Long Poems | Long Poetry

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12
Long Poems
Long poem by Tatyana Carney | Details

Soul Stones

We swallow boulders:
(lead words, molasses covered prejudice, glass shards of promises long broken)

Mouths open wide and heads tipped back
like Hawaiian fire eaters.

Chipped teeth are bits of porcelain history,
sliding down our throats in rivers of neglect
and acid.

The stones settle,

BOOM...

      BOOM...

            BOOM...

Our stomachs are filled up, anvil weight
'till we can hardly sit, hardly stand, or walk.

We drag our feet in pain, as the quiet indicator that
we've had rocks for breakfast,
lunch, dinner,  for years,
in the hopes that someone will recognize
the broken concrete footprints behind us
and touch us gently on the forearm:

"Honey, are you alright?"

(and isn't it the first sweet trickle of kind words that crumble
the already cracking facade?)

There's no stopping the torrent then,
tsunami tears and a heaving, convulsing
to the point of cathartic vomit-

boulders of every shape and size
tumbling out of our mouths and filling the room;
broken teeth and granite eyes 
until we no longer see the floor, the walls...

And then serenity.

The hand has moved to the shoulder,
forming a universal hug.

"I'm here now... and you're ok."

We stand up, together, and leave that room,
a soundless void of yesterday,
to absorb the impermeability of stones,
carrying our gait buoyant, without gravity.

No weight at all now, and barely a second glance,

but to turn out the light - and lock the door behind us...



Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006


Long poem by Beatrice Boyle | Details

If I Were A Stone

If I Were A Stone If I were a stone…without a doubt I would be a lovely marbled granite… the center of attention in a newly updated kitchen. All eyes would be upon me…the first choice of decorators and would- be buyers everywhere. I would be a “must have” and a “deal breaker” for purchasers the world over. I would lord it over the mundane and dull kitchen cabinets no matter what the style. While their doors would be slammed shut a thousand times a day and scrubbed till they were sore…(ouch!)… I would be lovingly and carefully wiped down until they could almost see their reflection in me. My island would be the gathering place and hub of the home…children would utilize me for their homework…my mistress would cheerfully hum a happy tune while rolling out delicious pies or cookies for dessert... my master would lay his briefcase down on me in order to hug the cook! Unlike the living room rug (who thinks he’s king by the way.) I would not be stepped on, stomped on with dirty or muddy sneakers or roller skated on, (boys will be boys) or taken for granted in any way. I would be the `piece de resistance` of the household and the most admired feature of the home. And last …but not least…I would be carefully selected and carved, to serve as a towering memorial for loved ones to come and say a silent prayer for our nation’s fallen …and… bravest men! I would be more than proud to be a granite stone!
For the "Stoned" contest.

Copyright © Beatrice Boyle | Year Posted 2011


Long poem by Sidney Beck | Details

AUTUMN IN UDELNAYA WOODS

AUTUMN   IN    UDELNAYA   WOODS



The smoke from the shashlik  fires  made us hungry
So that we could have eaten the falling golden manna from the trees
Offered to two wanderers in this sylvan wilderness.
Not forty years, but forty minutes in which life changed for us. 
It was only a field trip she said, to study the socio-environmental
Arrangement, the attitudes, of couples in the autumnal picnic grounds. 
She needed the truth for her dissertation, she needed my help.
Knight errant in the pursuit of knowledge, that’s me.
In pursuit of her, if the simple truth be known.
She gave me the golden opportunity I had been seeking all summer:
Now the harvest was at hand, and the reaper all too ready.
She needed photos to show the attitudes of the couples
No photos were  needed to show our attitudes. 
We were clearly a couple with attitude, and my socio-environmental
Score matched hers exactly: that’s scientific for “we fell in love”.
Look up! Such a glorious afternoon of yellows, and a blue sky.
Look down! The lake reflecting our faces filled with smiling delight,
Gold underfoot, and her lustrous flaxen hair draped over my shoulder.
The field trip showed the truth, she knew it and so did I.
It was forty years ago : we still remember it, tell our kids about it,
Especially on fall days like today.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .


