Long Afterward Poems
Long Afterward Poems. Below are the most popular long Afterward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Afterward poems by poem length and keyword.
June and Johnny got out of his car
June and Johnny, wishing on a star
June and Johnny took a short walk
June and Johnny had a little talk
On just one thing did they agree
The time had come to make a little baby
June was fifteen; Johnny a year older
As they disrobed, their feet got colder
June bit her lip; said she was scared
Johnny stiffened inside; he actually cared
for his honey, but when he saw her bare
June froze him with her innocent stare...
...In each other's arms they found ecstasy
reaching unimagined heights, pure fantasy
though afterward, their deep sighs exhaled
they each on a sharp knife of guilt, the other impaled
although revenge is said to be sour in the stomach
but sweet to the mouth and that is why it doesn’t matter
what happens afterward,
the old fool sharpens the dagger
to take revenge on those who made his life miserable
in the unquenchable flames of long harboring grudges
the shadow of the old fool squats down between a heaps of
useless settings that once have delighted the audiences
with added splendid sceneries to the stage,
moves back and forth gruesomely to sharpen the dagger
on the magnificent stage
the resentful performers’ spirits such as an actress
who was stoned to death because of jealousy,
an actor stabbed to death by a dagger of conspiracy,
a woman strangled to death under licentious taleteller’s tongue,
a man ran over by a carriage on the wheels of evil desire,
one who took his own life
after long and repetitious sleepless nights’ agonies
on the death of another that caused his misconception,
and many other leading and villain players’ victimized souls
come and go as if a gruesome Grim Reaper waited to see them
and snatch another from the stage
the old fool
surrounded by such sorrowful mistreated spirits
stares at the sharp edged knife with a bloodthirsty look
picturing the faces that must die under this dagger,
imaging the day of shaking the victims’ blood off from it
with complacent smile of satisfaction on his waning face
nonetheless, the face reflected on the blade was
no one else’s but his own careworn image,
the weather-beaten old man who went through a long life’s whirlpools
the old fool is
surrounded by the spirits
those of the falsely accused, mistreated,
and agonizing dead on the stage,
sharpening the dagger wet with his own tear drops on the stone
Daughter-Dad. John Valasco. July 2025
———————
Daughter
You held me close
but let me look out ,
to people, friends,
pets to touch,
to the sun and moon,
clouds, rain, snow
and space.
I could feel your warmth,
your voice, your heartbeat,
your breath on my head,
you tickled me and we laughed,
you always kept me close
and safe.
It was a great seat,
to see your world, my world also,
from the vantage point of a grown child.
You wanted me to see, to hear
the world, so that when it was my turn,
it wasn’t a surprise , but beautiful
with grace.
Dad
You let me hold you
in my arms. You were
front and center for so much.
Trips to pick apples,
find the perfect Christmas tree
and tasting hot chocolate afterward,
your star shined.
To hear your voice,
your laughter would make me smile.
Sometimes a tickle
would make you squiggle.
Other times you fell asleep,
I still held you front and center,
you were so kind.
I was the luckiest dad
to have you so close,
the adventures we shared
have lasted our lifetimes.
Holding you close now
means a big ol’ hug,
you are on my mind.
Blind Date
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
A gentleman demeanour patented so extraordinary on a blind date in look and style will sway a lady from her doubt where in a foyer she looks a stray.
She will mend the hole in the chasm of her pretension on his compelling hook.
She has a curious look in the rendezvous to find her beau.
He is the niche of the night standing out in black and navy.
He is tall and in a class of his own.
This she was told.
His eyes will lure her over to his haunt.
And quick like magnet she is bound attracted.
She plays along.. her show begins
Excited she reverses her refuse to meet him.
Her cold shoulder now baits come-on !
he reads.
He gravitates a start and drops a bold stop to make a move.
How do you do is his groove approach
I note a little sudor on your face.
He opens with a rugged smile and a glint as she takes the hint.
Her eyes flutters wide like a wife to be.
He draws out a bright white fragrant hankerchief from his jacket pocket and brushes a subtle wipe off on her face.
After she was swept she craft's her hand around his arm.
Not a word was spoken after this persuasion and from her word alright she was charmed throughout the night by her shining knight.
Afterward the ball was filled with bedroom eye's and they were admired throughout the night.
Traveling down the memory lane paved a long time ago,
I remember when I was completing graduation,
what profession I’d pursue afterward I didn’t know,
one professor gave my career a direction to follow.
A short statured profoundly erudite humble person,
introduced me to the fascinating facets of geology,
and to the intricacies of the earth in a simple way,
expounding its interesting evolution history.
The complex lattice of crystals he made clear to me,
using designed diagrams and meticulous models,
showed me in the field what in the rocks to see,
opened window in microscope on the world of minerals.
His unique way of teaching influenced my young mind,
ingrained in me a deep interest in the marvels of nature,
leading me to continue my studies in earth science,
creating the launching pad for my satisfactory career.
I won’t forget him for I realize with sense of gratitude
how the course of fulfilling life a teacher carves out,
not only by sensible sustenance of the imbibed acumen,
but by molding the mind to be satisfied with the shaped life.
Our severe pain is unforgivable at eternal night.
I twist over, my brain hustling with mystic insight.
Cries made me exuberantly sad, letting my sting.
I felt bound that could never be fit of stirring.
Your gloomy yell penetrates the serene quietness.
