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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,




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 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-tos.

Im not used to this thought process, Im not. Not from a child.

I watch him for a while.

Opening and closing gates as needed.

The dust, sifted into powder from summers heat, poofs with his steps.

The heels of his jeans dragging strings on the ground, erase the tread of his 


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 


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 


Veins standing out against the strain, and

Muscles laboring to prove he can do the job well, without a mothers 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 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 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 Sahitya Poonacha | Details

The Injured soldier

He fell, fell to the ground
At the gunshot that created such a sound
Nobody took notice of the injured soldier
He was left there lying as the war grew thicker.

He screamed from the pain growing in his shoulder
Nobody realized the pain he would suffer
Trampling feet and screams grew monotonous
The injured soldier tried to ignore the pain that was so venomous.

He made a decision for himself
If he was to survive he'd have to help himself
Nobody was going to come to his aid
Not when each one was looking out for their own head.

He winced in pain as he got to his feet
He wouldn't give up now, not when he still had an army to beat
His shoulder cried out to him in vain
He had already chose to ignore the pain.

He took his rifle up
He adjusted his helmet and refused to give up
He kept fighting till the war was over
Each soldier fighting for their country, their home and their lover.

When the war was done and the battle was won
Every single soldier put down their gun
the injured soldier's shoulder still bleeding
now blinded him with pain and made him lose all feeling.

This time they gave him attention
This time he was treated to friendly affection
He wondered what would have happened if had given up that night
Would they have still won after all that fight?

But he was glad he hadn't for he would have been seen
As a pitiful injured soldier who wasn't keen.

It's the choices we make
And the chances we take
That set us apart
Only when, of course, the decision is made from the heart.

Copyright © Sahitya Poonacha | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by karl marszalowicz | Details


The God that never was, puts one shoe on at a time
And spends four hours in the make-up room 
Putting on mascara and eye liner for the darker look 

Occult man of seemingly rebellious nature 
Is deified by the masses that show up to performances
He, a man of strong portrayal even at a skinny 155 pounds 
Grows stronger with every compact disc sold and the overuse of base 
Blowing out of a sound system which rocks the car next to you
While you wait for the light to turn green
Abandoning social mores of quietness well into the night

The appeal grows everyday for a man really just making a living
Out of his fans age group they have no idea what he is
Whether the media builds him up or tears him down
As a good guy to hate and a bad boy at heart
Any press is good press, though infamy might be better for sales

Topping the charts and making parents sick of his songs
He is a beneficiary of childhood splurging and so inclined to be
The adults wish for a mere fifteen minutes of his fame
So their children would listen to them with the same respect
But who were they when listening to cassette tapes?
And the bands of the eighties put on make-up then
 A man of mixed persuasion people are drawn to his ambiguity 
The role model singing about jail time and Hennessey
A toughness to some is a weakness to others
It makes you wonder if the man knows who he is! 
Whoever that is and for all it's worth
There will be more than enough of him to go around
In his image that is larger than life

Copyright © karl marszalowicz | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Tammy Flanagan | Details



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 liam mcdaid | Details

Facts hold virtues intact

Pride comes before the fall 

under a tender gaze of midday's sun 

Our Sunday cross 

is being turned upside down 

incorrectly sponsored by none other than the arts council 

as it carries their logo seal of approval stamped all over it 

With groups promoting sin unholy acts attack

Abortion takes the centre staged arena 

dark nights follow anyone supporting 

such an ugly vile deed unchristian barbarism 

tearing a child from the tree of life

Blind beggars God is not with them anymore 

innocence is now plucked from the vine of the living 

condemned to death

Also un-natural against the good living is speaking out of turn 

trying to twist their sins as if born to do so deeply disturbed 

family values is the most productive role in society today 

to overshadow it against creations seed sewn treasures 

The true values we hold are held 

truth inside our mortal souls frame of mind

Born from the spirit of injustices a fire burns 

crying to the Heaven's in dread filled shame for mercies sake 

unhappy victims they become whom 

are chained by incorrect choice 

dressed down silenced good 

yet remains to speak firmly on ignorance 

in an open verdict time 

will catch up 

when the judgement bell tolls 

Numbers each and every single beast 

corrupt to the marrow 

I for one condemn this false face called liberal 

arrogant tunnel visioned traitors 

Removing our Divine King as Lord 

in our most Sacred Heart blessed 

we are protected under his Holy mantel

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by James Edward Lee Sr. | Details

