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Long Paradise Poems | Long Paradise Poetry

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

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Long Poems
Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                          SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                            (HER STORY)
                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Through conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...

                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--
                                                               faded from his day.

                                                         But oh his face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                           Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                             Such a heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                   She stalked his dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed by thoughts
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing

                                                              (HIS STORY)
                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                       he moved toward her, 
                                                           then had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call--
                                                          yet lost her face.

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town
                                                                      One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business tugs him
                                                                   Worlds...
                                                                     Seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous--
                                                            tho hard to place--
                                                   She's the tune he can't erase.
                                                               
                                                              a love so fierce
                                                              
                                                           Each night they tryst,
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                    grant them every lover's wish
                                                       
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him--
                                                           encased and blessed
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013


Long poem by Terry O'Leary | Details |

the PLAGUE

as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to spare) –
with the world on OUR backs... ah! the burdens WE bear!

being HAVES (not the have-nots) as nature decrees
means WE’re certainly the better (they’re vermin on sleaze).
if they pray for a lift in their dark fantasies,
WE just kick ’em downstairs, get ’em off of their knees.

yes, WE offer great jobs (much too busy OURSELVES!)
for maintaining the toilets, restacking the shelves,
and WE teach ’em to fear god and play with the elves,
thus dispelling ideas where the dark demon delves.

though they build mighty bridges, twin towers and more,
peddle pizzas and popcorn, sell guns door-to-door,
still they gotta have BOSSES to tell ’em the score
else WE’d never be needed, WE’d thrive nevermore.

when OUR profits are plunging, they do their part too
for they dine on the dole! yes, no hullabaloo!
soon OUR fortunes  redouble, rebound and accrue –
since WE fare well without ’em, WE bid ’em adieu.

’stead of wishing for welfare and standing in queues
or parading with pickets (look! holes in their shoes!),
they’d be better off scabbing to save union dues
... while WE whistle and warble, they’re singing the blues.

whether heros or hoboes, like spiders and lice
they just crawl all around us in life’s paradise,
but WE’re patient, big hearted and oft sacrifice,
spewing charity, kindness (though each has its price).

if they’re beaten or punctured or suffer assault,
are unhealthy or crippled or walk with a halt,
or retarded or helpless, it’s all their own fault – 
just like US they should worship the DOLLAR exalt!

protesters and loud mouths, you’ll find ’em aplenty
some older, some younger, the worst not yet twenty.
they’re shameless and brazen (unwashed, soiled and scenty)
impugning the prestige of brave COGNOSCENTI.

if they’ve got clashing colors  (or shades in between)
or opposing beliefs in the hidden unseen, 
well, WE’ll always exploit it, deflecting their spleen,
for with god on each side, would WE dare intervene?

WE promote many methods to keep ’em in chains –
daily rags and the tube spin OUR circus campaigns
“to pretend you’ve a voice”, an announcement explains,
“you can vote and decide on which ONE of US reigns”.

OUR policemen protect US, they stay on the ball
(they arrest ’em, no questions per law’s protocol,
and then jam ’em in jail with their backs to the wall) –
if you’ve lucre for lawyers there’s justice for all.

down the ROYAL road of justice WE march all alone 
– WE condemn their defiance, set ways to atone –
since WE’re sinless, unsullied, WE cast the first stone
(while WE cloak REGAL fetor with eau de cologne).

politicians, bald bankers, grand idols galore,
attend meetings, fete banquets in which they explore
how to rid US of rodents (the weak and the poor) –
well, just round up the riff-raff, dispatch ’em to war!

ah! OUR wars are.... well, just...... just a thing of the past
........... and the present............... and future... WE sure make them last!
if they frown as they gaze (armageddon!) aghast,
then WE smile back with pleasure, OUR treasures amassed.

useless ranting and raving (in rags, when they’re clad),
leads to losing their teeth (my! their gums are... egad!).
WE’re unselfish, indulgent, WE’d never be mad
if they drowned in the sounds of themselves feeling sad.

as the paupers are princes in midnight’s domain,
they have pipe dreams to lose, certainly nothing to gain
if they’re hoping OUR fortunes will wither and wane –
for “WE’re here by god’s will” as WE often explain.

yes, they wish to be US, with OUR wisdom and grace,
keeping up with ol’ CROESUS, maintaining the pace.   
but perverseness or rancor? they’ll see not a trace –
for WE hold ’em at bay with a fist in the face.

