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absence abuse
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africa age
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anger angst
animal anniversary
anti bullying anxiety
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bible bio
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books boyfriend
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car care
career caregiving
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class clothes
color community
computer conflict
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cousin cowboy
crazy creation
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day death
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dog dream
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growth guitar
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heaven hello
hero high school
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house how i feel
howl humor
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husband hyperbole
i love you i miss you
identity image
imagery imagination
immigration innocence
insect inspiration
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ireland irony
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june kid
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Long July Poems | Long July Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Shane Cogan | Details |

Too many lost orange sunsets

Too many lost orange sunsets by Shane Cogan

Oh why do I care 
Oh why do I still cry
So many years I have lost crying over you
So many lost words 
So many lost crimes
Now a million times
I keep thinking back to that last kiss
Oh so long
too many tears
Why did you leave?
Why did I never see it coming?

Time after time, yet another one
Cloud after cloud, I wept over you
Tear after tear 
you crept back into my mind
This has to stop, she said
Why, oh why, can't I just not let go?
Why, oh why must I not let it go?

It just keeps coming back
Again and again, brighter each time
More orange, always on track
I cant take it any longer
I don’t want to see its image
Too many years 
I have lost time over you
Too many people
Too many fallen stars
Too many false hopes
Too many lost tears
Too many broken dreams
Too many lost friends
Why, oh why, can't I just not let go?
Why, oh why must I not let it go?

Here it comes again, the long lost orange sunset over the horizon
I don’t want to see it 
I don’t want it in my head
I just want to be that crazy-filled-happy-dizzy-weird person again
Oh, just for one day
Oh, just for one day not to see that image
Leave my head 
let me live in peace
Instead I return to bed
I wish I could press release
Instead here you come again
A flash reminder, please go away
Feels like a grinder, please go away
Lost so many close ones
Came so close to new ones
Back you came, the hurt
Back you came, the regrets
This has to stop
This has to end
This cannot go on
For ten years, year after year
every new year, my lost years
Why, oh why, can't I just not let go?
Why, oh why must I not let it go?

Finally a new crazed one 
maybe a chance
family pressure 
friends measure
I need to surrender 
I need to ease this pain
I need to pretend 
instead I transcend
Instead there it is again, oh no, oh no
I continue to see the long lost orange sunset disappear for too many years
Time after time, yet another one
Cloud after cloud, I wept over you
Tear after tear 
you crept back into my mind
This has to stop, she said

How much more can I take?
Even a drug does not last this long
Some find the cure, others a substitute
A decade long chain
A decade long stain
A falling grey rain
A new name
A lost game
A book of strain
A flawed brain
I need to regain
I need to refrain
And then it comes, my journey floats me away 
upwards, upwards, upwards... 
towards, towards, towards... 
upwards... 
and it all starts
again and again. 





 
 
 







