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Long Sleep Poems | Long Sleep Poetry

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

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Long Poems
Long poem by Dylan Irvin | Details |

Phantom Journals

Phantom Journal Entry 1
 Wednesday 8:03 A.M.
I found Jesus at a bus stop this morning. He recommended that I comb my hair. I told him if I had any nails I would hand them over.  Monty  found a shoe full of vomit by a dumpster. Someone had an interesting night. This apartment smells like stale french fries. Frank is still sleeping on the counter next to Mr. Coffee. There is a stray cat clawing at the windowpane. The town is gradually waking up. The park across the street is filled with shirkers. My mind is still living in last night’s conversation. But I don’t remember it very well.  Shit, I’m going to be late for 

Phantom Journal Entry 2

Wednesday 11:13 P.M.

Work sucked. I think the bartender is an alcoholic. She hides a flask in her bra. It fell out when we were in the stall together. Frank is sprawled across the kitchen floor. Monty steps over him to grab a beer. The stray cat is now sleeping on the windowpane. Nothing ever changes from morning to night. Except Monty is drinking coffee and not beer. 

Phantom Journal Entry 3

Good Friday 9:47 P.M.

The ocean left the brine. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their dreams are living in my beer. The worms are drunk on the stove. Frank passed out hugging the toilet. Monty takes a piss right next to his face. Some girl just asked me what I was writing. I told her that I was rewriting the Bible. She seemed confused. Her hair wasn’t combed either. The guy at the bus stop would be ashamed. I can’t remember his name though. The television can’t stop spewing poorly scripted ‘reality’ shows. This Friday isn’t very Good. 

Phantom Journal Entry 4

Monday 3:12 A.M.

My eyes are broken garage doors off the tracks. I’ve drank too much Red Bull. She keeps waking up and asking me for water. Apparently her mouth is in a drought. A dead soldier lays between her breasts. Frank keeps drooling on the carpet. My favorite ash tray is tipped over next to Mr. Coffee. This desk keeps hiding words from me. Monty wonders how much a plane ticket to Hell costs. He never sleeps.

Phantom Journal Entry 5

Thursday 12:31 A.M.

It smells of raw fish and bleach in here.  My palms are sore. Monty told me to stab myself with pencils to make sure I could still bleed. So I did.  That girl ordered me a pizza. But I forgot it under the couch.  The medicine chest is nearly empty. When Frank wakes up he is taking a trip to 5th Street to get more. I wonder if they sell bandages there? Will Mr. Coffee brew marijuana for us? My brain is starting to throw up. 

Phantom Journal Entry 6

Thursday 12:38 A.M.

This desk keeps mocking me. I offered it to the guy at the bus stop, but he said he didn’t want anymore wood. The dishes are now a chemistry project. But Mr. Coffee is always clean. I can’t get this girl to stop showing me her tattoos. I miss the bartender at work. She got fired tomorrow. So I bought her a new bra. The medicine chest is empty now. Frank is never awake when I write.

Phantom Journal Entry 7

Thursday 4:30 P.M.

I finally got the garage doors fixed. I guess they weren’t closed enough.  There is a ghost that keeps haunting the hallway in my dreams. She is pretty hot. Except she keeps tilting the pictures on the wall.
The thirsty girl still won’t leave. Neither will the cat. We may have found the cure for cancer in our dishes. But probably not.  Frank is talking in his sleep about stepping on rats. Monty is listening to Beethoven while he attempts to write poetry. He is an awful writer. 

Phantom Journal Entry 8

Monday 1:49 A.M.

The guy at the bus stop asked me if I wanted to drink his blood. I told him I wasn’t thirsty. The water was running from the shower. Frank was dreaming in the tub. Monty ate chicken wings with the tattooed girl. I can’t remember her name. I think that cat is hungry too. Mr. Coffee wants to go to sleep. There is broken glass sticking out of my feet. The sky is bleeding white. My mind begins to masturbate.

Phantom Journal Entry 9

Sunday 3:33 A.M.

The brine is looking for the ocean. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their realities are dead on the floor. This desk is growing a face. The medicine chest is full. Monty picks up a filthy habit from the black lake. I haven’t seen Frank for a few days. He must be under the couch. I robbed the guy at the bus stop. Turns out he didn’t really save much. The thirsty tattooed girl shattered Mr. Coffee last night. I will miss him dearly. Now my shot glass is spawning worms. 

