Long now Poems
Long now Poems. Below are the most popular long now by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long now poems by poem length and keyword.
It lies within a long valley,
amongst rolling Green Mountain Peaks,
its southern Vermont’s largest lake,
a place boaters and partiers seek.
But nature did not build this lake,
that task fell to the hand’s of men,
built up a broad, high wall of earth
to ensure the valley was dammed.
I saw pictures of what went before,
a small town they called Mountain Mills,
built back when lumbebrjacks ruled here,
and could harvest trees to their fill.
There were nearby farmers around,
raising cows to sell their dairy,
who brought their product to this town
to try and make extra money.
There was a broad house, wide and white,
it most likely was the town inn,
where locals talked the news of the day,
where lumbermen revelled in sin.
Across from it was an old barn,
ancient a century ago,
leftover from before the town,
it watched the small main-street go.
There were housing, rambling houses,
packed in tight, this was before cars,
made sense, if you needed supplies
you didn’t want to walk too far.
The road itself a line of brown,
straight and narrow, gravelly dirt,
there’s not much sand around these parts,
they had to make what they had work.
Tiny shops, the family-owned kind,
butchers, dry goods, hometown bakers,
the places we nostalgize now,
we imagine they all 'kept their word.'
Near the back is a church spire,
simple-looking Protestant kind,
when people dressed to go to church,
find guidance for spirit and mind.
Behind it all, a lumber mill,
stacks of board-feet, three-stories high,
a chimney pumping out black smoke
from the big saw spinning inside.
Nearby a narrow railroad gauge
pulls up to take the wood away,
men work their shifts here 'round the clock,
it’s tough work, but they need that pay.
Not far away, a small graveyard,
where men from the Civil War rest,
the last dying not long before,
at least that what the stones did attest.
But Connecticut needed power,
that’s the reason nothing is left,
just cellar holes when water’s low,
in the months when you see your breath.
It saddens me because most days
this lake is just a place for play,
under the water, under the earth…
someone always walks on our graves.
And they don't even know.
He drove a gleaming car
Stopped at a tawdry bar
Cool shades on, tan and trim
He looked the part of a movie star...
Her eyes met his; she took his dare
In his mind, he stripped her bare
He got right up and sidled over
She never blinked; maintained her stare
"Honey," he said, "I've paid for your drink."
She liked that; didn't stop to think
When he asked her for a roll in the hay
She nodded her head: "Whatever you say."
Drove to his place; went straight for the sack
Where he started in on her, a brazen attack
She wondered if this was how you play the game
He smiled at her, said: "What's your name?"
"Cathy," she said, "and I just turned sixteen."
He winced as he realized what had just been...
******
A few years passed; he got out of jail
No gleaming car for him on his new trail
Then one night, there she was on the news
He jumped up and shouted: "I know her; I do!"
~ That Cathy's a lawyer now; represents 'Me-Too'
"Shhh!comes from the shadows in the dark."
A whisper follows;'Kevin,are you awake?'
A whisper, you've heard before
Pulling the sheets tighter
As if trying to barricade yourself in
Hoping this time it'll hide you from him
His silhouette you now see, moving closer,
Closer, closer he's getting closer to me
Terrified and shaking wishing it would end
Believing it's your fault not his
Listening to your little heart beat
Pound, Pound, Pound
Footsteps they echo, off the wooden ground
Inching his way further, from your door
Go away, Go away, you chant in your mind
Hoping God's listening
Praying he'll answer this time
Then out of nowhere comes a loud "BANG"!
The shadow walks with determination
Back the way he came
As his shadow moves further
Back to the dark
Your mind now rests, A smile is sparked
I quickly said;"Thank you Lord!"
I sincerely mean it
From the bottom
Of my heart
R.K.H
Form:
My teachers once said, "Death marks the final page,
Where knowledge ceases, and growth turns to age."
But I now see, beyond mortal sight,
Learning continues, through eternal light.
In realms unknown, where souls reside,
New lessons await, and wisdom will abide.
Meeting new hearts, and witnessing new skies,
Adapting to realms, where mystery meets the eyes.
Religious sages say, the afterlife unfolds,
Heaven or hell, where souls take their molds.
Yet, God's grand tapestry remains unseen,
Unveiling secrets, to those who have been.
Life replicates the soul's eternal design,
In heaven or hell, where love and truth entwine.
So live each day, to honour the Divine,
Learn, share, and grow, until the final line.
For on Judgement Day, our deeds will tell,
A story of love, or a tale to compel.
Live today with hope, and a heart aflame,
Embracing death, with a soul that's not tamed.
