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Long Feelings Poems | Long Feelings Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Nii-Ayi Solomon | Details |

My First Love Experience

It was in the early days of our lives
We met
She was so beautiful 
My eyes could not stop admiring
My heart kept racing 
Every time it sensed
her good-looking approaching
But we were too young 
To give full meaning 
To the love language

Years passed
Time kept flying
We lost contact 
But the memory of our past
We lugged with us

Someway, somehow,
Fate found us
And brought us together

We have now grown 
So big and sweet
We both glitter
At each other’s presence
We were ready to do a recap 
of where we left off

We laughed and joked about our past
We talked about our hey days at the National Theatre
We remembered the beautiful past that reflects our true self
We both haven’t changed after all

At that moment my heart spoke 
The love language again
I knew I was in love with her
It wasn’t today
It started from when we were kids

Man must gather confidence
And speak out his feelings

Thoughts of what she would say;

Don’t laugh at me,
We all do it sometimes

We were sweet friends
But now, I want to take 
The friendship a step further

My heart in full swing 
Of abnormal beating,
It beat faster
It spoke two different languages
Say it; and keep it
Don’t know which of these to believe 
I was shy
I was afraid
I was confused
I was happy
I was sad
I felt insane

There she was,
Standing in front me
In their house 
Beaming with smiles

Nii, she said tenderly,
‘I thought you said you had something to tell me,
Come on, I can’t wait any longer
My ears are itching’

My heart just jumped out
And now I want to escape from her presence
I wish I could vanish into thin air

Stop laughing at me
I’m not mouth lazy

I was just afraid of the outcome 
What if she said NO?
What if I lose her as a friend?
What if she vanishes into thin air?

And the what if’s continued …

Once in a man’s life time
He must draw together courage
To speak out his feelings

After all, I would not have violated any law
For telling a sweet scented woman 
Gorgeous, attractive and stunning 
About what I feel for her
So my nerves were clamed

This was how I started…

Esther, I mean, Naa Adjeley

The confusion has started

Errrmmm, you see,

Still didn’t know what to say

Hmmm, hope you are doing great?

Still confused…

‘I guess your brother, Thomas,
Is doing fine?’

She stared at me intently 
The smiles on her face kept 
My hopes alive 
And my heart awake 
I knew she was expecting 
Something more than making those comical remarks

It’s was now time to speak

Naa Adjeley, I travelled from Cape Coast 
To Accra to come see you
To tell you I miss you
and errmmm…

Please let it out
The small voice inside me whispered

I left campus to Accra just to let you know that

She laughed aloud and said
‘’are you serious!’’

‘Oh! Yes I am’
I said confidently,

Her face suddenly darkened
The smiles misplaced 
I wanted to fade away from her presence
After all I’ve let my feelings out
That was what mattered to me
But I did not have that special magic

How long have you felt this way towards me?
The next question to answer
‘When we were kids,
But it was revamped quite recently’
I replied

I could see the confusion on her face
She needed some more time 
To think things through
I was excited let it out
But she was confused

Days passed,
I went back to school,
We enjoyed chit chatting on the phone
But the answer to my request was still hanging

She mentioned in one of our conversations
She might be travelling
But didn’t say when
She was a nursing student
I was a tourism student
The beauty of having a friend 
You know and love
kept my mind awake in school

School was on recess
I arrived in Accra
Left my things unpacked
Borrowed money from my old girl
Picked a cab to Banana Inn
To see the woman 
That has taken my heart hostage

I kept bagging at their gate
Agoo! agoo! agooo! 

Waiting in anticipation to see
Her fine looking face
And present her with my first gift
Her brother, Thomas opened up

‘Hey! Where have you been?
It’s been a while’
Was the first question 
He asked

The only interest I had was to see her face
I wanted to see the woman 
That makes my heart beat
She was all I cared about

Where is Naa Adjeley?
I enquired from Thomas

I saw the shock on his face
My breathe was not catching up 
with me properly
I knew something was wrong

‘Where is she’,
I asked again
‘Didn’t she tell you
She was travelling?’
My face dropped dead at once
I felt a sharp heart ache
I almost fainted

She left for the U.K
Without even saying bye bye
Was that why, she didn’t give any reply
to my proposal?
Why did she keep my heart awake?

