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Long Girlfriend Poems | Long Girlfriend Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

My Daughter The Need A walk from the dark side, into the darkness

My Daughter

My beautiful Daughter, walks life’s paths alone,
She does so, by design – not of hers – on her own.
She travels heavily !, from place to empty space,
from space to vacant place – in what kind of race?
A race towards where ?, towards what I do not know,
for, to me – an  age and place beyond – she does not show
where it is, - where she wants her future  to go
if ?, going anywhere – accomplishing - is a guiding
force in her life, seeking out, chasing after lightening.

There are times, when I hear, in my words
the sounds of need, – empty in their experience –
looking for some of what has been offered.
What has been offered, I see, it is not meant for me.

The Need

I keep being dragged back into this nightmare,
a nightmare ?, so I am lead to believe, could it be ?
Within the stories, the tone, I hear, I perceive it to be
but have to wonder ?, is it ?, really but a dream
that can find no reality on this plane , never comes true,
therefore it truly is !, becomes the nightmare.
In the words that tell, I see, I hear, I feel
the sword that plunges deep, with which to defend,
to destroy the foe – the lover – a man not to know
yet not forgotten, not left alone, not let go of.
He - the nightmare – is always there, he doesn’t care,
he is a rotting residue in, a part of life’s moments.
He is your nightmare, in your dreams, in every waking hour!
These sad eyes see, these sensitive ears, in pain, hear the pain,
this old heart feels, but this useless blade, – a knife that hides
within my, closed mouth – seems not able to cut away at the ties
that bind you to life’s strife – to the nightmare.
Could it be unfulfilled desires ?, unrealized dreams ?

What has taken forty nine life times to create,
might be attributed to nature, nurturing or fate,
but may not be digested, accepted, understood or dissipated.
Regardless of the words, the meaning, what else can be stated ?
I know that in forty nine hour days, my thoughts my feeling
will never find a way to reach out and touch a solid ceiling
and so, in my many words, in my actions, I pray
that it all can be set aside, and all can be put away.

A walk from the dark side, into the darkness.

Little, to nothing could this impotent old man / dad offer
his Child, his oldest Daughter, in so much need.
Nothing could he bestow upon his Child, or his lover,
with her insecurities, doubts, his insatiable greed,
and so, escape not, she walks along with his need
as it has been something he has decreed.
Oh !, how remiss to leave them on their own, to agree
to their coarse, a course that could take them on
to complete the journey they started, then gone.

Time, enough !, distance is past 
Time to stop !, turn around at last
and face what the outcome will be.
Open eyes, a new beginning to see.
May I leave sun set’s path, face the sun rise
coming through that black velvet screen before me
with it’s spattered, day-glow dots, all aglow
opening inner sanctum doors, allowing me to know.

Thoughts for me, alternative for them flash before my mind.
What will they do ?, am I being so unkind ?
Will one, the other or both be bussed back to Ontario ?
As I walk back to the room, I ponder the scenario ? 
Will we ( all three ) carry on with our little adventure
into the canyons and gorges, the city of all nights lights
– the city where angels never sleeps – I cannot be sure ?,
sure if they will end their – for my attention – fights.
Will we see the city ?, where one man built his fantasy,
walk among dreams brought to life, a fun reality 
of cartoon characters, animated for the child in us
or in the end, to Ontario on a Greyhound bus ?
Will we see stars ?, stars on a walk, in the city of angels
At this juncture, what will be the story one tells ?
Will the Golden Gate carry us ?, will we ride the hills ?,
on their steel rails, tell tales of all our thrills ? 
Will we end these moments in gods country ?, 
the city of the British, the salmon run, a hollow tree,
mountains, bays, bears, a Princess, poetess gone to ash,
her rhyme, this forth cousin of mine, they did stash,
hidden from obvious view, in the woods of Stanley park,
where few knew, and for a hundred years, lay in the dark.
Many know not where Native, folk lore doth reside ?
In her books, hand in hand and side by side,
along with as many nationalities as there are nations.
In this place, women brought to life her creations.

Before I leave this bleak walk, in the arms of this black night,
My thoughts are, hope that all will come out all right,
when one of those day glow dots, in that black velvet sky,
all a glow, took off, streaked south, caught my eye
as it crossed the heavens, fast as the speed of light,
in the pattern of a Zed, then disappeared from sight.

