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Long December Poems | Long December Poetry

Long December Poems. These are the most popular long December by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long December poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long Poems
Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |

ETERNAL RECURRENCE

ETERNAL RECURRENCE*


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
“I am certain that I have been here as I am now a thousand times before and
 I hope to return a thousand times after.”  GOETHE 
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1.

Once upon a time, 
The Lord of spiritual consciousness was sitting peacefully on His blissful throne 
Ceaselessly contemplating upon His equilibrium
T’ was the era of no moon, no sun, no stars, no earth, no oceans, no rivers
Just a motionless, timeless and deathless entity it was happy with His existence  

2.

Suddenly the thought of sacred motion was felt deep down in his essence
Seeking the chaos to be stirred from its core outwardly
Consequently separating the light from the darkness and all the other elements 
That constitute the Cosmos
Thus giving birth immediately to old mighty time

3.

When Time: This wizard of celestial art found himself alive
His expert hands stretched in advance, wanting to create
For that the plastic energy he took, that was everywhere around
And skillfully and patiently the Cosmos carved according to the Logos
Creating thus, the nebulae, the galaxies, the stars and all the other planets

4.

Then God looked at times creation and marveled with its beauty
But as there was no life to be seen in all of this creation
The thought of desire was born in God to inhabit every place
For that out of himself he cut myriads blazing souls
Which like shooting stars he sent downwards to animate nature,

5.

In this way, to manifestation’s cosmic sphere, the souls were beamed
Radiating their luminosity to reality’s lower planes  
Bringing with them the sacred principles to denser forms of life 
As they were passing from the spiritual, the mental and the astral
And finally materializing, themselves on the physical solid plane
Where life began on earth, with God’s will and grace!

6.

Each soul an ambassador was and is of God’s will and grace
A ray of divinity, a guardian of the Holy Law 
Each with a specific mission: to learn or rather to remember
How to find the way of return throughout space and time
And with the divine, again, to be seen in perfect equilibrium

7.

The day I was born, as every man alive,
I found my immortal self bound to the wheel of time 
That around eternity’s circumference took me, in very heavy chains
Asking to follow obediently the unswerving path of fate:
This endless trip of return where the only constant thing is change

8.

Since then I have died once and many times after
But death's dark palaces to hold me were unable
As my soul’s perpetual desire to follow my destiny
Brought me back to this ephemeral world of fleeting dreams
With a new body, new hopes, new goals but always with the 
Same desire

9.

Thus I journeyed back and forth the plains of oblivion
Choosing the best conditions I could, according to my karma
Trying to find endlessly the golden middle way 
That unmistakably between the extremes is only to be found
But since from the river of forgetfulness each time I was drinking 
I was obliged, unfortunately, to start over again

10.

So, I was born once a king and another was I born a beggar
And in turns I was born a coward, a hero, a holy man, a vicious man,
A  Christian, a Muslim, an atheist, an idolater a strong man and a woman
And healthy and sick I was born and intelligent and witless
And was I born to love so much the things I once detested
And to hate passionately the things I once held dear

11.

And I was born once to laugh and another just to cry
And I drunk successively from joy’s cup and that of sorrow’s
And was born to make friends out of my enemies 
And enemies out of my brothers
And was born to realize the impossible dreams and fail the very easy  
And I was born to slay and to be slain alternatively for thousands of years

12.

Thus I lived continuously the extremes of both good and evil
Striving to find endlessly the balance in my soul
Through the wisdom that was endowed upon me by the Great Spirit
That like a beacon, luminous, to guide me waits
To my supreme destiny that GOD for me has traced

13.

So, as was passing from life unto death, from darkness unto light
With a speed determined by me, I don’t put on GOD the blame,
All my lessons have I learned through trial and error
Up to the very last reincarnation, in body’s mortal temple

14.

Now free, AT LAST, from all earthly desires and every karmic blame
Radiating with holiness and glowing with grace 
My immortal soul, HER divine wings unfolds and soars upwards the heavens
White light blazing in perfect equilibrium 
And pure now to her glorious creator returns and with 
HIM UNITES! 