I left her house, depressed
Her gift was a bonus for the cab driver
My face drenched in pool of tears

I know it hurts
But I felt more relieved


My feelings had been made lucid to her
I now walk with my chest out
Ready to move on
Ready to open myself up to happiness

I still remember
Her looks
Her smiles
Her beauty
Her mannerism

My first love story
The one I have kept furtive
Over the years

Naa Adjeley
My old time love.

Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

My Beloved Disease - Satisfying Cure


 That’s my satisfying decision…you’re an addiction
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day
Satisfaction is ours, baby…
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…I feel like I’m top dog 
right now!

Verse 5:
Beyonce: Mmmhmmm ohh yeahh…show me how to feel this satisfaction…
You know what I’m talking about…
Ooooooh yeahhhh…awww ooh… you know how to push my buttons, don’t yah? I 
need at least a fraction
I need a fraction of your satisfaction without a dirty, little doubt
Pinch me please…this must be a beautiful nightmare…
Pinch me please…I must be dreaming this reverie…does it ring a bell?
Pinch me please…this must be all a dream after all – I look at myself in the mirror
Pinch me please…I must be caught under your wicked spell
Rihanna: You took me out of the lion’s den ooh
I’m feeling incredible…so irreplaceable…as irresistible as chocolate cake…as fantastic 
and magical like a fable – you ain’t no fake or you don’t hide the truth under the 
table or sweet it under the carpet…you’re not instable like a broken, tattered table
Oh baby, baby – we met in a perfect place
This feelin’s so indescribable…so irreplaceable…so irresistible…as fantastic and 
majestic as a peace-abiding angel
It was a weird moment…when I saw your sundrenched face
(Beyonce: a surreal moment when I looked at your face no doubt about that) 
Pinch me please…this must be a beautiful nightmare…
Pinch me please…I must be dreaming this reverie…does it ring a bell?
Pinch me please…this must be all a dream after all – I look at myself in the mirror
Pinch me please…I must be caught under your wicked spell


That’s my satisfying decision…you’re an addiction
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day
Satisfaction is ours, baby…
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…I feel like I’m top dog 
right now!

*Verse 6*
Lady Gaga and I: You gave me vast grace…and now, I can run this race…if I keep 
pace…when you gaze into my eyes, I’m in a different maze…you’re not a waste of 
my time…you were my sublime, drug of delight..and yah made me take divine flight 
like a kid’s toy kite…you make everything seem alright…
Me: You are the illuminated night in my mind’s eye
Beyonce: I yearn for yah vast grace…vast grace…super fast grace…super de-duper 
grace…everything you do, you never left me without a trace – embrace the light, 
everybody! You make me shed happy tears – I don’t know why…but I’m so 
Me: oooh yeah – I wanna see your face…x2 Sparkling like the blue-green sea – 
your sunrays beam…and we’re singing with  sundrenched harmony… 
Adele: You’re not a disgrace x2
Baby, I love you to the core
Oh baby, how can I love you more?
Me: I loved you with a deep, deep passion
You gave me…yah gave me
Yah gave meee….beyond satisfaction…you serve as the best distraction, wo-man! 
You gave me pure…
Both: Satisfaction…and you’re my drug of delight…you’re my beloved disease and 
my beautiful nightmare all in one…you’re not a curse – you’re a gift and a cure 
(Lady Gaga: to my heart ache…for sure…you’re my ultimate, miracle-healing cure)
Me and Beyonce: I'm a believer...
And you're my dream weaver
You're my dream catcher
I can't believe what I'm seeing...
Rihanna included: Your spirit shining bright and beaming
Me: You make me (feel like a grand king) x2 ooh oh oh! wow...oooh wahahahah 
Beyonce: Pinch me if I'm dreaming...
Rih and me: Can you hear my screaming...?
Me: At least we’re healing and recovering from the love flu – let’s shout for joy and 
let’s shout with thanksgiving!
At least we are alive and well – no longer feeling depressed, anxious, rejected and 
I ain’t bleeding out no more – let’s express our gratefulness to have such a 
satisfying cure 
OOooh ehhh…eeeee…

Long poem by Emile Pinet | Details | . You can read it on' st_url='' st_title='A little boy's hope Part One'>

A little boy's hope Part One

A castle surveys the morning sky before the gauntlet of daylight falls,
standing guard should a dragon fly by this wooden fortress with rough-hewn walls.
Windows direct the first beams of light to a small boy with an impish grin,
and awaking from the spell of night the master of this realm stirs within.