( Strange !!!, this speck of star light, it’s unusual flight
as it star-ts out from nothing, speeds south on a 
horizontal plane, pauses a split second, reverses direction,
drops down vertically, on an angle northward, towards a point
where it started out, again paused for a split second, then, 
on a horizontal plan, zipped south before disappearing into star,
in the starry back drop from whence it took life, for a moment. )

This story, – twenty five years old – in rhyme, comes to life,
for a brief moment, from a memories hoard, rife
with so many stories hidden from sight 
coming from rhyme - into light.

B. J.“A ” 2
May 30th 2002

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield

Long poem by Funom Makama | Details |

He said, I said

How the housefly gets attracted to organic decay and an infant child traces the voice of its mother are nothing compared to the intense attraction Michelle and I possess on the guy owning not a strand of hair on his head but is in command of all forms of feminine arousal Our weakness was too glaring; our lust, too embarrassing the chance to act rare and expensive we've lost. All we've got is to dance to the tune of his authority as he smiled and consented to our 'not so hidden' desires. Now, he walks straight at us his every step, an additional load on me I seem to carry the entire solar system on my chest. My heartbeat, pulsations and breath are as loud as a live rock band "I've never seen you here is this your first time?"......... He said "Yeah, actually!".................. I said. My friend and I responded simultaneously our answers gushing out like a group of running horses, mine seem to carry more weight as it tames any challenge from hers. "So, how did two love Angels fall in such an unworthy place as this?"......... He said "How unworthy?"........................................... I Said. I've championed the game of words and emotions and just as what inevitably defines the day is sunlight so is my testament. Michelle showed glimpse of disapproval to my replies but my exclamation of her name gave adequate caution. "yes, this place is unworthy, because I need to pass through seven Oceans and seven hills to see someone like you"........... He said. "Then you'll never find me there. I'm not a specie going extinct." ............................ I Said. The gods of luck have smiled on the Lions once again in preference to other cats. The father of favour, shaking hands with the Eagle while by-passing the other birds. This is my exact situation as jealousy builds a castle in my friend's heart. "So, what's your name, sweet damsel?"...... He said. "Anna"........................................................ I said. This is a familiar routine, his plan is as detectable and as obvious as watered grass but letting it turn green is what I must not allow so that the security of my reputation is not compromised. "Anna is a lovely name, do you like poker?"........ He said. "No, I don't!"........... I said. The looks of my friend, spoke 'awe' mine replied in aggression then she flowed in complete understanding on its message on not acting cheap especially to the one we've shown so much likeness. "So what do you like?".......................He said. "Going out to the Cinema or the beach or engaging in salsa".......................... I said. Already scoring goals and dominating the game, I felt my opponent was completely toothless and flattened. But playing along is my aim to make him beg on his knees which adds to my fame. "Can we try any of those sooner?"......................... He said. "How do you mean?"............................................... I said. Another punch brings about another shield and sometimes a strong defence feels more fulfilling than a heavy attack. "Let's go out to the movies this night"............. He said. "I'm busy tonight!"........................................... I said. It feels like punishment to him but he takes it like a challenge and this keeps me far from winning. Being on top is my birth right and a step lower is deemed a sacrilege. "What about going to the beach this weekend?".................. He said "I'll be out of town"................................................................. I said. Persistence could be rewarding but my protective walls are just too thick for any form of penetration; too high for any form of infiltration and too deep for any form of condemnation. "Then, when would you be free to teach me Salsa?"............................ He said. "I'm not stable, neither can I determine my free time"..................... I said. The game of attack and defense is never absolute as the attacker may fall victim of a rare counter attack or the defender, gets wary of his defense with no chance to pull an offensive string. Either, ending up as the vanquish despite the brilliant strategies being set up. "Michelle, are you also unstable like Anna?"...... He said "What!"............................................................... I said. Envy plans on a historic transfer while my friend poised not an aota of difficulty and this makes me extremely furious. She was just at the corner waiting for this opportunity and even before it avails itself, she snatches it into her well guided belongings. Looking at both in confusion and disappointment; they share contacts and crack jokes. "I'll give you a call this evening".................. He said Nothing I said because now, Michelle is running the show.