©Demetrios Trifiatis
  11 DECEMBER 2013


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“A little while and my longing shall gather dust and foam for another body.
A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind and another woman shall bear me”
KAHLIL GIBRAN
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* This poem because of its length I was unable to post it in one piece for I was not a
member for life at that time therefore I published it in two parts as: “CREATION” and as “REINCARNATION.” Here is the entire poem as it was originally written.
Now, my friends know that apart from my epigrams I write... long poems as well!    
  


Long poem by Suzette Richards | Details |

SUMMER, WINTER SOLSTICE - 2010

It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standards. I had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape Town. I had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocket. On the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas season. A few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the Ritz. I chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the Ritz. Then reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solution. I could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of advice. My daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashion. Later that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flat. I gladly accepted. She is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.

screeching seagulls dive at sushi scraps on a plate - the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrived. It was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departures. At the airport everything was in chaos. We were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelled. This was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticket. Some people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier). I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to London. If I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted it. Arriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the day. This I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season. To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed them. I phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the garden. It was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty. I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
moths dart between moon flowers - lunar eclipse
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. Sleepily I took the call. It was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven am. My friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teeth. I offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time. The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinations. Heathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morning. We were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew member. We were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished to. By the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among us. A radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airport. It was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories.
steep steps to flat shut out the bitter world - a heart pounds
**************************************************************** *The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solstice. It was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia. "bitter" means piercingly cold..... A term commonly used by Britishers... "flat" means apartment. The Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or article. Please see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku. Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia


Long poem by Timothy Hicks | Details |

The Cascade Adventures - Part 1

It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. Been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals, having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees, blue jays on limbs, moonlight cutting through forests, lakes the color of Windex-ed glass. It's much like drinking water that's been doused with Crystal Light... you may feel yourself becoming hydrated, when it reality it's only satiating your thirst temporarily. So you can imagine my joy when my best friend called me up to break the news.

"Monica, Brandon, Joel and I are gonna go backpacking. Care to join?"

the finality
of a cell hitting the floor -
shoe tying

Like a bunch of sardines packed in a can on wheels, we headed out to beautiful Cascade: the place where the Idahoan mountains aren't just paintings from afar, but close enough to taste. We weave our way through the spider-like dirt trails, as we each take turns changing songs on Joel's iPod. It's my go and I'm searching through the John Denver list, mourning the fact that there's over a hundred songs by him, and not one of them is Colorado Rocky Mountain High (the one song I could say fit my feelings to a tee). The menagerie of everyone's taste in music made for an interesting trip no doubt - even if Jonathan picked the worst possible jams simply for annoyances sake.

My first peculiar observation:

Humans have been making calendars for thousands of years (the first being more akin to cave drawings and stone tablets than paper). But as long as all that has been going on, the mountains don't care that August is expected to be sultry as November is expected to be chilly. Cause June took her first baby steps with a stubborn December mindset - a meandering way to say it was cold enough to freeze your nads off. The mounds of five feet snow made it all the more comical the fact I was wearing plaid shorts. Mother Nature wasn't going to be kind, I could tell.

like turtles
struggling to stand -
our packs full of crockery

It was breezy at first. We would practically glide down the mountain side, using our backpacks as a counter balance. The snowy counterpart to kangaroos, we were. The glistening flakes were thick enough to snowboard down - granted I never touched a snowboard, let alone ridden one. But after seeing this it gives me ideas...

Monica smiled for the camera, as I fumbled for my iPhone, a smile that didn't even require the forcible Say Cheese! nonsense. It wasn't waiting for the camera flash, but the other way around. Now you might be calling that rather pathetic, but I brought my iPhone along simply for the function of capturing memories. Angry Birds just don't compare to the real ones, sweet with lilting songs.

My second peculiar observation:

Google Images is an absolute horrid plagiarist; some beauty just can't be encapsulated despite all our advances in high-def technology.