A rickety outhouse guards its flanks, while a rusty smoke stack crowns its peak,
and strange symbols scratched upon its planks welcome the innocent and the weak.
Its cardboard liner protects and warms, keeping out the ghosts that feed on fear, 
built of logs it can resist most storms or the odd monster that may appear.

Every weathered board and worn-out knot lets his imagination run wild,
telling a story of battles fought, as magic entertains this young child.
In this shack of mostly logs and tar his family finds it hard to cope,
and before a knight’s dreams drift too far, poverty steals a little boy’s hope.

As time slipped away my body grew, entering my adolescent years,
fairies I once knew no longer flew, driven off when my smiles turned to tears.
The world went to war, and Pa left too when his draft papers arrived one day,
that left Ma and I with lots to do, so the elves and dragons stayed away.

With Ma I plowed all our lands that spring, and come fall we brought the harvest in,
yet Ma never complained of a thing, to her eyes laziness was a sin.
We worked hard just to maintain our farm, but Ma made sure we ate every night,
then we would pray Pa was safe from harm, so he could come home after the fight.

One day out of the blue Pa came back, and Ma was so happy that she cried,
the war's won, democracy’s on track and I’m thankful that Pa never died.
Late that night I heard Ma laugh out loud, something that was good to hear again,
lately she's been acting kinda cowed, overburdened by worry and pain.

Times were never better than those years, the future was all peaches and cream,
Pa worked hard and enjoy a few beers while I would go fishing in the stream.
My woodland friends came out of hiding and would come visit my dreams at night,
where as a knight I would go riding, hunting dragons until dawn’s first light.

Ma and Pa were happier those days, always keen to have a little fun,
Pa taught me all of his hunting ways, and Ma bought me my very own gun.
For a few years the farming was good, Pa even put some money aside,
then the rains didn't come as they should and everything just shriveled and died.

The great depression starts to arrive and Pa's savings sure disappear quick,
people are struggling just to survive and we pray to God no one gets sick.
A monster took shape in clouds of dust and all of the livestock choked and died,
everything was coated in a crust of grit that the wind had blown and dried.

Darkness descended like a shroud of black, blocking out light for days at a time,
and Pa's tolerance began to crack as anxieties started to climb.
Pa could no longer pay any bills, there was just no money to be found,
how do you fight a monster that kills, by choking you with your own damn ground?

Panes of dirty glass reveal the hurt when futures are tied to land and soil
and Pa stands with a hand full of dirt, reflecting on years of pain and toil.
A rusty sun bronzes our straw thatch, a sign that long ago meant good luck,
and a small candle awaits a match, to defend against the dark when struck.

Ma slips me a smile while tending Pa, no guessing where her loyalties lie,
yet when crops fail hunger starts to gnaw, everything we plant is doomed to die.
Looking up to a burnt almond sky, Ma searches for clouds other than dust,
for our neighbors have all said goodbye, homesteads left to decay and rust.

I can see pain bleeding from Pa’s tears, as his wet cheeks mock his false conceit,
abandoning a dream lost to fears, his pride erodes, accepting defeat.
I woke to a roar shaking the room, filling our cabin with prickly dust,
and ran outside in the dark and gloom, where a bruised sky looked ready to bust.

Ma was frantic making sure we're safe, as a black blizzard obscured her sight,
and the fine particles made us chafe, but other than that we were all right.
The drought had electrified the air, attracting dust that the winds lift high,
and we knew we had to flee from there, at the very least we had to try.

Pa whispers we must move from this scene, far from this dust bowl of empty dreams,
California calls in shades of green, with lush pastures and clear mountain streams.
We pack all we can in Pa’s old car, leaving most of what we have behind,
and pray California isn’t far, for it’s like the blind leading the blind.

(863 of 2508 words) Written by Emile April 10th. , 2015 for the contest “Knight Writer's Club Grand Opening.”

Long poem by Peter Duggan | Details |

In memory of Bob

In memory of Bob
A true story.

It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.

     There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.

      As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya  going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and  somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.

      I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life,  that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long,  ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.

     Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.

     Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain,  but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.

   His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.