Copyright © Funom Makama

Long poem by Robert Lindley | Details |

Steal the Kiss, By Wily Means

Steal the Kiss, By Wily Means

She had just turned 17 and I had loved her since she was fifteen!
She had long, long dark brown hair, was prettier than newborn pups and had a smile that melted my heart!
Softest voice in the world and a genuine love for caring for others!
I was a year younger and very shy but we had over that two year time talked often .
I could tell she liked me but I was too afraid to mess it up by going too far too fast.
And there it is folks, that 'ole fear that holds so many back--fear of rejection and/or of messing up a good thing. When one thinks the treasure is or could be theirs one day they are careful not to blow things. And often being too damn careful is the culprit that blows it all to hell.

As things progressed(ever so slowly) I noticed this gorgeous girl had no boyfriend and had turned down cold those that had boldly asked her out ! That had to be a sign she had somebody else on her mind!
To play it safe I began a long range plan . To get the curious cat I told her I had two big secrets I could never tell anyone in the world! I brought this up every time we talked and finally she started asking me to tell her!

That was exactly what I wanted yet I played it out a few weeks more. Until finally I knew she was bursting to find out.
My Pandora plan had worked like a charm.She was in a tizzy to find out those secrets!
Then the time came.. We were alone in her backyard, no soul about other than we two. I mentioned my secrets again.
 She begged me to please confide in her. 

Thats when I did it , tripped the trigger so to speak. I boldly declared it will cost you for me to tell.
Without missing a beat she asked , cost me what?
Eureka! I knew the bait had been taken ! I then very shyly said it is embarrassing for me to say what. She persisted . 
I then said , ok, will cost you a kiss! She was surprised but took it in stride. She then said ok, if thats all I'll do it! 
But only if you tell me the big secrets. I agreed to that and suddenly she planted a big one right on my lips,
putting a lot into it as she hugged me !
Like finding a pot of gold, I was suddenly a billionaire in love..
Then it came-- what are those secrets?
I smiled and said this, first one is -"I have been desperately wanting to kiss you for two long years"!
She laughed and then asked, "and the second secret is"?
I came back with this, "and I was wondering if it would as great as I imagined it would be"!
"Well, was it she shot back"? I could only nod like a red-face young fool. 

She was floored methinks. She blushed and then came the sweetest gift of all. She grabbed me and kissed me long and hard!
She then laughed and said, " I have been waiting for you to make the first move for a long, long time. What took you so long"?

Thats when it hit me, fear of losing, fear of rejection sho' makes a lot of people lose out on a lot of time! Time that could have been put to much better use!

Later that day I apologized for my tricking her into the kissing deal.
She then shocked me by her reply.
"I was sure it was something about you and me, most likely that you wanted for us to be a couple, go steady or yes even kiss. 
I played along(--get this folks--) because I did not dare act too fast with you because I did not want to lose a good thing"!
Thats when I found out, when it comes to love , the gals are light-years ahead of we guys yet even they succumb to fear!

Fear can be a good thing but far too often it holds us back. Facing that fear and conquering it should be a well practiced policy
in life. Lucky for me that I later put that all to good use. As I had a great longing to date "almost" every beautiful and sexy gal I met ..
But that story is for another day.

Note: As promised from my first narrative here is the one about the stolen kiss.
I use the word stolen  but really it was only a bit of wily planning on my part..
Later found out the pretty gal was smarter than I on this stuff..

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Long poem by Teenage Frustrations | Details |

I Hate

I hate the birth mark under my right eye
I hate my extremely static hair
I hate my big bottom lip
I hate my spotty nose

I hate that I have really *****y times
I hate that people only remember me for my really *****y times
I hate that the real *****es hate me
I hate being cautious so they don’t ***** about me

I hate that I cry over everything
I hate that people know I cry over everything
I hate that I hide from them anyway
I hate that they actually don’t care 

I hate the fact that my brother is leaving home next year
I hate the fact that I cried when he told me that
I hate the fact that I hid my tears from him
I hate the fact that he’s all I really have left

I hate my father for making me feel like he doesn’t care about me
I hate my mother for making me feel like she picked him over me
I hate that my brother had to look after me when they couldn’t be bothered
I hate that, in my eyes, they don’t deserve to be called mum and dad