The downward slope finally leveled out a bit, if only for a few minutes. Truth be told the path never stopped declining - some routes were simply more apparent than others. Our group of five walked single file through the trees, all basing our faith that Joel (a person who has been to the site once when the trail WASN'T covered in snow) would lead us in the right direction. And here's another interesting fact; this was no official trail, but a hike through the purest of adventures, unpredictable and unreliable.

crushing pine needles
with un-gloved fingers -
roaring rivers beneath the snow

The first time my whole leg collapsed into the fragile surface of the snow made me realize just how far above the dirt I was walking. I'd ask Brandon for assistance with a beet red blush on my cheeks - I blamed it on my fair skin falling victim to the sunny day. From then out I tiptoed with exaggerated caution, my heavy pack helping me just as much as it was hindering me. For even a foot drop had to be taken with a grain of salt. Everyone had to adjust to the added weight (except for Monica, with her light load of a sleeping bag, nothing else). I'd very ungracefully glide through twigs and pesky low branches, oblivious of my bare legs. In all honesty the cold didn't get to me, just the scratches of neighboring trees is where my concerns lied. At anytime I could have stopped the whole gang, beaming, "Wait a spell and let me put on some pants for crying out loud". Course that never happened, my clothes were in the bottom of my pack, and I was no where near desperate enough for monkeying around with that sorry mess.

slick slates
slanting down the cliff edge -
helping hands

Joel, with his redneck stubble, beams up at me, "Every hiking trip needs a little bit of adventure, don't rush it by any means!". That's the last thing on my mind - the first is whether or not that rock I'm about to put my weight on is as stable as she looks. It's a very roundabout route, and as questionable as it is, it's safer by a long shot than the first path we took - call it a 103 degree wall.



NOTE: Still working on writing out the rest of my trip to Cascade. It was my first backpacking trip and even though we only stayed one night, the trip is full of wonderful memories.


Long poem by Rebecca L. | Details |

Snowstorm Raging

I've been hearing news about the tragic shooting in Newtown, Connecticut 
which happened almost a year ago, so I decided to post my poem again as a tribute.
The tragedy was fresh and heavy on my mind when I wrote this...  


~Snowstorm Raging~

The wind howls outside my balcony door
My feet are cold from walking across the floor
As I step outside to look at the snow 
I know for sure I won’t be sleeping anymore 
It’s 5 am … only five hours of sleep 
The house is so quiet, kids aren’t making a peep

I head to the kitchen, down darkened stairs
Coffee doesn’t take very long to prepare
Back in my bed where it’s cozy and nice
I pull the covers up, my body cold as ice
My legs are warming with my notebook on my lap 
I’m thankful for the company of an early morning chat 

The lights begin to flicker, my internet is gone
No one to chat with, I find myself alone 
I light the few candles I have sitting about
Just in time for the power and lights to go out 
Buried under covers, too bad I’m alone
The coffee tastes good, it’s still kind of warm 

I close my tired eyes to take time to pray
And think about what’s ahead for the day 
My mind won’t cooperate, thoughts starts to wander
So many things that I start to ponder 
Like funerals for those little ones, starting today* 
In a town in Connecticut, so far away
yet so close to home, in a manner of speaking
I think of my children in their rooms still sleeping

My tears feel hot coming down my cold cheeks
As I think of the events of this sorrowful week
And of all the evil which has been unfurled 
And tomorrow, supposedly the end of the world*
Well, maybe the end would be just as well 
We’re already living in a sort of hell 

No! I can’t think like that…I have to stop
I just wish I could have a direct talk with God
And find out what it is that He wants me to think
Find out why such bad things are happening
Why did those children have to die? 
How will those parents say goodbye? 

My heart aches so much as I look at the ceiling 
I can’t imagine what those parents are feeling! 
God, give me some answers!  Show me the way!
What is the point of getting up today?
What is it I’m feeling…?  Is it grief, or fear? 
I hope in time things might become clear

Sitting in the dark as the temperature falls
The candles flicker gently, making shadows on the wall
Those candles smell good, they smell of peace
I close my eyes to try to get some sleep
Quietly there comes a stirring from within me
I could imagine God's words, through a gentle epiphany  
 
The children are ok… they’re in a better place
Their parents have pain that I’ll help them to face
This brings me such sorrow, I am hurting too
But I’ll use this for good, I can promise you 
Things happen in this life that can’t be understood
Let your heart ache for the evil, but search for the good
Remember all those things that make life worth living
Like family and friends… like serving others, and giving…
Do what you can to make the world a little better
Just spread the love… and try to remember 
This world is not the end, and it isn’t your home 
And neither is your body… That’s just skin and bones
There are beautiful things in store for you 
I know you can’t imagine, but believe that it’s true
And tell other people, so they will have hope
It’s the only thing on earth that will help them to cope

