Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

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
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
beauty bereavement
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 fate
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 Poems | Long Poetry

Long poems. Read long poems, search long poems, and filter long poetry by category. These are the all-time best and most popular long poems by poetic form, category, length, or keyword. See also long poem categories and Famous Long Poems

Minimum Length: Sort Order:
One Keyword (like pickle):   

12
Long Poems
Long poem by Elizabeth San Miguel | Details |

All is not fair in love and war

People say that love never fails,

That all is fair in love and war,

But really, how do you know,

What love can or can not do?

And if all is fair in love and war, then

Why does someone always end up getting hurt?

I know my love will never fail,

Because I love you with all my heart and soul,

Because I would give my life for you,

And everything I am or have just to be with you.

However, I can not be fair to all

Because all is not fair in love and war.

I wish to hurt no one, so I don't,

But by doing so, I hurt myself.

My heart wants to be with you so much

And yet I wish to hurt no one.

So I don't, I don't confess my love for you,

I keep it locked inside,

And as a friend I stay by your side.

My love for you remains forever pure and unchanged.

I love you, Yes, I do, with all my heart and soul,

With all that I am and hope to be just for you.

My heart untamed and wild, dreaming of what if,

But it's cut in half by the love I feel for both.

My heart belongs to you but only half,

Because I gave the other half away to him.

Now I suffer for my love, for both are great,

But only one, I wish I could be with forever.

All is not fair in love and war,

So I love you both and suffer much,

Because my heart is wounded, torn in half.

I can not speak of my deep love for you,

I can not confess my feelings to you.

So I go on with my life pretending nothing's wrong.

Why must I go on without your love?

It's faith, I guess, that I suffer so.

It's destiny to love you so.

Copyright © Elizabeth San Miguel | Year Posted 2006

Long poem by romeo naces | Details |

The Da Vinci Mode

                                  Uncouth, unschooled in art, 

                                          that's what you'll say of me,

                                  You know, I've tried so hard, 

                                          but I still have to see

                                  da Vinci's Mona Lisa's mythic, 

                                          mystic smile

                                  bewitching folks allegedly 

                                          even from a mile.



                                  It looks to me she parts 

                                          her lips so daintily

                                  to let a drunken hiccup out 

                                          so gracefully,

                                  or stop a vulgar burp, 

                                          hyperacidity,

                                  or hide those nicotine-blackened 

                                          teeth artfully.



                                  But honestly, nothing in her 

                                          mouth's symmetry

                                  remotely resembles a smiling 

                                          mystery,

                                  perhaps she's toothless, some 

                                          dental deformity,

                                  believe you me, I took up 

                                          ortho-dentistry!

Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by michael romero | Details |

lossing my ship.

Locked in my cabin I can bare to think

   turn to the rocks and let it smash and sink,

       our voyage's end seems to be on the brink,

           alas  a RAIDERS ship now turns to a mild drink,

"captain" a voice at my cabin door screams out,

    as I reach from my sward and stand firmly stout,

         " our ship lyes in the thickest of fog and without,"

               if I listen to the words they are words of doubt,

I steady my hand with a drink and my fate as well

    I open the door and the a crushing angry sea I smell,

        one step out and calm my ship sits still and without yells,

             looking into the eyes of the broken I see withered shells,

how could this be this is my ship and it escaped me,

     a tyrant in my days of old I sit calm speechless as a tree,

          no mutiny no sabotage only a crew unwilling to hear my plee,

              a ship over run by blind servants and disregard for my decree, 

the ski clears as the seas water turns blue,

     a smile from faces as if waiting for an accrue,

         a dead mans ships drifts on waters and starts anew,

               my body plunges into the sea and even at my death I knew,

the soul tamed by ones lovers kiss has no purpose,

      a mans word floats unheard willingly disregard and missed,

             and a captain can only rule until another strips him of his ship,

                   now forgotten and gone this ship floats lost and unequipped.  

