Best Overlong Poems
Take me where the ocean rolls bigger than the pain in my
soul. Let me lay upon shore sand and hold its grit in my hand
while the ocean claims ground again, so sure of where it
belongs to begin its own fated end. Let ships on the horizon
remind me how small I am and how little I understand.
My pain seems so very grand yet it, and my heart bearing it,
will be gone long before this sand, so small, so mere in tiny
bits, but more earthly significant than any of me I have to
give. I have no distinct pain, all I hurt once ached another
name that millions could easily claim.
I do not want to feel love's sentiments anymore. I do not want
emphatic care blood in my core. My worn bruises need the
confusing wave cycle to diffuse. My heart wishes to comply with
my soul's voice, housed within, as it does whisper of peace should
I let go and fling the heavy pains my emotions have overlong
nourished and sustained.
God, let me tuck my aches inside a shell, please allow them
to only there dwell. I promise, I will sail the shell by my own
hand to swim the ocean depths. Allow the sea to free my
stored pain in deep, endless, salty motions that I may be
free from more tears of lame devotion.
It was no propitious day it seemed
The misty rain overlong prevailed
A feeble sun, time to time had gleamed
Through vaporous clouds on landscape veiled
I made my farewells to friends no more
And took to the streets now dark and damp
My life uncertain no pathway sure
I lingered under a dim street lamp
That instant saw it would all be right
24 September 2019
Just a quick look
First chapter of a book
First verse of a song
Can’t stay overlong
A 50-yard dash
Gone in a flash
Not right, not wrong
Can’t stay overlong
A heat seeking missile
God blows the whistle
God strikes the gong
Can’t stay overlong...
*Dedicated to my brother Ivan who lost his life on an airline training flight in 1984. 'Hunter' was his middle name...
Step softly over this silken knot;
Ease into this particular caress..
I have a story
Written slowly on cloth of gold..
The wrappings shimmer sightlessly
Around the nearest ornamental Diary.
And then, we wonder as we read
Who earns such gifts as nonchalonce..?
For effort lost we all expire
Into an alien heat
To find someone especially sacred.
Ending in historic settlement
Legitimized or notarized
As each becomes unrecognizable
With no one especially primal
In an overlong embrace...
But sacrificial relatives
Abound in every Storybook;
And your turn,
My cold young lover
Is waiting to be taken...
Write carefully.
From a young age he took to the roads,
never staying anywhere for long.
Always singing a cheerful song.
Yet most of the ladies seemed like toads.
Making choices at all crossroads
meeting here and there a tagalong.
Together they travel a furlong
parting when they came to byroads.
You could say that he freeloads
although this would be wrong.
Living off grid he has to be strong
and he lives keeping to road codes.
Jobs he's had by the caseloads
bounced around like a Ping-Pong.
One day meeting a lady in a sarong
soon moved on remembering earlier episodes.
Women passed by like carloads
for few he could tolerate overlong.
To freedom he will continue to belong
chasing the distant dream until he implodes.
As shadows lengthen
in the asphalt homeland
The city winds down
The once vibrant streets
are now a home for ghosts
Perhaps you feel that nightime
is "Where it's at"
Take heed of this warning
which I give you
Demons come out at night!
They can cause you to lose
everything
by clutching you in their
deadly grasp
Don't be fooled by the nightime
silence
Demons are still about
and can strike rapidly
even in the midst of the metropolis
Demons live on fresh flesh
So keep your eyes wide open
Don't linger overlong in
city alleyways
lest you dissapear
Into shadow
Translation
So something has happened and you are not quite sure
What it is your woman is thinking
Don’t be confused or fret overlong
You only need a translation.
Just look at the words without the distraction
The emotion of the moment
The words stripped bare of the soothing tones
The dress up of dissimulation
This isn’t working ... (you guessed it) You’re Dumped
I wasn’t ready for this ... I was only playing
I’ve got too much on ... You’re not worth the time
I’m so busy ... Won’t/can’t share my life with you
It’s not you it’s me ... You’re not ‘enough’ for me
I’m sorting my priorities ... And you are not there (does she have a pet?)