I look out the window at the snow flying by 
The sun is coming up, but gray fills the sky 
I may not have the answers to all I want know 
I just have to believe that God is in control 

A peace comes over me like a little gift
I feel that a burden has been lifted
I still feel sad, but hopeful, in a way…
At least I think I'm ready to face another day


12/20/2012  


*Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
On December 14, 2012, 20-year-old Adam Lanza fatally shot twenty children and six adult staff members in a mass murder at Sandy Hook Elementary School in the village of Sandy Hook in Newtown, Connecticut. Before driving to the school, Lanza shot and killed his mother Nancy at their Newtown home. As first responders arrived, he committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.
It was the second deadliest mass shooting by a single person in American history, after the 2007 Virginia Tech massacre, and the second deadliest mass murder at a U.S. elementary school, after the 1927 Bath School bombings in Michigan. 
The shootings prompted renewed debate about gun control in the United States, and a proposal for new legislation banning the sale and manufacture of certain types of semi-automatic firearms and magazines with more than ten rounds of ammunition. 

* Some people believed the world would end on 12/21/12 all because the Mayan Long Count calendar was thought to be reaching the end of its cycle.




Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |

LIFE IN ETERNITY

LIFE IN ETERNITY*


1.

The cheerful trumpet of miraculous life, imperatively sounded in 
My mother’s life-giving womb,
Heralding with its melodic tune another animation: MINE!
And as my innocent infantile heart was provoked by
The challenging divine call, 
Started beating tenderly in the rhythm of never-dying cosmos
Thus making me ALIVE!  

2.

The promising sound was still ringing in my delicate ears, singing the 
Marvelously hopeful song of life, 
When a sound of a Second trumpet, similar to the first, filled with 
Its melancholic tune my tiny world, announcing the
Coming of calamitous death thus condemning me to DIE!

3.
 
LIFE and DEATH beside me they stood facing each-other, 
Tenderly holding my hands and claiming me as their child,
Life was the first to whisper into my ears promises so many:
She talked to me about joy, happiness, love and procreation,
About thousands of other things that she would like to offer, 
Only a favor she asked in return- to be hers and only hers
Forever! 

4.

When death heard what life said, didn’t make any sound
Only sardonically smiled at her first and then to me
Emphatically declared:
“The cup of joy you can never drink before you empty that
Of sorrow’s
And no matter what life tells you, in the end you will be 
My very own.”

5.

That’s the way my trip in this ephemeral world began
With vigorous life leading and tracing the promising way
While death kept following her, just a few steps behind,
Patiently waiting to catch up with her pace
But, 
As years were passing fast one after the other
Death was approaching her rapidly each and every day
So the fight they had begun so many years ago
Relentless war now becomes with life still the winner 

6.

Yet the ill-fated day of my death came to my great surprise
As life’s iron grasp of my hand, had lost its strength and vigor
And that of death’s had gained much power and might,
In vain I cried for life’s help for she had lost the battle 
So, the eager hands of death I felt around my skeleton waist
Violently squeezing me with all their force and main,
Ready to extinguish they are my very last spark of life  
And as the shrilling wind of death, is howling throughout my body
I fall motionless, breathless, DEAD and over the ground remain

7.

Yet, I am still here, just hovering all over my inanimate body,
Surprised! Confused! Bewildered, nevertheless EXISTING!
With no hands, no arms, no legs, no head or any other organ,
Just pure thought, pure consciousness, pure light, in other words 
A SOUL

8. 

Now, to those of you who many tears of sorrow shed
For my sake
One thing I have to ask: Rejoice for I am truly alive
Dead was I certainly, when among you existed
Therefore, your grief for me should turn to great joy
If you do not want me to pity you and delay my flight

9.

Death, you are my savior, my friend my ally
Thank you for delivering me from agony and pain
From space, time, ignorance, ignominy, injustice
And most of all, I thank Thee for the eternal life


10

Impatient my soul now becomes, yearns to fly away
Far from human misery and every other worry 
The only thought that exists deep down in my soul  
Is to trace back its steps to its celestial home

11.

