Long Abut Poems
Long Abut Poems. Below are the most popular long Abut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abut poems by poem length and keyword.
One of the joys of walking in the darkness…before the early light of day
is getting to walk among the shadows as the come out to play.
When the moon is bright she sheds her light and our whole world is enhanced
Then, like a conductor in the sky, she invites her shadows out to dance.
And even when the luminous moon is gone…
the street lights make it easy for one to spot them…
those shadows that come out to practice the dance the moon has taught them.
I particularly love, as I approach a shadow, when the wind begins to blow…by chance
and there in the middle of the street…I’m invited to the dance.
The shadows don’t seem to mind my lack of rhythm or my two left feet
as they always find a way
to encourage and include me into their beautiful ballet.
Over the years the shadows have taught me a lesson they love advancing:
How it’s less abut the moves we’re making
and more about the feeling we get while dancing.
I do not dance with them for too long…
before I bow…then thank them for giving me this chance
for I know there will be more shadows on my walk who’ll be asking me to dance.
Because on my morning walks over they yearsI have also found this fact to be true:
Dancing…and sharing their dance is something shadows love to do.
So…if you’re out walking and happen to see a shadow dancing
and that shadow offers you a chance…
Do yourself a favor…
become a shadow dancer…
and join them in the dance.
Springtime has erupted; life's everywhere
With a fine chartreuse film that floats through the air.
The live oaks are blooming along with golden mesquite-
The scents of renewal are verdant and sweet.
Chameleon fields that change overnight;
A plethora of color; an artists delight
Yellow, so bright it hurts the eyes,
Covers the hills like a huge sunshine tide.
Pastures of green and wild onion white
Deceive the perception with flowered highlights.
Black and white calves frolic and play
Through the myriad of colors on display.
Seas of Indian paintbrush in brash scarlet red
Abut pink morning primrose, gently lifting its head;
Kaleidoscope gaillardia next to wine-colored phlox,
Mad impressionist Nature has pulled out the stops
Painting great Texas with colors galore
Then deciding to add just one color more
And up shoots the bonnets in startling blue.
Our states flower emblem, a salute to you.
JSC 2003
Covid, political divides, natural disasters…carnage in Ukraine…
hunger, oppression, bigotry…agony and pain.
I imagine for some people the best thing they can say abut 2022
Is that they have survived…is that they made it through.
No year is ever perfect…for in that time frame—12 months long…
there are many mistakes that will be made…many things that can go wrong.
But once we accept an entire year cannot be perfect…we’re no longer filled with fear…
and we begin to look for moments of perfection in the imperfections of the year.
An engagement, a wedding, a newborn baby’s birth…
friendships…all the beauty that surrounds us on this Earth.
We realize these moment of perfection are attainable…
they don’t have to be a fantasy…a myth.
how they depend less upon the moment…
and more on who we share that moment with.
Imagine how long we’d have to wait…how often we would pause…
If we chose to see as perfect…only moments without flaws.
Take my poetry for instance…(no comments please!) but wouldn’t it be absurd…
If I waited for that perfect poem…why I’d never write a word.
So I’d rather spend my time looking for perfection in the imperfect year ahead…
which bings me not to many New Year’s resolutions…but only one instead
As I step into a new year…this is what I’m going to do….
I resolve to look for more moments of perfection than I found in 2022.
Two mothers who never met were connected by tragedy, murder and death.
They gave birth to two different offspring that in one moment would alter both women’s lives.
Violet did her best to raise James in a gang infested neighborhood.
Lettice was a wild spirit living on the edge and highly misunderstood.
Violet worked two jobs while Lettice worked her mouth for a living.
Fast talking Lettice gave birth to Cosmo, who supported his mother by drug dealing.
“Stay away from the streets” said Violet. “Education will one day be your way out, son.”
She didn’t know he would be leaving sooner--the day he encountered Cosmo holding a gun.
James refused to go down without a fight, before collapsing from bullet wounds.
Soon Cosmo was arrested and later escorted inside a crowded courtroom.
In court Violet lashed out, but Lettice quickly lashed back at the distraught lady.
“It’s your dead son’s fault,” screamed Lettice. “So don’t blame this on my baby!”
Cosmo was sentenced to 20 years as Lettice broke down, consumed by pain and hurt.
Violet shook her head and said, “How can she cry like that when mine is in the dirt?”
“A mother’s pain times two equals two losses and no wins,” cried Violet.
“Losing a child is something I don’t wish on anyone, not even you!”
