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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.

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Long Poems
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 
Bloods 
Crips 
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


Long poem by Spenser Jones | Details |

LOVE POEM MEDLEY PART 2

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
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN” 
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”
Or
“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.


Long poem by Lyric Man | Details |

VOLCANO

Yo, Guys, 
Check it out!

Volcanoes blow, 
some fast... some slow

All right stop, 
hear me out and listen
Mountain outta nothing, 
Mother Nature's invention
Deep within the earth, 
pressure grows tightly
The molten lava flows, 
daily and nightly
Looking to escape, 
gotta find a place to go
An unexpected pop, 
or a never ceasing flow
Incinerating path, 
or a bursting burning vandal 
Spewing rock and gas, 
or a deadly dripping candle

Composite volcano, 
erie calm then cataclysmic boom
Pyroclastic chaos, 
a deadly poisonous mushroom
Deadly fiery mass, 
a leaping rock lava melody
Spreading ash for miles, 
a majestic tragedy
When the mountain ignites, 
betta get out of her way
In a matter of moments, 
she'll make night outta day
Composite volcano, 
Yo.. study and try to solve it
A spontaneous temper tantrum, 
no way to resolve it

Volcanic explosive debris, 
andesite and dacite rock
Goes off when she wants, 
oh no.. not set to your clock
Mayon Volcano Philippines, 
and Mount Fuji in Japan
Part of the "Rim of Fire", 
that still amazes modern man
The majesty of Mount Rainer, 
lies in Washington state
Pillar into the sky, 
jaw dropping she's so great 
Conical rough hued mountain, 
so steep at the vent
A composite volcano, 
BAM.. an explosive event!

Cinder cone volcano, 
gets its name from falling ash
What goes up in smoke, 
comes down in smoldering crash
Steep slopes like a Composite, 
but its flat at the top
Much smaller than a Shield, 
less deadly in its fiery pop
But what's truly outstanding, 
how quick this mount can grow
In 9 years from that 43' cornfield, 
the magnificent Paricutin in Mexico
There's the Sunset Crater in Arizona, 
Lava Butte in Oregon
These treasures known for beauty, 
and much less for brawn

Shield volcano, 
incredibly powerful without jumping
Mountain continually grows, 
as liquid fire keeps pumping 
Heat beyond belief, boiling river.. 
there's no mistaking
Takes out everything in its path, 
no lying, I'm not faking
Slow dancing combustion, 
that forms layers of smooth rock
A night and day red rumble, 
a never ceasing tick tock  
She's a five degree angle, 
of two thousand degree basalt 
Her flow over many miles, 
a deadly unrelenting assault 

Magma from the mantle burns, 
a hole in lithospheric plate
A flaming searing inferno, 
a blazing scorching lake
Mauna Loa and Kilauea, 
spatter ramparts curtains of fire
These are Hawaii's highest peaks, 
and tourist great desire.
But the tallest of all, 
on the Red Planet ya see its scars
Higher than three Mount Everest, 
Olympus Mons of Mars
She once was a warrior in battle, 
unceasing and aglow
Advancing and defeating, 
the most massive shield volcano!

But ya can't talk volcanos, 
leave Mount Saint Helen's off da map
Wouldn't be good science, 
no rhyme to reason in dat info rap
She was the most notorious catastrophic eruption, 
May 18, 1980
A massive debris avalanche, 
was triggered by this angry lady 
The most destructive in US history,
"Teach" remembers that day
When it "snowed" ash across America, 
in the middle of May.

Sponsor: Jared Pickett
Contest Name: Collaboration 



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.

Envoi 
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


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



Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Being It

It was there

right there

on woodland's playground

when I first knew

something stirs very wrong.



I was blind to balls

hurled at me,

being It is not why I grow my mind and body,

or is it?



I am "It!"

or at least half It.



It and I play best alone.

He slows down

to notice ocean surf

waving back and forth

an ocean sighing Hi, then low,

creeping in and sucking out.

It both hugs and climbs trees

to the very top

on windy ways

to wave back.



Why is It so shy?

Or, am I hiding her-him,

I'm not sure,

some of both

but too androgynous Him

fears no one else notices

surf rolls in and reverses out.



It knows bi-natured law

prehensile full-bodied grasp

of organic life's humorous ambiguity

creative ambivalence

righteous equivalent functions and flows

of yang with yin within,

as without,

below,

as above,

before,

as to come,

long,

as to belong now,

together.



It's so hard to not love

not share

bare

expose cooperatively unbalancing It.

S/he is soo... much fun!

laughs with everyone

generous enough to return this fine favor.

It's polypathic polyculturing

binomial binary buddha brain

saturates flowering rain

dissects words to heal disharmonic logos

through permacultured alchemy linguistics,

a language It fears to ultimately find

merely eisegetical,



It chooses Red Rover

over soccer,

plays teacher with girls

over driving trucks and trains,

thinks compulsively about this problem of evil

while watching Leave it to Beaver,

where Father Knows Best,

over pitching stones and driving tractor.



It feels older and wiser than Him

but they are born twins

or so it seems

but It mysteriously explores incarnating cycles,

abhors stability,

but adores regenerating solidarity.



It mentors ecotherapy with trees and me,

shows me boundary issues and branch

functions and frequencies

between August's Yangish fire

and winter's quenching white snow and ice,

between autumn's wind falling regenetic harvest

and spring's diastolic succulent soil

decomposing nutrients

growing new perennial rings in this life's tree,

new leaves of grass-fed hope

new polyculture basic, simple-rich compost

new incarnating multisystemic

ecotherapeutic grace,

responsive

resolving

resonant within evil's missing

non-polynomial dislogical pace,

new flowers and fruit

for Eden's farm.



Did I just call It a fruit

out loud?

Shit happens inside our playground,

while planning more polyculturally redemptive lives.


Long poem by Spenser Jones | Details |

We Expand

When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future. 
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school, 
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon. 
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet, 
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks. 
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival, 
and unable to accept our own size. 
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again. 
We long for longer conquests. 
The ship vaster than the ocean. 
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,. 
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,. 
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to 
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues. 
Walk. 
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.


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


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 

Ravindra
Kanpur India 19th Feb 2011               to conti. in 4

Clarifications
*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




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


Long Poems