WE’re la CRÈME de la CRÈME, yes! the proud UPPER CRUST,
and OUR clothes are the finest, OUR hair never mussed –
WE imbue ’em with piety, duty and trust 
and they’re fed bread and water (if feed ’em WE must).

but they’re thieving, aggrieved, want a piece of OUR PIE
and request WE endure ’em, see EYE to black eye.
since they live in OUR land where OUR strict rules apply,
they must feast on the crumbs that may fall from the sky.

though OUR largesse and bounty WE don’t mean to flaunt,
yet the pittance WE pay ’em they surely can vaunt –
salty peanuts and pretzels (what more could they want?)
thereby keeping their kiddies so healthily gaunt.

yes, there’s room for the rabble (the back of the bus)
’cause WE treat ’em like equals, so what’s all the fuss?
all can rise to the top (yes! it’s always been thus),
to the suites in OUR penthouse (to sweep up and dust).

while OUR CHILDREN have tutors, the finest of schools
(being bred for the forefront, THEY’re nobody’s fools),
the ol’ school of hard knocks teaches: “follow the rules”,
building brawn ’stead of brains and broad backs strong as mules’.

and to keep ’em in line (to ensure WE prevail)
WE now monitor phone calls and read all their mail
(civil rights? what a notion! at best a detail!)
and if worse comes to worst...... well...... guantanamo jail!

WE’ve OUR quandaries and questions and headaches full blown
(like deciding design and decor of OUR thrones...
whether diamonds or rubies... to ivory WE’re prone) –
when WE deign to appease ’em, WE chuck ’em some bones.

now you know all OUR problems, OUR pains and travails,
– like preparing foreclosures, evictions  and sales –
but WE’ve no need for worries or gnawed fingernails,
’cause WE’re sailing OUR yachts through tempestuous gales
(with them bailing OUR banks when OUR stock market fails)
sipping daiquiri sours, champagne, ginger ales...


Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE

                                              
                                               FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE

  (HER STORY)

                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                                   an 
                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing


                                                               (His Story)
                                                              

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous
                                                            tho' hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase


                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                                      Glow--
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop


Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

PASSION OF CONVENTION

                                                   PASSION OF CONVENTION

                                                            (HER STORY)

                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                                   an 
                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing


                                                               (His Story)
                                                              

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous
                                                            tho hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase


                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                                      Glow--
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013


Long poem by Pogiso Petja | Details |

Out on Earth

Out on earth

A child is born to live on earth. A man struggles to survive in the world.
Why would you want to survive in the world when you may live on earth?
What is it that you want from living?
Do you want to be praised? Or do you want to praise?
If you want to be praised, then who should praise you?
And if you want to praise, who do you want to praise?
Who can be so innovative so as to come up with a concept called life?
Only you will answer to the questions of your life?
If earth has enough space to occupy all living beings, then how come you still find homeless beings?
Being nature is the entitlement of space on earth and being rich is the entitlement of space in the world. The richer and more pompous you are in the world, the more space you are entitled to.
Were we created to pay our way to survival with money? Maybe I don’t understand the meaning of creation and maybe I’m fooled to think that we have been created. But I do believe in what I believe in because that is where I draw my faith from.
Call me naïve for believing that the Creator, of the heavens and the earth and all that we know and don’t know, is in existence but I can’t help it but stand in awesome wonder of the amazing grace I see all around earth. 
Can you even fathom how the earth rotates around the Sun without us, beings on earth, knowing that we are rotating and moving around the Sun? We form an assembly with the Sun that gives life.
Can you even fathom how the gravitational space we are in, does not fall into the non-gravitational space that is outside the atmosphere of earth without any visible, solid layer that confirms the separation? As complicated as the process might be, it is what happens every single tick of a clock. I believe in what the Creator is doing because we have proof of what has been created. It is a bond we have with the Creator that we see in the bond between gravitational atmosphere on earth and space outside of earth. 
The world might start a war and then blame the Creator for not protecting what happens to have been created. The opportunity of will best serves what has been created. Stop shooting and you will see that people will stop dying from gun shots. Start planting food and you will see malnutrition subsided. Start building houses and you will see more people with homes. Use the land to produce what procreates life rather producing what brings envy and pride out of inequality. How much would we benefit/suffer from shutting down inapt production of expensive cars, for example, and opened production of more homes and farms? For whom do we want to win the battle for and who do we choose to fight the battle against?
Do we work so hard today only to have pride in ourselves tomorrow or do we serve today only to be content tomorrow? Is what you are striving for, what you need to stay alive or is it what you need to be seen and be praised? Do you work so hard only to be on top of everyone or do you serve to achieve equality among every human being. Do you serve for liberation only to have freedom or do you work so hard for power only to control. Given a chance of liberation to be free and a chance of power to be in control, which one would you choose? Do you want to see yourself as the almighty or do you want to see the almighty?
Is it the world you are working for? Or, is it the earth you are working for? Which of the two does your soul belong to? Who benefits more from your life? Who is happy that you pray and who is repulsed that you pray? Where would you rather go to in the times of after death? Who do you believe has the paradise of love, peace and kindness?
Do you think you are smarter than the force that brought you to life? Do you think you are smarter than a tree for being human? Do you think the smartest living being can come up with a feeling similar to that we know as love? Do you think the smartest living being can make a light as bright as the Sun like the Creator has done? Whose opinion will you trust? Who do you think cares that you wake up from your sleep? Who only cares about your wallet? And, who do you think cares about your life?
If anything, how much do you think a home costs in heaven? And what do you need to do to afford a home in heaven? It is in our will to serve who we worship and it is in our will of today that builds us a home in heaven. Only you will have to answer for the life you have chosen to live! Let it be so!


