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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 James Inman | Details |

That Long Evening

When you came to me...

Not that you wanted me.  Oh, no!  It was I who wanted you,
Your comfort... your caring... your
... compassion, your compassion...
Your body, beautiful and young, perhaps that as well at some different time, some different circumstance.
The beauty of your mind, yes, your essence... yes, that which makes you.
I wanted YOU... needed you. smiled... the light, the beacon that saved my sanity from the storm tossed sea of my existence.
I smiled my feeble simper in return.
You said you looked for me and slipped onto the silvery, wooden bench beside me.
I had run away unable to face you.
I knew what the night would deliver... Goodbye.  We would yet share our days but no longer our substance... your pain... my insecurities...

Oh, how you opened to me when we were new, like a bird freshly freed from its cage, stretching its stiffened, unused wings, your thoughts... hesitant but fluid.
You told me of your helplessness... of the night of fear and anger, the giving and loving in your heart stripped from you... taken by the one closest to you, so... violent, so... abasing.

How could anyone ever love you again, you asked...
I felt your pain.
I could not, but I wished to share it with you... to take it from you... to leave you whole, to help you... forget.
You used it.  In your beautiful way... you wanted it... to create comfort where there was hurt... warmth where there was fear
... compassion.

...How could you not be loved!

...our talks and feelings... and you... never more to be a meaningful measure of my life.  Then there was me.  My destruction was my own.  Concern on your face told me of the helplessness you felt as I confessed my demons.  You had no answers.  I wanted none... only comfort, your comfort.
I opened my soul to you... said things... private things... things that should never have left my lips... things I had never, could never share with anyone.
You listened...
I told of destroying those closest to me...
You listened...
I told of my feelings for you...
You listened...

Then things changed.  I approached you one warm, bright morning and you looked at me.  The deep, bright orbs of cerulean that are your eyes twinkled then squinched gently as the edges of your supple... soft... inviting lips mingled with your blossoming cheeks.  As always, the warmth of your alluring smile enveloped me.
You whispered in your gentle voice, “I missed you.”
Such beautiful words that I had so longed to hear.  I returned your words, “I missed you.”
-But you need not miss me.... I am here.-  You looked at me in deep reverie. You said nothing but I knew that I would never again hear those words pass through your delicate lips. spoke of your doubts.
I listened...
You spoke of your desires.
I listened.
I felt shame for who I was and what I did, but you gently touched me... caressing me... my back... my shoulder.
You said “I care about you,”
... compassion.
You pulled me to you and we embraced.  For long moments I held you, our bodies pressed together like a flower’s clinging petals... always touching... never wanting to release their grasp... to unfold... to open... for fear of ending the moment...

Not long before, I remember you turning to me.
“A magic hug,” you said, your searching arms reaching for me... and magic it was... they were.
The touch of your hands gently soothing me... the weight... the firmness of your full body against mine... your petite silhouette lingering beneath my awkwardly grasping arms.

How could you not be loved!

Each touch inviting more... each movement of my fingers tasting your skin.  But it had to end as each instant... even a magical one... does.

...but as with everything the sweet moment was slowly lost.  You sat as if waiting.  Still... not moving, quiet... not speaking.  I leaned toward you...

You grew cold.  I did not understand.  You withdrew from me... not speaking to me... not looking at me.  I knew not what pain I had caused you, my friend... no... not friend... you never thought of me as your friend... never wanted me as a friend.  You made that clear, I am not your friend.  Friend... yes... you were my friend... are my friend... will always be my friend.

You called me needy.
You said you could not bear the strain of your pain and mine.
You said you cared too much... for whom?  You never said... never too much for me.

I seemed to be your charity... Fix him!  He’ll be well.  He is broken but not beyond repair, fix him!
I thought our need was mutual.  You listened... I listened.  I cared... You cared.
I was still broken.