Now, I fly uninterruptedly, I am on my way
As the shining bright stars illumine my road
The road of accomplishment, attainment and glory
Ah, there at last I see the ever dazzling light
The gates of eternity to open for me wide
And God Himself to look at me with His ever blazing eyes
Calling to hurry forward and with Him unite

12

Instantly I disappear in a universe of sacred light
Joyful, happy,  jubilant, ecstatic, ever-blissful 
And become one with the ONE, immortal everlasting 
Radiating with holiness, enraptured with grace
A ray of divinity encompassing the COSMOS


Oh, how grateful I am to you DEATH my LIBERATOR!



©Demetrios Trifiatis
16 DECEMBER 2013


*Wrote this poem for the passing on of a thirteen-year-old girl! 


**Because of its length I was unable to post this poem in one piece for I was not a
member for life at that time therefore I published it in two parts as: Choreography of Life 
and as Death My Liberator. Here is the entire poem as it was originally written with minor 
changes.

***Myself, have thrice crossed swords with death and have felt his breath on my neck!
    With God's grace though I am still here!



Long poem by Darian Rehder | Details |

Love, Death, and Rebirth

The signs started in December
When she started waking up in tears each night
She was a normal girl with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes
She had plenty of friends and a loving family with just one thing missing
Her father. 

Days passed by and turned into weeks but only felt like a few seconds
Her life just whizzed by faster and faster until it was just a whirr in front of her eyes
Darkness filtered into her heart and mind until she didn't know if she could go on
But she had to. She couldn't let her mother and her sister drown in this same pain
She wouldn't let them.

She pushed all the darkness into the depths of her own heart
In hopes to save the hearts of the two people she had left
Because what else was there to live for now?
The rest of her world had crashed and her mother and sister was all that was left 
She wouldn't let them drown in pain too. 

She watched as they started to heal in her loving arms
Their hearts started to lighten up once more
But hers was just as dark as it was before 
And growing darker day by day 
But she wouldn't let that stop her. 

Suddenly a year had passed... and then two 
It only seemed like seconds to her but everyone else started moving on
Her mother and sister no longer needed her nurturing care
But she needed someone to hold on to
Anyone...

With nothing left for her to take control of, the dark pushed past her boundries 
It found a way into her soul
Until all she could see was dark and no light 
But her mother and sister were healed now
They didn't understand

The tears came back and engulfed her soul
Bit by bit until she wasn't sure why she was still alive
The grief took over like knives 
Piercing her skin over and over and over
It hurt so much.

She started to wonder what it'd look like to be dead
She could see him again if she was
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to endure this pain?
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to live knowing she'd never see him again?
It would.

So she started to hate herself
All that negative energy was starting to take toll
Everyone around her was breathing while she suffocated more and more by the second
She wished she'd just choke already instead of living in constant pain
If no one would put her out of her misery, she'd have to do it herself

She couldn't see any light anymore
So she grabbed the pill bottle off the shelf and just hoped it wouldn't take long to die
Deep down she still had a spark of light, but she just couldn't find it 
And now it was too late in her mind to change, to turn back and try to look deeper
She was done living.

That's when people started to notice that everything wasn't as peaceful as it seemed
They started to see how deeply depressed she had become
They wanted to help her see the light again before it was too late 
So they sent her away to see doctors and to take pills to make everything better
It was a start.

She didn't see a change at first but suddenly she could think clearly
Maybe what they were doing was actually going to help her see the light again
Yes, she still wanted to die, but maybe that wasn't the only option anymore
They cared,  and behind all their own problems they were trying to understand
They really were trying

Six months longer she would be treated and cared for
Until suddenly she was sent home from her treatment and care with a smile on her face
She had a new perspective
Someone had helped her ignite that spark in her heart until it was a glowing ember
She had been reborn

Sometimes you have to be able to experience the worst of it
To come back shining brighter than before
And if she had died that cold day in October, she wouldn't of ever seen the best of it
Or known that it would get better
and it did!