  

       

              

Copyright © michael romero | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

Get An Education

"The boy's got a broken brain!

- Fix him for me now,

I can't do a thing with him."



     - So I hear you say,

     Though he seems intelligent enough.



After all, he's smart enough 

To know the whys and wherefores

Of every deal that goes down on his street -

Every $ passing hands in the dark,

Summed and totalled in his head.

But Math - Forget it.

And you'll never see him crack a book for study's sake.



Perhap's that's because you broke his heart,

Long ago, though his face will never show it.

Because he bleeds inside,

Though to hear him talk you'd never know it.

You tore his shadoworld apart

Just by never being there -

You broke his proud red eggshell heart

Because he knows you never cared.



Perhaps this is why Rage is his religion,

And he only values Gain,

Why Payback is his Creed,

His only currency Pain.

This then is why he wears the shirt 

That reads, "Never Forget, Never Forgive";

This why he's unafraid to kill or die,

Yet terrified to live.



So go get an education -

 Start with a hard look at yourself -

You that schooled a nation

In the politics of Greed,

Builders of the conflagration

Of burning, unmet Need

Now threatening to consume us

As it climbs into the skies,

As it whispers warnings to us

From his vacant, coldstare eyes.



You broke his heart,

A wound more deep

Than I alone can mend,

I, just one beleaguered horseman.

Cannot set it right again.



You must help put things back together,

If you want our nightmares to end.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details |

if you crossed ELVIS with michael jackson you'd get michael presley or vice

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET



Tis the infancy of yet another day

And I hear it crying for its bottle now

But I know the sun is no child anyway

It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  



I live under a tunnel on the highways right

Yet wrong I may ever be

I found an old mattress the other night

so discomfort doesnt bother me



Today yesterday is but an artifact

An ancient find to hunters of the past

But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact

Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 



Im lucky enough to live with my lover

Shes agreed to live free along with me

And often when it rains we neednt run for cover

The umbrella is our love to be



The term shelter means different things to different people I know

Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France

To people like me and my lover shelter means just somewhere else to go

Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance



To us rain, cold or snow doesnt mean we get up and go

Its the tortuous sun we know will eventually come

So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know

For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb



Now lets get back to the infant son and the fear of its adolescence

Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude

In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult sons insolence

And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  

                © 2011..free cee!



 















Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details |

i NEED a quarter o, i AM sorry I MEANT A QUART OF VODKA

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET



Tis the infancy of yet another day

And I hear it crying for its bottle now

But I know the sun is no child anyway

It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  



I live under a tunnel on the highways right

Yet wrong I may ever be

I found an old mattress the other night

so discomfort doesnt bother me



Today yesterday is but an artifact

An ancient find to hunters of the past

But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact

Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 



Im lucky enough to live with my lover

Shes agreed to live free along with me

And often when it rains we neednt run for cover

The umbrella is our love to be



The term shelter means different things to different people I know

Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France

To people like me and my lover shelter means just somewhere else to go

Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance



To us rain, cold or snow doesnt mean we get up and go

Its the tortuous sun we know will eventually come

So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know

For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb



Now lets get back to the infant son and the fear of its adolescence

Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude

In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult sons insolence

And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  

                © 2011..free cee!



 















Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Shea Hunt | Details |

Your Doll

Why are you the way you are
On minute you seem like
The Best thing that this
World can ever do to me,
But then you can also be
The worst thing that I have
Ever and will ever know

Why do I even feel like this?
I said to myself that I will
Never again feel it but now
Now that I know you I can't keep to that.

I hate myself for even knowing you
At times, but just another smile
From you change everything
You stealing my heart right
Out of my clutched hand.

How can this even be possible?
I try so hard to say away,
But when I do all I think
Of is you and your smile.

You make plans to see me,
But do you think that you will
Ever see them through
You say that I am special,
But you never act like I am

Yes your words make me
Think that its so true but 
Your actions towards me
Makes me feel that you
Never want it to be.