Written by Sydney Peck  2 October 2011,   and    
Entered  in  Francine Roberts’s  Contest   “A Nature Tale”

Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Edward Orozco | Details

A light forgotten

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, where’s your etiquette, manners and respect, 
My turn pen, I command, continue on to write, scribbling like an erratic bird’s nest. 
Pen resists and spits its ink, a dirty blob from its nib…how 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 Mark Vander Poppen | Details

Path we Persue

Life as understood by many resembles a journey traveled in a daze.
yet you feel lost, we can't help but carry on.
As we travel up the hill not knowing whats on the other side, 
where the next curve begins,  when to speed up,
or when to slow our pace.
Even as it seems at times we are blindfolded at very least,
human nature tells us to keep pushing through.
our best interest at that time is to put the path of life on hold,  
and asses our situation. Even if common sense makes you believe it would be difficult
or even impossible to resume the path started so long ago.
When it all seems impossible or hopelessness stares you in the eye.
Now is the time to grasp our greatest tool in life, just as God said let their be light.
let our light be the knowledge and support of your friends & family.
Use this and not even the devil himself can use his power and influence to corrupt us.
When we have 100% faith in ourselves combined with love for all that is good and pure.
And the hope that our destiny is not being pursued in vain.
Only positive results are to be found.
If u reach hard towards your soul and gather the will to strike down all that is negative.
Then and only then do the clouds disperse the sun becomes radiant
and all becomes clear. And the realization that our goal is in our grasp once again.
so before i put this pen down and carry on with my quest of surprises
and not knowing whats to come.
a prayer has been said guidance has been asked,
and a sense of relief is then achieved.

Copyright © Mark Vander Poppen | 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 Clementine Hope | Details

Show me your land, my Irishman

Show me your land, my sweet man.
Show me the green, the fertile landscapes, 
the emerald dreams.

Hold my hand, walk by my side,
kiss me deeply until it is dark.
Hug me and protect me from the cold.
Paint in blue the grey of your skies.
Be the sun I will need,
and become my treasure 
at the end of the rainbow.

Show me the cliffs,
where the blue sea is deep down.
Make me feel safe,
hug me by my waist.
Make me trust you 
and never let me down.
I don't need any four leaf clover,
if mine is your heart.
I'll be the luckiest woman,
even if for me 
this is a foreign grey land.

Show me your land, my sweet man,
show me the castles,
tell me their stories.
When it is cold,
let's entangle our bodies.

Let's create our very own fairy tale,
slashing dragons,
you may become brave.
Not all are battles, not all are fights,
my sweet man, there are also golden days.

I want to see the green of your land,
in your healthy, tasty plates.
I want to see the blue sea,
every time when I wake up 
and I stare into your eyes.

Caress my hair while we watch the sunset,
whisper in my ear sweet secret words in Irish.
Kiss my nose and tell me what those words mean,
I dare you to make me blush.

I will count your beautiful freckles,
while I kiss one by one.
My love, is this paradise?

Let's skip the yellow lands.
Those look arid, and my heart,
for a long time has been dry.

Show me your land, my sweet Irishman,
but remember that my home is your heart.

Copyright © Clementine Hope | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Jane Shields | Details

If I Could Rewind

If only I could rewind and go back in my mind
Seek it out then destroy would I truly enjoy
Would my life now be good like I feel that it should 
Or would things just get worse am I blessed am I cursed
Will things settle and go will my happiness grow
Or will things get real bad making me very sad
To rewind in my mind might well make me unkind
Maybe leave it alone and rejoice not condone

Sometimes you're better off where you are
Don'y look back you may go far
Life's a gamble choose your way well
What will happen time will tell

If I rewind my heart would it feel torn apart
Would the heartache it holds disappear or twofold
Would I feel some release maybe panic would cease
Or would things just get worse am I blessed am I cursed
Will I find myself love and then reach on above
Or will my heart still ache through the choices I make
To rewind my heart might well tear me apart
Maybe leave it alone and rejoice not condone

Sometimes you're better off where you are
Don'y look back you may go far
Life's a gamble choose your way well
What will happen time will tell

