Long After Poems
Long After Poems. Below are the most popular long After by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long After poems by poem length and keyword.
(For people of my generation, especially among the country folk,
dating was not in vogue. When a girl reaches the marriable age, proposals would come and after one or two formal meetings, if the boy and girl like each other, the marriage would be fixed. So, it was more like gambling)
As all teenagers, in my seventeen,
I was lost in reverie of my life with my man,
In my mind's canvas, I drew the image of a gallant,
Who would one day come to wed and own me his.
In the nick of time, he solemnly came,
To hold my hand and tie the knot.
With a pounding heart and quivering breath,
I found him differing from the man I dreamt.
The fabulous fabric in my loom,
Looked at variance from the one unfurled,
Transfixed between fact and fallacy,
I struggled to hide a falling tear.
Time marched on in silent haste,
And I learned to outgrow my childish whims.
Sagacity dawned with passing age,
Making me discern the real from the sham.
It made me admire his sanguine self.
On fathomed deep beyond external mien,
I saw him unveiled in taintless worth,
That made my heart ever pine in love.
Piecing together our halved selves,
With the glue of love, our identities merged.
Now he is with me in my blues,
Consoling me with his balmy touch.
He is with me in my joy,
Making it resonant with a hearty laugh.
He is there when storms rage,
Whispering in my ear, not to fear.
He taught me how to savor life,
To meet the slings with radiant cheer.
Now the image is etched deep,
Never to erase, nor to revise!
And the old portrait locked within,
Grew so musty, bereft of use.
In its place, I keep within,
His solid figure in indelible print.
Jan.22. 2023
~ PLACED FIRST~
How Do You Feel Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
Civilized Order in America
Allowed a religious freedom of calculated origin for ?
Arisen
A poetic inference of established orders recanted in mass to end an origin in procession.
Army corps of engineers established regimen
Regimented division of labor in circular fashion such as opposite digression a fervor could resume it's origin.
Whilst civilization was constructed seperately above and behind memory of fantastic revelation of efforting the spirited labor to and from.
Codified law dictates moments of inertia after completed rehearsal of successful land.
The completed engineer regaining leave is a New York business man.
The origin of New York Ballet is ongoing and prompt.
Civilized civilization does have means for every living soul to have enough war.
This is where a brigade is dispatched historically in recurring evolution, a description of perfections effectation and a diffusing of tangential orientation of correct
In abundant diplomacy
Orders are followed from origin to a new sight.
This carries garbage out of my sight.
Subjects are held in records by the armed forces inhabiting home.
Military Code of Conduct is easy
Request, Receive Service from legible order.
War Ends
Treasury Overflows and People live in peace with structural engineers in salary building civilization provided opportunity orders to serve God almighty and every living soul left alive.
We are staffed and waiting civilized minds.
Treason may now be written openly in communication
Why do I always get the news the day after?
Is somebody up above watching out for me?
I can almost hear what sounds a little like laughter
Every time I find out I escaped misery.
It all started when I was just a little boy,
When, one day, I wanted to go to Danny’s place.
The day after, I found out that his house was destroyed.
I was spared from the tornado by an angel of grace.
Then, in high school, after a basketball game,
I rode home with my brother instead of on the bus.
The day after, I found out the bus went up in flames.
My brother and I were lucky; it could have been us.
Then, one September morning, my meeting was cancelled,
So, I left my cell phone and went to the beach instead.
The day after, I found out the Towers had crumbled.
I should be among the three thousand that are dead.
The first visit was when I was just five,
I had a serious illness and was barely alive.
In my hospital bed late at night,
I was awakened by flapping wings in flight.
The pure white dove sat at the foot of my bed,
“Where did you come from”, was all that I said.
All it returned was a soft, gentle coo,
Then out of the closed window, somehow it flew.
Then years again later, after my brother had died,
Tragically from AIDS, if you need to know why,
Outside the church window during his service that morn,
Sat that same white dove, I’ve solemnly sworn.
And just the other night, while holding her hand,
Praying that my wife would get better again,
Somehow, somewhere that dove had flown in,
It’s pure down feathers as white as her skin.
I knew it would come to help comfort me,
She will get better, we both shall see,
And just at that moment she opened her eyes,
And whispered, quite softly, to my surprise,
“Look, it’s your dove, as white as you said,
How did it get here, next to my bed?”
Then she sat up for the first time in a while,
And looked into my eyes with a reassuring smile.
I knew then, she would be okay,
And that is when the dove faded away,
I know I will see it again some day,
I still have a few “thank you”s, I need to say.
Entry in Animal Guardian Spirits contest
3rd Place - My first "Prize of Glory"
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 12 Contest // Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 8/31/2025 8:56:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 29, 2025
I did not come here to sprint.
I came to gather the pulse of the road,
to feel the gnaw of silence
against the bones of my resolve.
Each step is a revolution
against tiredness,
against the voices that murmur quit,
against the burden of what I once carried.
