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abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
aubade august
autumn baby
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baseball basketball
beach beautiful
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best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boxing day
boy boyfriend
break up bridal shower
brother bullying
business butterfly
cancer candy
car care
career caregiving
cat celebration
celebrity change
chanukah character
cheer up chicago
child child abuse
childhood children
chocolate christian
christmas cinco de mayo
cinderella city
class clothes
color columbus day
community computer
confidence conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad daffodils
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
drug earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
endurance engagement
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion father
father daughter father son
fathers day fear
february feelings
film fire
firework first love
fish fishing
flower flying
food football
for children for her
for him for kids
forgiveness freedom
french friend
friendship fruit
fun funeral
funny funny love
future games
garden gender
giggle girl
girlfriend giving
god golf
good friday good morning
good night goodbye
gospel gothic
graduate graduation
grandchild granddaughter
grandfather grandmother
grandparents grandson
grave green
grief growing up
growth guitar
hair halloween
happiness happy
happy birthday hate
health heart
heartbreak heartbroken
heaven hello
hero high school
hilarious hindi
hip hop history
hockey holiday
holocaust home
homework hope
horror horse
house how i feel
howl humanity
humor humorous
hurt husband
hyperbole i am
i love you i miss you
identity image
imagery imagination
immigration independence day
innocence insect
inspiration inspirational
integrity international
internet introspection
ireland irony
islamic january
jealousy jesus
jewish jobs
journey joy
judgement july
june kid
kindergarten kiss
language leadership
leaving life
light little sister
london loneliness
lonely longing
loss lost
lost love love
love hurts lust
lyric magic
malayalam marathi
march marriage
math may
me meaningful
memorial day memory
men mental illness
mentor metaphor
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mother son
mothers day motivation
mountains moving on
mum murder
muse music
my child my children
mystery myth
mythology name
native american natural disasters
nature new year
new years day new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
peace people
perspective pets
philosophy places
planet poems
poetess poetry
poets political
pollution poverty
power prayer
prejudice preschool
presidents day pride
princess prison
proposal psychological
purple quinceanera
race racism
rain rainbow
rainforest rap
raven recovery from
red relationship
religion religious
remember remembrance day
repetition retirement
riddle rights
river romance
romantic rose
roses are red rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
surreal sweet
symbolism sympathy
tamil teacher
teachers day technology
teen teenage
thank you thanks
thanksgiving thanksgiving day
tiger time
today together
travel tree
tribute true love
trust truth
universe uplifting
urban urdu
usa vacation
valentines day vanity
veterans day violence
visionary vogon
voice volleyball
voyage war
water weather
wedding wife
wind wine
winter wisdom
woman women
word play words
work world
world war i world war ii
write writing
yellow youth

Long Winter Poems

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Suzette Richards | Details |

SUMMER, WINTER SOLSTICE - 2010

It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standards. I had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape Town. I had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocket. On the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas season. A few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the Ritz. I chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the Ritz. Then reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solution. I could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of advice. My daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashion. Later that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flat. I gladly accepted. She is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.

screeching seagulls dive at sushi scraps on a plate - the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrived. It was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departures. At the airport everything was in chaos. We were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelled. This was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticket. Some people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier). I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to London. If I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted it. Arriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the day. This I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season. To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed them. I phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the garden. It was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty. I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
moths dart between moon flowers - lunar eclipse
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. Sleepily I took the call. It was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven am. My friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teeth. I offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time. The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinations. Heathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morning. We were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew member. We were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished to. By the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among us. A radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airport. It was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories.
steep steps to flat shut out the bitter world - a heart pounds
**************************************************************** *The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solstice. It was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia. "bitter" means piercingly cold..... A term commonly used by Britishers... "flat" means apartment. The Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or article. Please see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku. Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia

Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

Unquotable quotes: Paris the last week of the August reprieve- XXXV Part Two

Unquotable quotes: Paris, the last week of the August reprieve – XXXV Part Two
                 II

