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abortion absence
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Long Fire Poems | Long Fire Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Joseph gaydon | Details |

read this if you care about the world

Read this if you care about the world ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Imprisonment is meant for the sadistic, inhumane acts of evil and destruction of man kind in itself. To be locked away with nothing but your thoughts your wonder and the ever lasting of coming to know whatever sick and twisted individual you maybe rapist murderer,and so on. For punishment it self is some what of different views from the old courthouse hangings in many western films,to the views of inhumanity in it self of human kind for the will of a more white soul to the actions bestowed in the acts of judgment from the electric chair to the lethal injections  of today's world. Today's world is kinda a touchy subject in the eyes of many the many who suffer day to to day in the downward spiral of the american dream we all heard of as children for the idea of a society built from generation to generation . To the rapacious business men of high society living a life of luxury on the flying carpet of inflation rate and the backs of the survival of the common man. For the common is man is the true prisoner for with some complex thinking for the act of thinking is a disappearing art,sad indeed the author speaks these words but in true the common man is imprisoned to the fact of what is he going to do to live? Where is next meal coming from? How will he provide for his family? For in today's world your rich or your poor. For the middle class is extinction all in it self. For does any one ask where does the money go? For our society among est it self is build on generations of generations of paying in and paying in. Yet we our the most broke now then we have ever been a phenom in it self correct? Hmm in my views of personal matters a country who imports then it exports will never make a dollar simple as supply and demand we have no supply so we have no demand. Still our system is build on thousands trying to pull the wool over eyes of thousands over and over again. The same dollars taxed many many times over  for just to print money with no value behind it is just bad business with it self. For our for fathers believed in the all mighty act of trade and barter shocking right? Makes you ask why we abandon the ways of the past? For to advance in a forward direction in the grand sceem of things is a great and wonderful thing but to fix something that is not broken and to stray away from the guidelines set by the founders of the nation is another, in a sense go slap your grandma is the mouth and now think about America. For i am not writing with the answer to these troubles for i am sure we all have our own solutions for i am writing in a sense to awaken. For america is the land of free right?, still we move closer to communism every day. Every day more and more decisions are made for the future of you me and future generations still we the people are never informed for you vote is nothing in a dirty system money is the vote for love makes the world go around but money greases the wheels. For we are country who will log on to Facebook to see what were going to be concern today anything from drug testing for welfare to the rebel flag to gay marriage. Education is a powerful tool thinking is powerful tool minumplation is the most powerful tool for many brains are zombie each day still all i ask is you to think and think for the next voice you encourage could be the one we need to put common sense back in the world and make a country for the people by the people like it was intended to be for i did not touch on all the matters and one would spend a life time writing but something must give in the world we face the world we live and the world we all once knew in generations past as a land of jobs and chances at a living and not being held town by people who dont want you to advance your education