If I rewind my life would it free me from strife
Would my fears melt away leave me happy today
Would my happiness flow if my memories go
Or would things just get worse am I blessed am I cursed
Will I ever be free to truly know me
Or will life carry on without rhyme or reason
To rewind my life would I not be a wife
Maybe leave it alone and rejoice not condone

Jane Shields 09th November 2016

Copyright © Jane Shields | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Melissa Tracy | Details

Cruel Intentions

Treated you like a queen
Thoughts all pure and serene
Left for dead like you're nothing more than garbage
Scattered possessions strewn amongst devastating carnage 
Holding on within an inch of your life
Not sure how you survived the wrath of each jab of that knife
You hear a noise, did he come back to finish the job?
Can barely breathe let alone uncontrollably sob
Scavengers hover above in the sky
There's no time to comprehend or question why
Slow your shallow breathing, you need to survive
Glance up at the sun, somehow you keep hope alive
You'll surely die if you lie waiting in isolation for help
Get your wits about you, fully intact is your scalp
Lifeless is your body, you've never been this weak
Adrenaline kicks in and suddenly your furthest from meek 
Slowly by the grace of God you made it to a road
Now into hands of professionals your life you unload
You pulled through and can't help but feel shame although it wasn't your sin
Alive, but feel defeated did you really win?
This wasn't your fault, you weren't to blame
This life altering traumatization, you'll surely never view things the same
With time comes healing although your innocence you can't gain back
You're irreplaceable and somehow you'll get your life on track
Hopefully you can help save another from a similar fate
How can one soul be consumed by so much hate?
With his hidden agenda, polluted are thoughts now furthest from clean
How could anyone's intentions be so cruel or mean?




Copyright © Melissa Tracy | Year Posted 2018

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 it’s not me lifeless in the GRAVE.
Wondering why my life is being SAVED?
The more I breathe in this world’s AIR,.
The more I seem to CARE.
The more than I APPRECIATE,
Every time I AWAKE. 
Every time I CRY,
Every fear I FACE,
I’m realizing I’m 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 Judith Angell Meyer | Details

Rebuilding the Shed in the Backyard - Again

My son is out fixing up the shed.
Winter is coming on. Needed doing he said.
He had the time and the bound-to’s.
I’m not used to this thought process, I’m not. Not from a child.

I watch him for a while.
Opening and closing gates as needed.
The dust, sifted into powder from summer’s heat, poof’s with his steps.
The heels of his jeans dragging strings on the ground, erase the tread of his 
boots.

The shed is old. There is algae or lichen on the north side boards,
where the wood is splintery gray.
Some of the lichen florets are the color of sage, some the color of a bright orange 
rust,
Circled with gray ones and black, their life cycle played out.

He hammers nails and screws in screws while holding boards in place.
Sweat glistening where skin is exposed, making long dark stains in his black 
shirt.
Veins standing out against the strain, and
Muscles laboring to prove he can do the job well, without a mother’s help.

While he works I think about his father and how differently they work.
His father preferring team work and orchestrated smooth motion
working side by side, no extra movements – and he whistled.
My son needs to prove his skills first – alone.

The shed is done and it will brave another winter, keeping the horses sheltered 
from the elements.
The wind, snow and horses milling about, will obliterate the trail of pant cuffs, 
Along with the memory of one cool day at the end of summer, 
When a man worked hard to rebuild their shelter.

Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer | Year Posted 2007

Long poem by esther robinson | Details

CRYPTOGRAM DECODED

Cares pull my spirits down
Always force me, ‘wear a frown’
I heard, “You’ll in darkness drown;
For weeds in you are also sown.”

Seeds like unknown fear and worry
Sprouted in my nursery bed of merry
On watering, I nourished misery
Unable to differentiate their finery

Gradually grew seeds called health and wealth 
But sorrow and sufferings sapped its strength
I battled and struggled to save my breath
Expecting someone to fill my heart with mirth

With this frame of mind
No way of escape I could find
On reaching office, I read this thought
Recited it several times in my heart

That every sad day
Is followed by a glad day
As a team we discussed the layout
Of a very important handout

Green is good and soothes the eye
Yellow and black never get an instant goodbye
Red and navy blue give a professional look
Lavender or sky blue, gets anyone on hook