Long poem by Dawn Fulmer | Details |

Castle Gate

It was the time before the celebration on Saint Peter’s day, when the noble page took a fine white scroll and was glad upon his way.
For a bird had whispered in this good page’s ear that what he bore might bring glad tidings near. Did he then hope too much for such as an extra ration or a copper penny to increase his fashion? 
Indeed he did not and when the lord Auz Zoo had read the scroll he patted the back of this good page and said with a voice from his belly that told of his age. “Oh hoe! My lad run thither hence and tell the cook that I want mince” And this was good for everyone knew that when in fine spirits he’d call for his food.
The news ran thus, that the high king, Prince had granted lord AuzZoo his one great wish, a plot of land with fertile soil with plenty of hands to turn the mill and work and toil. That one day soon he might raise his castle there. 
The feast was had and thus began many gold pieces spent and marvelous plans. The wood worker came and so did they all; chisel, hammer, axe, and, saw.
And when in court next day the high king, Prince did hear them say “Never before have we seen such a sight as this old bachelor knight.’’ 
For, many years he had saved his gold now giving him a wealth untold. So, fine jewels were engraved and a brilliant red carpet laid, a high backed chair of cedar wood but best of all, the kitchen stood where nothing entered save, the most savory meats and the sweetest treats.
Then the town crier cried and all stood silent with starring wide eyes as he proclaimed the first morn’s dawn upon this new castle Ugungawmon. 
But still in the happiness he lived Lord AuzZoo felt there must be something askew. He knew this feeling   to be right because of how he felt around the belt. And it is known both far and wide that those gut feelings never lie. 
He pondered hard but thus it seemed that all his thoughts were locked and bared. Till one day at the height of noon our good page thought that for cause of the heat he’d surely swoon. And thus it accrued to our good page that there was indeed no castle gate.
Therein on report when the lord AuzZoo asked how his trip had fared the page then lifted up his chin and dared, say “All was well my master dear but I inquire with greatest respect is your head quite clear?’’ 
AuzZoo did not ask or threaten but simply waved his hand for an explanation. 
“I fear…” the good page started again, “that I have found something wrong with you perfect castle.” 
“For, it is such in every way down to the last sliver plate, and there it is out and plain that we have no castle gate.” 
Lord AuzZoo had not interrupted he had let the page go on unheeded. But, when the page looked up a ghastly sight did meet his eyes for he thought his master might be in paradise. 
For Lord AuzZoo had gone a hideous white and all his clothes did seem too tight, no breath he took just looked, and looked. This sight did so upset and grieve the page he wept and called for help of any age.
But, none did come till twas too late, now the page was drowned in grief and still there was no castle gate.  The rest of his youth our good page spent in the service of the king till he himself could become a knight. And when he did for was fate he would no colors for a love he wore instead the glove of the lady determination he kissed so that there was only one burning desire in his breast and one thought that guided his lance and won his lot.
Thus, he returned to the home of his youth, the perfect castle Ugungawmon that he had bought and renewed.
Timber from the strongest trees and iron with the best of wrought was hither brought. Then for many years and everyday you’d see go by that way a small and vigorous party of the most skilled workers in that day. 
One fine twilight our good knighted page with tears upon his cheeks did gaze upon his life time work. Better than any before, stronger than the strongest oak door, and bigger than the castle front its self-there she stood magnificent and unmovable.
Today, if a traveler will pause upon his weary way he may look to the east and see the glistening castles of Ugungawmon which stands before the open sea and the wind will blow but never shake the strong proud planks of the castle gate. 