Copyright © Joseph gaydon

Long poem by jalani jenkins | Details |

im back

Stand back 
Here comes the hurricane
The storm is worst then a earthquake 
Ima gas planet like Jupiter & saturn
Sufficication no life just toxic gas 
Blow u to pieces 
It's so interesting 
Reachin for me is like reachin the stars in the solor system
U'll never get to me son
Think twice before u wanna try me
The size of Tyson
Gorilla in the mountin
I dominate this with out fear
I'm better then most u hear
Hate the truth 
I don't give a ****
I'm not the type to smile about *****
I'm smart I osverb the poetry,biology,philosophy,history & literature 
I mind **** so many people
It's like a video game I'm playing with my brain
I go off like I'm on speed
I'm so crazy in the brain 
I can't stay normal
I puff good green 
To keep my head good 
Most of ya wack 
Ya fake take the make up off
I'll spray u with the hose proudly 
Ima problem child 
No one can touch me
U couldn't be me if u took Notes & did research
Ya talk too much like ya was the broadcasters on the news
I'm far from the sun
But I have a heated temper
The flame I leave on the mic it can't be out out 
Call the fire department
It ain't gonna do any good
The savage poet on the loose
Taking mc's out 
Eating em out like oral sex
As long it don't stink ima eat u out the frame 
Ya like on the breakfast menu
Put u in the cementary 
U forgot I'm the grave digger
I dig graves for fun
Most of ya dig ya own graves
Talking about money cars & hoes
It's annoying 
Its having a Knat in ya ear while u sleep
Ya niggas stupid most of ya belong in special ed
The graves I dug
I show no remorse
I'll continue I'm iller then a bad cold
Cough it up u like swallowed hair
Inhale the good *****
Never the doo doo type
U style is lame u sad go to the circus 
Marry the beard lady
U envy me like the rest
I'm slick 
I can scoop a lesbian turn that ***** inside out 
Niggas hate on me I know they don't like me
Ya niggas are ugly it's like u got scraped with a fork 
Sit down 
Watch the king at his best 
I can take many sittin on the throne that's how ill I am
Take em out no competition 
Booyaka it's gettin real 
It's scary the nightmare on elm street
Coming for u in ur dreams 
**** Freddy Krueger 
I'm the true grim reaper when it come to takin souls
Take u out Ur misery 
U a kid in a growns mans world
Ur breath smells like ass & fish 
Take the mic from ya ur skills is dry 
Buy a toothbrush mouthwash and a pack of gum
I'll put u in the graveyard
Dig ur grave 
Dress u up with ur hands crossed with ur eyes open
Ain't it terrifying 
Sign my name on ur casket
Put u in the dirt put u 6ft under
Ur gone ur forgotten
Goodnight sleep in piss *****
Wack niggas wanna be down with the j
But my circle is small 
Sometimes I don't roll with em
Ya Niggas closet fags
Stay on my dick keeping my name in ya mouth why
What ya in love 
**** off i ain't into that 
Going off like I was in Vietnam fighting Vietcong 
Beating my chest like King Kong before he fought the t-Rex
I'll kill ya lawyers
U soft u wouldn't hurt a fly
U talk a good game 
U a motor mouth
****ing with me
Ima cobra ima spit venom right at u
Watch u shake screamin louder then a chick
Goons always got em on dial 
Latin kings don't get it ****ed up
I'm nasty as a mold growing in a corner in a bathroom(eww)
**** that 
Worse then a bushy pussy with a fowl smell(gasp)
What's gets worst then that
I can think of many 
My mind is like a computer 
The power is on
I'm full of energy 
I said enough I feel I'm done
Adios I'm ghost I killed it enough

Copyright © jalani jenkins

Long poem by Spenser Jones | Details |


Sometimes everything seems fake to me, and I am so tired of people acting like they remember what love is. 
Everyone says it. 
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” 
No words are more meaningful to me when sailing from the lips of a true friend or a kindred spirit, but the rest of you have to be careful where you point those syllables 
because that’s like taking the closest thing to

 the Lord’s name that I ever understood
in vain. 
I was walking back from the gas station a few weeks ago and some girl I didn’t even know looked at me and said it. 
Her lip gloss opening and closing like some kind of sea creature fishing for plankton, and I just happened to be the nearest thing drifting past.
“Love you!”, like it was hello. 
Now I have just one question
You have no idea what I am. 
My smile’s like this because my parents had the money. 
My eyes are not the windows to my soul. 
They don’t mean jack except for genetics that I had no control over, and what my mother ate when I was in utero. 
That’s like acting like my poetry is who I am. 
Like how myelinated the neurons in my linguistics center 
I can feel the right to decide that I am more or less, valuable. 
It happened again earlier too.
I was sitting on the greyhound back home, having a conversation with a girl with guys all around her like fire ants with their mating tubes out. All of them with ink, piercings, and sizing me up 
because my six-foot-four stature could not speak for itself.
I’d like to think we talked about something more important than my assets and destination, but as she turned to disappear out of the bus with her escorts, she cast the three words back on me
like throwing a fishing line on the off chance something might bite,
“I love ya.”
….what in the world. 
After this, I think of the only one whose words held their weight. 
I don’t mean no harshness, 
but if I could go back in time and have half the balls my poetry does, I’d take you aside, and tell you something you wouldn’t understand. Something like, “BAM! I am a tulip field on fire at sunset.” 
Something like, “My shirt, is from the Goodwill.” 
Something like, “You’re telling me Christ could have saved the world with His cheekbones?”
“You’re telling me I’m viable and worth a few minutes of your attention?”
“You’re telling me tall, black, and attractive is what’s in this century?” 
But let me tell you.
You don’t have any idea of the size of the planets you’re saying you want to try and swallow when you say those words to me. 
I’ve been waiting to be able to hear, feel, taste, smell, and know those words for too long. You have to mean them to say them. 
But you see, I was a philosopher before I was a poet, so I have to take that back and reflect it on myself. 
The truth is, I’m so confused that sometimes, I don’t know which end my head is at.