Everyone suggested a hue
And it granted me a cue
Of great surprise among a few
That if colors carried a clue

Of a top secret message 
Then I remembered a passage
For this world Jesus is the true light
Who makes the face of any man bright

He’ll weed and make me alright
My life like aroma will ascend in His sight
If each and every shade
That Almighty has made

Reflects God, as a mighty tower
And also expounds His awesome power
Unique His way of having seen my form
Being formed in womb like a worm

Fearful yet surprise filled is His greatness
I wonder and move about carrying His likeness

Copyright © esther robinson | Year Posted 2007

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 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 Holly King | Details

Kirsty (one)

Even now I sit, slump, shuddering,
Remembering...
Stale walls echoing lamenting calls,
their house...
A nightmare flickered in the red herring of betrayal.
Stumbling hormones, skinless evil.
it breathed...
Blood red lips snarling, capturing someone else essence, bone dry.
A nightmare...
Deliberately slithering up my calf, I grasped a cube of insanity as a last hope.

The shock...
Dead eyes feared a toy box, a fragmented sense
clung to my only protection, my untouched hell.
Blood soaked, dripping sweat, saturated fear I escaped...

I awoke...
Demons hell-bent on demise. Curiosity craved,
crushed my soul into submission,
But it's just a box...
Teeth exposed, chattered, blindly shoved fingers in to catch my tongue,
the taste of soured flesh.
Wait...
A vibrating voice crackled static pain, shivered in pleasure.
He escaped...
Bargaining, a blissful retreat, whilst exposing incompetence, irrational?
Go to hell.

Run...
Pounded at death's door, let me in...
Dad...
Warned the worm of the vulture, coming to devour its soul.

Something didn't fit, the sacrifice seeping into the floor smelt half human.
A twang...
Realisation, cold, the door creaked, locked,
grinning gruesomely, the veins pulsing along a sadistic mind,
Quaking, i flinched around to a lubricated nightmare,
clenching my muscles, the hiss of hell's rapture...

A prison shook, a prisoner shrieked,
Sanity split like perfect fission, slime coated his
perverted call...

Come, to daddy.

Copyright © Holly King | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Gloria Benton | Details

I LOVE YOU

                                              With all of my heart

                                                 At first sight

                                               From the very start

                                              Simply cannot explain

                                              How you make me feel

                                                  I just know

                                          My thoughts of you are truly real

                                                 Just want you to know

                                                 I need to really share

                                                  How much I do care

                                               This letter I write today

                                            Express my feelings in every way

                                                  You are so kind

                                               thoughtful and devine

                                                 When you are near

                                                  I feel no fear

                                             Just knowing you are here

                                             Words are hard to impress

                                               I'll do my very best

                                                  To let you know

                                                     I love you

Copyright © Gloria Benton | Year Posted 2010

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 brother’s bear across the yard,
Such military worries, hidden bombs in a child’s 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 Sierra Biersack | Details

If I Had The Guts

I know i have kept a lot from you.
I know its not fair. 
I know i should tell you.
I know i have to tell you.

Maybe i can tell you some, but not all.
Maybe i can keep it secret just a little longer.
Maybe i can hide it from you more.
Maybe i can get the guts to tell you everything.

Everyday, i wanna tell you.
Everyday, i hope i get the guts to tell you.
Everyday, i feel bad for not telling you.
Everyday i think about you.

Sometimes, i dont want to tell you.
Sometimes, i just want you to know it all.
Sometimes, i wish i never knew you.
Sometimes, i wish you were all mine.

If i had the guts, i would tell you everything.
If i had the guts, i would tell you how much you mean to me.
If i had the guts, i would tell you your the only reason im alive.
If i had the guts, i would tell you my biggest secret.

Just knowing that i love you.
Just knowing that you may or may not love me back.
Just knowing that i care.
Just knowing that you probably dont.

Breaks my heart.
Breaks my soul.
Breaks my dreams.
Breaks my life.

If i had you, my life would be complete.
If i had you, my life would be perfect.
If i had you, i would be happy.
If i had you, i wouldnt have to search anymore.

I know i should tell you.
I know its not fair.
I know i have kept a lot from you.
I know i should tell you.