Then came the rage.  You screamed.  Like a Banshee filling the night sky you howled into the wind, “ I’M ANGRY... AT EVERYONE!!”  I tried to understand... to help.  You never explained.  You never seemed to look at me... you avoided me...
You... hurt me, you hurt me.

...I kissed you...
sweet... gentle... beautiful.
The most tender of touches, your supple, full lips against mine... between mine.  I drew you in with every breath.  I tasted you.
I lingered against you... please don’t end.
I savored your gentleness... please don’t pull away.
Oh God what am I doing!!
I desired you, your presence, your voice, your touch, yes, your
Don’t pull away... it will end me.
“Please tell me you want this.”
“Of Course I do,” gently whispered, you appeased me...
never again to feel your lips against mine...
never again to press my body against yours... to feel the softness of your smooth skin beneath my finger tips... 
to languor in your magical embrace.

I HATE YOU... simple words, easily said.  Why could you not say them.
I HATE YOU... they would have ended things so much more quickly.
I hate you, leave me alone.  It would have been so much kinder.
I hate you, don’t talk to me.  I gave you the chance, “You seem to hate me,” I offered.
You couldn’t say them
I will never say them.

How could you not be loved?  You never let me.

You arose from the bench as dusk turned to dark.  The evening air was cool and the time was late.
I gazed longingly into your blue eyes.  You spared me a last smile... beautiful smile... sweet smile... your good bye... thank you.

Copyright © James Inman

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Professor Glory's Active Hope

The title of this talk today,
"Win-Win Politics of New Feminist Economics"
suggests questions,
more than emasculating 
definitively deductive

Would you imagine
a minority-identified Buddhist,
more likely as a feminist
or culturally comfortable
with political and economic Left-brain domination,
monopolistic competing toward self-enslavement?

How would you compare broad cultural trends
between East and Western language
on a feminist v. Left-brain monopolistic dominant spectrum?
Which might be more ego-centric,
and which would you expect to be more eco-centric?
Where would you expect to find more
competitive v. cooperative economic support structures?
Which would you expect to be more family-tribal-clan oriented
and which more individualistically ego-oriented?
Which more anthropocentric
and which more nurturing of all life-centric?

Who is more likely to be a feminist-cooperative economist,
a Permaculture Designer
or a Political Party Platform Developer?
Why do you imagine our world in this comparative

As a cooperatively intended illustration
of discovering political relativity 
within an economic bicameral lens,
let's compare our sacred colleague Charles Eisenstein's
description of "The Growth Imperative"
with a bracketed revision 
which might be entitled "A Regenerative Imperative."
This, not to suggest disagreement,
but to suggest dipolar co-arising confluence
through using both Left and Right lenses of consciousness:

"Abetted by technology, the commodification of formerly non-monetary goods and services has accelerated over the last few centuries, to the point today where very little is left outside the money realm."
[Abetted by double-binary balancing technology,
the decommodification of newly-commodified goods and services
is accelerating
over these last few decades,
to the point today
where surprisingly little is left
inside the overly competitive quantification of value realm.]

"The vast commons, whether of land or of culture, has been cordoned off and sold--all to keep pace with the exponential growth of money."
[Our Commons of land and culture
and genetic-holonic individuation
continues ego- and anthro-centrically self-strangling
through dispossession of cooperative ownership--
all to keep pace with 
the exponential monopoly of quantifying-reductive value,
distorting nurturing health as core-wealth.]

"This is the deep reason why we convert forests to timber, songs to intellectual property, and so on."
[This is the deep ecology of why we permaculturally harvest forests
for timber,
culturally nurture songs toward cooperative intellectual property,
and so on,
yin toward yang
and back again 
balancing evolution.]

"It is why two-thirds of all American meals are now prepared outside the home."
[It is why two-thirds of all American meals
are now less nutritionally prepared
outside our under-valued
health-producing organic homes and lives.]