Poetry flies in my eyeballs that should never make it past my lips, but I’m getting tired of trying to impress people. 
In this past month, I’ve been day dreaming about the girl smiling at me and it meaning more than
“You look like you got good genetics”
“Could I please date your self esteem?”
I’ve been day dreaming of the girl who reminded me of what those three words are supposed to mean. 
Like when my acne came back, and you told me not to scratch at a handsome face.
“I love you.”
Like when my poetry departs, and all I can do is ramble things too big for my head. 
“I love you.” 
Like when I didn’t feel like just a romantic stereo type anymore. 
“I love you.” 
What those words meant to me, before I made the world make them less.

Copyright © Spenser Jones

Long poem by Dr.Ram Mehta | Details |

Pyramus-Thisbe - a selfless love-W

Pyramus was the handsome young man
Thisbe the fair maiden of Babylon.
The houses of their parents did adjoin 
Neighborhood brought the two in relation.
And the acquaintance ripened into love
And the fire within them burnt with bright glow.
Would have married, but their parents forbid
Ardor in hearts of both they couldn’t forbid
They did converse by signs, one can think of
The fire within them burnt like glow covered
But Venus doesn’t always befriend true love.

They found crack in wall that parted the houses
In spared passage for tender messages
Caused by fault in the wall of the mansion
What will not love find for satisfaction!
They passed the tender messages of love
As the night fell they said farewell with awe
Moving backward and forward through the gap
She on her side, he on his, kissed the gap.
One morn the sun put out the stars above
From the watchful eyes, they tried to slip up
But Venus doesn’t always befriend true love.

Then Thisbe stole forth as agreed upon
Unobserved, her head covered with a veil
Out of city’s bounds edifice well known
Waited for Pyramus near a fountain trail.
In the dim light she descried a lioness
Nearing the fountain with blood reeking jaws
With a recent slaughter to slake her thirst.
She fled dropping her veil out of fright.
After quenching thirst turned back for her cove
Renting the veil in bloody mouth on her retreat
But Venus won’t always befriend true love.

Having delayed Pyramus arrived there
Saw footsteps of the lioness in the sand
And found the veil all bloody over there
Crying picked up the rent veil in his hand.
Thought himself to be the cause of her death
Covering the veil with kiss and with tear
And said, come ye lioness tear with your teeth
Let my blood also shall stain your texture.
He plunged sword into his heart with a shove
Blood spurted, tingling the tree with red color
But Venus doesn’t always befriend true love.

Thisbe stepped out not to disappoint him
She noticed the change in the tree’s color
In the agonies of death she saw him.
A shudder ran as ripple in still water.
She saw her veil and his scabbard empty.
He has slain himself for her sake only.
She said, “I could be brave and follow thee
Death alone couldn’t prevent my joining thee
Love and death join us, one tomb be our grove”
She plunged the sword in her breast near the tree
But Venus doesn’t always befriend true love.

Such tale of the self-less love presented
The two bodies in one tomb were buried 
Pyramus-Thisbe tale our hearts do move
Berries serve memorials of their blood
But Venus doesn’t always befriend true love.

Dr. Ram Mehta
Second Place win
Contest: Your favourite poem by Giorgio Veneto

**Chant royal [shahn rwa-yal], 
A French verse form normally consisting of five stanzas of eleven 10-syllable lines 
rhyming ababccddede, followed by an envoi (or half-stanza) rhyming ddede. The last 
line of the first stanza is repeated as a refrain at the end of the succeeding stanzas and 
of the envoi. The pattern is similar to that of the ballade, but even more demanding. 88

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta

Long poem by Christine Phillips | Details |

The Sniffling Child

I woke up suddenly and leaned against the helpless wall
hoping that it would support my abounding weight but instead
I had to rely on the courage and faith that kept me alive over the years.
With sweat streaming down my tired face and tears filled my weary eyes 
I sat in the wee hours of the morning pondering the little girl's cry.
A cry of desperation, a cry resonating from the depths of her heart.