But, i dont have the guts, 
The guts to tell you i love you,
The guts to tell you your the reason im alive,
The guts to tell you,
I need you in my life.

Copyright © Sierra Biersack | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Jim Pemberton | Details

Our Country's Soul Is Being Torn Apart


Our Country’s Soul Is Being “Torn Apart”

The very soul of America is being “torn apart.”
It’s a problem that’s striking at our very heart.

There’s a “blowing wind.”  A “time for change.”
As the country’s moral fabric is being “rearranged.”

As many question what the true meaning of life is for…
Many don’t seem to know what’s wrong or right anymore!

As so much pornography is allowed into our homes…
The moral decay is “eating” right at “the bones.”

Many have a hard time “defining what marriage is.”
So many are really “messed up” in how they live!

The news seems to be “fascinated” by man’s depravity…
Leaving a huge vacuum of a monstrous “moral cavity.”

Many who attend church want what’s
 “soothing to their ears.”
A God of holiness and righteousness
 is what they “fear!”

As we look around as to what our society is becoming…
God’s judgement is soon!  It is surely coming!

We must come back and leave all of our “false idols!”
We must come back to the God of the Bible!

Jesus must be our cord of love the forever binds!
It’s only in him can we find true love for our minds!

It’s only in Jesus that we can find a purpose and meaning!
It’s only in him that we need to put our
 trust and start believing!

He is and always will be the right choice to be taken…
Without him, our country’s is “doomed and forsaken.”

He brings healing and righteousness
“beneath his wings…
He is what we truly need!  
He is our EVERYTHING!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Details

WAVE DANCER

WAVE DANCER In the stillness the sun smiles spanning wide her golden yellow teeth blowing wind is shadow quiet she is waiting waiting waiting.... Waiting and feeling.. slowly the stillness trembles! It is disturbed... little waves begin to creep and crawl.. Unabash! She goes! Brave and graceful to take the ride... Daring and excited to play with the waves... Up. Down. Left. and right sways... A rollercoaster along the foamy surface of sea She was not taken aback by what she lacks... An arm bitten by a stark sharp shark long ago Instead, She pursues the waves Fearless to stand - tango with the wave curves! a ballerina with a surf board moving ahead.. ahead ahead each tunnel wave... balancing on side and top of the wave.. power hugging made by the currents.. mind blowing love affair with the tides!!! her missing arm not forgotten but a precious welcoming history in embracing the world with her inspiring story of not ever ever quitting! of keeping the faith afire with each rough tough situation! of trusting Gods' reasons and purposes to everything.. of making the most even when something is lacking!!! a conqueror of weaknesses! a wave dancer of water tides and beyond! She is BETHANY HAMILTON!! ______________________________________________ Best free verse poem - Poetry Contest Sponsor SKAT A ~~~7th Place~~~ Olive Eloisa Guillermo 3:04 am, July 18, 2014

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by liam mcdaid | Details

Making You Happy My Precious Love

Upon the winds whispering so gently a love story unfolds
Under soft beautiful clouds with rainfalls splashing love
With two lovers holding, caressing, and kissing one another

The radiant azure sky fresh with recent rain and a rainbow
Gives way toward evening to a cold moon face wishing to 
Take the two lovers to a faraway special place full of sunshine

This magical place is where the sun shines forever beautiful
And the feelings, desires, passions, and emotions of love are 
Always together true as ONE of a much bigger love portrait

This young man and woman walk hand-in-hand very much in 
Love while listening to the far distant echoes thundering from 
Surrounding cliffs while near the ocean dream seagulls cry aloud

As the man opens the gates of this paradise with his special lady
They both experience at once blinding tears of warm joy, and he 
Just wants to fulfill immediately her every wish to be happy in love

The young man tells his sweetheart with a most earnest passion: 
 “Dearest One, I want so much to make you happy my precious love!”
Our love My Sweet unites our bodies and souls so complete and whole

These two lovers have found their paradise fulfilling their dream of being
Together always walking under a wonderful star-filled sky dazzling pure
Sharing their love and seizing their very destiny now—Two now as ONE  

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © 
All Rights Reserved (January 11, 2015) (Unrhymed Tercet)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Edwin Hofert | Details

Footsteps

Footsteps.

