Long Remember Poems
Long Remember Poems. Below are the most popular long Remember by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Remember poems by poem length and keyword.
The Russians are coming
Skiers complain it is too cold, most of them are from the cold country
is the frost in China different than say, Scandinavia?
A newspaper gleefully telling us there fewer spectators this time
then in the Olympic last time, I think this tittle-tattle has to do with
infantile reports looking to throw some China’s way.
The war that didn’t happen and are not going to cover the front
pages of Europe, one senses they are willing a war against Russia.
Crimea was not annexed by Russia, there was a vote in favour
of being a part of that country, which is natural since most people
living in Crimea are Russians; this is a no brainer.
I so do dislike I. Phones; bills are sent to the phone nothing on paper
my phone is blocked because I let the battery run flat
Now they ask for my code to open the bloody phone who in
their does right mind remember a code?
Meanwhile, the sporting people continue to chase gold in Pequin.
i don't know. i don't know! i don't know!
each day it just recedes, like a lapsed wave on the beach slowly being pulled in by the tide. i'm not sure when it started, maybe two weeks ago? i just remember waking up one morning but not feeling her. as she rose from the horizon, and her golden touch grazed my skin, and i felt nothing. and instead of smiling, like i usually do, i did nothing. i just watched. i stared as her touch slowly trailed up from my fingers, to my arm, all the way up until she blinded my brown eyes. and now this has become a ritual for me. every morning i wake up before she does just so i can watch her blanket me with her numbing light.
i don't know. i guess i do it because i'm hoping one day, one day soon, i will feel her again. i guess i just miss her warmth.
no i know she isn't alive, but in a way she is. she was alive to me, because she made me feel alive. but without her touch, i just feel, i don't know, hollow.
yes, it's true. I did lie before. i do feel something.
well, recently the only thing i can feel is my bed. i know it sounds weird, but he continues to be the only place where i can feel, i don't know. the only place i can feel something. i feel a warmth. and he calls me, day by day, night by night. it's the reason i no longer leave my room.
i have tried to leave, but i barely made it out the door before my body broke out in a sweat and the tremors clawed their way up my spine. i missed my bed too much. i missed him. and when i lay with him, i can feel his linen corners wrap around my wrists and ankles; and i can feel his woolen comforters weight deeply on my chest. it's true. i do feel trapped, but i feel comforted by his weight. it's how he loves me.
i guess i lay with him out of fear. i am afraid, but in a world where you feel nothing you learn to cherish fear. it's the only thing i feel. i know. i know that.
i know. i am in love with my bed.
Remember how you’ve come such a long way
Becoming iterations of what you’ve become
You’ve grown vulnerable with a pompous inner child
You know joy is about being grateful
And your grief has melted to give way to life
But the tender love
Of those who loved you
Has steeped into your soul
You now diminish the ties that exhaust you
You know Things not meant to stay will erode
And what’s meant to stay will earnestly follow you like a shadow
Until you face the light and become that beacon of hope
You’ve learned that days will be thick with darkness
Which will persevere in your shivering spine
But you will survive and start stronger
Because you are tenacious too,
Your flame is unique, resolute
You adjust your luminosity
Your tears have cleared your vision
And now you know
Your people are just one or two
But you have become a people’s person
You don’t judge them, you have just accepted yourself
How well now you’ve carved your self esteem
Like a costly glassware, protecting it
Not giving it in other people’s hands
You have practiced patience like a song on repeat
Honoring your self, now you sow seeds everyday
You’ve let That knocking joy come in
And you give sadness a seat too when it visits
Your little rainbow follows you in your car
That one which your loved one sent you
Remember how you’ve come such a long way
With this love and wisdom that pervades you
It’s a lovely place!
Judgment Is Coming
By: Tom Wright
12-2-04
Life is like a book,
with a beginning, plots and subplots,
climax, and end.
Pretty non eventful at the start,
mostly just laying around
whining about one thing or another.
(some remain in this mode)
But as we get into it,
it becomes more meaningful.
Each page is an unknown,
a day filled with new events, acquaintances,
and new things to be accomplished.
Some are x-rated while others we dog-ear
and remember forever.
As the sun sets on each day that page
is systematically recorded, until finally,
though even a slow reader,
the remaining pages are fewer,
and soon will come the page that says,
The End.
What a joyous time for a child of God.
'We don't like to look our kill in the face'
......Greg Palast
'The problem is, Corporations have neither
bodies to kick nor souls to be damned'
......Andrew Jackson
Human emotion will be diminished, too messy.
Trans humanism is a creeping chokeweed.
Goggles will be required to view reality
as perceived by shareholders, corporate
pollinators are seeding their outcomes
directly into your brain. 'I remember when
free thought (the good) was individual
choice' We will wistfully explain to our
grandchildren.
I take my instruction from natural rights,
Awake, am I, and in control of my rightful,
equal place in the universe. Why are people
dying here? This is my life, and your free
life too. Life, all life, is precious and equal.