I could still envisioned her frightened  face and trembling arms
as she emerged from the dark room screaming, reluctant to go with them.
I can still feel her arms clinging desperately to my hands
and her tearful face buried  in my  prayerful chest.

Moments ago I wandered in my sleep to  the Middle East,
browsing around a shopping arcade looking aimlessly at stores until I ended up in 
an enormous three story level house and inquisitively walked through its doors.
I  explored the interior of the house but no one was  to be found. 
I yelled and hallor but nobody answered. 

All of a sudden a creepy sensation overshadowed me 
forcing me to cautiously walked towards the basement, 
There I  pounced upon a small pocket of smoke oozing from the corner of the
the basement steps. I quickly poured water over it and put out the ignited fire
that came from pieces of coal heaped upon the wooden steps.

The brightness of the evening turned swiftly into night
And the giant house stood still in the desert without a single trace of light
deepening my curiosity, mounting my suspicion  and heightening my anxiety.
I left the house and searched all around still no one was to be found.

I went inside the house again and some women suddenly appeared
All  seemed to be in a sedated  and drunken state. 
One of them walked politely with me toward the basement and 
I showed her  the extinguished  coal on the steps .

In splits second  scores of women emerged
from different parts of the house
carrying several children in their  impotent hands.
The women walked outside coercing the children to go with them
While the  terrified children scream furiously
heightening the tension of the darkened night.

Scores of vehicles stood in line waiting
Waiting  to take the startled children away. 
A little girl ran back and clinged desperately to my waist,
she cried so loudly and pleaded for them not
to hand her over to the child's protective services.
I took the child in my arms and rest her head upon my chest 
Immediately she stopped screaming and  start sniffling
I assured her that everything was going to be alright.
I woke up with the tearful child sniffling upon my prayerful chest.

                                                                                                                                                                             ©2014 Christine Phillips

Copyright © Christine Phillips

Long poem by Robert Ronnow | Details |


Should we invite the neighbors over for dinner?
Their politics so different from ours.
All the more reason. Combat anomie!
He's worried the town's losing population
but opposes immigration. I like immigrants
but hate passing people on my morning walk.

The whole mountainous western region of the state
is losing population at a rate of 1% per annum.
The young move out, the old stay put but
young artists priced out of big cities move in
looking for affordable studio space. How low
can the population go as long as rents stay low?

We did agree about the fire department expansion
being premature (him) or unnecessary (me).
He argued we should renovate the high school first
the roof is caving in and walls crumbling.
But you can teach under a spreading chestnut tree
or baobab and science needs the world more than a laboratory.

I teach at the old 2nd St. jail in Pittsfield
a town that doesn't know if it's coming up or going down.
A few shootings last month, no deaths.
They're holding their breath but also trying to attract life
science businesses to the industrial park. The local bank's
expanding, buying smaller banks in neighboring civilizations.

Eventually our fire department got the vote they wanted,
just called another meeting and packed the auditorium.
The final winning argument was we can do the school,
the fire house and the police station all at once.
Don't accept defeat, limitations. Defeat anomie!
Anomie means lawlessness and purposeless in Greek

so that's not exactly what we're trying to defeat.
It's the mismatch between our aspirations and resources,
no, the dissonance between our tribe and nation,
no, the individual as sexual animal and intellectual,
no, the farmer and the banker, the loved one and the litter,
no, whatever happens to you after you die and belief in reincarnation.

For me, it always boils down to mortality
every conversation, which is why no one comes to dinner.
Whether the fire department buys an exorbitant parcel
at the expense of a future school renovation
in a town slightly losing population but still viable
with a college, bank, artists and a few working farms

is everything and nothing, as Borges says.
Deutsch says death ought to be curable.
The new high school or fire station, conditions like anomie
v. democracy, new life forms, self-conscious species
from the laboratory or the biome. How de body?
Today ok. Tomorrow I don't know. Potential

energy, lover, killer, anomie. Karl Popper
had such faith in the rational whereas Niebuhr
acknowledged man's ego is uncontrollable except
by force. Conflict is inevitable. But at dinner
we agree it doesn't always have to be violent or terminal.
We can do the fire department, police station, the school and anomie.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Climatic Parable

Once within our time,
SkyPrince and SunGod talk,
as usual,
endlessly actually,
sending their radiant messages
out toward mutually gravitating receivers,
no Yins allowed.
SkyPrince wonders if SunGod might consider turning down his heat,
and wanders aloud as Sun burns enlightening minds,
"I'm worried about EarthGoddess,
she seems wilting
and actually melting on her polar caps."