I need time for family ... There is none left over for you
I want you to be a friend ... We’ll never be really close
I’ll understand if ‘friendship’ is too hard ... I don’t really care, just being polite
It’s not fair to you ... Wish you’d choose to go away
I’m confused ... There is someone else
No matter how it is dressed or dissembled
The results are clear to see.
See them sooner boys and perhaps retain
A semblance of dignity,
Remember men, (a word of caution)
there is no real difference between
romantic persistence and stalking .
For the women who read this,
Embarrassed, outraged!
Your mood is prompted by memories.
A reason please, men can take honesty,
But can you admit your mistakes?
© T. Arnold
Another day ends with insipid sun
One more uncertain season
Another month ebbs slowly invariably gone
One more uninteresting month another reason
Each bulb impressively pushing old soil up
So absented from every winter irritation
The orchestrated plants unite drinking along nature’s everlasting cup,
Invigorated refreshed, outdoor rains unbidden now and so equip spring’s irrigations
Now offering beautiful uniformity, colours ablaze ferociously
Ever changing illusions painting over the untamed soil
All struggling evermore to imitate natures ordered ways
Unbeatable colours abound, Mother Earth delights in toil
Overlong tall upright grasses allow seeds easy dispersal
Insects dancing on flowers undulating formations.
Accustomed we ever become inclined to ogle things universal
Nature abounds with ever more interesting luscious opulent flirtations
Untold species all working ever closer in harmonious obligation
So unlocking faces all smiling even now in sunbathed oblations still unseen
Yet authenticating spring, escaping winter in fulfilling overall nature’s unification.
© ~GG~ 22/03/2013
Competition Entry
If I'm not allowed to fall,
I can't learn to walk
Through peace with falling,
I rise again in strong faith
When I climb a mountain,
I see its lowest point
By peace with the lowest points,
all fears dissipate
Even while traveling,
I long to stand still
Thanks to such stops,
the journey feels more intense
Deep below my strength
I sense there is softness
Thanks to that softness,
much stronger I am
Do I choose to shine,
it illuminates what seems dark,
not remembered and
overlong unseen,
When I embrace with love,
everything that once fell
returns to a state
of purity
And just as I stand still,
I long to travel
Thanks to the traveling,
my path unfolds before me
Narrow but passable,
enlightened by love,
so if I do fall again?
Then I can only fall…
very softly
The Slug
The slug is one of God’s creatures.
In his home in the forest land
He keeps the ground cleared with his crunching.
That’s a good thing and I understand.
But why does he come to my garden
To chew on my favorite plants?
The slug can be worse than a beetle or bug
Or even meandering ants.
Now surely I’m smarter than he is,
That small mound of jelly and slop.
But I use all my wiles and my will and my ways,
And still can’t get him to stop.
When he chews on my iris or primrose
That I have so carefully reared,
I attack with an armload of weapons.
Now I am the one to be feared.
His persistence drives me to murder.
I cut him in two with a hoe.
I drown him with beer, pour salt on his rear.
Before a new half he can grow.
He multiplies faster than bunnies.,
And all I can do now is cry.
This slug so tenacious, ferocious, rapacious
Is much more resourceful than I..
Senior Moment
I just now had a little thought,
that very swiftly sped away.
They have named them senior moments.
They come more often every day.
I’m stumbling and I’m stammering,
wondering what is going wrong.
Guess my brain is overloaded.
It has been working overlong.
I try to introduce a friend.
I simply can’t recall her name.
When I think of it at midnight
It’s way too late and not the same.
My friend doesn’t seem to notice,
She acts as if all is just fine.
Unbothered I forgot her name,
She’s trying to remember mine.
The Illiterate Goose
In the field across from me,
a sign as plain as it can be.
“Oats planted for the birds”, I read.
The flying geese pay it no heed,
and spying a stand of winter wheat
they settle on that crop to eat.
It’s testament to the absurd
a farmer puts up a sign for birds.
lWon Honorable Mention .
Such abject misery abounds right about now
Abandon hope all that enter here.
Abort plans of happiness I do implore
My own plans are failing I fear.
Our plans in the offing going all wrong again
Happiness is turning around to obsession
Now of course obsessions not in because it’s lame
I’m just editing my awesome session
I call one happy if you always smile
Everybody join in with one more ultimate quest
And walk along with us this overlong mile
Overlong but it will all work out best
And let's all break out with a smile even for awhile.