Shoulders slumped, Lettice looked at Violet, gritted her teeth, and screamed, “Is that all?”
Two grieving mothers, but while Lettice has 20 years, Violet will have a lifetime of tears to fall.
Lettice didn’t care abut Violet’s pain. Her only concern was her child and nothing else.
Until she received a call from prison a few months later. “Sorry to inform you, ma’am, but your son hung himself.”
With tears in her eyes from hearing what no parent wants to hear, she thought of Violet and dropped the phone.
It’s truly a shame when no one cares about another person’s pain until that pain is made their own.
I used to have a house guest
And he never helps me get
Things arranged, didn't clean
Up behind his mess
of hopelessness, depressions, variances and stifles
Live before up on a shelf
Didn't care about others nor anyone else
Didn't have a previous address
Life in shambles what a mess
Was homeless until I found him
Didn't' contribute but I forgave him
No positive things abut him but he's one of God's children
so I had to evict him
Cause all he did was noting positive
Everything was negative
He did nothing to contribute but
Bring him and me down so he thought
He had to go
Depression doesn't live here anymore
He had to go
Depression left and he didn't close the door
I am not sad now, I am glad wow
And the pains of sorrow are left outside
I'm a better person now that I've kicked him to the curb
Depression doesn't live here anymore
Hurt, loss non compassion is out the door
Depression doesn't live here anymore
Git your sad sack non glad rags git'em packed and go on out the door
Hurts, pains poverty skeleton remains none of that lives here anymore
Wrath, strive, confused life none of that lives here anymore
Depression, obsessions, confusion, rebellion none of that lives here anymore
I kicked them all to the curb and gave them a map to the door
I said get out, get out, get out, stay out in Jesus name none of them lives here anymore
No amount of monies, no honey or cute little baby bunnies
Can let me house you as guest here anymore
I kicked them all to the curb and gave them a map to the door
I said get out , get out get out, stay out in Jesus name
None of them live here anymore
Life in shambles what a mess
Was homeless until I found him
Didn't' contribute but I forgave him
No positive things abut him but he's one of God's children
so I had to evict him
Cause all he did was noting positive
Everything was negative
He did nothing to contribute but
Bring him and me down so he thought
He had to go
Depression doesn't live here anymore
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
from anthology " Open Up Your Heart" & "Strong Faith"
04/12/2011
Every day we’re making memories…we’re out in the world having fun…
and every day, if I am lucky, I write a few lines about one…
But with our suitcases and passports packed…and armed with Google translator
For the next 10 days we’ll be making so many memories…
I’ll have to write abut them later.
We are celebrating Ava’s graduation
Making memories in London, England then Paris, France…
and when it comes to writing abut them…this is the first time I’ve had the chance…
When it comes to our itinerary…our son Bryan has sole authorship.
Counting Deborah, me, Bryan, Ali, Ava,
Damien, Trista and our great-granddaughter-to-be
there will be four generations of our family on this trip.
It’s a trip we’ve been looking forward to for a long time
one we know, in our hearts we’ll never forget…
Okay, there’s a good chance our great-granddaughter might not remember
because she’s riding along inside Trista…and hasn’t been born yet.
But a trip filled with family, fun and happiness (studies have fund this to be true)
when experienced by the mother-to be will be felt by her baby too.
This first poem finds us traveling on different airplanes…
We’ll be meeting Bryan, Ali and Ava in London
then Trista, Damien and our great-granddaughter in France…
And as we’re flying we’re hoping we packed enough essentials
like socks and underwear and pants.
If you don’t hear from me every day…no need to worry or be wary
blame it on London or Paris or Bryan’s itinerary.
And know we are doing our best to have fun…to play, eat, drink, sing and dance…
to help Ava make a host of memories in London
then Ava and our great-grand daughter even more memories in France.
Four generation of our family…celebrating where we are, where we’re going
and where we came from….
on a family trip that if we’re lucky will be remembered for generations to come
Where tides once gossiped for many an hour
about what lovers share; like grapes gone sour,
the strong opinions o’ friends will minds devour.
A reputation guarded against smut
and smiles that’s ever radiant abut
the cultivated, fertile soil and glut.
A gentle breeze that ruffles the recall
of memories that bleed freely, then stall
at the precipice of confession – they fall.
Now fervour spent and mutinous thoughts gel
in favour of peace; not a too hard sell
before the final call by clamorous bell.
As welcome waves engulf the thoughts and sweep
recall away, nostalgia recedes to weep.