SunGod wishes this were funny,
or wrong,
just a mistake somehow,
maybe her time of this post-millennial period.
"Business As Usual," echoes SunGod.
"My fire burns her waters into that amazing green-blue skin of hers.
Climate change pathology evolves like wind through your air-brained
SkyPrince head.
Business As Usual!"

WaterPrincess keeps her primally balancing distance
from SunGod's overheating reign.
very still,
too still,
she melts within EarthGoddess.
And, with her Earth's diverse species
until EarthGoddess' soil becomes dry as dust.
Her cooperative economic and ecological soul
unravels dishumanic culture,
preparing for her transmutation 
into Yin's cold hibernating cave
of deep echo-logical nightmares,
galloping full horsepowered,
feverishly racing racism,
to prove we are chickens in our own messy soup
melting together and flying apart.
WaterPrincess weeps and seeps down in to Earth's Core
overheating compost's ecotherapeutic heart.

SunGod notices WaterPrincess,
too frequently absent from his divine comedy.
"She fails to feel my good humored rays
of wise warm radiance.
This feels more feminist Left than justly Righteous"
glooms SunGod's manic calculating ways.
He glimpses dissonant doubt
where his regenerative organisms had been competing virgins
to cooperative sex,
much less mutually maximizing economics,
or crystal mirror echoes of ecologic myth and language.
SunGod weeps and wilts his PrincessWater.

Earth Goddess succumbs toward SunGod's redeeming shaded fears.
Her revolutionary octaves fill with pregnant repurpose
and rehabilitating permacultural designs of herstoric culture.
Her justice joys his peaceful recommitment
toward balancing polycultural praxis.
Family ecotherapy wins our enculturing history.

YangGod kisses EarthYinGoddess
as Left deductive embraces Right inductive primal balance
as human nature competes to cooperatively regenerate
what nature coincidately incarnates 
to sing full octaved Earth Day Opera,
remembering future tales of SunLeft induces EarthRights,
Earth resolves Sun's pay-ray-forward gifts,
reading left to right rooted Informating Tree leaves
happily ever after now and here.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

When the Earth was in danger 3

When the Earth was in danger     3/8
Prelude   (For Prelude please see part 2)

Then the most beautiful Urvashi* was called, from the heavenly court of Indira*,
To perform a unique dance, before Lord Shiva* who was lost in his Tandava Nritya*,
To calm the heat of his temper, which was burning like lava with in his chest  and
Which was trying to come out, through his dance of destruction to engulf the Earth. 10

Apsara Urvashi* started that day, 
Her unrestrained performance of a beautiful matchless dance, 
So that the inhabitants of this Earth, 
Could be saved from the lava like fire of Tandava* at any cost,
Even the Goddess of the seasons, 
Had spreads its intoxicating wine that day, to make Urvashi’s dance more enchanting.

The season of spring Basant*  had made it more blooming  &  intoxicating,
In every new step, Urvashi was breathing,
All that was only to distract,  the attention of Lord Shiva from his Tandava.11

Urvashi* was freely performing that day,  
Her life’s best and the most elegant dance,
Being an incarnation of beauty she knew, 
It was the last chance to save the Earth, 
From the cosmic fire of Shiva’s Trinetra* or else 
The whole earth will get burnt  with the flow of heated lava, 
Which was generating within His third eye Trinetra*12

To make her dance more appealing and effective, the season of Spring* 
Had defused  the air and atmosphere, with a fragrance and beauty unparallel,
Even the Goddess of Nature the Earth too,  was flowing a unique melody in the air,
The effects of these powerful wines were more intoxicating than the Sura* of heaven,*13

They all including the Gods and Goddesses, at that time were only praying with a wish,
That the beauty of Urvashi and her enchanting dance, with the intoxicating effect of,
Nature’s fragrance and melody flowing in the air, might divert Shiva’s mind and heart,14 

