the knowledge and support of your friends & family.
Use this and not even the devil himself can use his power and influence to corrupt us.
When we have 100% faith in ourselves combined with love for all that is good and pure.
And the hope that our destiny is not being pursued in vain.
Only positive results are to be found.
If u reach hard towards your soul and gather the will to strike down all that is negative.
Then and only then do the clouds disperse the sun becomes radiant
and all becomes clear. And the realization that our goal is in our grasp once again.
so before i put this pen down and carry on with my quest of surprises
and not knowing whats to come.
a prayer has been said guidance has been asked,
and a sense of relief is then achieved.


Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/dont_worry_616333' st_title='Don't Worry'>

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


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-to’s.
I’m not used to this thought process, I’m not. Not from a child.

I watch him for a while.
Opening and closing gates as needed.
The dust, sifted into powder from summer’s heat, poof’s 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 mother’s 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.


Long poem by michael romero | Details |

lossing my ship.

Locked in my cabin I can bare to think
   turn to the rocks and let it smash and sink,
       our voyage's end seems to be on the brink,
           alas  a RAIDERS ship now turns to a mild drink,
"captain" a voice at my cabin door screams out,
    as I reach from my sward and stand firmly stout,
         " our ship lyes in the thickest of fog and without,"
               if I listen to the words they are words of doubt,
I steady my hand with a drink and my fate as well
    I open the door and the a crushing angry sea I smell,
        one step out and calm my ship sits still and without yells,
             looking into the eyes of the broken I see withered shells,
how could this be this is my ship and it escaped me,
     a tyrant in my days of old I sit calm speechless as a tree,
          no mutiny no sabotage only a crew unwilling to hear my plee,
              a ship over run by blind servants and disregard for my decree, 
the ski clears as the seas water turns blue,
     a smile from faces as if waiting for an accrue,
         a dead mans ships drifts on waters and starts anew,
               my body plunges into the sea and even at my death I knew,
the soul tamed by ones lovers kiss has no purpose,
      a mans word floats unheard willingly disregard and missed,
             and a captain can only rule until another strips him of his ship,
                   now forgotten and gone this ship floats lost and unequipped.  
  
       
              


Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

Get An Education

"The boy's got a broken brain!
- Fix him for me now,
I can't do a thing with him."

     - So I hear you say,
     Though he seems intelligent enough.

After all, he's smart enough 
To know the whys and wherefores
Of every deal that goes down on his street -
Every $ passing hands in the dark,
Summed and totalled in his head.
But Math - Forget it.
And you'll never see him crack a book for study's sake.

Perhap's that's because you broke his heart,
Long ago, though his face will never show it.
Because he bleeds inside,
Though to hear him talk you'd never know it.
You tore his shadoworld apart
Just by never being there -
You broke his proud red eggshell heart
Because he knows you never cared.

Perhaps this is why Rage is his religion,
And he only values Gain,
Why Payback is his Creed,
His only currency Pain.
This then is why he wears the shirt 
That reads, "Never Forget, Never Forgive";
This why he's unafraid to kill or die,
Yet terrified to live.

So go get an education -
 Start with a hard look at yourself -
You that schooled a nation
In the politics of Greed,
Builders of the conflagration
Of burning, unmet Need
Now threatening to consume us
As it climbs into the skies,
As it whispers warnings to us
From his vacant, coldstare eyes.

You broke his heart,
A wound more deep
Than I alone can mend,
I, just one beleaguered horseman.
Cannot set it right again.

You must help put things back together,
If you want our nightmares to end.


Long Poems
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