Long poem by kanzazy hutchins | Details |

My Strength Renewed, My Rock

On the day of July nine 
In the year of ninety and six. 
Her heart was so pure and so fine 
But too weak for the surgeon to fix. 
Her eyes still shown bright as day 
But her frail body had wasted away 
Her smile as warm as the love 
That she gave through Jesus above 
She knew she would not pull through 
But not one moment of sadness or blue 
Did she cast to her loved ones there 
Who waited and prayed for her care 
The Day was the twelfth of July 
The hours ticked endlessly by 
Many friends and family too 
People I never knew 
Came to say their farewells 
To a sister who with Jesus now sails 
On a peaceful and gentle tide 
To ever abide at his side 
As the service came to a close 
And the time was as everyone knows 
To cover her body with earth 
Though her spirit had now a new birth 
From out of the crowd stepped a child 
Who's heart like her grandmother's  was mild 
She picked up a shovel and prayed 
As everyone stood there dismayed 
Some tried to keep her from her task 
She looked to her Grandpa with eyes that ask 
He said to those who had tried 
To stop this child at the side 
Of her grandmother's still open grave 
With shovel in hand and heart so brave 
Let her be was his reply 
She's strong enough I won't deny 
She then began her chosen task 
Permitted to do what her heart had ask 
Shovel by shovel and tear by tear 
Her respect paid true to a lady so dear 
At the tender young age of only ten
This little girl whose life has been 
Directed and sculpted by the events of that day 
And by the grandmother who taught her to pray 
Just ten precious years she shared with her here 
But forever in her heart her grandmother is near 
I am the mother of this brave little child 
And never has any heart been so mild 
The day was the twelfth of July 
And to my Mother I said good bye 
A new strength was shown to me that day 
In the child I had birthed and taught to play 
Grandmother's shoes are not easy to fill 
But with a heart of gold and the strength and will 
She to this day has been my best friend 
In absence of Mother my rock to the end 
Now twelve years later a woman full grown 
No longer here with me, elsewhere on her own 
No matter the distance in miles or in time 
She still fills the shoes of that Mother so fine 
And knowing her task will never be done 
She looks to the Heaven's, The Father, The Son 
But also she looks for a glimpse now and then 
From the Grandmother she knows will hold her again


Long poem by Craig S Bury | Details |

Happy Birthday Dad

Happy 60th Birthday Dad
It’s time to reflect on the great life you’ve had
A reflection on your times of yore
And the years to follow which will be many more

You were born July the 3rd 1947
Today we celebrate your 60th on July the 3rd 2007
You came from a family of nine
Amongst family is where you truly shine

You have given loved ones so much joy
It makes me so proud that I am your boy
You’ve been happily married for more than half your life
You have been a supporting husband to your wife

You have worked so hard to give your family what they need
Always clothed, always homed and an abundance of feed
Us kids have never gone without
You have always given willingly without a single pout

You have always shown a passion for sport
So much so you were once the president of a club in the Port
You were at all our games cheering from the side
And along with mum always gave us a ride

You showed me how to kick and catch a ball
And taught me the importance of standing tall
You taught me to always give my best
Especially when there’s a challenge or a test

I here you were quite the sportsman as a young man
But injuries got the better of you and that pleasure you had to can
A handy spin bowler on the cricket field
A hard at the ball footballer that could have done with a shield

You taught me the value of earning an honest dollar
And that it doesn’t matter if it’s not in a shirt and collar
You are such a proud and positive man
For you there’s no cannot only I won’t or I can

You have shown belief in yourself when others would be depressed
It’s a credit how you handle pressure while others get stressed
You are the rock when others crumble
You manage to stand tall while others stumble

You accept that no one is infallible or perfect
And that the best compliment you can receive is respect
As your son I am honoured to carry on your surname
I hope my actions will one day lead to its deserving fame

You have worked so hard and long you deserve a great retirement
When the time comes I hope it is filled with so much excitement
Travelling overseas and relaxing with your wife
There couldn’t be a better way to spend the later years of life

A better father you could not be
We are all so proud of you, especially me
I hope celebrating your birthday brings you lots of joy
From one man to another who will always be your boy

Here’s to many more years of bliss like the ones you’ve had
Happy 60th birthday Dad


Long poem by Joe Flach | Details |

My Favorite Number

I was born on July 20, 1958.

Being one of seven children and having a mid-summer birthday, even as a young boy, it was 
not uncommon for my birthdays to come and go without much fanfare.

In the winter of my Fifth Grade year at school, we had an assignment to write a short-story.  
I was already in love with writing way back then.  My short story was on a topic that was 
very much in the news at that time and a very interesting and exciting theme for a young 
boy.  I wrote a short story about me being the youngest astronaut in the space program and 
being selected to be the first astronaut to walk on the moon.  I was aware at the time, that 
the US and USSR were in a Cold War race to be the first country to achieve that lofty goal 
and I knew it was bound to happen soon.  To make my story even more special, I wrote that 
this wonderful event would take place over the coming summer, on my birthday!