Kanpur India 19th Feb 2011               to conti. in 4

*Tandava Nritya* means Dance of destruction
Trinetra*  means The Third Eye of Lord Shiva or which exists in the center of our forehead
Apsara*   Apsaras are beautiful, supernatural women. They are youthful and elegant &
proficient in the art of dancing.
Urvashi*  was one of the most beautiful Apsara of the court of Lord Indira of heaven, as per Hindu mythology  
Lord Indira*  .   Is the  King of Kings. A warrior par excellence. Ruler of the heavens
Dispenser of rain
Basant* is Hindi Sanskrit word for the season of Spring.
Dahra*Hindi word  means earth.
Sura*  The Nectar like wine of heaven

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor

Long poem by Kristin Reynolds | Details |

The Eternal Tree

I am Alive    Forever and always         Essence        Rebirth        Renewal
          I have earth to ground me      I have wind to move me   I have fire to cleanse         
     my     spirit        I have rain      to quench    my thirst    for growth
                      I have sun to    enlighten me        feed me  I am my own mother
              and an extension of the whole     I am   Earth         wind
                       rain   sun  fire    I am as old as life  and I am     as young
   as time   I am shelter to those who seek me   I am a bird  a flower and  the breath
              of the earth itself        I am exactly where I want to be     I am life
       I am first and last  the beginning and the end   I am one from many
                        I am what I am   I live  I grow  and I die. I am  Reborn unto myself
                                                          I am the great circle                   
                                                           My limbs know no                          
                                                           Boundaries; while                            
                                                           My leaves whisper                      
                                                           The one truth of the                      
                                                           Whole  through the           
                                                           Seasons changing
                                                            Colors that I wear 
                                                            Upon my   heart's                  
                                                            Sleeve, I'm home
                                                           To Earth Mother’s
                                                           Melodious  Life; I
                                                           Sing for the whole
                                                         World to hear - trees
                                                       Are Earth Mother's Song
                                                       Blowing 'round the leafy            
                                                  Globe; eyes of the world song 
    {{{{{{{{{{{{{{ Of the Mother   breath of the living   soul of the earth }}}}}}}}}}}}

***Senses evoked here are: Touching, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling and Seeing
***Elements evoked are: Water, Wind, Earth Metal, and Fire

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds

Long poem by john scott | Details |

Save our Souls

It was three in the morning and I had to get dressed
The radio had crackled out, another SOS
The fire flickered slowly, it was to cold to gain heat
So I pulled on my old boots and went out in the sleet
I jumped in my vehicle, it fired up sublime
I looked at my watch, it had frozen in time 
My low fire behind me as I drove through the night
Inching and edging through the poorest of sight

I looked at the sky, huge white clouds, they did grow
Twisting and turning, dispensing more snow
I didn't want to admit it but I knew I was lost
Then I saw it on the floor, the top of a signpost
It jutted from the snow, buried seven foot deep
I cleared away the face, it said The village of Drepe
An arrow did point, towards the south east
I jumped back in my vehicle so full of relief

The weather atrocious, strong blizzard and snow
I checked the thermometer, it read 30 below
I never felt this cold in all of my years
Wishing I was home as I pushed through the gears
I thought of my bed and my kids and my wife
What would they do, if I lost my life
This hostile land in a hostile zone
The place that I loved, the place I called home

The trees on the hills were bending with weight
From the build up off snow, there was no escape
As the weather got colder, I thought this aint cool
No one would come up here, no one but a fool
As I turned the bend, I was stopped in my track
Away in the distance, I saw the light of a shack
Where there is light, there could also be life
So I pressed on relentless with vigour and drive

It was one of them nights, it made me feel old
Just up ahead, a tree blocked the road
All gnarled with its branches thrust into the air 
I thought, it's all over, I began to despair
With my vehicle I pushed, with my vehicle I pulled
The old tree laughed back, said man your getting too old
I have guarded this road for one hundred years
The lightning took me, you think I have no tears

I will lay on my side, no one will pass through
The village of Drepe has been cut off to you
I looked up at the sky as night turned to day
Thinking to myself, there has to be a way
I grabbed on my shovel and I piled up the snow
To both sides of this tree and thought, you I will show
I built me a highway, I laboured non stop
Then jumped in my vehicle and drove over the top  

In a clearing I saw it all covered in snow
People round camp fires with no where to go
people so hungry and people so old
Young children crying, comforted by old
I arrived at the village which was trapped in the glen
With plenty of food and warm blankets for them
I checked my thermometer, it read 30 below

Copyright © john scott

Long Poems