I hate that when I was younger I had to run away from my father
I hate that my mother and brother left me by myself that day
I hate that they left me closer to my father
I hate that they went somewhere I would have felt safer

I hate that I feel like my friends are slowly fading away from me
I hate that I feel like I’m a third wheel
I hate that I feel like my friend’s don’t trust me
I hate that I feel like I can’t trust my friends

I hate the feeling of loneliness
I hate that I read books to escape to a world better than mine
I hate that I write to create a better life than my own
I hate that people want to invade that one heaven I invented

I hate that people ask me why I made Katy Clover Taylor
I hate that I had to make a role model for myself
I hate that she is the person I desperately want to be
I hate that she is the one thing I will never live up to

I hate that I feel like my grades would grasp my families attention
I hate that feeling of disappointment when I get a bad grade
I hate feeling like I have to live up to an expectation to hold their attention
I hate that I am relied on because of my grades

I hate that I am an older mind trapped in a younger body
I hate that I am limited in what I can do because of my age
I hate not being trusted upon
I hate people treating me as a kid

I hate not telling people how I feel
I hate hiding behind an invisible barrier
I hate not being able to share how I feel with people
I hate being scared that they won’t care.

I hate people judging me
I hate judging people
I hate that feeling of giving up
I hate the feeling of losing when I didn’t give up

I hate the choices I have made
I hate that nobody thinks I can live up to my dream
I hate people thinking they are so much better than me
I hate the fact that they are right

I hate that I will never make a good girlfriend
I hate the fact I know nobody would fall for me
I hate knowing that no one would help me pick up my life
I hate that it has fallen apart

I hate hurting the people I love
I hate them not loving me anymore
I hate knowing that what I would do would hurt people
I hate the fact I do it anyway

I hate knowing that I do all of this
I hate knowing I hate all of this
I hate trying to change it
I hate that I am not able to change it

I hate that I try not to give up hope
I hate knowing all hope is lost
I hate that I still try and cling to it anyway
I hate knowing I failed at that too

But most of all

I hate not being able to express this until now
I hate that this still won’t change a thing
I hate thinking that it still might
I hate knowing that no one cares

Copyright © Teenage Frustrations

Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details |


          THE VALENTINE PHOTO--2014
  Bubba was tired and his feet were aching from walking so
much. He and Carly had walked up and down the block 5 times
looking for his wallet. It only had $46 in it but he didn't
want to lose the pictures. There was a snapshot of them 
making love on the sofa in their first apartment that first
valentines night and then a photo of Carly when she was in
her valentines dress. His drivers license was in the wallet,
too, but it had expired and he never could remember to re-
new it. 
          "I don't think we'll ever find it, Bubba," Carly
said, resting her backside against a brick building. Just
then Raston came around a building and saw them. 
         "Hey wots 'appenin Bubba?" Raston said.
    "Lost my damn billfold," Bubba said. 
    "You  lose you wallet in this neighborhood and it's in 
somebodys pocket before it even can hit the ground,"
Raston grinned.
      "Who lost they billfold?" a girls voice said. It was Patti;
and she had followed Raston around the corner of the build-
ing. "Is they a reward for that billfold?" She asked. 
     "Maybe, you know who gots my bill fold?" Bubba said. 
      "I seen that guy over cross the treet lookin in a 
green billfold just now," she grinned. 
       "My billfold is a green one!" Bubba said, heading across 
the street. 
       "You be careful now Bubba, that dude is one mean dude! 
He chew you up and spit you out." 
      The guy was over six feet tall and looked like he should be 
able to win some kind of a muscle contest. 
      "Hey man you find my billfold?" Bubba asked him.
        "Was they a picture of you wife in a valentine dress"?asked
the guy, a big grin on his face. 
       "Sure there was," replied Carla. "Now we know you got 
that wallet for sure."
        "I ain't found nobodys billfold." said the guy, spitting on
the sidewalk. 
    "Did too," said Patti. "I seen you." 
     "Give my billfold now!" shouted Bubba.
       "And if'n I don't?"laughed the guy.
        "Well I just havta take you apart I guess," 
said Bubba,
        "You talkin pretty mean for such a little fella," laughed the 
        "You gonna give me my billfold now?" asked Bubba.
           "Sure I give you your bill fold," said the guy, grabbing Bubba's 
ding-dongs in a hammer hold. "But first I'm gonna make it with
 your woman right her on Broad Street in broad daylight, and you
gonna hold my coat while I do it, and you better not let my coat
sleeves drag the ground neither."
     Bubba was still wrenchig in agony and pain when the 
guy finished and disappeared around the corner.
        "Boy that guy sure was mean," said Carla after the guy 
was gone.
      "Now I told you not to mess with that guy, I told you he
was one mean dude." Raston said.
       "He sure was mean," Carla said, a sly little twinkle in 
her eye.
      "I don't know about that," moaned Bubba. "I done let
his coat sleeves drag the ground three times!"
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet.