The first signs reek tell-tale
Buffer-to-buffer parking lots choc-a-bloc
Long insistent hornblowing concertos announce the Yin’s arrogant blazè uppitiness
Electric drillers sink deeper into the unconscious stirring unconscionable beasts still dormant
Care-may-the-devil youths ride sputtering broncos rearing their muzzles revving their lawn-mower engines signaling their presences to their belles
Even lordly crows scare desert languishing lawns pavements quadrangles
Chinese crackers drop on the old and weary out to retrieve their morning baguettes
Indoors slam the doors drop loads of toilet slam-a-dam-slam
Skateboards grind parquets
Dark stealthy hands whip carpets down terrace butter-cups
Bumpy pubertied girls bounce basket-balls on every stilted cobble stone
Harsh threats hurled by gardiennes on some lone defenceless decrepit ricochet between grainy gravely walls
The monotonous neurotic beat of the rapper blares out of some open car door
Stately high wooden horse-shoed chairs screech-scrape naked parquets
The children upstairs take turns with parents to tap-tap with iron tongs your scalp trepanised by stilettoes
Lèche-culs gather favourite crowds at your doorstep to wail their concocted woes 
Mothers dragging loads of holiday-gossip on steel-grip chariots scream at children they enroll for the new-born kinder-garten year
Overhead cargo planes and pompier helicopters tie clouds in whirls of hurricanes
The Mairie sends forth its armada of grass-cutters branch-lobbers road-washers to churn the cité in a putrefying maelstrom of carbon-monoxide
Interminable garbage chariots bring lone scavengers looking for the mislaid meal their gastric growls louder than the grating wheels up and down the basement climb
Heavy metal garbage vans pound kitchen utensils discarded car parts used-up batteries spades paint tubs sloppy almeirahs in the still darkened dawn
Upstairs thick-skinned villains drop heavy spilling metal ball-bearings metal boxes their nasty bottoms on uncarpeted wooden resounding terrain 
Bulky chunky women stomp on high-heeled blocks all their way out of the entrance foyer down stoney stair steps to catch the early Metro
No less than four-hundred sore throats yell into the intercom on their way in or out
Late night revellers arrive in hitch-hiked cars to continue the yelling over the night-club din at the entrance patio never failing to rap on the first door
Distraught women yell their chagrin into mobile cases out in the midnight moonshine
Tiny tods drag school books paraphernalia through tarmac landing craft rumble
The lèche-cul terrors draw tight round their scents conspirators from far Slavic lands
Who said the Mediterranean didn’t flow into the Black Sea
Even the thunder over the lake recedes into the rear of the ear
At the Carrefour cashiers’ the queues thicken and stink longer	

                                                III

One dark perhaps failed actress, beer-can opened in hand, gives herself a captive audience:

“….I told him I’m forty-eight. He said: ‘What? Can’t be! (takes a gulp from the half-crushed can) You are thirty, if a day!’ He shook his head, looked me over. (She pats and smooths out her streamlined abdomen.)…What’s this world come to?
Prices keep going up and up! You work all day (takes another gulp), work all year (spittle spurt on the guy in front who dares not move, dares not look back, the fear - mixed with pity or sympathy - of those gone round the bend, the fear of what might stalk any one of us, the fear of being opted out of life, the wonder that is life keeping us all in check)…I told Mrs. Minelli, you know, my neighbour…
You know what she said? (takes another gulp, her protruding lips on an otherwise elegant classic African-mask of a face, pouts)…What’s this world come to? Who are we? One doesn’t get a fair chance in this life.” (her voice alternates between shouting and confabulating)…you give and give and see what you get in return?” 

The more she shouts, the more resounding the silence all over the shop-floor. A gathering cloud of grief grips those within ear-shot. Are all withdrawn into their own private shells? People avoid looking at one another. Some sort of guilt descends upon us all – a shroud  a winding sheet? 
Yet,  she’s aware of herself; she knows what to do, how to use the self-service cashier machine. She pays and leaves no yells behind her now, her false straggly dull-blond knotted chiffon hair thick with dust, her worn-out décolté dirt-pink blouse slouches over faded bosom, soiled loose dark brown pyjama pants sloppy over hidden canvass shoes.
Was the silence due to just one phrase, punctuated by curses?
“What? You want a PIPE?”
 