Leastwise, I realized you'd befall a whiner pitiless.
You've arrived at my most prominent gateway.
Once again, it roused me up, as it had all sultry day.
I let forward a puncturing shout of agony.
Once again, I will not scorn the cease eagerly.
And reject the thoughts mugging my reasoning.
Grasp my once-living voguish is promptly dying.
The blade was in a distinct area to my brawny arms.
Reverberations of our ultimate hug hang my eyes.
Such much sorrow stuffed into a cramped space.
And all I lack is to regain a place in the audience.
I'd wisely prefer seeing genuine compassion.
Except for me, everyone is in repletion.
Afterward, why are you pounding on my door?
I was dodging, similar to the mild night before.
I'm going to have you removed right away.
It happened as soon as it was made defray
My supplications and asks for salvage were unmet.
I'm mindful of our dreadful period once onset.
How random do you admit your mentality?
But voicing regret isn't enough in this vicinity.
Remember me for a type of contact with you.
Sorry for the hassle, yet my choice is too true.
It was vital for me to do what I did.
I couldn't stay with you anymore; I want a slid.
I needed to awaken and concede my misstep.
That you'd follow me until the night with no pep.
We can scarcely improve anything right yet.
And I must say I'm right from the outset.
For the time term, "I'm apologetic" will not vow.
You've broken my soul and granted me a bow.
You can't undo the wrongs you've done.
You didn't opine over what you shun.
You had the only choice but to perform this.
But our relationship has cooled an abyss.
Can't you consider your acts have altered you?
Supporting for my freedom to cognition blew.
However, it needed lasting by till ends survival.
Rusty mind that deadly sins were unforgivable.
Written: November 11, 2021
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
The surgeon had successfully removed his libido,
then had fed it to the hospital cat. Afterward,
a series of stuttering expeditions through mind-tunnels
condensed days into moments.
Corridors became tubes,
empty except for a memory of a pretty nurse,
a few demented ghosts---their white bottoms;
beluga whales, peering through the slits
of ice-coated gowns.
She stood by an incinerator watching him,
flames licked at its open iron door.
The woman undressed,
threw her uniform into the fire,
then jumped naked into the flames.
Stepping out of the oven,
the nurse, in moments, returned.
Her body now reduced to molten silver.
She gleamed fluidly
He wanted to flow through her,
to mingle his pale carcass
with her pristine silver rivering.
Suddenly he understood...
"You're my libido!" He said.
She smiled acknowledgement.
"Do I need to enter the fire?"
"No, you need to find the cat." She replied.
He had forgotten. "Yes that damn cat!”
"Meanwhile" she continued,
"poop into this bedpan."
T C
O O
E L
S D
as are the satiny sheets; gossamer
bright veil overcomes the four-post
bed, where your openness envelops
the goose down pillows. i avoid their
feathery touch to lie my ringlets upon
your handsome chest. the steady beat
grows stronger...peaks. we both, like
passionate-wine…. like the twilight or
sunrise sky, transformed from vanilla
to plum. the warmth reddens our hair
to Viking-strength, thrusts like waves,
the rapturous ebb and flow sea - down,
down to our feet. This duo - a waterbed,
two currents of a tantalizing hot tsunami.
hibiscus lips, likewise slide and light
disappears as eyelids shut tight in moan.
afterward serpentine struggle remains in
the volcanic ember of wrinkled sheets and
W T
A O
R E
M S
There are gaps in the particleboard;
quince wads fill the breaches.
Nicotine newspapers underlay the linoleum.
It's a rented place, he tiptoes
around its yellow layers.
He has a friend he visits on Sunday afternoons.
The walls of her bedsit are paper thin.
She thinks her neighbors scratch on them;
thinks they are writing to her.
She will stand in front of him
naked, eyes closed while they both masturbate.
She wants him to watch her.
She's frightened people will overhear.
This is all the sex she needs; she tells him.
Afterward, they sit side by side
on the small bed reading the tabloids.
Then they walk to a local pub,
sit quietly in a corner, not talking,
holding hands until closing time.
She becomes a missing person.
He scans headlines, obituary columns,
classified ads.
Her parents live in Surrey,
that's all he knows.
On the other side of the city,
he lands a job with a room in a hotel.
He stops looking for her.
His new room is narrow, clean and white.
He stops smoking;
remembers the silence
once shared.
There is a Sully* thing, called, ‘love’
Among ordinary men,
That bears there, oft, much talking of
Though the ‘how’ is beyond our ken!
Love is the Glue that keeps atoms from flying off together,
And ordinary people know, but don’t know how to tell you
That something magical’s at work, some Godly kind of Weather;
‘O! Love, if you were just a CAT, why THEN, we could just bell you!’
What makes Love so impossible? So hard, and so mysterious
To well define? (I cannot say, the thought makes me delirious!)
And yet, there must be some small way in which our sacrifices
… suffice to bring Peace, Nearness, and to thwart evil devices?
There is a Sully* thing, called, ‘Love’
Among ordinary men,
That bears there, oft, much talking of
Though the ‘how’ is beyond our ken!
*I have created a word, and afterward, justified its creation and use. ‘Sully’ H.W. Bush is a service dog, whose picture went viral, when he laid down next to his former owner’s coffin. Many were touched by his demonstration, and so, perhaps there IS such a thing as ‘Sully’ Love! ;-)