Long A moment Poems
Long A moment Poems. Below are the most popular long A moment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long A moment poems by poem length and keyword.
A young man frequents our bookstore looking for sports books that interest him
and…when we happens to spy them…
he asks us to hold them for him until he has enough money to buy them.
He was in the other night and immediately his gaze
fell upon a book about the L. A. Lakers and one about Willy Mays.
As he went back and forth between the two books….he looked a bit bemused…
You see, both books cost ten dollars…which made it hard for him to choose
He finally decided on Willy Mays…
and when I asked if he wanted us to hold it he said, “That would be great!
I’ll have enough money by the end of next week.”
Then looking back he said, “I guess the Lakers will have to wait.”
After he left…an older man whom I’ve never seen before…
but who obviously is kind-hearted…
brought the L. A. Laker book up to the counter saying,
“I’d like to buy this and the Willy Mays book for the man who just departed.”
I thanked this man profusely…and as I put the two books into a gift bag
I asked him if on the bag there was anything he wanted to say…
He shook his head and smiled,
“Just tell the young man when he comes back…
to enjoy the books and have a nice day.”
I don’t know if I’ll ever see this man again…
but I shall forever remember the kindness he showed that day…
when he bought a book about the L. A. Lakers
and one about Willy Mays…
Yes, in a world where hatred, greed and evil…is running rampant…
it’s a moment I’ll never forget…
the day a man I never knew spent twenty dollars on two books
to give to a man he never met.
On a frigid winter evening, so still
that hot breath lingered around my face.
In snow sparklingly dry and crystalline
I encountered fresh-made footprints,
leading off my mostly trodden path.
The sun was low in evening's sky
creating long dark spectral shadows
that would all too soon be swallowed.
But for a moment illumed the footprints
in a strange, compelling light.
A fleet chilling wind whisked around
flurrying the fine, icy flakes,
attempting to erase the marks.
Against the will to forge ahead
imprint the virgin snow, I turned;
and followed the path the footsteps made.
No further prints I saw upon the ground;
no evidence of animal or other.
Though in the distance I could hear,
as darkness drew its shroud,
the wailing of nocturnal beasts.
Then deathly, eerie silence save
for crying of the wind in tangled trees;
as I was led through thickets coarse,
and forests deepest gloomy dark,
to end beneath an ancient misty lychgate.
I stood beside a solitary grave
one word; 'Father,' etched upon the stone.
I glanced back from whence I came
In snow sparklingly dry and crystalline;
one single track of fresh-made footprints,
illumed in strange, compelling light.
In the bitter cold I can see my breath,
As the snowflakes cool my hot cheeks,
Gently settling in my clothes and hair.
I am headed to the car with a cake.
There'll be a festive party tonight!
My boots glide into the powdery fluff;
And I wonder if it'll ever stop snowing!
The evening sun is setting so very red;
And I can hear the whistle of a bird.
The night will be filled with laughter;
And the evening has scarcely begun.
A white rabbit bounds past the trees;
In a flurry of movement and snow spray.
Drifts now seem to cover all the world.
Though I admired the scene only a moment,
My chocolate cake has been frosted, too!
I Passed out on the couch while the Friends song is on.
She said first you must love yourself, before you can give yourself to someone else.
My singular identity withstanding tragedy.
With only one life to live, you have to work hard to attain oppertunities
I wonder whether people consider what it would be like
to become a human stonehedge??
Because that is the type of person, that could withstand just anything.
What I really want is to take a walk hand and hand with my faults
Have a moment with my confidence and Pride.
Tell them that I love them and always to come out whether the world is rain or shine.
I want to tickle my shy, and chastize the sound of my dreary sighs
I want to set my sails high, so Posidon will blow his heaving breath pushing my doubts and
self pity away
I feel like a young Galileo.
Staring at the sun, while all the others played jauntingly along
It's going to take so long......
I have a foot race with me and only the course of time
Form:
Convoluted Possibilities
Constellations of configurations that capture my fading breathe
Elevations of consummations that reflect on all that’s left
Inclinations towards imitations that leave me feeling bereft
Commiserations for the consternations as a life lingers upon death
Collusions of covert planning that draw nefarious conclusions
Intrusions of introverted inclinations that produce clarity of thought amidst the confusion
Infusions of concert performances that are based on artistic delusions
The fusion of science and geometry that defy mathematical protrusions
Designations of grace and contemplation amidst a crystal stream
Resignations of place and contestations that induce the quiet man to scream
Conflagrations of misplaced elevations that produce a lucid dream
Amalgamations of disgraced technocratic awe captured in a meme
Beautification in the aftermath of philosophical inquiry and inquisition
Stupefaction at the polymath contriving his expertise without contrition
Communication flowing toward the empath as she absorbed the emotional vision
Calcification of the psychopath devoid of feeling amidst their precision
Morality and consequence above constellations of burning stars
Tonality and influence that drive around in expensive cars
The fallacy of innocence exposed to malevolence from afar
Polarity that is the inference of the political players counting cards
An essence of retrospect that stirs true emotion to begin to rise
Convalescence of intellect that brings a tear upon my eyes
Incandescence of a dialect burning like a candle in demise
Reminiscence of a moment in time that memory causes her to cry
Affluence and greed among the overpriviledged few
Common sense and need preside over the ageing and the new
Malcontents that feed on the morsels of the gossip in the stew
A mind that’s dense but beautiful leads the crowd and that is you!