And she now sits at her laptop, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart
It's never been an easy road and it won't ever be
But at least she knows she's lived through the worst
And it can only get better from here

So whenever she feels lonely or gets back into that dark spot again
She can look back on what she's learned and can read this poem
And remember that she survived the darkest depths of depression
And she will continue to survive it as long as she lives
Because she is stronger now than she ever was before ?


Long poem by Roy Jerden | Details |

Keep It Turnin' to the Right

Oklahoma cowboy, tough coal miner’s son
Born in Henryetta, south of Tulsa some
Raised by daddy’s momma, taught him wrong from right
Daddy taught him ropin’, taught him how to fight
 
Herding made no money, its stock was really down
Mamaw feeling poorly, dad mining at Old Town
Seventeenth of December, in the year of twenty-nine
Dad was shoring timber, 9th west entry of the mine
 
The gas ignited close to him, he never smelt its breath
It belched fire and thunder, and everlasting death
Sixty-one they counted, who wouldn’t see the sun
Twenty-five weren't recognized, they buried them as one
 
On that fatal Tuesday, the boy became a man
Had to make a living, had to have a plan
Heard about the oil patch, got a chance to try it
Drill the earth for all she’s worth; just keep it turnin' to the right

Some they called him weevil, some they called him worm
Some they wouldn't speak to him, figgered he was just short term
They told him "Open up that vee door; go to get the key
It's in the possum belly, in doghouse number three"

Took his turns at floor hand, at first a little green
Became the fastest broke out hand the driller ever seen
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right

The driller called him partner; the pusher called him son
The other roughnecks shook his hand, and took him in as one
Got up on the monkeyboard; learned to spin the chain
Pumped that mud and shed his blood, and worked right through the pain

On a bitter frosty evening tour, in a cold December snow
He saw derricks lit like Christmas trees in the distance far below
He saw the fairyland of the refinery, shining through the night
He saw Mother Earth and the universe, all turning to the right

He got a job as driller, to West Texas he would go
A boomtown named McCamey, southwest of Angelo
Hired a shack from Pansy, put money in the bank
Drove his pickup out of town, seen the million barrel tank

The oil patch was a hard life, moving all the time
But he saved a lot of money, didn't waste a dime
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right

Sent his kids to college, working through the years
One became a teacher, the others engineers
He hung up his hardhat; he shed his steel-toed shoes
Then one day he passed away; he'd finally paid his dues

Made it to the Pearly Gates; they handed him his wings
Handed 'em right back to them; said "I don't need these things.
I want to do some drilling. That's my heavenly plan."
They said "Go talk to the Devil then, cause he's the company man."

Old Scratch needed hellfire; he always come up short
Too many bankers and lawyers and others of that sort
When he heard they had a driller, he jumped up with delight
He danced a jig, "You've got your rig. Keep it turnin' to the right."

Now he drills for hellfire; in the derrick he's got Jake
Buck and Sam on the platform; Sonny's on the brake
They all grin like demons; they're all where they belong
Doing what they love to do, they sing their roughneck song

"We all eat caliche and sniff the devil's brew
Play dominos with Satan and whip him at forty-two
Work all day on Sunday and honky-tonk all night
We're oilfield trash and we'll take cash to keep it turnin' to the right

We all love West Texas; it's like the Promised Land
Horny toads and rocky roads, and even dunes of sand
Dust storms every morning, northers every night
We get tans and freeze our cans to keep it turnin' to the right"

The lingo used around the rig you won't hear much in church
It'll curl your hair and make you stare and leave you in the lurch
So close your eyes and realize it's gonna get much worse
Drink your beers and plug your ears; here comes the final verse

"We p*ss longneck Lone Stars; we f*art Frito pie
Give us ****, and we will spit some Red Man in your eye
Don't **** with us, or we will cuss and bring you to the fight
We're low class, but we kick *** to keep it turning to the right"


Click "About this poem" above the title to see the notes.


Long poem by Cynthia Alvez | Details |

The Day Before The Night Before Christmas

I wrote this poems some years ago when I was invited to be on a television program to read a Christmas poem to children as they gathered around me...I had not written a Christmas poem when the invitation was extended and wondered what to write as there were so many Christmas poems already...It was then I decided to write about the day before the night before Christmas...thus this poem which the children and listening audience enjoyed...

