Best Famous At Long Last Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous At Long Last poems. This is a select list of the best famous At Long Last poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous At Long Last poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of at long last poems.
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Written by
Fenny Sterenborg |
I woke up this morning
with the city's noises
fusing into my dream
A pride of lions
roaring in anger
The traffic, it must have been
A hunter shouting something
but I probably heard a street vendor
For a moment, total silence
then a shot rings out in the wild
Perhaps a car's broken exhaust
or the toy pistol from a child
The noises slowly become familiar
as I slip out of my dream
I hear the neighbours coming in
through the walls
and I yawn in the dawn's early gleam
The old man from below
like every morning
is listening to the radio
The children from upstairs
screaming their lungs out
and there are people stumbling in the hallway
as they go about
But from the young couple next door
usually fighting, not a sound
Did they finally reconcile
or at long last break up
like they were bound
Suddenly the people in the hallway scream and run
I hear the panic in their voices
and hurry out of bed
As I look through the peephole
I see the guy from next door
his shirt, bloodshed red
and in his hand a gun
June 15, 2006
©2006 Fenny
|
Written by
Alec Derwent (A D) Hope |
Now the heart sings with all its thousand voices
To hear this city of cells, my body, sing.
The tree through the stiff clay at long last forces
Its thin strong roots and taps the secret spring.
And the sweet waters without intermission
Climb to the tips of its green tenement;
The breasts have borne the grace of their possession,
The lips have felt the pressure of content.
Here I come home: in this expected country
They know my name and speak it with delight.
I am the dream and you my gates of entry,
The means by which I waken into light.
|
Written by
Julie Hill Alger |
They call it stroke.
Two we loved were stunned
by that same blow of cudgel
or axe to the brow.
Lost on the earth
they left our circle
broken.
One spent five months
falling from our grasp
mute, her grace, wit,
beauty erased.
Her green eyes gazed at us
as if asking, as if aware,
as if hers.
One night
she slipped away;
machinery of mercy
brought her back
to die more slowly.
At long last
she escaped.
Our collie dog
fared better.
A lesser creature, she
had to spend only one day
drifting and reeling,
her brown eyes
beseeching.
Then she
was tenderly lifted,
laid on a table,
praised, petted
and set free.
-Julie Alger
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