Long poem by Emile Pinet | Details | . You can read it on' st_url='' st_title='A Little Boy's Hope Part 2 of 3'>

A Little Boy's Hope Part 2 of 3

Scared and confused I question our fate, as dark cuts day into strips of fear,
and leaving me in a zombie state hope vanishes, replaced by a tear.
Ramshackle looks drains ego of pride, a warrior lives in a naive youth,
frightened inside unable to hide, he’s armed with lies defending the truth. 

The best of friends ingested by night, traveling along a lonely road,
draped in dust the sun hides its light, ground away even my dreams erode.
A child of poverty learns to steal, settling fights with a knife or a gun,
yet his Ma prays before every meal, thanking God for the gift of her son.

And Pa still clutches the book of God, proclaiming that Jesus will save him,
for faith roots in the poorest of sod, nourished by light no matter how dim.
Where’s it written that a man can’t cry a single tear of love, hate or rage,
must he be destined to live and die, never once having stepped off his stage?

Dust isolates my reality into pocketed pits of deep despair
and periods of brutality, imposed by a God that doesn't care.
A waning moon dims its meager light, as darkness extends its gritty hand
and the dust rescinds nocturnal sight, while an ebony fog shrouds the land.

We are soon in sync with nature's way, traveling in silence as we go,
upon gravel roads or sun baked clay we ride all night without friend or foe.
We reach the hottest desert on earth, so Pa tops up all the water cans,
and then Ma understanding their worth, also fills all her pots and pans.

Stretched before us lies nothing but sand, a crucible of heat and bleached bones,
for it's the most God forsaken land, quiet accept for my mournful moans.
Death Valley sucks water from the air leaving everything brittle and dry,
and to get across didn't seem fair, for it's hell, not a word of a lie.

A shimmering haze distorts the sky as drops of sweat escape every pore,
and as temperatures go soaring high, I'm hotter than ever before.
Unrelenting heat follows the sun across miles of dry cacti strewn sand,
yet ahead the mountains have begun and we're almost at our promised land.

Driving up to giants that scratch the sky we were apprehensive of the snow
and Ma feared she was going to cry, yet summoned up the courage to go.
The first sweet smell of evergreen trees sweeps down shadowy slopes black as coal,
and every gentle pine scented breeze helps to rejuvenate my sad soul.

The cool air feels fresh and crystal clear, surely paradise could not compete,
for the clouds are so amazing here high in this Rocky Mountain retreat.
The peaks glisten like a billion gems set in an endless blanket of white
and Ma starts to let down her dress hems, as her hat shades her eyes from the light.

Occasional drifts of blowing snow block the road and we have to dig through,
making our progress go very slow, but there is nothing else we can do.
The narrow steep roads hug the rock-cliff and we are afraid that we will fall,
for at times fingers feel frozen stiff and we can barely bend them at all.

The grandeur of the scenes before us repeatedly takes our breath away,
and Ma's the first one to make a fuss when Pa says we got no time for play. 
The sun sank quickly with silent speed, draining off what little heat we had,
yet we're of hardy pioneer breed, so our plight doesn’t seem all that bad.

Blinded by darkness Pa parks at night and I turn to look back where we'd been,
and by the stars and the moon’s dim light, confront a world that I've never seen.
Subjected to hurt that never stops, Pa’s sad spirit dreams of wings to fly,
for disappointment flows like teardrops, whenever he sees Ma start to cry.

Ma is worried but wears a brave smile tending to all her family's needs,
and she starts counting off every mile, following Pa wherever he leads.
On our way down the last mountain pass California comes into view,
we see rippling oceans of green grass, and it seems all we’ve been told is true.

Ma picks a spot to pull over, insisting on having a picnic lunch,
Pa pulls up to a field of clover and seems the happiest of the bunch.
Our dreams are all about to come true, opportunity awaits us here,
but first we have to plan what to do, we can’t let ourselves give in to fear.

Pa quickly found a good paying job with a small house for us to live in,
and Ma got to cleaning, she’s no slob and our new lives can finally begin.
I am now becoming a man and often thoughts of love fill my heart,
I want to find a job if I can, for that's the first thing I'll need to start.

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

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 Emile Pinet | Details | . You can read it on' st_url='' st_title='A Little Boy's Hope Part 3 of 3'>

A Little Boy's Hope Part 3 of 3

Spring brings a bad case of spring fever, I'm itching to strike out on my own,
and I thought I'd try trapping beaver, but that will mean I'll be all alone.
Pa thought of a vineyard to make wine, and he and I started planting grapes,
tying them to trestles in long lines with lanyards Ma fashioned from old drapes.