I feel like I am your doll
That when you feel lonely at night
You divide to take me down for
A game or two, but when the sun
Rises you put me back up there
And act as if I never existed
In your life not even as a friend

I am over playing this game
That you are into
I think that you should look at
How you are acting and make
Up your mind on what you
Want, coz I am over playing
This gamiest either me
Or not once you have made
Up your mind let me know
So I don't have to sit here

I am over feeling empty
Just want to feel complete
Again, but I just
Guess at this point in time
Its not meant to be

Why just like someone
When you can love them
Or in fact even
Die for them

Copyright © Shea Hunt | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Tammy Flanagan | Details |

Music

MUSIC



The rythme progresses through me

Reaching to depths unknown

Leading me to another realm

Only I have ever gone



A place of solitude

Where I can be free

For my soul is the melody

To which I shall dance alone

And the beat is my life walk

Opening the walls that have never been shown



Oh how I love to sing

Especially when I hear that old familiar

That takes me back to the day

That I could just proceed along

No cares, no worries, just me and the world

Being free...... to my song



How many memories are wrapped up within tones

That have touched our lives 

How many people can we recall

With just one sharp# climb

Or with just one flat fall



The power of our melody is our own

No one can hum it 

No one can take it

Because our life walk is our song



We can take this empowerment as high as we want

Or we can take it to the lows

No matter how we play it 

It still grows



With each and every encounter

Down our blessed path

The music follows

With our every step



So embrace your sharps and flats

Knowing that it is helping you

Through this turbulent ride

Sing it loud and don't be ashamed

For your song knows you are doing your best



Don't let the bar line tell your ending 

Keep the melody flowing

Continue your lines without cares

And when your curtain rides low

And the rythmes come to a sway

Just look at the pages before

To where you started from

And to how you have become so much more today



Keep the music alive....even with a hummm

Copyright © Tammy Flanagan | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Edward Orozco | Details |

A light forgotten

<center> I do remember you, your brown curly hair that stole scene entirely

The day my eyes met yours, and how I dreamed of having you in my arms

Then they moved; your lips and out came the most beautiful voice that to an angels

You stood no judge and took me in to a warm embrace

Your heart felt the sorrow, and scars that my soul carried, and yet you held me

Hours came to be days and days came to be months and our hearts grew

I awaited the sun to wake up and stand on top of the day, so that I could see you again

Your laugh, your scent, your smile that drove my heart to swell in affection

The butterflies that you made come to life within my stomach grew and I took flight

Then only the heavens were the limit

A glimpse of hidden light I called you, and a verse I wrote for you that stole your heart

I too recall the glow in your eyes as I held you and kissed you

You said it was too good to be true, and then the truth came to surface

Fear was rich in your heart, and slowly you drove me away

And I stood to do nothing but see and feel the fire draw to not exist

Seconds became weeks and all in that you became a memory

A beautiful memory that I will not forget, as I became stronger at your side

I wonder if you think of me, as I think of you

Our first kiss beneath the sun, our first hug our first laugh

I see your smile from a distance every now and then, beautiful still

I will always think of you and what we could of had

You are a star forgotten











To G.V.R

Copyright © Edward Orozco | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Shaz Cheesman | Details |

Rude, Drunken Pen

Bloody rude drunken pen has enjoyed a nib of ink or two, reminiscing on a few 
Bad and ugly times, we both admit at times things were, a bit of a mess, 
All kinds of intertwined, confused but along the way making some progress
On the grand masterpiece of all masterpieces  writing bliss 
At first polite, we take in turns, to interject with collaborative words,
Until the air hits us hard, take a breath, wheres your etiquette, manners and respect, 
My turn pen, I command, continue on to write, scribbling like an erratic birds nest. 
Pen resists and spits its ink, a dirty blob from its nibhow rude 
All smudged and slurred is a dribbling rambling of everything crude
Across the page leaking its ink, clearly from excessive drink
Dancing on thin ice, my drunken pen decides to try and entice
Inviting me to envelope, his muscular body with smooth fingers 
Such fraternisation you drunken sleaze, how do you expect to please
The love of your life, giving you permission to write and express your ink with ease 
Drunken pen is at a loss as reflects on his drunken state, its very late
Blubbering relaxed words across the page, deep within and obscure
Then I realise that my drunken pen is sometimes a little insecure
He has a way of making me melt when I think of his 50 shades of blue
Each drink of ink that fills his nib, that prints our words, that stains my skin 
Is in every way the partnership of creative bliss and my perfect hue