IV – Do turtle doves in love in the last week of August go where halcyons rendez-vous?

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016	

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Terry O'Leary | Details |

The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land

Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Beverly Pippin | Details |

Ramen Noodles

:) now this is what Im talking bout .... nothin iz 2 uncommon when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses 
far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade
 Dominate prominiscent pre made 
cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe 4rum ur Fake-Aid 
you D grade 
ain't tasty Kool-aid 
sweet sugar serenade
 Your gunna need more than just a band-aid 
to fix whats tha matter with brain sprayed splatter
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Not wanting to leave wish I culd have stayed
 Don't we all....
 facade to fall..
 winter spring shoreline stahl 
nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses 
far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences 
crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade..
 Dominate prominscent cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe frum your Fake-aid take to fade
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Gotta get paid 

         Warmth blanketing the bitter cold 
cUm•BU•lOnImBUs clouds 
forecast percipatation pretold
 Warning massive ThunderStorm for the following Counties prepare to unfold 
Dis pissed off cloud is about to take off a load 
head off road 
And all you'll hear is rain falling in ode
 Kroak of a toad
 strikeof lighting bright N bold 
then counting the miles in mississippis gold 
till thunder explode
 Under protection of this roof 
behind these shudders
 Stricken sight candle lit light 
rain drainsN2all gutters
 Impaled beneath the moons clutters of the night

 :) now this is what Im talking bout ......
    nothin iz 2 uncommon
 when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses 
far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade.....
 ruby emerald sapphire diamond jade 
none of which fade
 Frum your fake aid 
fake lime to make lemonade
 Over time meat marinade
 For a stroll in the park serenade 
don't wanna leave wish I culd of stayed
 
Sonic is constantly tailed by a flying fox 
Speedyblue Hedgehog
 with a sack of magicalblue rox 
lookin to take down dat evil Dr Robotnox
 Impressing Goldie-locks 
Millionmile per hour hydraulics 
Off to replace the aftermath shocks
 Magneticly control the hands on all clocks
 To turn twist and rewind back waisted time
 Carry out foward to take what iz mine
 Insanity is 2 insane as Criminal is 2 crime
 Witherin to the weather then wetter 
is 2 whether 5150 if not 4 the better
 It is 4 the cheddar 

:) now this is what Im talking bout ....
 nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses
 far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade
 Dominate prominiscent pre made 
cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe 4rum ur Fake-Aid 
you D grade 
ain't tasty Kool-aid 
sweet sugar serenade
 Your gunna need more than just a band-aid 
to fix whats tha matter with brain sprayed splatter
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Not wanting to leave wish I culd have stayed
 Don't we all....
 facade to fall..
 winter spring shoreline stahl 
nothin iz 2 uncommon
 when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen
 noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses
 far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade..
 Dominate prominscent cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe frum your
 Fake-aid take to fade
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Gotta get paid 

:) now this is what Im talking bout ......
    nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen
 noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses
 far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade.....
 ruby emerald sapphire diamond jade 
none of which fade
 Frum your fake aid fake lime to make lemonade
 Over time meat marinade
 For a stroll in the park serenade 
don't wanna leave wish I culd of stayed
 
:) now this is what Im talking bout ....
 nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen
 noodles 4 all y'all poodles

Copyright © Beverly Pippin | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Christine Phillips | Details |

The Stricken Corridor

Fall tumbles relentlessly on our door steps
young winter birds inducing provoking sounds scamper in trees 
Watching winter crawling slowly under our feet.

The night rain wet the ground with sadness 
washing  away the environmental stench
purging the atmosphere of  its infectious dew
And  I could absorb fresh air in my lungs again. 