Phantom Journal Entry 10

Tuesday and I don’t know what time it is

It’s been 369 days since I last wrote an entry. I’ve simply had nothing to say. Monty is living in the streets somewhere. I think of him every time I buy a loaf of bread. I wonder if he found out how much tickets cost? That cat finally starved a few weeks ago. I married that thirsty tattooed girl. I still don’t remember her name though. Frank went to sleep in someone elses apartment. Never did talk to him much. The worms are all marching in a line. Someone stole my medicine chest. I think it was Monty.  The guy at the bus stop was thrown into an asylum. But somehow vanished one day. The garage doors are now closed on a regular basis. That ghost finally straightened out the tilted pictures. I think I’ve been combing my hair a lot better lately. I am still a phantom to society. But that’s okay. Nobody knows my name.

Long poem by Eve Roper | Details |

Rock Me Around the Clock

                                                  Tick, Toc, Tick, Toc
                                                       I rest in bed
                                             Listening to that constant  
                                            Rhythm of the clock’s beat
                                             Patiently waiting to sleep 
                                                  Tick, Toc, Tick, Toc
                                                 Burst of lightning bolts, 
                              Illuminating the black dark cloudy night sky 
                                   Thunders with a deafening Sonic Boom 
                                                      Ground jarring,
                                          Broke the silence of the night  

                                                  Tick, Toc, Tick Toc
                                       Oh, please let the slumber come
                                Frightening, startling, cracking of thunder
                                            Rain pounding on the roof
                                           Is someone angry, keeping
                                                Me from my sleeping

                                                  Tick, Toc, Tick Toc
                                                Roar of the thunder,
                                             Light flashing, descending 
                                 Rain drumming on my bedroom window
                                The sunrise has a way of sneaking up and
                                  Glancing through my bedroom window 
                                       I wonder if the gods are enjoying
                                                Their game of bowling 
                                            Where’s the morning dawn 

                                                  Tick, Toc, Tick Toc
                                     Ten till six, it’s almost time to get up
                                            The rain has finally stopped

                                                  Tick, Toc, Tick Toc

Contest: Rock Me Around the Clock
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper

Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

Patradoot The Messenger 43

Patradoot The Messenger 43/50

English version by Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor

She would ask you dear,                     in  most humble and  lovely words,
To tell her,                             the true condition of her  beloved husband, 
Removing the anxieties,                which would be mounting in her  mind, 
By telling her the entire story,  for which she would spend the whole night.

Please tell me dear letter, how my most beloved husband spends his time,
With in the dark,   tough  and high boundaries  of  the prison house,    and
How he bears the tortures,          the British rulers  would be giving to him,
As he is fighting,      for the freedom of our motherland     from the British, 

Sleeping,                     in the burning hot and dark cells of the prison house, 
Where mosquitos would be biting,                    during night and  in day also,  
And facing the taunting,                    on the freedom fighters by jail officers,
While bearing the agonies of distance from me and the hard stories of others. 

Please tell me dear letter,       how he bears the hard and fearsome  pains  and 
The sufferings of the jail life,                 which we perhaps cannot imagine here,
Who would console him,         when his is in distress and beaten by the jail staff,
While bearing hard and tough tortures,     they give as a gift to freedom fighters.

When he used to come late in the night,         tired and exhausted,
After passing the whole day, for the cause of the freedom struggle,
I used to bring sleep for him,                   by talking to him sweetly,
And singing melodies to him and consoling him always, dear letter

During extreme  hot summers,                    he would be living without air,
When even the sleep gets stubborn and arrogant, due to heat and humidity,
I used to create air on him,  by moving the hand fan     made of straw grass,
So that my beloved husband,           can get some rest and sleep, dear letter.

Kanpur India   29th November 2010                           continue in 44

Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor

Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can 
Send me an email on

Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father 
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.