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Long poem by Brody Brown | Details |


When i look at my life and think
I realize that your love was the missing link
You came into my life when my happiness was extinct
I thought there was no way out of the pain so i would excessively drink
I thought there was no other way
I wouldn't turn to anyone for help and i'm not gonna pray
But the second i said soo... And you said hey
My depression receded and the pain went away
And as of today i'm sure that i love you is there anything else i need to say?
Youve given me a purpose and taken my mind out of its disarray
Alyssa you saved me from myself and ill do anything for you to repay
I will love you until i pass away your always on my mind no matter the time of day from when i wake up to when i hit the hay
i know deep in my heart that you do the same
YOUR MY UNIVERSE! sorry i needed to exclaim
My heart flutter when i hear you say my name
{spoken over the phone} 
B-"Baby i just wanted to tell you that to my heart you have the key"
A-"Awe Baby"
B-"I can't live without you like vitamin C"
A-"I love you"
B-"I love you too"
A-"I can't wait to be in your arms so you can hold me"
B-"I can't wait, I wanna stare into your eyes and forever be lost at sea"
A-"Awe B now i know that you love me"
B-"I do to an infinity, soo much it doesn't seem real our love is like a divinity."

B-"in the stars There are no constellations, you are all i see just you in my arms and forever and always with me")
I mean there will be bumps on the road
I just hope that love and loyalty is what i show
Baby we can get through anything i know
Before i met you i was lost but that was a long time ago
Now your my everything my inspiration and my flow
Ive got a lot of love for you to show
Maybe we're going to fast and we need to take it slow
Your not my everything you're my forever and ill never let go
Alyssa i love you i hope you know
Thats the first thing i said,
from that moment you brought back to the living because on the inside i was dead
Now it hasn't even been a month and i can imagine us together for eternity and one day wed
I feel like i can't do anything without you i can't even sleep in my bed
But if you need to let me go to be happy then go cut the thread
Ill try to go on i mean i know that you'll be better off in my head
Still it will hurt like my soul being shred
I hope you can look past my mistakes and love me for who i am you don't even have to tell me just leave it unsaid
Just look straight through me like you can see in infrared
What you'll see is the inside of B
and if you look into my thoughts you'd realize there is no longer a me,
There is just a we
Just us together ill do anything to make you happy
like take you to the sea or at least to heaven that i can guarantee
Alyssa i love you i don't take that lightly
I say that with everything inside of me...
I say that with everything that is B...

Copyright © Brody Brown

Long poem by Aliagan Abdulrahman | Details |


Today I was but walking on my path, full of self-confidence,

heading towards a purpose I had set from my residence.

My humble head bowed very low, I pressed forward in haste,

yet I was mindful lest I outran my chance to court a waste.

Leaving behind the sights and all that my back had brought

to face what my way’d unveil, I prepared even to be fought.

Forcefully my head was raised, for something had beckoned—

it was an irresistibly pretty figure I saw or so I had reckoned.

I gave a pause, poised to find what the distance would unfold,

little foreseeing I would enjoy defeat from what I set to behold.

The more it advanced the lesser my endurance and my strength.

I trembled: it was the first adventure facing me from this length.

I am a young soldier though, at home, in haste, I’d left my wit,

and now struck helpless by her soothing hit, I am no more fit.

Have mercy, spare me, for all my skills I have lost or unlearned,

or take a wink to look away while I address the desire I discerned.