The horizon never hurries.
It waits, steady as a metronome,
marking time with the breath of dawn,
reminding me: endurance is a kind of prayer.
What is a marathon if not memory
unfolded across distance
the faces that hailed,
the hands that let go,
the griefs I refused to bury?
Still, I run.
Not because triumph is certain
but because the road demands witness.
Even the broke beg a compass.
I anchor my heart to the road,
woven mile after mile.
The finish is not some banner
it is the hour I see
fractures still hold weight.
And so I move,
one breath louder than surrender,
forty-two kilometers of fire
coursing through my veins.
If I falter, let it be forward.
If I fall, let it be on the line
where the road has already
turned me into flame.
Wolf moon leads off each year in a ferocious howling way,
Preparing frozen Snow moon to come out, frolic and play
Serious Snow moon is replaced by Worm moon in March.
Pink moon comes prancing merrily, without any starch.
Flower moon replaces Pink in the gentlest possible way
Her blossoms awaken Strawberry moon who is merry and gay.
Buck moon is next, displaying his gorgeous horns in a flash.
Sturgeon moon frolics forward now, leading a well -run dash.
September’s Harvest moon comes along and bumps Sturgeon out.
October’s Forest moon glides in gently, without any big shout.
Blood moon sashays forward, leaving a warm friendly trail.
With optimism, Ghost moon ends the year with her usual hale.
We are now back to Wolf moon, and the cycle starts over again.
So wise and apparent, this force of nature a totally natural win.
We recognize our moons as they prance forward year after year.
Realizing the moons are forever, so there is nothing to fear.
Jacque had been a flower girl in Jack’s brother’s wedding.
He was the ring bearer, who picked her basket up when she spilled it.
He dried her tears, and helped her collect the red rose petals.
Together they proceeded down the aisle, and she was in love.
They met at Jack’s brother’s sixth wedding. She was grown up.
She knew his eyes, but could not remember why she knew them.
No one remembered the story until after their own wedding.
Jack's Aunt May had discovered the photo of the two of them as children.
Gave the framed photo to them as a wedding present.
Saying, “God knew that you two were always meant to be.”
They could not stop smiling or dancing after they opened this gift.
Not remembering it on a conscious level, but loving the story.
I take a word and tear it apart
carwash
car jumps off the page and drives off
wash nabs ing and makes it stay
I add machine to washing
washing machine, an old-fashioned term
does anyone use it anymore?
Or is it like mathematics, reduced forever to math?
Bubbles fill up the laundry room
Bubba does a cartwheel as the bubbles dissipate
cart and wheel, I split them up too
Now they remind me of a prairie schooner not a gymnast’s trick
Bubba gloats a bit because he added the A himself after splitting from les
Words are stubborn, opinionated, they have their own ways and means
I stand back, watching in awe, wondering what their next move will be.
A slave of words.
One of the greatest pals that I have ever had,
Was a high school buddy and fellow grad!
He was renowned as the notorious class clown,
And his antics evoked from educators many a frown!
We had so many great times around Hagerstown!
'Twas hard to keep our youthful exuberance down,
As we raced up and down those tranquil streets,
Eluding frustrated cops on their nightly beats!
Often we double-dated with our sweethearts,
In my old '37 Ford that ran in fits and starts!
But our girlie friends didn't seem to mind,
As we cruised about with our arms entwined!
Upon graduation, in the Air Force I enlisted.
I asked him to enlist with me, but no he insisted!
In just a few years after we had parted,
The terrible conflict in Korea was started!
He answered the summons of his nation,
As others before him had met that obligation.
Mournful "Taps" was played over a hero's grave,
Alas, this time for beloved Jerry so gallant and brave!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
PFC Gerald V. McCoy was KIA, 23 Oct 1952, Triangle Hill, North Korea.
Entry for michael hornschurch's "Ode To A Friend" Contest
I see you coming, old age.
Approaching, at an ever-accelerating pace,
Your face grim
Your expression austere
Your look menacing.
A frightening sight you are
Yet,
I welcome you with open arms.
I yearn to embrace you
To be at your side
To celebrate the twilight of my life with you
To enjoy your company,
The company that so many at my age,
Had never had the chance to relish.
Innumerable battles I have fought in my life,
With vigor and youth at my side,
Thus
Victorious, I emerged,
But
Now, that my youth's allies are slowly abandoning me,
One after the other,
I am left alone to fight the last battle.
A battle, I know beforehand I am bound to lose.
However,
At this moment of trials
When all seems to get tougher by the day,
A new ally I have found, willing to help me,
All my courage to amass to confront you, with
Equanimity, oh, merciless old age:
The wisdom I have acquired all these years,
Roaming the planes of experience and
Learning!
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Demetrios Trifiatis
17 August 2026
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* This poem was written to celebrate my 82nd Birthday on the 15th of August 2026