Well, lo and behold, as the winter turned to spring and spring turned into summer the Apollo 
11 space mission launched from Cape Canaveral carrying three astronauts, two of whom 
were targeted to walk on the moon.

As my 11th birthday approached, without any notice from anyone else, I watched in awe as 
the Apollo 11 made its way to the moon.  On July 20th, 1969, the lunar landing module, 
Eagle, set down on the moon!  I remember expectantly waiting for the astronauts to be given 
permission to exit the Eagle and step foot on the moon’s surface as the hours of my birthday 
ticked down.  

It was about 10:00 pm eastern time when my parents finally sent us all to bed on the news 
that Mission Control made the decision to wait until the next day to send Neil Armstrong out 
of the lunar module.  With tears in my eyes, I went to bed thinking that I missed my chance 
to share my birthday with history and to have had my short story prognostication come true.

At a few minutes before 11:00 my parents woke all of us up to come watch as Neil 
Armstrong could wait no longer and talked Mission Control into letting him walk on the moon 
without further delay.

So, at about 11:00 pm, on my 11th birthday, the men from Apollo 11 walked on the moon for 
the first time in history.  One small step for man and one giant link to history for one small 
boy in Charleston, West Virginia.

And, that is when 11 became my favorite number.


Long poem by Davin Payne | Details |

paradise:lost


felt like i did before thats how i know i missed ya
if i could then i woulda grabbed ya hugged and kissed ya
bachelor for eternity missing the bigger picture
you i barely knew, appearing on every vista
i appreciate the support, but what i need is love
tho truth may hurt, better than all of the above
i trusted you cause you represent something ive never done,
who knew that two can prove to be better than one or
first in a place, never won a sum,
bygones gone and a couple of puns
we let the honey run till sweet enough touch
beat around the bush, no rush
it got hotter but the wetaher didnt change 
not a cloud in the sky or a drop of blame
no need for a why whenw e had an x
we gotta where we wanted then decided what next

no matter where i go 
over land and sea
id rather have you cause one is lonely 
keep me company
three not necessary
feels real comfy
has since february

february march april may june july august in a day
the longer we go the more we grow
feeling better each step of the way

if theres a problem we can talk and double check
nothing we cant solve with an embrace and kiss to the face or neck
i love you more than ode and penelope. maria odb
or lil kim and biggie
thank the gods we aint in a greek tragedy
or sometime before 19 sixty
for what is feminin
sent me to my questionin
i quickly collected evidence, respect
exactly what i expected, experiencing the extension
my seconds, perspective as my lessons
i remember when im stressing
to fit into my senses, lower my defenses
soothing if theres tenseness, leaving room for suggestion
did i mention that youre precious
a gift of personal appreciation, when we regard eachother
in highest celebration shared by lovers, so more than any i thank you
for willing to get as close as you do
i hope for you the complimentary is true
im sure if it wasnt we can talk it through its coo
right there is reason why i call you boo

no matter where i go 
over land and sea
id rather have you cause one is lonely 
keep me company
three not necessary
feels real comfy
has since february

february march april may june july august in a day
the longer we go the more we grow
feeling beter each step of the way