"It is why herbal folk remedies have given way to pharmaceutical medicines, why child care has become a paid service, why drinking water has been the number-one growth category in beverage sales."
[We, together, are why herbal folk remedies
could further enrich pharmaceutical medicines,
from which they originally derived,
why child care has become a paid
yet under-valued
why bottled and labeled drink of nature's primally flowing health
has become the number-one competitive growth category
in what used to be
the Commons egalitarian river-flow of life.]

While we each have internalized theories
about what positive and negative correlations
we evolve between Left-deductive dominant
v. feminist-egalitarian values and disvalues,
co-relations only recently occurred to me
as what co-operative political assumption
feminist-ecologist-economist culture
may share as ubiquitously as individuated DNA
co-gravitates toward universal RNA syntax.

Buddhist, and Taoist, philosophy
calls dipolar correlations
"dependent co-arising"
while scientists may share this same principle
of thermodynamic,
and gravitational
co-elliptical curve-linear temporal balance
"endo/ecto-symbiotic evolution."

As inclusive theoretical physicists
and mathematicians
and statisticians
we might re-member political mutuality
of species evolution
as co-relation,
coincidental trend emergence
between two or more
interdependent dipolar-articulating trend variables.

Buckminster Fuller
labeled his entire geometric metaphysics of consciousness
and ecological development
after this primal principle
of interdependent co-arising "synergetics,"
and re-ligioning
and re-cognizing 
synergy is to physics
as love is to metaphysics,
and perhaps economics
and eco-logic,
health and well-being,
co-operative Positive Psychology,
design and development ethics and organic health/wealth outcomes,
which begins to feel
like ethical policy development,
useful for a healthier political
and conversational
and familial
and ego/ecosystemic
balancing process.

Where I did not anticipate discovering 
mutually-dependent co-arising cooperation
was in the Prime-Origin field of Cosmology,
although a cursory glance at mythology,
shamanic teaching,
taoist co-existential paradox of evolving Yang/Yin principles
within nature
inclusive of human nature,
predicating male/female functional co-arising
and natural balance;
these were all,
in hindsight,
significant clues saying
"please don't be surprised
when you get to universally unitarian cosmology
as double-transparent co-gravitation of our Commons".

Dual transparency of Time
as Zero-dimensional negentropicentric space
bicamerally suggests
co-operative  gravitational power politics and economics
lie at the (0)-Soul Core Prime Relationship
of our global Origination Story.

Interdependent co-arising revolutions
continue unfolding
into our political lap
during this endangered
Cooperative Transitional Generation.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

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.

Copyright © Nii-Ayi Solomon

Long poem by Emile Pinet | Details |

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.”

Copyright © Emile Pinet

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.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Long poem by Richard Lamoureux | Details |

Bits of my own Broken I'Lyezette

I know it, I'm a bit more than broken
I wish I could be more in your face
instead, I hide behind nice
away there in a corner by myself
I want to be seen 
I want to be loved
Even though I don't have my pretend all together
so I do my best to figure it out
I'm actually not a bad dancer
but dancing and singing isn't the same all alone.

It's true the hue of your skin doesn't need to match mine
if you can overlook my sin I'll forgive you double time
we're both far from perfect, so where shall we begin?
the things we thought important they lack substance and are thin
I only know what I know 
because I have been where you have been

We can start with broken smiles
or whatever else we've got
what others see as little
Personally I think it's a lot 
Through life's struggles we've all fought
I've had enough of learning
too many lessons I've been taught
real can be too real, if only peace could be bought

So forget the fake people
the all about the perfect hair people
the ones I used to want to be people
there was a time they wanted to hang out with me people
but they were the not truly interested in me people
why did I so desperately want their approval people
I guess if I am truthful I was one of the sheeple
thought they had the answers because they met under a steeple

Perhaps if you look closer I'm more than a character
Sure I'm somewhat quiet, maybe not overly unique
look below my surface, take a peek
the heart of a lion so why do I play hide and seek
Yet worth listening to if allowed to speak
I have stories to tell that could make your eyes leak

Don't kid yourself
you are broken too
Let me have a look, I want to see inside of you
Forget stumbling and choking
like me pain's not erased by laughter and joking
your safe with me I'll be listening not poking
I'm real, I'm not concerned about ego stroking
so look close
these eyes they aren't blank
this heart isn't empty
yes maybe somewhat complicated
even though it doesn't want to be
If I push when you come close
try twenty more times, plus three
I might be a bit broken
yet there is much more to me
wishing and wanting to be one of the we!