Long poem by PENINNAH NGANGA | Details |

CRIME OF PASSION

One Sunday afternoon in spring,
i was tending my garden,
trimming and watering the roses,
when he first passed by.
I remember standing up to break the ache,
and as i ran my hand across the face,
to wipe off the sweat,
there he was this breathtaking scenery!
He had the most fair face i had ever seen,
better than the men haunting my dreams from the Men Magazine!
His bone structure was well highlighted by the brown tinted aviators covering his eyes,
and the red Porsche reflected his perfect skin!

I don't remember much what happened next,
but with pure clarity i remember dropping my shears,
as he leveled the sun glasses fifty degree,
and cast a shameless stare to my long naked legs,
with passion so wild;
his eyes were like flames of fire!
Then with an evil smile that clearly said;
'i will be back for more sugar honey',
he fired his auto box and disappeared.

The second encounter found me sipping sweet tea,
reading 'red leaves' by Paulina Simons at the Porch.
He was in a tight green sweat t shirt that emphasized his muscles,
and long baggy shorts that revealed his manly hairy legs.
He dropped the paper pack which contained seedlings of,
every flower i could think think of from his hands,
gave another evil wink,
made a bow,
and left without a word wearing a mysterious smile.  

And when he rang my door that Friday evening,
there was no need for more formalities,
our eyes told all the undeniable emotions we felt,
within seconds,
his hands were roughing up my clothes,
his long nose teasing mine as our mouths locked in deep search.
And when he started to nibble my ears,
and taste my skin,
i knew this adventure would forever change my life.
But when the cold metal on the ring finger touched my flesh,
as he tenderly caressed every spot his tongue baptized on my body,
i realized i had not only witnessed a crime of passion;
but had blood on my hands too.
But that did not stop the want,
it did not make him less desirable,
nor quench the fire!
And when his long John finally splashed my inner with his malt,
and both simultaneously hit the paradise and bounced back,
on my bed sweating and panting like teenagers,
i knew this lust will not end without me getting hurt.

And so the call came in this Sunday afternoon!
Her worked up voice playing on my machine,
rudely interrupted our third round of explosion.
She said she knew!
"The wife always knows" she exclaimed!
She told me i need to stop ****ing her husband,
and the father of her three kids,
or else the last thing i would remember,
"will be the Sheriff asking if you okey as you draw the last breath on this earth!"

And so i plead with you,your Honor,
the Jury and this Respectable Court,
to take me under the wings of the Witness Protection Program,
where i will be well protected and preserved from the risk of our encounters.
Kindly take me far north;
to a jurisdiction where his love cannot preside over.
Where my eyes will never again sparkle at the sight of his perfect body,
Where his fingers will never bruise my soft skin with a gentle caress.
Take me to a safe house where my heart can never be made by his love,
nor can my body die in his arms ever again.

Issue me a new identity that has no clue;
how good he is at this art.
Far from this soul that adores his being.

And in turn,
i will take the stand against him,
my palm on the Holy Book i will make the Oath;
to tell the the truth and nothing but the truth,
on the case of this organized crime,
committed by my man who should have never been mine,
against the one to whom he made vows of fidelity and stability.
Whom he promised to cherish,protect and forever adore,
through the fires of hell and pleasures of life,
till death do them apart.
Amen.

  






