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Best Richard J. Long Poems

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Details | Richard J. Long Poem

Brown Dragon

Brown dragon
You boil and twist
As nothing can resist
The thrust of your mist

Leaping teeth of white
Wildly displays
The expanding power of your might
As you enforce your bite

Throbbing shadows of black
Reaching for air
Smothered under your giant back
Yielding to your attack

Gray granite makes up your scales
Sharp as the carpenter’s nails
Appearing to wiggle and flail
Wanting freedom, to no avail

Brown dragon
Retreat to your lair
Receding without a care
While your life water disappears from the air



By: Richard J. Long  
March-2011


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Spring Sings

As I drive along
Spring sings me a song
daffodils wink colors of 
white and yellow – oh for
to inspire a fellow

Red buds proudly glow as 
they loudly show of a pinkish hew
but is that enough to inspire me or you?

Distinctly, nature begins to paint 
the landscape green
and appears like a rolling Irish scene
calmly it wipes away at winter’s rust
as it melts away its final thrust
the promise of more spring color
it does entrust

Deer are on the move as their 
menu choices begin to improve
while the weeping willow cheers along 
as it develops its summer leaf song

Robins and hummers begin to flutter
as they return north like a child to a mother
feathered flashes of red, blue, and brown
sing and dance around
as I joyfully drive into town


Details | Richard J. Long Poem

Picture This!

In the Silence of the morn
my picture window does a splendid scene adorn.

Reflections of red, yellow, and gold
the suns jewel like glory does unfold.

Admiring rays shine toward the west
with accepting gratitude the trees do not protest.

Rolling hills grab the early light, which allows
fall’s magnificence to rise and take flight.

Feeling rich, as the richest King 
this wondrous display catapults my heart to sing.




Richard J. Long, October 2009


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Power of One

Power of One!
One summer with a dear Auntie,
the ability to read she did grant me.
Her patience and a gal named Jane
pointed me in the right direction 
Like a weather vane.
Paulette is the name of the special one
who opened my eyes up to the fun.
She helped me read “See Dick and Jane Run.”
It was a cloud bank departing from the sun.
She unveiled fantastic worlds of unending fun.
The first one undone was about a Cat in a Hat.
Then a boy on the run to adventure with his friend Jim.
Eventually, a ship came to where the treasure had been.
“One for all and all for one”, said the Musketeers.
The Call of the Wild did shed a few tears.
Next, a thrill King enticed my fears.
I cheer for a detective named Cross,
for he is the ultimate crime solving boss.
If it were not for Paulette, these and future worlds of discovery would be lost.
Thank You, Auntie Paul!


By: Richard J. Long, 2010


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Near Fear

The sky slowly grows dark
Like a seeking, creeping, shark.
Moving shadows disappear, but something
ominous and wicked is near.
It holds promises of fear my dear.
Leaves commit to a dance
as if well organized and not by chance.
Will circumstance meet your demise or 
will it be a complete and unexpected surprise?
From the ground comes a moaning, groaning sound.
drumming, pounding, on your head.
Like the heartbeat of the long ago dead.
A wise individual once said, 
it is the curtain of our mind that reflects our dread 
making it real and not pretend.
The next time your fears begin to rise
Look within the window of your head
And shove them out until they are dead.


Details | Richard J. Long Poem

Holden On

Holden on to that golden smile
the power of a mighty river, like the Nile

Holden on to his incredible laughter
it echoes to the highest rafter

Holden on to his favorite quotes
“Hey, how ya doing?” and “are you tired?”
rings its sweet notes

On Holden to that beautiful place
with your charisma, they shall be graced


Honoring Holden Eanes
Richard J. Long- February 2011


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Winter's Sight

I wake up one March morning to a world of wintry white
As winters tight grip and springs promise behold my site.
Green buds poking through white on flora that will be
purple, red and white to present a sweet aromatic smell 
like the snowflakes that spiraled in rhythm to nature’s chiming bell.


Details | Richard J. Long Poem

Snowy Delight or Fright

Snow of delight or snow of fright?
Bringing forth a world of wintry white.
Children sled and play nor matter it night or day.

In its pleasures they do delight.
Spreading limbs wind up and down.
An angel’s wings flying without a sound.

Rolling giant balls of powder.
The children laugh a little louder.
Even though, they sometimes flounder.

Snow of delight for them.
Snow of fright for some men.
As they shovel the snow again and again.

Canine friends tunnel their way.
A lost one looking for the light of day.
Wishing for a warmer place to play.

Bending the branches of my favorite evergreen.
How far can they stand to lean?
Will it be nice or mean to my evergreen?

How might your scene unfold?
Did it make you shiver in the cold?
Is it a delight or fright to behold?


Richard J. Long (February, 2010)
Inspired by Snow apocalypse


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Vessels Journey

Born a soul into a vessel of life
Innocent and pure a spirit riding its ship
The maiden voyage launches without major strife
Where will it guide ones wondrous trip?

The path of night or path of day?
Traveling along every twist and turn
Is it the path where all its dreams lay?
For what end destiny does the heart yearn?

Guiding forces often push one down unintended trail
Heavy burdens carried on vessel’s back
Guideposts and lurking shadows do not avail
Waiting weather and hidden beasts do attack

Sherpas help keep vessels moving along
Opening canopy signals the right way
Guiding vessel toward the summit where it does belong
Vistas become available with the light of day

All senses absorb the astounding view
Site, sound and touch are at their peak
Framed portraits both old and new
While embracing the ultimate destination you seek


By: Richard J. Long 
December 2011


Details | Richard J. Long Poem

Getting There

Yellow line, guiding me home.
No complaints and without a groan.
Pulling me up and down.
No problem and without a sound.
Twisting and turning.
No churning and to be home I am yearning.
Why does this convoluted journey keep reoccurring?


By: Richard J. Long – January 2010


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