The original poem was written after participating in an inspired word event.
I realized in listening to the other artists that in one way or another
we are all broken. Even the ones like myself that on the surface may
appear to have it all together. We crave emotional closeness but keep
others at a distance through the way we present ourselves to the world.

My original poem.

Broken People

I wish to be with the broken people
the get in your face challange me people
The sometimes hidden
sitting in a dark corner kinda people
The don't you love me
I wish you seen me sorta people
People just being real people
not having to have it all together people
Them doing their best to figure it out people
dancing and singing without the smooth moves people

I don't care about the color of their skin
or what others think of as their sin
They don't need to be perfect to win
seeing and listening is where I'll begin
Beyond appearance of fat or thin
I only know what I know
I've never been where they've been.

We'll start 
with our broken smiles
It's the best we've got
It might seem like so little 
still I think it's a lot
Through life's struggles we've all fought
lessons needed learning
experienced not taught
real is real it couldn't be bought

So forget the fake people
the all about perfect hair and clothes people
The I live in the right neighborhood and drive the right car people
It's all about me, top of the hill people
They only hang out with the supremely cool people
those too important to talk to me people
thinking they're the best of the best kinda people
when all along they are merely Sheeple 
ba ba baaing, thinking they are strong instead of feeble

I love characters 
people who are unique
I look under exteriors to gain a peek
strength of lions disguised in meek
unconcearned with fab or being chic
Worth listening to if allowed to speak
the stories they tell will make your eyes leak

For in the end
we are all broken
stumbling and choking
Disguising hurt with our joking
victims of others and their poking
So look close maybe you'll see
eyes that aren't blank 
hearts that aren't empty
Who we think of as complicated
in the end might not be
They might push when others come close
yet they are affectionate times three
Each just a bit afraid and broken 
all the while
wishing and wanting
to be a part of something
to be one of the we!

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Long poem by Emile Pinet | Details |

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.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Long poem by J. W. Earnings | Details |

Figure Me Out part 2

Pre-chorus: Mmmm ohhhh ohhh 
The worst pain I've felt in my life was when I left your side
I'm slowly breaking down, so build me up with your confidence...your confidence
I fear that I might lose you, so stay close to you and I go on a wild ride 
Hold my hand tightly and relieve my heartache...make me less tense 
Hold me closer and shelter me tonight
I'm like your rainbow kite, soaring with childlike might
Hold me closer
We are winners and no one is a loser
The various problems with me are difficult to solve, but you might figure me out when you enter my route 
You're the cure to my morbid illness of despair without a dash of doubt 

Chorus: I have been afraid of losing grip of the rope of hope
It's okay if you let me go; I'll just let my wings fly and go with the flow 
I've been fooled way too many times and it makes me wanna mope 
It's fine with me to be in solitude; I'd rather be on my own then with someone I hardly know 
I see you, crystal clear in my vision
I love you, you completed my love mission
I miss you, I feel you, even when you're not around and I wanna prove to you that you made my day 
I kiss you, you left me breathless the moment you and I shared a moment, so sacred and took all my pain away