Nestled is the slender twisting trail canyon between timeless steep
aspiring mountains and meditative sopheric sea waters
The frail road deepens into lofty thickness further from the harsh
volcanic valley where passion’s throes are ever in abeyance as days grind
on at a petty pace, as winding cathartic minds strive to be free and leave their
fears of mortal sin, intrusive family— religious dogma dismissive, oppressive
My yearning heart writhes in agonizing prose knowing senses magma
guilt etched into my very core, now behind
I’ll unwind, in a soft bed of sand that awaits
Spring’s strong winds of life call, visible the sea in the
distance, in instance, heads tilt, abut, falling upon my
wooer’s shoulder, he presses gears, downshifts reaching tireless
slate-gray force spreading over ocean floors flooding with no remorse
An uncommon gallantry he displayed, a warrior’s valiant looks
fired up my very essence
A dimming sun immerses into a hesitant horizon, sweeping breezes spin
warm spells embracing an enchanter’s realm,
with its charm he gazed into languid eyes
Silhouettes stark, foreheads bow, touch, sweetened sweat from
jasmine bushes alongside the road, perks of riding the stallion of steel
evoked smiles in sideview mirror, heated rims, spokes spun
Dismount a stroll, toes sank in sand, holding hands dodging driftwood
washed ashore, I chose a serpent shaped, a souvenir!
I’d glue turquoise stone eyes, a keepsake, or an omen?
Zena’s cove of guilty pleasures seal fates, certainly
not rhythmic lapping waves against the shore nor salmon sunset
or a waxing crescent moon, and not the wistful ocean’s teary spray
Its tears wetted my cheeks in afterglows
Lest moonlit sky amongst shy hidden stars
Pangs subside, panic betides, doctrine ridden not from our marrow
Womb’s flower in bloom, a secret kept, an advent arrival
The planets wept, forms beyond birth of celestial bodies,
one existence yet does sin exist in celestial angels?
He held tightly, softly whispered let’s run away,
his proposal on adulthood’s precarious cusp,
bestowed him a refusal, sweet youth ruins
Alas and alack life proceeds
steady as ebb and flow of the tides
After a precious gem she’s named, sweet lord
never more blissful, daughter
Caressed are tranquil ocean waves
My mind wanders as I sit alone
Wondering what is out there
Is it a world I could care about?
Millions of people all running around
Doing their own things
Separate lives not intertwined
Is there anyone even worth thinking about?
Does anyone think about me?
I strain my thoughts
Searching for one name
One person who deserves my thoughts
So many rush through my life
Never stopping to talk
That is okay for both of us
I never take the time to know them
They are dismissed as soon as they appear
Maybe I feel I am not good enough
Could it be that they are the inferior ones?
I may never know
I don’t care enough to want to know
So, why do I even ask?
---------- Before anyone asks...NO, I do no feel like this. I was watching a TV show abut
someone who felt this way and it got my creative juices flowing. ----------
After I woke up and went out to our little balcony to write…
a ladybug landed on my computer and decided there to stay
As she traversed the perimeter of my computer…
I knew it was going to be great day
We took the tube to Buckingham Palace…where more history was unlocked.
We strode the rooms and hallways where kings and queens have walked.
The palace was amazing…as once again we witnessed over 300 years of tradition…
In terms of wealth, affluence and prosperity it was a wonderful exhibition…
When we left the palace…thinking abut kings and queens and bureaucrats…
I found my self part of the tradition when Ava and Ali bought me a British bucket hat!
Next, we were off for Afternoon Tea at The Wolseley…3:00 we didn’t what to be late
Once there…from a three-tiered silver serving tray a host of treats we ate.
Scones and sweets and finger sandwiches…we couldn’t eat as much as we could see
while Bryan and Ali drank Afternoon, Deborah Caramel and Ava and I Chocolate tea.
After filing up on those finger sandwiches, cups of tea and scones
we visited the British Museum…where we see the Elgin Marbles and Rosetta Stone.
For future reference the Rosetta Stone is amazing…we were awestruck and beguiled…
but the Elgin Marbles were not the kind I played with as a child!
Our next stop was a little pub…we thought cooling off and resting would be wise
before heading to the London Coliseum where Bryan planned, for us, a surprise.
On our last night in London we watched The Great Gatsby…where we joined the crowd
Laughing, clapping and crying through a musical
that would have made F. Scott Fitzgerald proud…
Before I fell asleep…It was great day!…I wanted to open my window and shout it…
and I wished my lady but would return to me…so I could tell her all bout it.