Marred and minced remnants pile high in a storm’s swarm
Yesterdays, hardened-soft, surface where sea’s warm…
Flotsam found, lays tales around, in frayed traces
Another shattered shell whimpers of graces
vying with the sea-swept sands: gloss embossed fades…
Ocean’s dead! These are castaways of Hades,
rid of depth, stranded upon the dry shallow
Interred where the sun bleaches out the shadows
till whitened ivory fills cavern’s echo:
enmeshed lime, crunching upon errors callow
Jazz died - June’s sun sank into august abyss…
Undertow currents ceased their torments of bliss
Nipped life, silenced like frothing foam vacuum-sealed,
kept smothered in an opaque ocean congealed…
Yard junked, Neptune’s home’s now a derelict mess
and yet he clings to the crap amassed, crownless
Right always, up to the end --------- that no return.
Death will erase the un-sunk bones when they burn
(10/3/2019: '90 Sea Ray DA 350; Discovery Park; ‘my favorite junkyard’)
These did not come to feast or to play
They came with very much to say
These were not birds of prey
Nor did they come to stay
These hovered above a church called Promise Land
At first, I did not clearly understand
But in a short while, I could tell that they
were not vultures of death in such of road-kill
Rather, they were commissioned by God
to give fresh new life
These had come to preserve, protect, and extend
the life of the little flock
These had come to open new doors
that till now had been locked
These had come to set free anyone filled with fright
And to give them new energy to finish the fight
As they departed, I could see a formation in the sky
It simply said, "Birds of life. Goodbye".
Inspired by... Solstice power.
May you love every moment of your journey
By Michelle Morris
20/06/2026
It's time to show your boundaries
It's time to show your power
It's time to allow divine flow
It's time for you to flower
No more shrinking for the masses
No shrinking for the fearful
No shrinking for the unenlightened
No shrinking or being tearful
So many years we waste on others
Their limits and their schemes
The guilt and the gaslighting
The emotional heartstrings and appeals
The killing of your dreams
Each and every one
If you allow their mind games
You'll never bask in the sun
Give yourself the space now
Give yourself blessed grace
You're deserving of the chance
To rise up and meet your fate
The fate where you embrace it
Amor Fati at its best
May you love every moment of your journey
And reach your greatness after tests
© Michelle Morris, 2026
A reprieve arrives, hopefully to stay
casting faint glimmers of the sun
so long held hostage by the clouded grays.
now undone.
The needed rain pulls back
but the landscape is still pale green,
frozen in time unpacked
a lime mist floating on the air can be seen.
It appears all creatures were released
from hibernation of the sudden chills
and the yard comes to recognize a quiet peace
that pervades gardens and unleashed growth is spilled.
A woodpecker knocks repeatedly
answered only by the call of distant geese
and the glow of the sun warmly heated
and robins hover singing in the trees.
A grond-hog climbs a frail cherry weeping
to challenge the squirrel presence
and the heron struts boldly around the pond creeping
looking for life and its inner essence.
Spring is reborn
producing life and color to the earth
as winter looms in the background unadorned
and spring comes alive in its rebirth.
He did not come that morning or that night,
and two more days elapsed with him now gone.
So many trips she made, and every flight
had ended with a disappointing dawn.
Her little ones soon felt the missing link.
So sad each was without the normal signs-
his vividness that kept them all in sync;
togetherness which filled their space confines.
But then, she spotted a large, brilliant glow
and plucked it from the branch that held it tight;
a deep red rose which seemed so apropos-
would surely solve the problems of her plight.
In Cardinal's small nest, between them sat-
the plump, red rose- made snug their habitat.
January 2, 2023
Contest: The Cardinal And The Rose
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Central air conditioning quickly
found this creature comfort acclimated,
defies, contradicts, bumps uglies...
up against rugged individualist
I meekly profess to idealize
admitting propensity nothing
distinguishable differentiating
all talk no action, no less tolerant
than aversion to extreme heat index
burrowing into sixty degree Fahrenheit
climate control mancave
quite divergent weathering
humid, hot, and hazy
dog days of summer,
when boyhood at 324 Level Road
lacked luxuriating aforestated amenity
first poetic line
introducing anonymous reader
familiar or otherwise
regaling modest literary versatility,
whereby yours truly
dealt with temperatures
registering bajillion degrees,
especially level housing bedrooms
about half dozen steps above landing
suddenly experiencing indisputable
scientific principle hot air rises
undermining ability to function
no more active rather equally inert
as inanimate object
mainly cuz estate complex edifice
formerly christened "Glen Elm"
built approximately half century
preceding incorporating
said modern HVAC conveniences,
no modern building lacks,
plus ability to tolerate hardship
much more omnipresent
before yours truly
racked quite numerous
orbitz round the sun
versus now, when
greater sensitivity prevails,
I admit pioneer spirit plummeted,
and if forced to forego
custom tailored environment
would be immovable prey,
for even the most
harried styled carrion,
which admission would
only present challenge
predicated on severe disruption
compromising being hermetically
sealed, linkedin, cocooned...
within man-made dwelling
hardship analogous no name brand
garden variety slug
essentially homeless snail
shell lacked with mew cuss!