Verse 4: Torn apart by the moments I've spent without you 
Everyday, I'm under your spell and it's hard to get over you...ooh...
Once again, troubles my mind 
I let you heal me with your affectionate spirit that follows me from behind
Be with me if you can be so kind 
I know I can act like a player and I regret being reckless 
But you're consideration and charm healed my distress 
I can't tame my wild side no matter how hard I try
I have the teenage hormones that kick in and it makes me feel like I'm flying high 
But after that natural high, there's a big drop
I won't betray you again and next time, when I lose all self-control, I'll have the ability to stop 
I wish we can be together forever, 
But I'm just squandering my time...doing whatever I want, but never satisfied and hoping these sad days be over 

Pre-chorus: Mmmm ohhhh ohhh 
The worst pain I've felt in my life was when I left your side
I'm slowly breaking down, so build me up with your confidence...your confidence
I fear that I might lose you, so stay close to you and I go on a wild ride 
Hold my hand tightly and relieve my heartache...make me less tense 
Figure me out and hold me tight all night 
Leave no room for doubt and fight the good fight 
In the darkness, you're my light beyond sight 
I love it when you send me your xoxo's each day and night
You allowed me to see life in a new, everything's black and white 
Before my eyes...
You adore me, no lies...
We are together as one and our ecstatic joy weighs a ton 
We cuddle closer than before and our spirits entwine, for our hearts beat as one 

Chorus: I have been afraid of losing grip of the rope of hope
It's okay if you let me go; I'll just let my wings fly and go with the flow 
I've been fooled way too many times and it makes me wanna mope 
It's fine with me to be in solitude; I'd rather be on my own then with someone I hardly know 
I see you, crystal clear in my vision
I love you, you completed my love mission
I miss you, I feel you, even when you're not around and I wanna prove to you that you made my day 
I kiss you, you left me breathless the moment you and I shared a moment, so sacred and took all my pain away 
As time flies, would you still remember me?
My head is on cloud 7, pretending that you're by my side for eternity 

Bridge: We are sheltering each other from the rainstorm
Silently still on my bed, awake with sudden dread
Admiring the moon as it shines so vibrant against an ebony sky
Show me how to live life without any worries in mind 
You're my miracle in disguise
You're my pocketful of illuminating light, attracting many flies
Quit ignoring my messages and I'm growing tired of your thoughtless goodbyes 
I'm trying to bite the bullet for you...the shadows of you gives me those temporary highs 
But what comes up must come down...
I'm so mind-blown cuz I was all alone 
Good news - you made me wear an upside down frown when you drove me 'round in town 
Once upon a time, I was a broken bone when I was left on my own...
 But, at least I can keep in contact with you...only if you'd pick up your phone

Copyright © J. W. Earnings

Long poem by John Beam | Details |

Dotting i's and crossing t's

I come from a family of high dots                                                                                                                                                                                                                  We did the same kind of things                                                                                                                                                                                                                        We look alike but they call me the underdot                                                                                                                                                                                                  Then I was used like a common comma                                                                                                                                                                                                          Like I could not make a statement                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Calling my brother the distinctio working with clauses                                                                                                                                                                              He is their center but I think he is just an interpunct                                                                                                                                                                                 Do I have the right to question                                                                                                                                                                                                                         I think yes and that is the bottom line                                                                                                                                                                                                        Invaluable to computers at .com  everyone knows me                                                                                                                                                                                    I go on excelling in math They call me the radix                                                                                                                                                                                         but they use my real name in their rings and rows                                                                                                                                                                                     My point is without me there would be no decimal point                                                                                                                                                                                 and I also work at times with foreign languages                                                                                                                                                                                                 They seem to understand me better than my own family who just belittle me                                                                                                                                           I think I will confront them and make a full stop of this                                                                                                                                                                            Tell ya the truth I think this will be                                                                                                                                                                                                                     a maturing point for me in around about way                                                                                                                                                                                                 For I am used more than all the other marks Period

Copyright © John Beam

Long poem by Teppo Gren | Details |

Initiations of love - Part 1


In the hours of twilight your star brightened my shadowed dream,
long since faded from the youthful beleif of reverie.
In you I mirrored distant memories of childhood INNOCENCE,
beauty of love in it’s early bloom, to ripeness, yet with depth of sensation,
discovered only through the pain of yearning, hearts suffering.