The sun greets every grape with a kiss, awakening the juices within,
and thriving in warm weather like this, our future winery can begin.
Pessimists leave the art of dreaming to optimists with a half full cup,
just seeing one of Ma's smiles beaming never fails to lift my spirits up.

I breathe the freshness of morning mist and feel the rich soil between my toes,
this is a place where dragons exist and fairies help you fight off your foes. 
Listen to the wind rustling the leaves, as golden sunbeams flicker and spark,
like muffled laughter riding each breeze, piercing the canopy’s shades of dark.

Magic and reality mingle, as understanding comes of age,
and I do not want to stay single, like a lone parakeet in a cage.
Hope has me chasing dream after dream, yet happiness keeps slipping away,
and at times I feel the need to scream, for things never seem to go my way.

Dodging danger where trouble hides, I’ve learned to beware of games
and survived the emotional tides in a sea of strangers with no names.
I can imagine how love must feel for it is a feeling that I know
and the ache within my heart is real, only in sleep does the pain let go.

Lost in a crowd I'm always alone, feeling that I will never belong,
for my tears can't dissolve hearts of stone, and everything I do turns out wrong.
Today as I walked though my fields I spied a young girl gently crying,
yet she instinctively raises shields, and starts accusing me of spying.

My eyes are blinded by her beauty, for next to her the sunrise seems blasé,
and I feel that it is my duty to offer to chase her blues away.
Cast within the shadow of her light it is hard to watch an angel cry,
yet how can I just ignore her plight, when for her I would willingly die?

She's silhouetted against the moon and her presence makes it hard to cope,
for I feel like I’m about to swoon, as I haunt the far fringes of hope.
My heart sinks for she is feeling bad and the mere thought gives me the chills,
and I cringe inside because she's sad, drowning within every tear she spills.

Between sobs she says her name is Grace, her boyfriend has abandoned her here,
wiping the tears from her angelic face I tell her my Ma and Pa live near.
When I say they will be glad to help, she agrees to come back home with me,
and I’m so happy I give a yelp and almost walk straight into a tree.

Pa found her work at the winery and she rented a room in our home,
She was accustom to finery, but now looked more like a garden gnome.
Today I asked her to be my wife and I am thrilled that she said yes,
I'll love her for the rest of my life, she looks so nice in her wedding dress.

I bought us a small house near a brook surrounded by a grove of orange trees,
and she took on a pioneer look, often scrubbing the floors on her knees.
Now we both want a baby so bad that we are making love all the time,
disappointment makes her feel so sad, I can feel the anxiety climb.

Today she surprised me with good news and near drowned me in hugs and kisses,
and I gladly say bye to the blues, dreaming of my beautiful misses.
We stay up talking most of the night and she is so happy that she beams,
I must insist we turn off the light and with a kiss send her to her dreams.

On May first she gives birth to a boy and together we both start to cry,
our lives are soon overfilled with joy, and our spirits soar and start to fly.
We name him Jonathan after Pa, and soon he is taking his first step,
of course he is spoiled to death by Ma, and he's quite the rascal full of pep.

He wields a shield he made from a board, sharing my dread of dragons it seems, 
and so now the dragons fear his sword, for he is the shining knight of dreams.
And aware of this knight’s resistance, demons cut their shenanigans short, 
and Goblins try to keep their distance, for fairies have vowed to guard this fort.

Long poem by curtis johnson | Details |

A Can Of Coffee

A Can Of Coffee
By Curtis Johnson

I do not remember telling him how his kindness to me made a major impression on my life, but I did share the same with his wife and daughter some time after his demise.   Moreover, I suspect that he knew that what he did for me had a lasting impact upon my life.  I have no doubt that with plan and purpose, with prayer and personal interest, Bob gifted me with a 2 pound can of ground coffee.  From the beginning, I discerned that Bob was  not trying to satisfy my taste for coffee.  At the time, I was not a regular coffee drinker, but rather I drank coffee as a survival tool when I was a delivery driver.  However, as a result of Bob’s good deed, I started to drinking coffee every morning.