© ~GG~ 08/02/2013
Entry for David William's Con/vowel contest
Sweet memories are bitter;
For some reason it is for it is
No rehab no cure for this overlong slumber,
Nor a mistake for this miss
I thought we can go through this – together
But that’s just a hope for a crazy; demented man
You had only bitter it up – forever
I don’t think my heart will cure since then
Don’t think of saying sorry or getting mercy
Though you have that good-looking eyes
But a human will always be like Mr. Kersey
Forgiving, kind and nice
That person will never be your friend
Nor a backpacker companion for thee
I think I will go through sea and land
I will be at your heart immediately
Walk through the isle like a man
And gracefully like a woman
I don’t know how much pain
That I will have to suffer
Never had the thought of having inclination with you
Like they said in the story of an unseen story
Where a bitter getaway will have to get through
Or else it will be a pain cause of a dilatory
I am the chaos
I am the song
I am the reverberation
portentous, specious
and tiresomely overlong
I am the creation
I am the spring
Deadening quiet trees
Gardening souls through corrupted space
I am the hours
I am the chill
Forfeiting drawn, crushed evenings
To fold an encouraging breath
Around my chaos
I am the solitude
I am the urn
Into which fastidious comcerns
Are continually poured
Evolving into resurrected dreams
I am the blessed
I am the scorned
From conspiratorial valleys
Of pastures worn
that breed and give hope to all
With a dew-drop melody I prolong
I am the life
the obstacle chaos breeds
And the eternal song
I am the sin
I am the hollow
an enveloping clarion of tainted vice
Preaching an undisclosed epitaph that communion binds
For I am the truth
And I will perpetually unwind.
Do you make sure to tap all the dirt from your spikes with your bat,
even if it takes two full-length TV time-outs for you to do so?
Do you cross yourself once, twice, thrice,
or perhaps fidget and fiddle with the letters on your uniform,
no matter that they're sewn on so tightly that Superman himself couldn't
budge 'em?
Do you rub your hands together vigorously enough to make 'em bleed,
perhaps because you've just spit into them in the on-deck circle?
Do you take myriad cumbersome practice swings with three weighted bats,
flinging them aside to wave the feathery club remaining menacingly as you
turn to face the pitcher?
Do you dance and prance to some hip melody, like an apprentice snake-
charmer, as you approach the plate, inviting fans to heap trashloads of scorn and abuse on the batting helmet perched atop your fashionably overlong hair?
Or do you stride to the plate purposefully without all of that fussing and
fumbling, or all that commotion, to focus on doing what batters have
historically tried to do, which is to hit the tarnation out of that little round
ball zooming toward them at upwards of 90 m.p.h?
---Well, if that's what you do, then I am sure you're not a major-league player:
They earn their $4.5 million annual paychecks by doing
all that other stuff.
Pulling up in front of the address on the girl’s information,
I wondered again why I could not decline her invitation.
I saw the girl pull to the curb and exit her car.
Rushing to catch her, I was somehow sight marred
and lost her, but I saw the manor’s doors were open.
Coming in with, ‘Hello?’, my voice rose as doors closed.
Looking around at decay, I saw a note on a stand.
It read, ‘Drink this as I did, then find the Baby Grand.’
The girl must have inked this, so I sipped my drink down.
Suddenly, the manor filled with haunting piano sounds.
Heading towards the source, I stumbled off my course,
and heard shrill laughter when I tripped on my purse,
But, NOT HER laughter, so I asked, my teeth a’chatter,
“Who .. whaa – where ..” A piano tone groaned, “I am the girl
as you are me, and we three were once the sum of one,
until evil done allowed only one-third of us to view sun.”
The tone went on, “you now sleep deep and this night,
dark sights will guide your truth to abandon your aloof
and you will recall how you always stall your return,
leaving me overlong to burn for our body I so yearn."
Now nude, licking missed lips. her woman voice continued,
"Wee girl of third is too torture numbed to escape like us.
Now, do enjoy your body-less time as Baby Grand jacked,
because it may be centuries before I bring our body back."
... CayCay Jennings
January 20, 2019