2nd October 2012
Written for Drunken Pen - Part 2 Contest

Copyright © Shaz Cheesman | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by frank halliwell | Details |

Dorry's Ridge

                              Dorry's Ridge
                                                                     Frank Halliwell

In the fading days of summer; in the early afternoon,
We climbed the path that winds to Dorry's Ridge..
Where the crispness of the autumn air fortold a snowfall soon
On the rolling hills beyond the Springtown Bridge.

See the reds and golden yellows of the woods up on the hill
Where the maples stood all summer dressed in green.
Can you feel the breath of winter in the early evening chill
With the north wind stealing down the lake unseen?

Does a sense of wonder fill you, when the wild geese fill the sky
As they start their yearly journey to the south..
And the strung-out chains of emigrants call loudly as they fly
Past the rocky point down by the river's mouth..

And when once more it's silent, and our world is still again,
And our geese have disappeared beyond our view,
I'll lead you down the ridge, along the pathway from our glen,
And wander back along the lake with you.

On Dorry's Ridge the snow lies deep, and up along the hill..
The maples stand forlorn; their branches bare.
The lake lies deep beneath the ice; caught tight in winter's chill
The fox is sleeping soundly in her lair.

But one day soon the spring will come, the land will blossom then,
And life will wake again, as nature planned.
We'll climb the long path to the ridge, returning to our glen,
And watch the geese returning, hand in hand..
                                          o0o

Copyright © frank halliwell | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Details |

The Solitary traveller

Down the endless road I 

Walk.

The road of life or you 

May call it the road of 

Torment-but know I the 

Name.

Along I walk,the trees 

Whistling as I journey on 

With gentle breeze of the 

East caressing my worn-

Out body.

Down I walk,meeting the 

Hurdles of life.

I tarried,struggling and 

Fighting my way;lo! Am 

Stuck in despair and 

Dissappointment.

Hoping for no hope to 

pull Me thru.

Suddenly,I cried,then a 

Saintly hand pulled me 

Thru.

On the endless road I 

Journey,I saw and heard 

Shouts,sounds and smell 

Of powder pervading the 

Atmosphere:people 

Running in confusion.

The sun turned red,the 

Theatre bore death.

On my next turn,I heard 

Moanings and sounds of 

Pleasure,one beckoned 

Me,icame I and took part 

In the ecstasy-i realised a 

Folly it was,went I on.

Passing through 

esker,my Body chilled.

Then I reached a dry land 

With scanty huts,wetting 

My throat in a hut.

With a scorced feet,I walk 

On this endless road,I 

Witnessed a 

gathering,Legs moving in

Rhythm and hands on 

Drums,I ate and moved 

On.

Came I to a serene 

place,I wondered as I 

sojourned,the speechless 

Mouths and hands 

restraining one another 

To join the "lonely"body 

Below.

I passed a crossed 

building;hands clasped in 

Gentle procession.

Moved I to pace of 

Sustainance;the noisy 

Atmosphere,hands 

Exchanging needs.

On and on I walk on this 

Endless road,when will I 

Reach my destination, 

When my knell of old St 

Antonne tolls?

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by stark hunter | Details |

Olive Frazier 1854 - 1895

Olive Frazier



1854  1895



To my many august friends,

Mere survivors under this hungry consuming California sky.