Long poem by Allison Kinzy | Details |

one more night, one less day

i stare at the screen
and hope my thoughts make sense in words
there's always some coherence in these poems
if only i could find it.

something seems to be missing from my picture
there's a smile
and eyes with laughter
and life in it
but i don't think
no, i'm sure
i'm not there.
and in this apartment
there are pets
there are clothes
there are belongings
and living bodies who spend their nights here
there is even love
but i don't think
no, i'm sure
i'm not here.

there's got to be
something that i can photoshop in
or buy at ikea
to make me suddenly appear
and the books that i read instead
of appearing
fill my head with magic
while i try desperately
to avoid reality.

and i don't sleep until
it's not night anymore
but i wake up
with things undone
and though 12 beings surround me
filled with love of different degrees
i stay undone

and nothing makes sense anymore
i don't know why i continue to write
only that i do
and hope that something that comes spilling
through this net
will accurately capture
what i cannot seem to express
in words that do not have the
to them

if i could do something right
something with no consequences
that might destroy me
but something right
i might feel real happiness again
but now
all there is is an echoing emptiness
through which bounces the fake smiles
and plastic laughs
that are what they see

and i wish i didn't sleep at all
or never woke up
but as it is
this is one more night
that will end in my tears
and it is one less day
where the sunlight can blind me
to the truth
of who i am

"i forget
how much i can hurt"
i said to him as he held me
as i shook with sobs
"is it okay to hold you?"
he asked before
i responded in between gasps,
"when you hold me i don't have to be strong
i have to be strong when i cry alone"

so shall i spin you a tale
of a life wasted
or is it wasting away?
or shall i just imbue my tears
with words
and hope when they fall
they will mix in the right combination
to say more than i can ever say here?

i stare at the screen
and hope my thoughts make sense in words
there's always some coherence in these poems
if only i could find it

but i can't find it
and so this goes out
sans spell check
because i know there are no
spelling errors
just errors in sense

this is me
in the moment
no trying to be pretty
just out here
hoping someone will hear
me and know what i'm trying to say

do you?
what i'm trying?
to say?

'cause i don't.

Long poem by louzana nubani | Details |

a love not to be forgotten

A love not to be forgotten
After the disaster, after the misery
Little sister of mine begged my dad for chicks
He tried to convince her what a bad idea it is
How a hard caring takes to keep them alive
How a rise in temperature or decrease in temperature
May cause their death.
She didn’t get convinced, she is so stubborn
So dad said louzana so do you want one?
I my voice was weak, my sorrow increased, and I said no...
I went to the room, tried to study, and then fell in tears
I couldn’t imagine how life is without him
I couldn’t let go of him, I couldn’t believe he was gone
Dad, sisters came, six chicks they brought
Dad the room entered; told me the news:-
I two chicks have brought you 
I smiled untruthfully at him and went to take a glimpse
Six chicks sticking together seeking warmth; their sight softened my heart
Gave a feather to my stone -frozen soul 
I looked at them, carried them out of their box resistance
They started to poo, the other drinking the pee of another 
They seemed stupid and small 
The room called I went back to it 
2nd day,    somehow better, selected two of then and marked them red and blue
3rd day   , took one-hundred and something pics of them.
Day 4   ,   someone died.
Day 5,    someone died   .
Day 6,    someone died   .
Day 7:-     blue disappeared and was gone.
Day 8:- three were left: red, green and green
My love grew wider to red, he started to love me 
He started to sleep in my palm, and run after I go 
I love you red, forever, and eternity
I gave them all the love I can afford
My sister made a woolen jacket for him 
He wore it and slept in it a thousand times
The days past and his strength became sightless and the day became darker,
I looked at his little- small yellow face 
And see him trying to sleep on his fellow friend green 
Three days past, and he continued his suffering in them day by day, hour by hour, second by 
second, breath skipping breath
The days in their youngness and the chick in his last age…
My tears fell from the breath-taking scene and heart rending moment
I prayed and cried and begged and lied, what shall I do?
The 3rd day first morning woke up, the maid threw him away; found him all over ants,
All without breath.
I knew this day would come but I never thought it’d be too close
I never wanted his death to be too slow
But this is life, some people die, others are meant to stay 
Don’t know what is comin, feelin some guilt, never know who’d be the one 
Who would stay and share a partnership of a lifetime 

Long poem by catherine Reinke | Details |

Blue Pearl

Blue Pearl

Stories are told
Of lost enchanted kingdoms treasures
Of jewels beyond all measure-

Diamonds, rubies, silver and gold

Yet blue pearl fairest 
Wisdom story told.