If I am blessed to accomplish this task, I shall be more than glad;

but If I fall casualty to the defeat of the challenge, I shall be sad,

for I have never before retreated from a duet of this kind all in vain,

yet if I can use up all I have left, I shall not care to manage a gain.

Now she’s near so it’s time I waved her a stop to give my best,

since I’ve got two awesome things—this task and a school test.

To pass one and fail the other (or miss one) is going to mean a crime.

God, help me here with overwhelming words as my tongue I prime,

because I must not exhibit a repelling style or make a worse blunder

and be displeased with  my waning military spirit if we’re put asunder.

Do you understand I can’t make out why I stand under your charm,

because it always takes place the other way round without any harm?

The ethereal lures radiating from this unblemished skin equals the cost

of your doting parentage, the root you grew from that mustn’t be lost.

Now you grow, grow and grow, while skeptics marvel as you soar tall

from the root of this tree that you must garden and see it doesn’t fall.

If you can disorientate me in this manner while I forget to remember

what I’m capable of,  you deserve kudos from Januaries to Decembers.

Because of waywardness my tongue should give way to my clever pen

which is mightier than the sword and be the spokesman of wise men.

It adores the spotless teeth you flaunt as a sign of mildness and peace;

appreciates the dazzling light in your eyes that reduces one to a piece;

and promises to smear your plumb cheeks with  deserving delight

by ensuring that you beam with dimples like the stars in the night.

Copyright © Aliagan Abdulrahman

Long poem by Mark Goodson | Details |

Treasure of My Heart

Yamaha impressed me the first time I laid eyes on her glistening blond maple wood, her stylish body details, her long fretted mother-of-pearl inlay; lobed with golden keys. Her voice called to me the first time I held her in my arms. I strummed her six strings slowly in the key of G, then moved softly to D and C. All the while, I searched earnestly for her purity in sound quality and style. She was not the most beautiful in the showroom. But oh yes! She did flatter me with her musical presence. She was beautiful to me! I knew from that moment on she would be mine for eternity. 

Within the hour, I took her home to meet the family. She was shy on the journey, not making a sound; perhaps due to this being her first automobile ride or simply wanting to see a world she was now a part of. Yamaha was cased in alligator leather, a brown dressing which was stylish for the day. We were both nervous as we arrived and got out of the car. My strong caressing grip on her handle assured her she wouldn’t fall and it would be alright. She knew it would be alright as I smiled at her. 

I opened the door, allowing her to enter first. When in the living room, I called to everyone to come meet the newest member of the family. Dad was taken by her simple yet elegant beauty and style. Mom touched her first and she was most pleased. At that moment I realized the importance of first impressions as Mom marveled at how pretty she was. I sat down in the best chair in the living room while Mom listed to Yamaha talk and I sang a popular country love song.  I was pleased with the family acquaintance to Yamaha. It was evident she had become a part of the family.

 The first few weeks, I couldn’t keep Yamaha out of my arms. I longed to be with her every minute of the day. In my eye, she made me smile by just gazing upon her. I fumbled with her in those beginning days. She ignored my elementary attempts at refinery and permitted me the time to catch up to her mastery rather than bow down to my level. Like any two lovers, both must reach to the need of the other. Only then is love truly in harmony. 

Today, Yamaha is not the young glistening blond I held in my arms some thirty years removed. Her wood has been scared by my love to play her. She has received countless face lifts which cover her tainted mother-of-pearl. Her brown leather case dress stands in need of a seamstress care. But as with all things having been learned through love, we now make beautiful music together. She is my treasure, a light into my soul's well. She amplifies my inner being. As I perform, she is glorified. We have grown old together,and gotten better in time. I still hold her in my arms day by day as this lover has risen to her grace and expectations. She is my treasure for a life time.

Copyright © Mark Goodson

Long poem by Spenser Jones | Details |


Sometimes I still use a cordless house phone. 
When I call her I imagine her wrapping an invisible cord around her finger 
as if she were only walking slowly the opposite direction as the cord stretched further. 
When she talks she says she likes to feel her voice as it runs away from me. She says that she wants me to believe distance is just a myth our minds created. When she held me I was a last box on a moving van. I was stretched out like piano wire waiting for a hammer to knock the breath back into me. Her hands forced me upward like keys pounding harmony. 