Long poem by Neil Thirstrup | Details |

Grandpa

Allen “Gene” Claibourn
08.12.1932-08.05.2013
 
Grandpa showed me the way to 
get things done and how to do 
them right,  he showed me how 
to make a knot but i could 
never get it quite as tight. He 
showed me how to splice a 
board to support a shaky beam, 
he taught me how to get that 
row boat easily upstream. He 
showed me how to be polite 
and to act with dignity, showed 
me that respect and honor go 
one and one with common 
courtesy. He told me to have 
Pride and honor in all the work 
I do, do it right the first time 
and it will surely repay you. 
You have to sacrifice in life to 
get the things you want, keep 
your wants last put your family 
out in front . Always take two 
steps back before that one 
ahead, don't stress about 
material things you can't take 
them when your dead. I only 
started realizing how right he 
was as I grew into a man,our 
lives pass by so fast like air 
through his  homemade blower 
fan. I wish I had just one more 
week with him or even just one 
day, maybe do his metal runs, 
junk a car and maybe hear him 
say, I had that once "took exlax 
"then adjust his hat with his 
thumb and index finger, look at 
someone smile shake his head 
and say "humdinger", maybe 
hear him whistle an old tune 
that I'd never heard, sit on the 
porch in the morning with him 
while he mimicked every bird, 
go trim some trees, cut some 
weeds, maybe dig some more, 
the list of things to do never 
shortened that's one thing I 
know for sure ! He was a family 
man who knew what life was all 
about, he worked hard so his 
family wouldn't have to go 
without. He helped and helped 
oh yeah and then he helped 
some more, never turned his 
back, wide open is how he kept 
his door. Your hungry then 
come eat we have plenty is 
what he'd say, then give 
someone his money for the bill 
they couldn't pay. But most of 
all the greatest thing my 
grandpa's ever done, was ask 
my Grandma Shirley if she 
would be the one? I don't know 
exactly how they met or where 
they went on their first date, 
but I know one thing for sure 
this was no accident a Love like 
this is Fate. I guess I 
underestimated the power 
LOVE can hold, I witnessed it 
recently  it was worth more 
than any amount of Gold. 
Grandpa loved You Grandma he 
fought so very hard to stay, he 
knew he'd get one more Eskimo 
kiss if he could make it just one 
more day. I'm telling you first 
hand at night he laid there so 
very still, but when you walked 
into the room magic is all that 
u could feel. I know he's up in 
heaven driving through a small 
ol country town, looking for the 
perfect place to settle his family 
down, I'm sure it'll be near 
some water a quiet place where 
the view is really nice, he'll 
gather up those with him and 
start building the second 
Claibourn's  Paradise. He'll have 
a big jug of water filled with ice 
to the brim, smiling and 
working with loved ones all 
surrounding him. No more pain 
no more strain, no more clear 
plastic pill dividers, now he's 
relaxing working a crossword or 
showing people how to make 
those paper airplane gliders. He 
loved his kids so much 
endlessly I'd say, he tried his 
best to be there even on the 
darkest day. I could go on and 
on about my Grandpa there's 
so much more to say, these are 
only my thoughts imagine the 
countless others  in this room 
today. I Love you Grandpa, 
Grandpolio and thank you for 
being you, I hope one day I can 
be a legend to my family too. 
See ya when u get there....

Love ya Grandpa,
Neil Thirstrup


Long poem by Adefemi Adejuwon | Details |

Shangri-la

So I wrote again. This took longer than it should have. Only fair to warn you, this is a long one.

SHANGRI-LA

Prologue

The village gates stood, like old men stand

Worn with age and bent by time

Rust had claimed each iron face

As had wrinkles done with mine

The iron giants stood apart

Shaking  as the north wind blew

Creaking as their maker passed

I felt certain that they knew

 

I am leaving Wuling now

Gripped she by the throes of death

Touched she by the hands of time

Breathed she the last of her breath

Nature would not save Wuling

Famine leeched away her life

Pes-tilence claiming  her people

Among them, my sons and wife

 

Pain speaks every language known

So I found when it found me

And while not all men know its tongue

I've come to speak it fluently

Hard times then were made much worse

My mind, seeking to reflect

Made my memories seem as curse

I, not master of pain yet

 

I was young, when youth prevailed

What held youth but sweeter days

And a certain frame of mind

That was bent on foolish ways?

We were fools ere wisdom came

We were glad to dream of heaven

Religion held our vices tame

Schooling us on sins of seven

We were glad and light of mind

Pleased with all our blind eyes saw

Joy, the birthright of mankind

Would dwell with us forevermore

 

We were young when youth prevailed

Nimble minds, and bodies strong

But the reign of youth was short

And we found that we were wrong

They came upon us sudddenly

The weeks of cold, the months of drought

A strange disease swallowing my people

Spitting shrunken corpses out

We had hoped but hoped in vain

I had prayed, it came to nought

I, once smith of a large village

Leaving it through gates I wrought

 

Shangri-la

Heaven having failed in hope

Hope itself found wanting

Having lost all I can lose

I am left with nothing...