She sits there all alone at home and turns down her TV.
To listen to his footsteps walking through her memory.

She hears him as he climbs the steps that lead up to his room.
It's fifty some years later, still the child of her womb.

She can almost count the steps as he moves across the floor.
So real she can't imagine, that he's not there no more.

Through troubled times he wrote the rhymes he used to call his own.
Sitting in his room upstairs where he stayed all alone.

She offers up just one more prayer for peace he'll never find.
Asking God to help him through and ease his broken mind.

She watched him in his early years, she saw right from the start.
This child she once carried, born with a broken heart.

There's not a doctor anywhere, no pill that you can take.
When the heart you hide inside is made so it will break. 

Stacks of poems and rhymes he wrote all clutter up the shelf.
Now he's out helping others, he can't seem to help himself.

So she sits there all alone at home and turns down her TV.
To listen to his footsteps walking through her memory.

Times she watched him struggle, he tripped and then he fell.
Times she tried to save him as his life played out in hell.

Times he felt there's no one there. That's when he turned to rhyme.
He couldn't hear or see her there. She was right there all the time.

Sitting there at home alone she turned down her TV.
Waiting for the footsteps that are now a memory.

Edwin C Hofert

Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Rhoda Monihan | Details

One Direction

One Direction is the best pop group ever,
In lyrics and harmonies they are strong;
They take me to a place better than words, 
It is to them that I happily belong. 

They are all beautiful to me, 
But Zayn is my favourite right now, 
I am in the clouds when I see him, 
He’s my you and I, to him I bow. 

Louis and Niall are footballers, fireproof, 
And Zayn does graffiti in public spaces, 
It’s not fools gold to create known meanings, 
To rock almost anyone in different places. 

But Harry was popular instantly, kiss you, 
Little things he did meant that many he excited; 
So many teens over and over again, 
Such that summer love was ignited. 

Previously, I would like Liam the best, 
Because he had that one thing for me,
He is sporty and lived while he was young, 
A heart attack was just waiting for me to be. 

But now its gotta be you, Zayn, 
Your vocal runs are something great, 
I wish that you’d write about your art and creativity, 
When no control is your date. 

C’mon c’mon One Direction, 
Reunite once more and wear that little black dress, 
No little white lies about why you can’t, 
Don't forget where you belong, just say yes. 


22/9/2015


I hesitated to post this one, because I'm somewhat embarrassed about liking One Direction. But it's better to be what you are than to be somebody else. So I'm happy to admit with both my hands up, I like One Direction.

(you may notice that there's the title of one of their songs in every line)

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Meline Ngo | Details

IN RESPONSE TO MY FIRST POEM - Knotty Sendoff

MY LOST ROMEO

You're my only love
And I call you my love
You are my Romeo
And my inamorato

I feel so captivated
To be loved by you
All I ever wanted
Was to be with you

And finally will you marry me
You asked me
Yes I will marry you
And live my lifetime with you

I gave you wholly
I loved you unconditionally
I gave you totally
I loved you solely

Everything happened so fast
Present turned into past
It was not meant to last
It just needed to past

You became cold it was rust not gold
Beautiful memoirs turned spoiled as mold
Not even our friendship was saved
You just turned your back and faded

Tears left falling
Never heard my heart's aching
Leaving without talking
Your heart's not beating

Into the bliss fading 
Into the dark not worth remembering
Goodbye to you my Romeo
And my inamorato

August 23, 2015


"IN RESPONSE TO MY FIRST POEM"

Till we meet again
I said to ease the pain
To someone who turned his back
Who shall never come back

Pain can last
But time should pass
This feeling must end
But up to what extent

Till we meet again 
When will I see you again
My Heart aches deeply
My Heart breaks softly

Gone are the days
Of the coffee for two
Will surely miss those days
At the cinema too

The smiles on your face
The sweet words from your lips
Like the sun that rises
As crisp as your kisses

Till we meet again
see you again
I will wait for that day
As long as the sun has its ray

September 28, 2015

Copyright © Meline Ngo | Year Posted 2015

Long Poems
12


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