Before you can reach high to the stars, my friends,

Both feet must firmly be set upon the ground first.

This, in essence, is the lesson of a lifetime.

Here in Clark Cemetery, the soil is rich and fertile.

In my prime years I have walked here

Walked on many an afternoon and many an early evening.

Walked and slowly strolled and ambled

Like a solitary tumbleweed in a restless wind.

Like a knock-kneed crab in a dark watery place

Commiserating with the barnacles.

It was on such a stroll

That I encountered the handsome Mr. Frazier.

Milton by name, bricklayer by trade.

We watched the sunset that evening.

Two hawks in flight high in the blue

Swaying effortlessly in the high breeze.

We found love in the dust

And we found heartbreak in the endless shadowed distances

Of Clark Cemetery.

I left this earth giving birth to my baby.

And now together we peacefully reside in this deep hole.

Together with Milton, my love.

Together now and forever in the dirt and the dust.

Milton, I am sorry I left you alone when I died.

So sorry you had to go on without us.

Often when the clouds above give drink to this dead land,

I think of us

Wondrously and miraculously alive,

Strolling to the east under the canopy of the walnut trees.

Your hand in mine

Your heart and mine intermingling magically.

Thank you my husband.

I was indeed privileged to be your wife.

Copyright © stark hunter | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Sarai Romani | Details |

Game Day

Mighty Ducks win the game

Pass the ball perfect the play

There's so much riding on your fame

Men clad in armor win the day



The crowds are grumbling they've all gone wild

The stripes bad call has hardened your trial

Yard by yard your penalties mass

But you'll take the lead with a touchdown pass



86 yards with a kick return 

Your rival now should show concern 

We love your power your drive your speed

The beer the bets the company



Football Game day 

Phones be texting

Tailgate fun scores projecting 

Simple fun that's life affecting



It's more than manly testosterone 

That compels us to the game

It's teamwork pride the thrill of the fight

How the underdog pushed and overcame 



Sports and competition have always been a way of life 

Revealing the mighty but also the contrite

Teaching lessons of brotherhood

More victory together than alone we ever could 



So when we gather scream and shout 

Seemingly insane over a meaningless thing

Remember this on Game Day proud

When from the rest of life we simply check out



Is it really so bad to drink too much 

With Oregon's O displayed 

Colored faces worshiping the Duck

When they fumble we yell O  F_ _ _ 



Be it victory or cruel defeat

There's more to this than meets the eye

It's about families, lovers and the best of friends

Gathering to play to laugh and to cry



Game Day for the Oregon Duck

Of our team we're so damn proud

As a fan have you made the cut

Or resigned to just miss out 













Copyright © Sarai Romani | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Gail Foster | Details |

They Never Went To War



They never went to war; they stayed at home

The young, the old, the unwell and the dead

The women who were not allowed to roam

The men who tilled the fields and baked the bread

Some sat in darkness waiting for the rap

Of letterbox, and soft white feather fall

The silence broken by a dripping tap

Dark shadows cast by street lamps on the wall

The little lads who ran behind the train

That took their fathers off to certain death

Who waved until their arms ached in the rain

Who ran until their lungs ran out of breath

Old men who yearned for youth; just one more chance

To feel the blood flow, hear the battle cry

To wear the uniform and take a stance

To stand with other men, to fight and die

The crippled and the mad, the deaf, the blind

Escaped the fate of many thousand men

Some angry that they had been left behind

Some thankful that theyd never fight again

Women, who with their sleeves rolled ploughed the land

Lit candles, raised the children, hid their tears

Made ammunitions with a careful hand

Kept watch and saved the night time for their fears

So many stayed at home, and stayed alive

And suffered pain and loss, regret and guilt

That they were left, that they were to survive

Within the house such sacrifice had built

Their many names are not inscribed on stone

Those sorrowed souls, so haunted by wars ghost

Were left to stand and mourn the dead alone

Listening to the trumpet sound the post



by Gail











 



































Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Spidey Williams | Details |

Nobody Told ME



Nobody told me that the road would be EASY,

Believe ME.