Come Down the Altar To Git Saved

Got invited to a gathering

Many people of faith chattering

Worshiping praising and blessings

I committed myself felt a calling

So I wondered and wandered down the aisle

Found myself at the altar

Fell to my knees, didn't falter

Wasn't ashamed if people were watching

It's all bout' my soul I was encouraged

Lord, hear me now

I am a wretch undone

I need a saving, I need a revival

I need a blessing from you now

So I walked down the aisle

in full view of your angles

And your children of this church, the whole congregation

Cause it's not bout' them

Not bout' those who already know you Lord

I come down to the altar

I come to the altar

To be heard now

Be healed wow

To be saved now

To rejoice wow

I come to the altar

I come to be healed now

To be heard now

 To be saved now

Lord here I am

Please come and help me now

I am sorry for the wrongs I've did

I am so sorry, very sorry of my sins

I need a blessing from you

So I walked down the aisle

Sent from up above

I do, I do believe all you need is God's love

All you need is God's love

I do, I do believe all you need is God's love

Many people of faith chattering

Worshiping praising and blessings

I committed myself felt a calling

So I wondered and wandering

Fell to my knees didn't falter

Wasn't ashamed if people were watching

It's all bout' my soul I was encourage

I've come down the aisle in view of them all

I come down this aisle to the altar to get saved


written by James Edward Lee Sr.

Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2017

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 Carrie Richards | Details


I meant to do my work today
Instead I spied a nest among the maple leaves
 where birds were singing in the trees
   and others splashing soft brown wings 
                in the birdbath by the old porch swing

I meant to do my chores today
  But clear blue skies, a soft spring breeze
This cloudless day, and blooming trees...they filled me with distraction...

I had my rusty rake in hand, some ground to till
   a hedge to trim, some weeds to pull....but clouds above the rolling hills
                                                                                    all led me to distraction....

 A butterfly, all black and gold, flitted soon across the field
             And once again, it took my eyes yet further still...

The garden hose, curled sleeping by, in noon day sun, awaiting me
        instead I sigh, and 
           once again my wandering eye, 
                among tall grass, some bugs I spied, 
                            I must explore the whole outdoors before this lovely day has died

I hesitate, ....my chores can wait, 
                                it seems that fate says "Work can wait!!
                                                      Enjoy!! It says, this splendid day!! 

These  most worthy,  so pleasing, never bothersome, soul satisflying, quite heavenly 
                                                  distractions !!


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

Long poem by Carolyn Devonshire | Details

Fleeting Freedoms

Elderly mans fishing net hangs in his shed

The fish he caught in his backyard stream multiply

Net use was banned; he couldnt afford a pole

Joy and sustenance gone, a tear falls from his eye

House Bill 875 would ban backyard farms

Forcing vegetable growers to invest cash

In overpriced produce on supermarket shelves

Uncle Sam flexes his muscle, makes his whip lash

The right to freely worship is endangered

As prayer is prohibited in public schools

Government intrusion invades all our lives

Public pleas are not heard by those who make rules

Freedom to choose our doctors is now threatened

Socialized medicine diminishes choice

Speech censorship? Just ask the Smothers Brothers

Who canceled their own show with a stifled voice

As crime escalates, look to the constitution

The NRA spends billions to protect Americans' rights

To bear arms against oppressors while thieves laugh

And sue owners of homes invaded in the night

Can this be what our forefathers had in mind

When they sought to escape a kings tyranny?

Our rights are being limited more each day

In a nation spawned to promote liberty

Natural disasters prelude Judgment Day

Eerie escalation  tsunamis, earthquakes

But perhaps when the dust finally settles

Those who survive will learn from our past mistakes

Governments will form only to preserve peace

Not to strip away rights ancestors pursued

Dont blink!  Precious freedoms are now endangered

By those who feel theyre elected to intrude

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

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 Virden | 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 Virden | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by MaryEllen Gozzo | Details

A Child Again In Love

On a river bank and holding a flower,

Plucking the petals one by one,

There I am 

Standing amiss behind a tree, 

Staring at me as if I dont see you

There you are.