The Day Before The Night Before Christmas
It was December the 23rd
And Santa was packing his sleigh
Saying to his reindeer, "We've got
Lots of traveling to do today,
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I
Have lots of surprizes up my sleeve!"
The reindeer grumbled and were ill-at-ease,
Santa was worried and asked "
aren't you pleased?"
One reindeer who asked not to be identfied,
Stepped forward and replied,
"Christmas now is just a word!"
The other reindeer joined in,
"There is no peace on earth,
No good will between men!"
"No good will between people!" a liberated reindeer
Chirped in.
Santa was aghast and could not believe what he
Had just heard,
It startled him, it made him sad,
Why, Christmas was the time of year to make folks glad.
A time for celebration, for spreading good cheer,
A joyful, happy time of year!

"I'll do some spot checking!" Santa said to Mrs. "C"...
"Christmas has lost its true meaning, this cannot be!"
"This is tragic!"
And with a little Santa magic, he transformed himself
Into a little child with a polka dot face,
This way he could represent every race...

He went caroling the world over and begged
Passers-by, "Please sing along!"
But no one would join him in song.
Santa was cold,
His coat was tattered and torn...
No one offered him shelter,
They looked upon him with scorn.

He stopped at several houses but no one
Would let him in...
Some shouted, "Come back again!"
They were busy decorating and wrapping 
Presents galore,
But no one would open their door.
Santa saw a family strolling hand in hand,
"What does Christmas mean to you?"
He asked stepping up to the man.
"Presents for one and all said he!
"Trees a glitter, houses in holiday dress!"
Said she.
"Toys!" said the little one, jumping with glee...
"If you are really good, Santa will bring you a color TV!"
"But he won't find your house on the other side
of the track,
You are poor and ugly with that polka dot face,
I know Santa won't find your place!"
They laughed and scoffed, 
"Why you are a disgrace!"

"Christmas means a brand new car!" said the next
Hurried gent,
The next lady said, "Christmas made me spend every cent!"
Poor Santa was really sad,
No one had said Merry Christmas,
"This is really bad."
He shook his head as he pondered, "Is Christmas really dead?"

No one mentioned the babe in the manger,
Or the wise men who traveled afar.
No one mentioned Mary or Joseph or the
Bright guiding star.
Santa slumped his shoulders
He head beack home,
His heart was heavy, he felt all alone.

The suddenly, bells chimed; it was Christmas eve.
A lone man appeared and took the little child Santa
By his tattered sleve.
"Come child," he said softly, "I'll share my meal with you,
It is not much but it should warm you through and through."
He wrapped his worn scarf around Santa's cold head
Santa thanked him...
"Merry Christmas!" the stranger said, "I am traveling to
Bethlehem" and he was gone again.

Marry Christmas!" said Santa ss the stranger disappeared
From sight..."Christmas lives!" he shouted,
"The reindeer were wrong and I was right!

Carrolers sang in the distance,
Deck The Halls!  Silent Night



Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

Poem by Kasiananthan on the Tamil Diaspora and Eelam, trans by T Wignesan

The Parrot and the Woodpecker may turn...
    [Sung by TEnicayccal Cellappa]        Translated by T.Wignesan
 
mAnkiliyum marankottiyum                    The parrot and the woodpecker

   kUtutirumpa tatayillai                             their nests to regain  nothing waylays

nAnkal mattum ulakattilEyE                    Only we  in all this world

   nAtutirumpa mutiyavillai                        our homeland to seek may not turn      

   nAtutirumpa mutiyavillai                        our homeland to seek may not turn

                            [Above refrain repeated twice]

cinkalavan pataivAnil                               From skies filled with Sinhalese planes

  neruppai alli corikiratu                             fire tumbles down in seething showers 

enkal uyir tamil Elam                              Our lifeblood   our Tamil Eelam

  cutukAtAy erikiratu                                      a simmering graveyard on fire

 

tAykatarap pillaikalin                               While mothers rave in pain  children’s

 nencukalaik kilikkinrAn                             breasts  the oppressor tears apart

kAyyAkum munnE ilam                           Long before they might ripen    tender

  pincukalai alikkirAn                                  the buds crushed from burgeoning