I fell into a deep sleep shortly after nine but woke up 
by my next door neighbor bustling activities.
Nice showers clean fresh air is the perfect night to
be drenched with sleep but instead I was on my knees.

An unknown burden overshadowed  me, disturbing my spirit
raising my curiosity, causing me to ponder over unknown mysteries
unexplainable matters that doesn't concern me, yet they troubled me.

I soaked myself in prayer seeking for a  plausible answer 
And after praying I fell asleep again; a sleep that 
I thought would be peaceful but here I am again
on an unannounced journey to the Far East.

I mysteriously found myself on a university campus in the Far East,
no paint, no color, everywhere was deserted, no one was around
except for dry leaves  spreading out on the troubled ground 
and dull trees astoundingly lingering in the autumn breeze.
I walked propitiously through the front door along a bare corridor 
in search of a toilet to ease my body pressure.

A desolated corridor whose hope seemed to be diminished with the passing of time
a million feet must have trodden upon it, feet in search of  freedom ,
feet looking for peace, proud feet, dirty feet, bloody feet, stubborn feet.
Feet looking for revenge and feet marching to the destiny of doom. 
I moved anxiously from door to door but every door that I opened I saw
Asian toilet embedded deeply in the ground and clean water flooding all around. 

I opened another door and found a western bath filled with clean water 
I kept walking along the corridor but all the Asian toilets were flood with water.
At the end of the corridor I found one that was completely  dry but there was no toilet inside except for PVC pipe fittings planted firmly in the ground.

I tread along the opposite side of the hallway still searching for  a toilet
but only rooms whose doors were removed  and leaning helplessly
in front of them occupy the other side of the stricken corridor.


I anxiously left the building and a slim young man in his early twenties 
wearing shaded glasses ran behind a reception area outside the campus ground
and pretended as if he was at work, but that was only a deception.

As I walked passed him he tried to reached out to me
He complained about someone who has treated him badly
and pointed to a friend who was instrumental in turning his life around.
A sizable crowd gather around him as he  illustrates his painful story.

He and his friend took me to the other side of the campus where 
a larger crowd of young people had gathered for a wedding
some were sitting under large beach umbrellas
While others congregate in groups all over the campus grounds.
I walked upon a platform  where the wedding ceremony
was about to  take place but daylight suddenly exploded in my face.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            ©2014 Christine Phillips

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Kelly Crenshaw | Details |

I hope

I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday. 
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think, 
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Even tho you still live on
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
But some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head, 
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end. 
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls 
Of unbelief?
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
I wonder.
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts. 
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Laura Loo | Details |

A Futuristic Christmas-Contest

                        Hereafter in the times of tomorrows yesterday,
                              Came the development of an exhilarating Christmas holiday.

                        Sometime earlier than the present time,
                               This holiday was old fashioned through out mankind.

                        World-wide festivities nowadays have come,
                                All the wonders of advancement has finally begun.

                         Santa's automobile has but only two wheels,
                                Placed on each side of his shatter proof shields.

                         No longer are there caribou with bells that jingle,
                               A 2031 stainless steel V-8, red and white shingles.

                         Santa is not plump and white bearded like he used to be,
                               Now he has a shaved head sporting a black goatee.

                         The good girls and boys get emails on the Eve,
                               Announcing his arrival and what time he will leave.

                         There are ramps starting at the base of the exhaust,
                               Sliding presents down the chimney a lil' crisscrossed.

                          No more elves working tirelessly at the North Pole,
                               But electronic robots made of silver and gold.

                          Tall green pine trees decorated with sheets of red ice,
                                No more LED lights, now there's something more precise.

                          The snow used to be white, fluffy and soft,
                                Now a tiny hue of pink intertwined with blue frost.

                          The stockings have no gravity, they float and linger,
                                Special sugar cookies made with a snap of my finger.

                           Opening gifts using the new electronic scissors,
                                My whole family wakes up wearing matching knickers.

                           My son and daughter build snow forts with excavators,
                                 And all through out December we have curious spectators.

                           I sit here and look back to when I was thirty-five,
                                 I wonder how in the world did I ever survive!

