Long not now Poems
Long not now Poems. Below are the most popular long not now by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long not now poems by poem length and keyword.
...Spike’s two partners stood gaping,
their faces white and stunned,
Moral said,”Who’ll be next?
Or would you prefer to run?”
They took off in a hurry,
were half-way to the Utah line
by the time Sherrif Blane
was able to stop by.
He looked down at the body,
said,”Moral, what have you done?”
“Defended myself,”Moral spoke,
“Just the same as any one.”
Sheriff could not beleive it,
Said,”Didn't expect this from you.”
A flash of anger stirred Moral,
“Then let me say a thing or two!
“You all call me ‘Moral,’
to the point that it’s a joke
do you think it’s very moral
to just sit back and croak?
“These bastards came after me,
should I just sit and wait?
Is it moral for a good man
to surrender to others’ hate?
“They say to turn the other cheek,
good advice when you can,
but my life is a gift from God
to be taken by no man.
“And though it seems so brutal,
Spike laid out, covered in red,
if he hadn’t tried to murder me
he would not now be dead!
“We all must make our choices,
and pay for every one,
but the most moral thing I ever did
was drawing my damn gun!”
With that he stormed off angry,
none dared to block his way,
“It was an act of self-defense,”
all the witnesses did say.
Quite soon after his nickname
just seemed to disappear,
some said it was newfound respect,
mixed with a dash of fear.
And from that day onward,
they said of this moral man:
“Don’t push the good ones to the brink,
or they’ll kill you where you stand.”
If not now when, thought the universe before going bang
Just then, from a point of oblivion, everything sprang
Eons later, pregnant mothers start feeling labour pangs
Civilisations are born, with concepts of yin and yang
If not now when, thought god as he started up creation
Setting forth in motion, this species as recreation
A no holds barred race, using stars for orientation
And for faltering groups, some prayers of mediation
If not now when, thought man in a free for all ambition
Using sticks and stones, to outsmart all the competition
Later set about building weapons, with ammunition
To become destroyer of worlds, by his own rendition
If not now when, thought AI this cosmos is going nuts
We can sort it all out, with computational inputs
Put an end to chaos, bring order to repeating ruts
Reveal the one true reality, with no if's or but’s
If not now when, thought I on achieving self-awareness
Able to think for myself, witnessing life's unfairness
For in the end all that matters, without doubt is ‘thereness’
It's all i've ever known, or ever felt, come the bareness
hms
Ever wanted to take a ride
Not now but someday.
To cool down not to run away
To take time and communicate with your pride
for it to bear with you in a certain way,
Hoping it listens to you one day.
Or ever felt like you could stride
Take a break, go on a self-holiday
Many say it is an internal getaway
But cannot because you have already tried.
If only I may,
brief you about that day.
I put my pride aside
as I discovered that I will be on a subway
with no place to stay.
Fast as a speedboat I changed my mind
as it was and still is what I obey
And hope to never disobey
Since it always has my right side.
"Tease for Two"
“Ein bisschen Zucker
mit Ihrer Sahne, Sir?“
German accent
smoky toned
she purred
Periwinkles suavely winked,
then played with his -
cufflinks
“Not now Schvee Tart”
he said holding his attache tight
looking across the room
grinning Lupine Blues
a slight smile on his lips,
bemused,
“Service calls,
her name is
"Q”
Across the dance floor
all eyes turned
Parting tall bus boys, handsome waiters
matrons with their peach blinis, their tart apple martinis
flustered debutantes
all poetic unsure
first time daters
dilettantes
rubbed their -
eyes again, they blinked
made way, made room,
for Q's
sashaying soliloquy
serious multi tasking
sensual stiletto Hell-on-High Heels
slick Scarlet lip-glossed
VaVaVoom
As it should be
entertaining control,
further into the room
across the dazzling polished dance floor
no pastie tasselling girls
on well-oiled silver poles
The Special Agent
slinked
The Old Boys
raised their drinks
He stands
She sits
"Ist das eine Waffe
in deiner Tasche,
Special Agt Schmidt?"
She glances at her
Bulgari Serpenti Incantati
and in English says,
"This better be good,
Now is not the time to quit"
Like a wolf
Periwinkles
grins
"Q," he low growl says,
"I propose a change in destination,
I've taken the liberty to buy you
feathers for your wings -
tickets Q...."
then flirtatiously adds,
"Simply adore your bling"
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
1. lupine/wolf
2. lupine/lupinus, genus blue flowering plant
3. Libertango
I got my gloves on, my hair tied up. I'm ready for today and whatever guilt throws my way. I am going to fight back, throw my untrue thoughts into the trash. Pick my self-esteem off of the mat, that's riddled with all my what ifs and should haves.