                                       [Refrain]

pettavankal UrilE                                   Those who begot us back home

 Enku rAnku pAcattilE                              tossing  turning in their longing for us

ettanai nAl kArttiruppOm                       For how many days might we linger on

 atuttavan tEcattilE                                  in the other man’s refugee land

 
unnavum mutiyavillai                                Without proper food

 urankavum mutiyavillai                              without sufficient sleep

ennavum mutiyavillai                                Unable rightly even to think

  innumtAn vitiyutillai                                  when will the day dawn for us

                                           [Refrain]

kitti pullu atittu nankal                              We who played at kitti pullu*

 vilaiyAtum teruvilEyE                                  joyously in the heedless streets

katti vayttuc cutukirAnAm                         There now tethered  others lie felled

 yAr manatum urukavillai                             no  no hearts pain for us

 
Ur katitam patikkayilEyE                       When our eyes light on letters from home

 vimmi nencu vetikkitu                           sobs prise open our brimming breasts

pOrpulikal pakkattilEyE                         By the flanks of battling Tigers

 pOkamanam tutikkitu                            there to be  our hearts throb and yearn

                                           [Refrain]

Note: * A competitive game played by hitting a small stick with a bigger one, the goal being to cover the greatest distance. Also called in Tamil Nadu and Malaysia: kavuntA kavunti.                                      

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1995. From the collection: “Words for a Lost Sub-Continent” (2001). Excerpted from “Kasi Ananthan: Poet Laureae of Tamil Eelam” by T. Wignesan in Hot Spring: A Journal of Commitment, Vol. 3, No. 9 (London), December 1998, pp. 17-18.


Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details |

MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE AND THE BLACK LADY

   MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE and THE BLACK LADY
Just south of Paris, lives the soul of me,
at my chateau, where few will ever see,
I'm compensated for the way
death lingers on from day to day
and makes each night a night of tragedy.

   All dark as hell, from trees that block the light
   so as to make the day deep as the night
   I'm free to come, and free to go,
   without the sun that hurts me so
   and this, my home, is hidden from all sight.

Now I would never have you think my way
is shunning life, and hiding from the day,
and though I live a tragedy,
it's quite the way I'd have life be,
as all alone leads only to decay.

   One night I'd settled in for mystery,
   my candle lighting words my mind could see,
   and authored by a lightning mind,
   I knew his words were of my kind
   and as I turned my pages, what should be?

All feminine, the hesitating sound
of just a tapping, to the door it's found,
of fingers slim, but in distress,
she should be home, that was my guess,
but still I raised myself to stand my ground.

   Anticipating what--I didn't know--
   for what fair damsel knocked at my chateau?
   And so I grasped my deringer
   all cocked and ready, as it were,
   and set upon the path where I should go.

The tapping grew to be quite indescrete
and hurried, as if one about to meet
a harsh and catastrophic end
without the slightest hope or friend,
and so I pulled the door, but braced my feet.

   December winds came freezing to my skin
   and lightning lit the winter nights' begin,
   an omen I supposed to be
   a blessing of the night for me,
   and so I welcomed her, and asked her in.

She shed her wrap, one tatterred by the years
but fondly placed it to my hands, in tears,
and dark was she, as any night
her skin so black, a blessed sight
for beauty's in beholding what appears.

   There showed no blood, upon her neck for me,
  No, not a mark was there that I could see,
   and questions raced all through my head
   if hers was warm, and damp, and red?
   Or did her blood flow black--how could that be?

What brought her tears, once placed into the past,
I set upon to make here smile at last,
and asked her if she'd like to stay
at my chateau, near Poitiers,
and spend the night, for it was waining fast.

   Of all the beauty, ever to be here,
   in all  my life, not one could come so near
   as when her cloth fell to her feet
   in candlelight, love made complete
   by flesh and blood, as dark as they appear.

My mark was bit, and I could feel the flow
of blood that made my heart not want to know
an end to this, a special night
so red that flowed from just the bite,
but dark as sin--I begged she never go!

   So overcome with joy of all she was
   my pounding heart gave in to just because.
   I drank of her until she knew
   the bite for her great living through
    eternal dying, lacking what death does.
                            © ron wilson aka veebdosa the Doylestown Poet


Long Poems