I ask you a simple question 

Why is life so complicated?

 And you walked out slyly

Because you didnt know I knew you were there 

And you answered

If it werent, there would be no love 

But I dont have that anyway

I reply 

And in your head I know youre thinking

Oh but you do,

You have it from me 

But I sat there so obliviously 

I didnt ever tell you 

But I loved you too

That was the only secret

That I ever kept from you

And when we chased 

Each other in the creek 

You didnt ever tell 

That you were falling in love with me 

And we were just children

They would always say

But children are the wisest

In a special kind of way 

They see people for who they are 

And they dont know corruption

As personally as they will grow up to 

But for now they look into each others souls

And choose their friends for life 

You see it all started as children 

When we all had our sight

But now we are blind

To the untruthful ones 

We could sense it 

Like we could sense that winter was here 

And that a big snow was coming 

But now we are so desperate

For love because its not so easy anymore

And we forget the simplicity of the emotion 

If you love someone, let the love grow 

Let it blossom like it knows no limits

And indulge in life on that feeling 

That you were a child again in love 

Copyright © MaryEllen Gozzo | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Funom Makama | Details

Dont Ascertain When You Dont Know

<center>Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia

and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning

the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned

and assumptions simply made real and absolute

Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that

the banana and plantain are the same

a superior race surely exist

leg size has a great correlation with the males genital

the measure of ones success is solely factored

in his accumulation of wealth

and money is the root of all evil.

This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points

Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas

bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind

women are subordinates to men

and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe

This mind can even tear its clothes to rags

in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as

Sydney is Australias capital

the earths evolution is the cause of day and night

Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange

morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee

and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space

Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams

and having global captions mixed with daily breath

assumptions such as these are nurtured

religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance

the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one

who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn

so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.

Oh sorry! The American futurist


Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Edwin Hofert | Details



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 Line Gauthier | Details

Love My Reflection

I often catch a glimpse of my colours and curves in that mirror hung at the back of the room

Im graceful and charming and I see that Im attractive and people like me

They dont know or dont care that theres more to me than my pretty veneer 

As they briefly pause, give me a quick look and walk on by 

Never taking the time to scratch the surface and get to know the real me.

Only my creator understands the depths and layers of me

Often gazing with intensity into my eyes as if looking for answers or maybe even questions

Half talking to me, half to herself, she holds her empty canvases

And decides the world doesnt need more pretty pictures to feed the many blasé eyes

Art used to be fodder for souls to interact and come alive

People have turned deaf to the symbols and dont pause for that inner dialogue anymore

I get the distinct impression that Im passé and need to make room for a new style

Im told Im just an illusion and distraction

The world doesnt need more pretty pictures to feed the many blasé eyes 

Those blank canvases will somehow to destined to send less subtle messages

And remind people that they are all on a spiritual journey

Here on earth to learn about living with each other

Searching within for answers and needing to be kind

Whatever, I hope they never do away with that mirror hung at the back of the room

WROTE SPECIFICALLY FOR... BUT FAILED TO SUBMIT due to technical error... for contest PERSONIFICATION OF A PLANT on August 19, 2017

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2017

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 esther robinson | Details


Cares pull my spirits down

Always force me, wear a frown

I heard, Youll 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

Hell 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 Helen J Radford | Details

'and the walls came crashing down..........'

A knock at the door, who can it be? 

Probably Sarah coming for tea. 

She usually calls on her way 

back from work to share some time with me. 


A look in the mirror, 

I 'tut' at my face: 

Why do people always call 

when there's junk around the place? 

I open the door - a man is standing there. 

I wish I'd worn some make up 

I wish I'd done my hair. 

It's then I spot the uniform: 

the buttons made of brass; 

the stripes that grace the khaki sleeves; 

the boots that crunch amongst the leaves. 

I question with my eyes? 

It comes as no surprise to