Through the clouded haze I felt the dream once more,
with wisdom born through nature’s falseness of sullem existence.
A long gone vision of a mind once so hopeful,
whose desires were numbed, dreams shattered yet TRUST beheld;
a yearning heart turned into a core of solid gold; hard yet frail.

Where love once flowed in a heart so frail,
eagerness of will echoed in the emptiness to find a way through the dark.
The mind found PATIENCE to fulfill the desired image,
a promise of love, realization of a long-felt need,
thoughts and emotions sacrificed for mortal gestures.

Whispering winds of silence, blowing yonder an arduous past,
with a quiet wish for a reflection of bygone times of tranquility,
to encounter the warmth of serenity through FORGIVENESS.
Forgiveness, not only of injustice and treachery,
but for the disbelief in love’s worth; and destiny’s reason.

Yet you appeared in an angel pureness, a vision of white;
through time to understand the meaning of eternal love
which is not tied by wordly needs, by shallow desire, or pleasures of the flesh,
but of AWARENESS of love’s deepest form of ensued knowledge,
a realization of love’s eternity; at the level of the soul.

In your eyes I saw the depths of forsaken desire,
and the pain of love’s initiation, yearning, love’s sorrow.
When I saw the teardrops running down your cheek, I knew.
I knew you retained the depth of FEELING as did I,
to behold the tenderest appreciation of love’s virtue.

In appearances of disguise life exists, as does love.
Dreams mingled with charm and enticement of reality,
in submission of togetherness to end a lonely heart’s search,
to earn love’s fondness by DEVOTION to its existence,
yet with reverence to retain the purity of the souls longing.

Released from chains of amorous passion, false desire,
I hold you in my heart, gently, with chastity of innocence.
With enlightenment I renounce worldly pleasures,
and enjoy the FREEDOM given, for love to grow,
reach the ripeness of eternity; freedom to aspire endless love.

Delight of divine inspiration to encounter love’s ECSTASY,
its wordly passion fulfilled, and continued by nature’s gift.
A gift more precious than love itself; newborn to love once more.
Love exists in forms of many; passion to unite as one to give new life,
perceived by nurturing care, kindness of the heart; true love’s zeal.

But what is love without HUMILITY; modest humbleness?
Selfish contentment of desire; satisfaction of bodily needs
prone to temptations of deception to be drowned by lusts amorous lure.
Be it not the beauty of Venus or Mars, but that of awareness,
to feel the depth of meaning by lessons of life; and of loneliness.

Witheld from touch of the flesh, or minds wordly eagerness,
PURE love reigns, untarnished, blessed with innocence,
to fathom, and to feel the infinite tenderness of love once parted.
Love needs no proof for its existence; no words, no kisses, no promises.
When love has grown to ripeness, its existence remains with enlightnment.

Is there no easier way to find love’s eternal FULFILLMENT,
then to weather the wrath of love’s pain, fallacy of deception,
rejected hearts loneliness; lonely days followed by darkened nights.
Be it less to weather lightning of the heart to see the light of life.
But how to comprehend the light of life without a sight of darkness?

T.J Grén

Inspired by astrologer Linda Goodmans book „Love Signs“ and it’s concept of initiations of love, whereby each sign of the zodiak has a lesson of love to teach and to learn.
Lessons to teach: Love is: innocence, patience, awareness, devotion, ecstacy, pure, beauty, passion, ho-nesty, wisdom, tolerance, compassion.
Lessons to learn: Love is: trust, forgiveness, feeling, freedom, humility, fulfillment, harmony, surrender, loyalty, unselfish, oneness, all.
For me all this means that LOVE IS ALL. 

Copyright © Teppo Gren

Long Poems