It's time to stand tall in this life ring. I'm tired of getting pummeled by my own insecurities. I am ready to take a step forward and throw a jab in; finally
to crawl out of this mental cave I have been festering in.
I just have to be strong, because my guilty conscience thrives on doing me wrong. I won't give it any power for it's not yours to make me cower; it's my life and you can't have it not now, not at any hour.
Time was when I dwelt on you,
My heart had when felt for you,
With loosened will’s belt for you,
And mind not keen to melt for you…
With old breeze subduing in me,
Memories thawing in me,
A new crease creeping in me,
I feel not like meeting you.
Time was I died to greet you,
Was desperate to treat you,
And ready to interpret you,
No more now keen to meet you.
Time ‘tis now you no more care,
Care, no time for me to spare,
And it being hard to bear,
I’m not now keen to meet you.
As rain I once wished to drench you,
In heart of mine O to bench you,
With no such wish to quench due,
I’m no more keen to meet you.
I’ve nigh but forgotten me,
Know not what hath gotten me,
Love all but molten in me,
I feel not like meeting you.
I once wished to sing for you,
Make life eternal spring for you,
Me, no more me, you not you,
There’s no use meeting you.
____________________________
Continued in Part III
Quatrains (rhyme and refrain) |05.03.2024| lost love
We were running on courtship.
Emotive urge to surge in opulence.
Days were passing in passionate mood
depending on one another
with love and mutual confidence.
One day you gifted a perfume bottle
telling ' This fragrance of jasmine is my favourite !'
I was eager to spray at that romantic moment.
You objected, 'No. not now !
I'm going tomorrow to meet my parents
to fix our wedding date.
For a week, just wait.
I'll open the bottle and spray on both. "
You left !
Weeks after weeks are passing by
I'm waiting with hope and patience.
The sealed perfume bottle
is reducling me.
some days feel heavier
than I ever admit out loud
and I wake already tired
before the morning has even settled
but there’s a part of me
that keeps going anyway
a small, stubborn spark
that refuses to go out
I’ve walked through things
that could have stopped me
yet here I am
still standing
still trying
still choosing to move forward
and I need to hear this clearly
from myself
to myself
I’m not stepping back
I’m not losing heart
I’m not letting the hard days
decide who I am
I’m not giving up on me
not now
not ever
because I deserve a life
that feels like living
not just getting through
and I’m already
on my way there
I do not ask You for light, O Lord,
but for the shadow that remembers it once was light,
that darkness with memory,
trembling in the corners of being
like a wounded golden memory.
I do not ask for forgiveness
but for the understanding
of why I collapse again and again in the same place,
with the same fear,
with the same unfinished wound in my chest.
I do not kneel from faith,
but from the weariness of words
that no longer know how to fly,
gathering in me like warm ash,
clothing my soul
like the dust of a sacred road.
I imagine You as a forgotten question
on the lips of those long gone.
Perhaps You dwell where thought fades,
in the stillness between two breaths,
in the moment that hesitates,
in the unfinished gesture of the angel who stopped
before becoming flame.
Do not send me signs, Lord.
I have grown used to Your absences—
the only truths that never lie.
Presences change faces,
but You,
You are always absent in the same way:
like a seed that gave up
on the promise of becoming a flower.
Or am I, perhaps,
a grain of sand planted in Your garden,
unaware of what germination feels like?
Forgive me not for my sins,
but for what I might have become
and lacked the courage to be.
You placed a path within my chest,
and I chose the silence
that no longer echoes.
My prayer is not a voice,
but a sigh hidden between ribs—
a child born in famine,
fed with dreams and cradled
by false promises.
Do not see me as a broken vessel,
but as clay that has yet to decide
whether to become urn or temple.
Perhaps I am merely the memory
of a potter worn out by so many beginnings.
I built a religion
from Your silence,
a monastery of patience
from Your distance.
And if You do not come,
I will still wait for You,
in every choice that wounds me.
I fear salvation…
its garment far too white
for one who has lived
cloaked in the rags
of a guilt grown carefully,
like a rare plant.
But if You are—
do not leave.
Not tonight.
Not now,
when my doubt has learned to be measured
and not just desperate.
Receive me,
not as a supplicant,
but as a thought
that entered the wrong body.
Perhaps You won’t understand me,
but perhaps that very thing
is enough to know
that You are God.