With every BREATH,

I begin to feel one with DEATH.

Wondering why its not me lifeless in the GRAVE.

Wondering why my life is being SAVED?

The more I breathe in this worlds AIR,.

The more I seem to CARE.

The more than I APPRECIATE,

Every time I AWAKE. 

Every time I CRY,

Every fear I FACE,

Im realizing Im living NOW,

 for a purpose, while preparing MYSELF, 

for a better PLACE.

I do not know what tomorrow BRINGS,

But I know what today IS.



My tomorrow results from what I make of TODAY!

Today determines what my tomorrow may BRING!

Yesterday helps factors a fraction of my TODAY!



But nobody told ME!

The weight of the world would be carried by ME.

I knew it would be HARD,

but never did I think it would be this DIFFICULT.

I never thought I would actually loose so MUCH,

before I gain so LITTLE.

I never thought the little gain, would mean so MUCH!



I never realized how little I CRIED,

Until when I TRIED,

 		no tears would FLOW.

And when they started they would never STOP!

And when they stopped, the feelings would still REMAIN!





Nobody told me I would loose so many KEN.

Nobody told me I would loose several of my close FRIENDS.

Nobody told me I would feel so low DOWN.

Nobody told me I would be hurt by words SPOKEN.

Nobody told me my heart would be constantly BROKEN.



But even if they had told ME, 

all of this and much MORE.

It would have never prepared me to be the CHOSEN!









Copyright © Spidey Williams | Year Posted 2006

Long poem by Monica Contreras | Details |

THE UNIFORM

I noticed the uniform, and the heavy soled shinny black boots

Not the man within it, I apologized.



I remember the clean fresh smell of maleness, as they stormed into the house,

Broken glass, ripped down hangings, a slashed sofa, a pulled curtain,

A sudden maneuver to throw my brothers bear across the yard,

Such military worries, hidden bombs in a childs best friend.

Your broken cross I buried in our garden after they left.God, come back to my house, I am 

waiting.



All I saw were figures painted the colour of grass and bark,

with gilded edges traced by some crazed church painter's brush,

faceless with pockets full of bullets and chords,

Their arms intertwined with red eyes and swollen hands of my teachers,

Stiff figures against the soft jeans, sweaters, and knitted hats below.

Standing witness in the yard above watching, I waited for her to die.



Shinny black like the dirt dug from the mass grave,

Full of crumbled human bits, decaying coloured cloth,

while the sun scorched the group sorting the cellular samples

I saw the black boots etched into the bone fragments.

Lost bones of lost loved ones from empty families,



Standing in the desert, I wait for a name.



No, I do not see you the man, just the uniform.

I see the butt of the gun, the dent of the boot, the slickness in the air,

the cruel power of the swirl jungle green print with gold trim.

As a witness God left me, and I was waiting.



Change, let me meet the man,

maybe the waiting is over.

Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Details |

Jesus Christ' Parable - Master's Return





Being Prepared for Judgment

MT 24:45-51

MK 13:34-37

LK 12:35-48



"Gird your loins and light your lamps, be like servants who await their master's return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks.



Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival.



Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them.



Should he come in the second or third watch and find them prepared in this way, blessed are those servants.



Be sure of this:



If the master of the house had known the hour when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into.



You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect.



The Son of Man will come."



But if that servant says to himself, 'My master is delayed in coming,' 



Begins to beat the menservants and the maidservants, to eat and drink and get drunk,



Then that servant's master will come on an unexpected day and at an unknown hour and will punish him severely and assign him a place with the unfaithful.



That servant who knew his master's will but did not make preparations nor act in accord with his will shall be beaten severely



The servant who was ignorant of his master's will but acted in a way deserving of a severe beating shall be beaten only lightly.



Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more." (Taken from LK 12:35-40, 45-48)

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Marcedies Rhodes | Details |

The Years To Long From Before

The Years To Long From Before


How the years go by from the time your just learning to walk till the time you walk out of your parents house.There are time when you ask "Where did all the time go?"
Life is a dangerous games filled with birth life and death.If I could rewrite thing I think i would danger everything with only one note.Life isn't fair life is to short life is twist and turns and around again, one day we all will be faced with your death beds our coffin and then the dirt over us.I wish i could fall until I fall there no pain in falling there no worry in following there is no death in falling,can you ever relive falling until you fall to hard that you hit the ground that you fall broken? How do I steal your emotions so you can't ever worry again? Should I try harder to make you realize that the trust you put into me won't cause you grief won't cause you to leave me in a black box? There is this ever lasting light this perfect time to tell you that time before you grow up trust in me.Dear child dear sweet one what have I lost you to? you was young once bright you made my day full of joy and full of worry I can't believe that now I can't do but worry but then the way you stride yourself make proud.How many years gone by from your first words now look your to old for you to ask me to help.



This i dedicated to my mom,my younger brother and sister who even to day have stop needing the big sister and to my mom who know this feeling all to much,I love you guys so much

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT | Details |

NOW I UNLEASH WITH RUM RAGE

You see I had lots of respect

NOW you are begging for attention 
and a reality check, so try me,
Try me like satan tried jesus,

Your trying to unleash all that steam 
but you only sound like a tea kettle, 
you claim to be the rock of Gibraltar 
but your only a pebble, 

didn't your mother tell you not to play with fire, 
now I must burn you for pulling this dragons tale ,
no one wants to hear your fairy tale, its very frail, 
you can speak and speak until your face is pale 
but flattering your self with your words is of no avail. 

Keep checking your mail because karma is on it way,
I hope you can eat all that is on your tray, and when you 
stuffed with your own hatred ,I hope you get on you knees
and pray, not every thing in life can go your way,

didn't history teach you that 
dictating,
manipulating,
belittling,
lack of peace making,
heart breaking,
lack of loyalty,
unjust, 
disrespect,
neglect,
self indulgence 
hatred
lies
and bias
is not the way, 
well I am going to teach you today 

Adolf hitler ,
Maximilion,
Malcom x,
Martin luther king,
Rosa parks,
Allen Ginsberg,
Jesus Christ,
the little rock nine,
Mahatma Gandhi,
Fredrick Douglas,
Harriet Tubman,
Rodney King,
Elie Wiesel, 
Sean Bell,

DOES any of this ring a BELL,
or your self you continue to smell,
are you still under the devils spell,
how DARE  you be unjust,
teaching a child like you is a must. 
Your whole approach and appearance is stale,
but HEY 
I guess you don't see that 
because a donkey can't see its tail.

Copyright © Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Christopher Goss | Details |

The Wall, The Wall

The Wall, The Wall

I
the world fades from my fingertips
like blood oozing from an open wound
the sky is ripped apart and full of thunder
and my eyes are twisted in pain

shut the door and lock me within
the light is buzzing and flickering
something is about to explode
or maybe thats just my soul

softly touch the wall and it corrodes
the white paint peels and turns black
and cracks appear on the surface
a garbage touch that ruins it all

for years the signs of ruin were there
building up behind fragile white walls
and now i sit here with an open chest
my heart nailed to the damned wall

and as the world fades from my fingertips
like blood from an open wound
the sky outside is bloody and tormented
and i cant begin to see my own reality

II
im so afraid that if i get up ill fall again
damned by the ghosts of the past
the flashing glare of reality looms larger
closing in on me and slapping me

if only someone could open the door
and let me out of this foreboding room
perhaps i could see more than whats inside
instead of slicing myself in half

remember it was your verse that ended me
slicing off my fingers one by one
it was when my heart was nailed to the wall
that i truly forgot how to feel

my sickening screams echo loudly
throughout the confines of my own mind
reverberating down my spine
and leaving me in