She is the hottest day of summer telling me to wake up and find water and her bed is an oasis. 
Our clothes scattered a mosaic across the paint spotted carpet. 
We read to each other from the bookshelf on the corner. 
The one that sagged in the middle until all its shelves were smiling, ready to laugh loose their stories. 
The morning she left the half-closed shades left cords of sunlight stretching across her chest 
and I traced them but there were highways, and she the smallest country. 
When she calls me she traces her breath as it spirals like a hurricane to the wall and bounces between cities. Her voice is strangled with 350 miles of telephone lines. 
The clothes we dressed our floors with for months have been stripped away. 
The room is naked now and the bookshelf, half empty. When I think of that house 
she is the only thing I can remember. Everything else fades, the room disappears entirely and I remember only having lived inside her. Home is where the heart is. 

The first astronomers who looked up there had to have discovered sparkling new words about how far two things can be. We build telescopes to force everything closer. 
I have built myself a telescope with bed posts and bathroom mirrors. 
On warm nights I climb to the top of my room and look west where the world curves her away from me. I know now why the myth of a flat earth existed for so long. 
It is not a story of people afraid of falling but of people terrified of growing apart, 
reading that if you stare hard enough at the horizon, you’ll be able to find anyone who is left you. But “listen” she says. The blind man on my block had his cataracts removed. 
He told me when he looked out his window for the first time he couldn’t understand why his hand was larger than the houses across the road. 
He couldn’t grasp how things look smaller at a distance so close your eyes. 
Stop looking for me in satellites fading below the skyline. Let us make this world flat again. 
I am always right here. 
This continent is just our kitchen table. 
These highways piano strings. 
The same note ringing resonating between us.
God keeps our sight stronger with eyes that we will never see by looking in a mirror.

Copyright © Spenser Jones

Long poem by Prince Katlholo | Details |

Silent Fights

When we fight in silence, like titans abound by egos
An eager poet overcome by words.
A beautiful model delicate as raindrops
When the silence in the room is as thick as our nostalgia
Wanting to hold each other but held back by thick egos
Ripe with the wretch of imminent paradoxes
Contemplating charades of choices of parallel provisions
As if we can afford life without one another

 When we fight in silence and the room gets microscopic
Her presence bold. she drifts like a thunderbolt across an African sky
Similar spaces, sharing oxygen and the ammonia in our hearts
our breathing aligned by the poisons of our fear
We have sacrificed in miles to allow centimeter consequences
Our story ripples gentle beneath her feet
A story that eclipses at the axis of our ex's
Subtle and calm in the stanzas on our palms
our skin cells still thick under their fingernails

 When we fight in silence and cant even look each other in the eye
The war between our minds that our tongues abstain from
Cold war of silent minds in love like a godless church
When the earth sprints beneath us,
bare bones and shuckles in our silenced fight
I don't know if its a curse that we both cant quarrel
Like feral lambs with a deep predilection for another
Infatuation so simple like the cartography of her skin
Her hair superior, laden ith disposable paradises
Simple chemistries of lovers who 've been through some shit

When we fight in silence. Hearts smooth as skipping stones
Hungry enough to believe the silence tastes better
But time... Time is a cold mason between us
Like a perverse heartbeat, the worst kind of treason
I have lived bittersweet moments that slow down the clock
I have seen pendulums and hourglasses turn lovers to strangers
I have heard how we change the world & the world changes us
I have learnt that the world is always ending and love prevails
Like neglected flowers in thick mahagony vases
Infested with greedy butterflies free from their leashes
The agony of traded dreams and faded hopes

Words are despots I would rather be silent than say something I will regret.
She is my armor. No sword in my castle, verbal nor metal
My fists only fold when I pray to God for her existence
Four eyes, one vision, one blindness
Heroes are for children and those who cant save themselves
After the silence the dialogue writes itself in a calligraphy of apologies
In our new-found understanding of the tapestry that is you & me
Minds re-aligned like telephatical alphas Completing each other's sentences
Simple enough this is our redundant arithmetic
Learning integrals of loving her beyond her crutches through infinity
Thats the mathematics of my existence. When we fight in silence

Copyright © Prince Katlholo

Long Poems