Long poem by Kassie Buttrey | Details |

Fifteen

She sits on the floor arms wrapped around her ankles.
By a thread of hope, she dangles.
Tears run from her eyes endlessly.
Nobody can stop her from breaking.
Her breathing gets ragged and troubled.
No matter what her problems are doubled.
Rocking herself, comfort eases over her mind.
Her meds are kicking in and peace she finally finds.
Butterflies fly around her head.
When she tries to catch them, they fall dead.
She lays her head down to sleep.
How long can, sanity, she keep?
Later when she wakes up, she feels so empty.
How else should she feel when she may have given up a baby?
3 days after rape and abortion pills.
She's fifteen and not sure how she feels. 
She goes to the bathroom mirror.
The image is anything but clear.
Her sister laughs at her anxiety.
Her sister tells her she has never had and never will have a reason to worry,
Because the girl has it so easy.
She thinks yeah that's why he raped me.
She begins to cry again.
And her sister yells at her then.
The sister cusses her and pushes her around.
Her self-esteem dives right into the ground.
She walks out and goes out on the back porch step and sits.
Wondering what she has done to be treated like this.
Her dad is outside smoking when she begins to have trouble breathing.
He calls out her name, he starts getting worried.
She barely hears him even though, he is right beside her, screaming.
She finally catches her breath and says sorry.
And her dad walks away angrily.
She goes in and looks at the girl in the mirror.
The vision she is seeing is getting clearer.
You wouldn’t believe,
That the girl I have been talking about is me.
I am telling you a story that happens to be true.
Well, it used to.
I found out at seventeen…
That my sister had betrayed me.
People ask, “What is a soul’s worth in money?”
Nothing, I tell you. Nothing!
She sold me out for eleven dollars.
I swear I want to hurt her.
I want to hurt her worse than she did me.
But I do not have the heart for such cruelty. 


Long poem by Joyce Johnson | Details |

A Remembered Day

Independence Day, July 4th, had long been one of my favorite holidays. Coming just three days before my birthday, I claimed it as part of my personal celebration, This particular July 4th started out in the usual happy tradition. Our children were old enough to have their own exciting plans and my husband Cliff and I were going to have a three day vacation by ourselves. He was up first as was usual and brought a cup of coffee to me in bed, sitting beside me as we talked and finalized our plans. He teased me a bit about the gift he was planning for my birthday. It was month end reports at my office and I had a few to finalize before I could feel free about taking time off. I would be gone just a few hours and then the two of us would have a glorious three days by ourselves. This was an uncommon and highly anticipated event. I worked quickly and efficiently in the quiet of the office, until the annoying ring of the telephone. Ivan, Cliff’s friend was on the line. “Cliff is in the hospital., come at once.” “What happened?” I asked, knowing I didn’t want to know. “Just get up here.” He sounded angry. Randy, one of my fellow employees had stopped in at the office and hearing my end of the conversation insisted he would drive me to the hospital. Ivan met us at the front of the hospital and blurted out at my question, “He’s dead.” Randy held me up as I started to fall. A doctor was at my side as I listened to the story. Cliff had picked up Ivan at his home and they were driving down the street of our little town, when without warning he dropped over in the seat. Luckily Ivan was able to stop the car so there had been no accident. My perfectly vital, never ill for a moment husband, had died from a massive heart attack. The doctor gave me something to calm me as I called my children. The rest of the day is vague but those first hours are engraved on my mind forever. By: Joyce Johnson won an 8th


Long poem by Carolyn Devonshire | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_midsummer_nights_christmas_delight_240671' st_title='A Midsummer Night's Christmas Delight'>

A Midsummer Night's Christmas Delight

Big brothers, big sisters, many of whom
Had never heard the sound of children's laughter
Opening presents on Christmas morn
Planned a summer outing to a local theater

On July First, for children from ages six to thirteen
The curtain rose on a Midsummer Night's Dream
Pip, true to character, eyes shone with wonder
And nary a child's dream could be put asunder
As fairies danced astage like sugarplums through toddlers' heads

Especially the youngest, these children of single parents
Never exposed to Shakespearean delights in an enchanted forest
Like Santas we felt bestowing culture to a captivated audience
Hoping this Christmas in July would grant them a sense of permanence

All children deserve to feel such love and faith in visions magical
With love among forest sprites and poetry of dreams fantastical
Stopping for ice cream floats on the evening ride home
A nine year old with a fairy wand turned her friend into a gnome

And for a brief time these blessed children forgot their broken homes
The fathers or mothers who'd left them behind made no curtain calls
For children inspired by Shakespeare's fire could light up any hall
So they dashed away, pranced away, danced away all