I must tell you that the primary action of Bob was not about doing a good deed, but about connecting to another human being that was in many respects ‘disconnected’.  Nor was the gift of coffee really about the coffee, but rather it was about reaching out to another man who at the time had very little interest in personal interaction.  You see, Bob’s coffee contact with me is one of the answers to a creeping reality in     our communities today.   My reality of disconnection was my own response to disappointments and adversities.  Our world is in a ‘major disconnect’ for its own myriad of reasons.

Blame it on the internet and cell phone if you wish; convince yourself that our culture and the millennial generation have divided and separated us from one another.  Tell yourself that emails and tech messaging is the new normal.  Nevertheless, may we never cease to reach out and physically touch.  May we forever look people in their eyes, showing and telling them that we care.

Yes, there is a real and present need to reach out to the strangers, the visitors, the quiet and invisible ones, and the one who comes and goes, with few ever getting to know their names.  May we go the extra mile to acquaint one’s self with that one who would rather not be bothered.  We do not have to smother or over zealously invade their privacy, but we must respectfully find a way to enter their space.

In my case, Bob broke through the thick wall that I had built, and on which there hang an invisible sign that could be clearly read by any who dared.  Sometimes, if we like Bob, would dare to read the sign but ignore its request; or if we would but pretend that we did not see the expressive face and body language which said, “Don’t bother Me”, we might just be surprised with the response we get.   Love is not bound with a fear of barriers and walls.  Love sees no partition that it is not willing to penetrate.

Bob was a loving conduit through which the electricity of God’s love flowed.  The coffee was simply an instrument that could easily have been an invitation to dinner, a gift card from Starbucks, or a ticket to a movie.  The tool is relative; it’s the conduit that really matters and makes a world of difference.

No, it was not a ‘random act of kindness’, but rather a very specific and targeted act.  As a result of Bob’s one act of kindness, he opened a doorway to my heart and life that led to a wonderful, though short, friendship.  There were several occasions in which Bob and I would engage in interesting conversations.  As a result, I learned of Bob’s many interests and of the service station business he once owned.  

I recall a story of a heat wave that hit Chicago several years ago.  A number of elderly people died not only because they were without air conditioning, but because they had no one who checked on them on a regular basis.   They lived alone; they died alone.  This tragedy caused the city to implement a system of connecting with the elderly in ways that disallow a similar misfortune. 

Bob never lived to see how I began to open up and relate to other people.  It’s amazing what things can happen when we simply allow ourselves to be conduits.  Bob was a conduit through which love flowed  from his heart to mine.  The tool was a 2 pound can of Coffee.  The power of love and a can of coffee.    Who knew?  cj08262014

Long poem by Peter Duggan | Details |

From anxiety to Joy

From anxiety to joy

Hi to all my friends
   I decided to write this story of me down, because I see so many unhappy people on this site. They make this very clear to me when I read some of their beautiful poems. I have tried telling it in verse, but now I feel it is time to write it down in prose

    When I was a child I was not happy because I had very strict parents who robbed me of all my freedom. I was a very freedom loving boy and I felt so totally restricted in a family that never could and never would understand me. There was a lot of psychological cruelty handed out to me by my Father and a hell of lot of bullying, I was subjected to by the other kids, I came from a very rough part of London called Peckham, and I was an extremely sensitive young lad.

    When I grew up I married a beautiful Australian girl named Vera who is still my beloved wife after fifty years. We immigrated to Australia, and after about three months, I decided to join the army, and I volunteered to go to Vietnam, so I could pay back the kindness that the Australians had Showed me by receiving me to their beautiful country.

     I served in Vietnam for about nine and a half months, then they decided to ship me back to Australia because of injuries and illness. when I came back my troubles all started and I developed PTSD, even though I had not really been in much danger during my days of war. I was filled with a terrible anxiety, and  was absolutely terrified of both life and death. I had these periods of deep, deep dread that completely ruled my life. I was angry most of the time, and I detested everybody I ever met with a vengeance so hard to understand

     This got worse and worse as the year proceeded, and I tried everything to control it, from counselling to reading every kind of self help books, and I read every religion, and all the stuff by so many different Spiritual teachers until I had a bookcase brim filled with all the books I had read. I tried every kind of meditation, plus yoga, Tai chi, and many other things. However, nothing worked. They helped a bit but not enough to stop the ugly terror I felt.