A gentle love tale
For you to hold.

On the Island
In sea foam ocean
God created
This tale of motion

Loves commotion, strong emotion.

From deep within Neptune’s caves
Mermaid sirens 
Songs they gave.

To spin their magic
Enchanting swirling
Beauty delight-

A women’s eyes
Blue pearls
In his sight.

For he alone wise warrior bold
Made they she 
For he it’s told

Now long below the sea she rested
While search in vain he was tested.

Given to fatigue his journey
Believed ended
Settled he on land
His garden tended.

Years did pass
All seemed well but how his pearl
Sunk toward hell
If he knew
It’s sure he’d tell.

“search again I,
for where you fell.”

But know he not 
Her plight now covered 
Until that day
His love discovered.

For hidden right 
Beneath his eye 
Buried treasure
When he heard her sigh.

And beyond his garden gate
Slept his princess fair 

Gleaming brightly 
Under the sun 
Wisdom warrior
She’s the one

Like a feather
Up he picked
His pearl of grace,
Stoked her hair
Tender embrace.

To search no more 
His soul did sigh
His sigh
Her breath of life
And together their souls did fly.

A love that’s 
Pure and white and round
A hunger- desire
Both they found.

Drink they did 
And fulfill loves thirst
While to fate- to- destiny
Sang their first

For heavens songs 
Were heard above 
When toge6ther 
War to pearl
In love.

Yet to our tale
A sorry end
To brief indeed
A tear to send.

For warrior not 
So wise believe 
When dropped he did 
His love to sea.

Now tears have filled
Her eyes of blue
With sleep ness nights
Pearl cries of you.

Pleadings blue
Cry to god above
“leave me not
so lost in love.”

“Again to sleep me 
my warrior leaves
sinking deep beneath the seas.”

“Wait I will
if I must
100 years me-
find I trust.”

For he alone 
Her love heart discover
In princess pearl
He find no other.

So next time 
To sea you wade
Remember this tale
To you I gave

Of warrior wise
His search in vain
A princess blue pearl
His salvation Kingdoms gain

To find loves
Beauty buried
Within deep
And to drop]
Her down
And back to sleep.

It’s a folly best avoid.

For love is given to far and few
Watchful if it happens to you..

Long poem by Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Details |

Why The Lights Went Out

Cont'd from Pg. I

As they sat in the dark, their minds conjured up the many possibilities of what may 
have occurred.  Yet, mulling over them, each one deemed unfeasible until they ran 
out of guesses.  “Get some sleep, Hon.”.  “It will be alright”.  “Sooner or later, the 
lights will be back on and we’ll get home.”.  Strange as it was down past the 
restaurants and shops, stood a new development of condos where hundreds of 
young people lived and yet not even a candle light could be seen. “Sleep?” She asked. “You’re telling me to sleep, Babe?” she whispered. “I’m not sleepy.  And who could sleep at a time like this?” Sounding a bit agitated.  “I wonder what time is it?”  She asked.  “Oh, there’s no way of telling, exactly.” 

While the hours passed, sleep surprised them both, overriding fear.  Enveloped by 
some unknown pressure, they remained comfortable and warm. Then later Matt awoke, startled and turned toward his girl who was then roused by his sudden movements. The warm golden sun rays had brushed their faces. “Did you hear that?” He asked. as he leaned toward the sound, “Yes”, she said as they both stood looking in the same direction.  Across the street further down the road, they heard the horn of a kid’s bicycle and watched a young boy delivering newspapers. He noticed as the boy drew nearer that he was oddly dressed, the cars parked on the street were beautiful old classics, and even the street they had walked on all these months had changed!  Now it was tree- lined with individual houses, like in the suburbs and they turned to each other with puzzled looks.  She wore a smile that said 'look at me!' And when he didn't get it, she yelled, “Look at me!” To his surprise, she was standing on her own. “Honey, you can stand!” he exclaimed. He embraced her tightly 

 “Hey, Mister, you’re pretty new to the neighborhood, huh? Asked 
the young boy as he handed him a copy of the newspaper.  Speechless, Matt stared at the young boy as he accepted  the paper without saying a word, too focused on 
the many changes and the red haired kid dressed in strange clothing.  Then, he 
glanced at the headlines hoping to read about what caused the phenomenon.  His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw nothing he was expecting; instead his eyes saw the unbelievable…The date was, June 15, 1951…
In shock he passed the paper to his girl...For last night, they had been travelling to the Twighlight Zone!