As the bus ride came to a halt
The cultural presence that sprang from their hearts
Would outlive any gifts from Santa Clause
It was more than a deed done for a good cause

For one evening at least they had something more
Than children who lived in mansions
They'd shared beauty and grace
Gifts beyond most youngsters' comprehension

From strangers who did not through chimneys drop
Nor offer explanation
Great tidings of cheer that filled children's ears
Brought such jubilation

Big brothers and sisters needed no whiskers to beam with joy overcome
And yet as we disembarked and sent each sleepy child home
A familiar train, deer and sleigh, seemed to streak across the moon
The true spirit of Christmas on July First had made its presence known


Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

A Prayer to Clouds for all My Friends

A Prayer for all my friends in America and all over the World This Prayer Poem is for all my friends of America and for all those anywhere in the world who are waiting for Rains.
I have made this Prayer Poem on My Photo Poem and this can be seen in My Photo page on World Art Foundation This Prayer Poem actually supports my Folk Song ‘Folk Song of India -Farmer, Clouds, Rains and Trees’ placed on You Tube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukRQxnYGQwQ&feature=plcp It may be a co incident but ever since I composed and placed the above Song on You Tube the drought like conditions improved in many parts of India drastically. A Prayer to Clouds for all My Friends O Clouds full of Rains Please go to my friend's place Where ever you see the land is dry And all the fields and trees Are waiting for your showers To get wet and to kiss Your ever refreshing Rains. You bless them With your nectar like Rains So their fields too May yield grains And their forests may be blessed With your love drops To again enfold you In their sweet and loving embrace.
O Clouds full of Rains Please go to my friend's place And give them The blessings of Your Beautiful immortal Rains. Ravindra Kanpur India 15th Aug. 2012
NOTE: Draught like conditions (not very acute almost 50% less Rains this year) prevailed in India in July, but after July last it improved in August and even some parts experienced excessive Rains till 27th August. I had composed a Song around 20th July for the Indian farmers as a Folk Song and have placed it in Poetry Soup on 24th July 2012 and on my Music Channel “RavindraKK1” on You Tube as a Folk Song of India. The Song explains the reasons of fewer Rains in the simple language of a farmer telling the story of Farmer, Clouds, Trees and Rains as a Folk Song of India. Ravindra 27th Aug. 2012


Long poem by Linda Witt-King | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/moms_malaise,_part_one_208918' st_title='Mom's Malaise, part one'>

Mom's Malaise, part one

The events that took place in a remote area of New Mexico about 230 miles south of Los Alamos during the predawn hours of July 16, 1945 forever changed the world. In the early morning darkness the incredible destructive powers of the atom bomb, code-named "Trinity", were first unleashed, and what had been merely theoretical became reality. Said General Groves, head of the Manhattan project, "We were reaching into the unknown and we did not know what might come of it".  Some feared the consequences of radio-active fallout on civilian populations surrounding the test site. Observers were sent to surrounding towns to monitor the results of the blast and medical teams were kept on alert. But the hope and the focus was on the feeling that we now had the means to ensure a speedy conclusion to the war and save thousands of American lives.

A bit over 400 miles north, north east of the blast on that early morning in July, in a
small Panhandle farm, a girl of 17 rose, as was her daily custom, to milk the cows by
hand, she being the youngest child and only girl of second-generation Polish immigrants who made their living by raising maize and wheat, cows and chickens and selling their milk and eggs in the small town nearby. But less than a month after the July 16th test of the atomic bomb, this otherwise seemingly healthy girl fell into such a malaise that she could not even get out of bed much less carry on with her assigned chores on the farm. She was brought to a hospital in Amarillo and eventually discharged with no diagnosis other than she must have had a nervous breakdown due to some kind of female hysteria. She was sent away to a convent to recuperate but no one, least of all her parents, ever really knew what could have caused her sudden “nervous breakdown” that took place downwind and less than a day’s drive from that first historic explosion of the atomic bomb.


Long Poems