    Then one day I came across a man named John Sherman on the net, who has helped so many people, and thousands of people now practice what he advocates with much success.

     John told me that all I had to do was close my eyes and look at the me ness of me, it was as simple as that. At first I laughed at him with this simplistic approach to gaining back ones sanity. But I was desperate; I had walked out on my wife for a year and given everything I had away. My anger was getting worse and worse, and when I finally came back to my family, I really wasn’t worth being with. My wife tolerated me because she loved me so totally, but I could tell that I was leading her into Pyschological, of physical illness.

    So I gave John’s method a try, I meditated every day using my me ness as a meditation point. I don’t mean my thoughts or sensations, emotions or such. I mean the ‘me’ the part of me that actually runs the show. The ‘me’ that always seems hidden but is always there in the background. I noticed some changes in me very quickly, but then the progress came slower, but very steady.  Now I have been doing this for nearly five years and the difference in me is phenomenal. I am so happy now, that I could almost scream with joy. I have no more anxiety any more, and the dread that once debilitated is totally gone.

     My neurotic fear of death has faded, and although I don’t want to die, when it comes I will be totally ready for it. My life is so beautiful these days and everything seems so beautiful, and crystal clear. These days I walk on feather feet, and I am so grateful to John and his wife Carla for what they gave to me. I really want to share this with anyone who cares to listen. You would not believe how beautiful my life is these days.  Thank you for reading, all you who reached the end of this story. I hope it helps you as it most certainly helped me….Peter.

Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

As Go the Hours, the Days, the Years


I remember 20:

Aflame with ideas and visions,
A mind unfettered by necessity's constraints,
Spirit open to everything -
Tomorrow held no fears, 
Yesterday no regrets;
There was only day following day,
Each new and with something to give,
And each corner I turned
Led down a new road
Where the joy was ever in the going,
With a horizon impossibly far and bright.

     Do you still see that youth somewhere inside
     When I gaze on you, Love,
     As I still see that girl with the laughing eyes
     Who ran down those roads with me?

That was our dreaming-time,
The cloudcastle years

When we could scarcely bear
The brightness of our own being.

The wonder of the world embraces the young,
And they return the embrace,
But like the children they so recently were,
They are distracted, and break away
Enticed by the next marvel
Peaking 'round the corner.

A part of us yet runs there, Love;
Running and running
Through the endless light.


I remember 30:

Young parenthood, responsibilities.
We showed them all the light we could,
Let them run into it and find their ways.

Small voices grew to sound like our own;
Busy days and nights fly past
Like leaves blown out of the grasp of their trees,
Tumbling, mixing, moving on

Until at last the bigger voices went off on their own,
Running down new roads
Chasing their own marvels.

Now and again they return,
And we share our found treasures
And fondly laugh together
At Youth's follies and discoveries
And sigh within
At the beautiful light.

This was the time when we were Fortune's Fools,
And proud and happy to be.


I remember 40:

The time of Action
The time of Challenge.

This is the time we found our strength,
Though it was sometimes purchased with pain.

This was the time of lessons,
Some of them hard.

This was also the age of flowing friendships -
Some growing, some degenerating, most holding stable,
Especially, of course, the good old ones,
The ones that stretch to childhood, and go on stretching still.

And finally, also our era of finding out:

     Our spouses really are our best friends
     How relative time truly is
     Why learning to Just Accept pays off
     Where the foci of our lives need to be
     When to roll over and when to dig in
     Who's a Friend and who's a Face.

The forties were something special.


So now we stand in the middle 50s.

Less ahead than behind, for sure.

Youth is still not quite out of reach,
But age is on the horizon and beckoning.

Has Age brought wisdom along?

I think yes, but she's holding back,
Not saying much just yet.

Now the light has begun to slant;
There are decades to go,
But the afternoon has come on,
The hot day is cooling ...
Sunset is gathering into its birth,

     I know where we are now.
     I know who we are now.

We walk the shore and look ahead,
Knowing that after sunset comes the dawn again,
After a little rest in the starland between
As go the hours, the days, the years,
Pulled out, away into the great Unknown.

Now we walk together towards that sunset
And all the mysteries waiting there.
Together we shall find them all,
And when we reach the last, the Greatest,
I expect to turn and find again
That girl with the laughing eyes beside me,
Ready to run, and run, and run.

Long Poems