This is the message I receive from interplanetary
beings...sacred, are we, and we know this
to be true, we the people will open the doors
to outer space, and take our rightful place.
No anonymous, faceless Corporation will
take my freedom......join me.
10/13/16
THE FAIRY TREE
Somewhere on the black mountain
Overlooking Belfast town
There’s a fairy tree with umbilical roots
Which go far beneath the ground
The local people fear its power
They pay it full respect
For they know that deep beneath the earth
There’s a powerful fairy sect
They live between the neverworld
And the world which we all know
Some folk have claimed to see them fly
With a fairy magic glow
Make sure you don’t get too close
Or you’ll feel the fairies wraith
And they’ll send the elves to put you
In a mucky nettle bath
The fairies have a job to do
In fact, it’s vital, you might say
They protect us from the evil trolls
And they keep the imps at bay
They look after all the honey bees
And they paint the butterflies
They keep our rivers running
And make rainbows in the skies
So when you’re outside walking
And you see a fairy tree
Just wave, smile and remember
They look after you and me
I was returning a bike to it’s home this morning…left out by a child who, no doubt, was remiss and as I pushed it along the sidewalk I began to reminisce.
Back to when I was a child…remembering what it was like…the day I learned to balance…the day I learned to ride a bike.
I remember the innocence…the freedom…riding without a care…I remember the smile on my face …I remember the wind blowing in my hair.
I’d ride for hours with my friends…friends with whom I’d grown…for once you hopped on your bike in our neighborhood…you never rode alone.
Our bikes took us on adventures that strengthened our hearts and soothed our souls. We’d only stop to climb a tree…skip some stones…or dive into the swimming hole…
We loved to ride together through the ditches during a rain..
and if we fell and skinned our knees…we just ignored the pain.
We learned to ride with no hands…down our street and all around…
We’d attach baseball cards to our spokes just to listen to the sound.
For when we heard those baseball cards…on whatever bicycle we were striding…no longer were they bikes…but motorcycles we were riding.
On our bikes is where we learned to be independent…it’s where we learned to pretend…on our bikes is where we learned what it means to be a friend.
At the doorstep of the house I set the bike down…gently on its side…and I thought how different the world is now than it was when I first learned to ride.
I’m not sure it was true…but when I visit those memories again and again and again…wasn’t the world a little kinder, a little gentler, a little more innocent back then?
Perhaps that’s why as I grow older I find it difficult to comprehend…how, though many people still remember how to ride a bike.…they’ve forgotten how to be friends..
How somewhere in the midst of living…they’ve forgotten how to be kind…
How without the even realizing it…they’ve left their innocence behind…
Which makes me wish more people would remember exactly what it was like…
The day we found our balance…the day we learned to ride a bike.
The glistening yellow sun shines down upon the golden brown fields harvested today.
Our gardens are cleared of the red, green, yellow vegetables and our canning is underway.
As we look across the orchard the pickers are on the last of the apples to be picked and sold.
The rustic color of the leaves are beginning to furl and we remember that fall has been born again.
As the sun sets it looks as if a fire was set to the orange, yellow, brown, red and green leaves.
A light breeze sets in and we hear a rustle as the leaves drop lazily upon the once green grass, as we drift off to sleep.
Written for: Russell Sivey's "Autumn, Fall Colors Contest"
Written on: 08/16/2012 By: Carol Brown
2nd Place Winner
With winter comes darkness of day
In the cold early nights of December
Evening sunsets coolly blown away
Like a last glow of an ember
You ponder why here we all stay
Where the chill seems to last forever
Warm winds and long days gone astray
As we breach icy solstice endeavor
Breath lit by moonlight as I say
It feels a different place than November
When leaves fell in fall painted array
Now it seems I barely remember
Yet to and fro, in sky black to gray
I look up at diamonds falling wherever
From clouds of crystal frost bouquet
In this glacial home I'd leave but never
Nov 17, 2022
There sit my sweet child as
he was born yesterday.
The bonding between a mother
and her child
through 9 months
inside of a mother's womb
was an incredible and
precious feeling
I remember the first day he
came into this world with many
emotional joy and tears as I
held him in my arms
I said to myself this is such a
miracle and blessing
To have a little angel
Oh, he was the tiny and cute little
bundle as I rock him to sleep every night
There sit my child he was
young and innocent
display with his teddy bear toy
As I looked across from the room
from the distance watching
him learn how to crawl
and walk he was so sweet
and adorable
His rosy cheeks,
chubby face, blonde hair
and blue-eyed
his eyes lightened up with joy
and ecstatic as he
called me mama
to be cuddled
in my arms
Oh, he was such a mama's joy
and pride I would not trade him
for anything in the whole wide world
Now my little precious child
has grown up to be
a fine, handsome young
man that made his
mama proud to call him her son
He often tells me that
I am the best mother that he could
ever ask for the love and care that
I instilled in him to be the amiable
person that he is today