For:  Matt's "Finish The Dream" Contest  

Long poem by Reynaldo Mast | Details |

The Rain and Wind

The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.  
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.

Long poem by Bella Cardenas | Details |


I love the sound of vases splintering on the floor 
I adore the music of my anger hitting the door to rebound
And resound in our ears
Echoing and crashing on my newly mopped floor
Tinkling broken china makes me feel like I’m in control
Each shard is revenge cutting into your soul
              You deserve it [yes sir, you do]
Look at what you did to me
           [the hurt in my eyes]
                                             [The rage in my heart]
                                                           [The sadness in the folds of my hands]
[I’m hurt, I’m broken]
Like the china on the floor
Never to be put back together
Quite the same again

Take your hand off my wrist, boy
Who are you trying to convince?
You don’t need me, remember?                            Go home
                                                               [Knock over things in your apartment]
                                                                 [Tear down the curtains in your rage]
                                                      [Rip all the pictures of us and throw them away]
                                                    [Pound the pillows, Speed in your car, curl your fists]
                                                           [Crawl to that girl you messed around with]
                                                                         I don’t care, I don’t care
Because I’m sick and tired of you
Coming home with her lipstick on your collar 
Her perfume reeking
All over my sheets               while you sleep 
                                                      next to me
                                                            [You lying piece of garbage]

Get out of my house,
You obviously don’t belong to me
Your a stranger 
You might sleep in his spot
And still drive his car
And smile his smile with the dimples that I love

But your not him
He would never hurt me
And I’m so hurt,                              [ I’m so wounded, I’m bruised and battered]
Like a shark you chewed me up and spit me out
On the floor
Like a broken vase
Never to be put back the same              [But instead just a bit stronger]
[With the best glue in the world, experience] 
[To hold me together even better]
And afterwards, guys can throw me around
Devour my heart and dissect it five times over
And I’ll never break again                      [They don’t stand a chance]

I’ll never break, baby

Long poem by mary abdali | Details |

Red silk covers

you meant nothing you never said
it still meant the world to me,
a shameful encounter,a sinful collabration
making a fool of myself again and again
the time you said youll never leave me right in to my eyes
can someone lie straight in your eyes?
The time you hugged me and said you care
can someone touch you and lie in your face?
you left me without a letter ,without a hug
millions broken,never knew someone could be heartless
i have grown old in the hopes of maybe
you would turn back and come to me
nothing needed but an apology
just tell me i was wrong , i shouldn't have done what i did
i should not have said something else, where there is nothing i feel
why is it so hard for our self esteem
to admit we are wrong, respect our fellow beings
indifferent to my emotions, it doesnt hurt anymore
are we actually humans,or some mind controlled robots
i long for the day when he would realize
how he shattered my beliefs and my desires
i know he's happy  he has moved on
is that it? never to be held accountable for?
perhaps it was right , what goes around comes around
maybe karma was mistakenly brought to my door
i wish he stays happy,i dont have any grudge
i cant be burdened with one more regret
life is unfair, painful as we move on
just hard to believe,its us , we are the morons
we know the pain,we still hurt others
its not life thats hurtful, its us
everyone so anxious in running the race
knocking others out to get to the finish line
so selfish and needy we are blinded with lust
in the end man realizes ,what was it worth?
you may win the race , be crowned the king
and proudly you'd walk back to your home
sit on the couch sip hot chocolate
in the darkness of the night, youll try not to fight
think about your achievements laugh and smile
no one to cheer you, you look left and right
what is the use of being a lonesome winner?
when you have stabbed everyone to get to the position
I would rather be in a group of losers
where we all cry together at our failures
we dont have much, but we have each other
we sleep on the ground,amazing dream world there is
no pillow for our heads, no covers on our beds
but our dreams are so beautiful, we'd never want to miss
you may sleep on your silk covers with a beautiful woman on your side
you close your eyes and hear from within, deep sighs
you cant sleep peacefully on your victorious covers
remembering what youve done ,a cloud of regret hovers
or maybe you are indifferent, its not a big deal
one day it will, you will know how i feel

Long Poems