I will go to find respite

Where the dreams of men collect

Where the signs of hard years fade

And the weary can forget

 

I will go to Shangri-la

Ease to soul and peace to mind

Strength to all those weak in body

All that man can hope to find

I am going to Shangri-la

South of God and north of men

West of every broken dream

East of those who hoped in them

 

Shangri-la, covered in snow

Dwelling there, the ageless Yeti

Older than the sons of men

Wiser than the stars are many

I am going to Shangri-la

Earth's last sign of heaven touch

Hidden from the eye of man

Kept outside of evil's watch

I am going to Shangri-la

Nature's lastborn wrapped in ice

Whitened by freedom from taint

Holy mountain paradise

I am going to Shangri-la

Far beyond the reach of time

Far above the grasp of fate

Webs spun of it's own design

 

Utopia will bring relief

Severing chains of desolation

Re-acquiantance with belief

By the aid of restoration

Let the past relent in chase

That the haunt of loss may cease

Gone sons, to a better place

Found wife, an eternal peace

 

Refuge be found in holy haven

Pain be lost on mystic land

Moved by change on tidal waters

As in castles made with sand

Shangri-la, a last resort

Sought by many, found by few

Hidden in the Himalayas

Shielded from external view

Shangri-la, paradise lost

Closed to all enslaved to vice

Seen by he whose need is most

Never found by one man twice

 

Shangri-la, the name brings warmth

Weathered face wrinkling to smile

I set on the road to rest

Which I know is marked with trial

Leaving all I know behind

That my pieces be made whole

I am going to Shangri-la

Peace to mind and ease to soul...


Long poem by PENINNAH NGANGA | Details |

THIS WOMAN HIS WIFE 1

It breaks his heart to know
she does not always trust in him
nor understand the much she means to him.
 
The sight of her smile
enchants his manhood.
He plays and replays her laughter
haha!
He simply can't get enough of her.
She is so graceful
when she want something and is afraid to ask
she make those silent pleas
biting her lips and playing with her fingers
haha!
It melts his heart!
 
How can she not know  
who she is in him?
 
When she makes mistakes
he delight seeing her learn from them.
She is so brave and courageous.
 
She sees the good in people
support without judgement
and her unwavering faith in God
makes him nervous and envious of such loyalty.
 
This wonderful woman
she practically runs the world
nothing is ever too hard
haha!
"with all my degrees, he says
and still can't compete with her brains!"
 
"What did i do to deserve her goodness?" He often questions
 
Then they're those days
times when her past becomes too overwhelming.
She suffers dark spells and moods swings
her feet gets shaky and she's unsure of her state
making and second-guessing every decision....
It breaks his heart to not know
a perfect way to comfort her.
Often he dialogues with the gods and heavens
to grant peace in her soul.
Her serenity is his joy.
 
Each time he looks at the mirror  
all that reflects is power and her influence.
She totally transformed him with kindness
respect  
and a love so true, gentle and unconditional.
 
She is his field of green pasture.
his still and peaceful waters.
"I saw a home in you" He says she says.
But the truth is  
"She gave me rest!" He exclaims
That tiny body house such a big and generous heart
he envy every person who knew her before he did
and give thanks for every guy who wasn't good enough for her.
 
"How was i to live without her magnificence?"He wonder.
 
His Mama says she is extraordinary
on two occasions she referred to her as "supernatural"
"Even the first woman in my life decrees
that indeed my wife is unusual."
 
No
she is not from another planet
but without a doubt
she's unlike you and i.
She experience every moment
with in depth and intensity.
Her perspective on every situation never lacks insight.
Friends named her "princess empathy" for her compassion.
 
"Her eyes, his best man said,"Tell a tale of humility,desire and incredible beauty."
She has endured so much pressure, pain and trauma
yet  
in all that carnage  
only peace and harmony radiates.
She is the summer night sky
so calm
so divine and phenomenal.
 
"There is a missing Angel in paradise" he says.
And she dwells in my hut."
"She decorates and lights up my world.
Heal my heart
right my wrongs
perfects my imperfection  
complements my shortcoming
and completes my being."
 
"she gave me a second chance
an opportunity to re-write my story and history.
Each day she teach me
ways to be a better man to myself
to her
to our lovely kids  
and to the Great Man above."
 
she is the definition of miracles and true love.
The sanity in his existence.
An example of humanity
and a ray of hope in God's creation.
 
she is his wife
the only pure thing in his LIFE.
......... ........ ............
(TO BE CONTINUED)
 
 
 
 


Long Poems