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
Consuming my mind constantly is what I had with you is burning something fierce
You have a strange hold on my heart, every essence of you is in my soul forever pierced
Thing is even through all the pain, torture and torment of it all I very rarely cry any tears
They are wrapped up in all of my many numerous fears
I still long to hold you in my arms oh so near
I still love you, for the man you were and have always been, after all these years
And I can't keep but feeling like I need you with me here
But I suppose with you I had once again a moment in time
A moment no one can take away from me, a moment that is forever mine
You make if seem like to love me back, however, is like some kind of crime
Love knows no boundaries, time, sex, color, and no reason or rhyme
But you yourself have to open your eyes and see the signs
I'm right in front of you holding the answers to the questions you seek hard to find
Right now though I'm caught with all this running through my mind
Some say ties always will bind
For whatever reason our now is still untied
I've tried for so long now to make you see
That you and I being as one is what is meant to be
Without you here my heart longs to be free
See me in that way you used to
See me in that way you once had promised to do
Hold me close and you will feel absolutely no pain
That's because my love will never be given to you in vain
Our love will not be able to cause tears to fall like rain
Together we are strong and aren’t being held down with a ball and chain
Through the ups and downs
Through the smile and frowns
Through all the moments in time that spin around
I've loved you through it all
We can hold the other up and I will never let you fall
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I made a vow in the bright heat of youth,
a promise forged from watching a body unravel~
my mother’s world shrinking
as her own flesh betrayed her.
I swore I would not follow.
I built myself like a bastille,
stone by stone, running mile by mile,
believing discipline could outpace time.
But time has its own blueprints.
One fall, one fracture,
and the body I had sculpted with devotion
folded into a shape I never chose.
Height lost, spine twisted,
grief settling into the hollows
where muscle once lived.
Old fears rose like ghosts
and for a moment, I bowed my head.
But only for a moment.
Because even now~
in this changed, imperfect frame~
something in me refuses surrender.
I count calories, I move,
I walk. I garden. I choose again.
Twelve pounds gone,
eighteen waiting their turn,
each one a small reclamation.
And I understand now
what my younger self could not:
redemption isn’t a finish line.
It’s a daily reaching,
a hand extended toward yourself
even when the mirror feels unkind.
This body is still mine~
weathered, altered,
but steadfast in its loyalty.
It carries me forward,
and I carry it with grace.
I am not the woman I feared becoming.
I am the woman who endures,
who adapts,
who rises~
again and again~
in the only body I will ever call home.
When the curtains are closed
Enjoy a moment from the basement window
Your mind has many thousands of rooms
In some cases you will need support wheels
An insoluble knot that robs you
the opportunity to let your mind fly
Do not behave as a lobster without claws
It's a process, be patient with yourself
You must walk paths
as you have gone many times before
03.10.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
When there is no inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
3rd place in the contest
A girl's first date; she's sixteen.
The older boy is a prize.
He flutters hearts with green eyes -
so suave and worldly-wise
The young Adonis picks up
Sweet Sixteen; he has a plan -
they go to the county fair.
Thrills are guaranteed!
After a few scary rides,
She trembles with excitement.
Soon in the chill of the night,
he will make his move.
When atop the ferris wheel,
he wraps one arm around her.
As she snuggles into him,
her heart is racing.
For a moment the wheel stops,
and their lips meet in a kiss.
Oh, the thrill of youth's passion!
Nothing else compares.
Written Dec. 8, 2015
The sun shines through the smoke of that day, a bizarre reddish orange hue. The day before I read signs in shop windows that said, "business as usual" and people out among the rubble trying to carry on with life. A life turned upside down in recent months.
My flat had been bombed in November 1940, and since that time I was living from shelter-to-shelter trying to understand how this could happen. I often wonder what the RAF was doing to combat the German planes, still I wonder. Shall they let London be consumed by fire? What a bloody despair!
Walking through the streets pretending to know where I am amidst ruins I see children crying, asking "where is my mum, help me dear sir"! All I can offer is a biscuit from my coat pocket that was broken in two. "Here, take these lads" I said, hungry myself. Then the rumbling started again, the planes were coming!
I scrambled to the shelter nearby amongst many others, the explosions shook me in my boots.
Down flight after flight of stairs I reached my destination for the night, quite unsure of what would come about but safe. Like a sardine in a can, I could hardly move there were so many people in such a cramped space, so I prayed along with others around me. Looking at the dirty disheveled faces everywhere I felt a nudge upon my shoulder, a voice said, "here lad have a drink". An older man handed me a bottle of Beefeater Gin which I gladly accepted. Its warmth soothed my worries if only for a moment in this living hell I was in. Hearing the bombs above I don't know what was shaking worse, me or the bomb shelter. I became numb as the Gin took hold of me in this nightmarish haze. "How long have I been out mate" I said to the older gent next to me. "The sun will be dawning soon lad" he said, "I'm going to street level, come with me chap". We climbed the stairs lined with people, unknowingly dead or alive until we reached the door to the street, it was so quiet I could hear myself breathing.
I looked at the sky, now a white-pink hue of smoke through which a star still shining shone as the sun broke the horizon. Reflections from the water of the Thames glistening light shone the trees budding their leaves, and in the devastation, I viewed the beauty of English roses..........