                            Some say the first Christmas was in December 336ad,
                                  Based on some chart, oh how I strongly disagree.
                          
                            I miss that chubby old man and his beautiful reindeer,
                                 And his red sleigh while brushing his long white beard.

                            Oh my, how things have altered so ridiculously fast,
                                 I never thought so much can change from many Christmas's past.



                            ~A Futuristic Christmas Contest~
                                 Sponsor: Mystic Rose
                                       Date Written: November 16, 2015





Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Robert Ronnow | Details |

Netflix, Hulu

Neftlix, Hulu, autumn elaeagnus
thorns, small hairy buds, twigs hyper-lenticelled
fruits supposedly edible, leaves elongated, oblong
xerophytic but found in wetland
introduced species, some say invasive

Xbox is invasive
Hulu is the best source of foreign films
and foreign films represent reality better than American
although reality is not always what we're after
silliness, silly sadness, and relentless laughter

letting my web site go to seed
writing badly is the best revenge
eventually yr doctors find something in you they can't cure
causes some fear, gives some certainty
you're required to tell yr sons and brothers about it so they can make
      informed medical decisions going forward

let's posit the dead, like the dream-lover or -killer
is you in disguise, a facsimile or factotum
stand-in, an actor or actress remembering lines
which are your memories, or if you're not in movies
divinations of things to come, earthquakes and volcanoes

life goes on without a hiccup
you saddle up with the three gentlemen to the River Friday
where a new life begins without sleep as a soul, at least that's the story
      they tell
in these scientific times we apply Joachim's Razor, i.e. most likely
the afterlife will be most like the life before life

when it gets too late to exercise
ignore time, learn slowly to go slowly
through life, rise
early, there is no time only change
an empty belly's holy

and a pussy willow's so alive its buds want to burst
in mid-February when the sun stays up in the sky more than January
this is what I write about, not Tolstoi, nor war
not one conversation or love scene between a man and woman
or illustration of what man has done to man

cars pass I never wave
so many guys are belly fat, women butt fat and they want to sit right
      behind you in the bleachers eating fried foods and wearing allergenic
      perfumes
I like the motionless perfection of autumn elaeagnus
wind in white pines
crows do not annoy but dogs do

a porcupine or coyote is a lucky sight
barred owl or pileated woodpecker
and a black bear is quiet reality itself
I said to the doctors 54 or 84 you always seem to want more when they
      said I'm too young to die
I said dying chooses you you don't choose dying, so it's not my fault

yesterday's walk, today's work
there's no percentage in searching for significance, wanting meaning
and no percentage in respecting death unless it's imminent
I admire the writer who writes 10,000 words per day no matter what
who's got plot

a plague or fire, a spider or a tiger in a boat
stolen Louisiana votes or endangered alligators
in my case common pipewort or pickerelweed floating in a northern lake
egrets, loons and hawks
on yr winter walk cedar waxwings foraging for soft rose hips

and talking like people talk
about this and that, work and child rearing, religion or politics
keeping it light and friendly
eating chile and chocolate chip cookies
passing time watching a football game, the superbowl or a movie usually
      a romantic comedy





Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by kj force | Details |

Garden Club Ruse Finality part 2

The years passed, things never did get better..
Her Garden Club was the only thing that held her together
The mental abuse had taken it’s toll...
As far as he was concerned he owned her soul..
She now felt she had no recourse..
And decided she had to find a source..
To end this life as she knew it..
And move on without the commitment...
It was a Friday one cold winter day..
He told her he was going to Vegas to play..
But we have no money, you said yesterday..
No, YOU !  have no money he said and...
I wish you were dead...
He had bragged for years, this day would come
When he would choose another one..
But before I leave...he had a request..
Make me my favorite dinner...for me and a guest
She is younger than you and oh what a catch..
So she went to the freezer to find and fetch..
A suitable roast for he and his guest...
She found just the right thing for his favorite meal..
A large leg of lamb, or was it Veal ?
It was heavy, about twenty pounds she thought...
What was I thinking when this was bought ?
Back in the kitchen, he was still raving...
About how useless this marriage was of saving...
I really don’t care what happens to you...
But I’ll see you get nothing, not even a shoe...
With that she swung the 20 pound roast...
It smashed in his skull, he was dead right away...
Oh my, she said, what a way to start the day...
She grabbed the roast and put it in a pan...
And began to figure out a plan... of what to do with this man...
She thought for a moment and remembered the strife..
That went with her ordering that “ Ginzu “ knife...
It was a TV offer she couldn’t pass up, never needed sharpening....
 and cut thru bone..order one now and get one free..
It was the first and last time she used the credit card and that was in 1963.
The knife worked well, she thought , now that was a bargain
Placed the parts in a bag and headed for the garden...
Body parts were buried in the dirt..
And she smiled upon the burning of her shirt..
She took the roast to her Garden Club meeting..
It was a special event and guess who was speaking ?
The Chief of Police and his subject was on spousal beating..
And by the way he said he would like the recipe for his wife..
The weeks went by, she was happy everyday...
 And then it happened, is was the first of May..
 The big event she had waited for all year..
 Her entry of the “ *Amorphophallus Titanum “...
 Oh how proud she was...when awarded top prize..
 A very rare plant, said the Judge...and has a very weird odor..
And it’s not very pleasant...as a matter of fact
 It smells like rotting meat , said another, sorta sour.
Which is why said the Judge..it’s commonly called the ...* Corpse Flower..
                                                                                          

 * Native to the rainforest, flowers are rare and if it blooms,
Is one of approximately 140 recorded in history...
Most recently on display in New York City in 2012...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Shadow Hamilton | Details |

Biting Cold

It was a freezing night in Alaska, the temperature had 
dropped to well below zero, fifteen below with a driving 
wind that shrieked and laughed as it sped viciously past
causing lashing snow flakes to fall fast and furiously.   

Up in the high mountains the man shook his head
as he stoked up the fire causing the flames to dance
creating shadows on the sod hut's walls. They seemed
to move with a life of their own. Forming first a pattern
a fleeting glimpse of a unicorn or so he thought. He needed 
the storm to pass by so he could check out his many traps.

He was working two lines this winter for pine martin with
the odd trap for Lynx and wolverine who were a bane
always robbing his traps of his fur. He also had traps
deep in the river by the beaver's dams, the price of their
fur was sky high this year. He needed to hunt for more
meat too as his freezer was nearly empty and it would
be a long two months before the thaw and he could get 
supplies flown in. Turning in he slept well waking to find
the storm was tailing off, quickly he got things ready.

Daylight was a brief five hours this time of year and  
one was already gone. He worked the line nearest to 
his hut first gathering up the furs and resetting the traps.
It was so tranquil now, the spruces stretched up high
seeming to touch the sky shedding the odd pile of snow
from laden branches that drooped with the weight.

Picking up some deer tracks that were fresh he followed.
Soon spotting some elk high up on the next ridge he
climbed around to get into position. He lined up his
sights on a healthy male and took a clean shot
dropping it in its tracks. Quickly he field dressed it
taking the hide and meat leaving the rest for the
various predators that were already gathering.

At least it was mainly downhill to what he called
home. Striding on as darkness started to fall
he soon was home and now the work began.
He have several furs to skin, stretch and pin
out to dry, others that now needed more
work, scraping carefully he removed and smoothed
the hides and hung them on frames in his smoke room
to colour and cure. Then he had his dogs to feed before
he himself could also eat. It had been a long hard day.

He now had a moment to reflect and gave thanks to
the elk who had died so he and his dogs could eat.
This would be his life for the next few weeks, then he 
would take his furs to town to sell. He would be glad to 
see his family again it would be nearly five months
since he was last home and over three since he had spoken 
to another soul. Yet he would not give up this way of life.

The last thing he did before he flew out was to dismantle
his sod hut and burn the remains on the iced up river
removing all signs that he had been here. Next winter he 
would build another in a different place and life would go on.

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

Long Poems