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.
When going to school at a tender age,
The little girl would put on her socks and shoes,
Give her parents a goodbye kiss,
And run out with her school bag and lunchbox,
A smile upon her face, filled with joy and happiness,
Excited to learn a new word from her teacher.
Days turned into months,
And months into years,
Until finally came her graduation day—
The day she would leave those beautiful school days behind.
Afterward, her school uniform and school necessities
Rested quietly in the wardrobe,
Becoming memories of her beautiful early days.
She looked at them, sighed, and said,
"Indeed, this is where you finally ended,
After being with me through my beautiful early days." ??
A female coyote pup was rescued
by the Arizona Game and Fish Commission,
whom afterward, came to be known as Riley.
A sickly lion cub that was auctioned off, abandoned and left to die,
was rescued and named Anthony, by an animal sanctuary
known as Keepers of the Wild.
The two arrived at nearly the very same time,
and were the same age, and also the same size.
They grew up together, and formed a strong bond.
While it’s a bit alarming to see the small coyote being pounced on,
when at play with the now much larger lion,
you can see clearly that the lion would never do her any harm,
when they curl up together afterward,
there’s no mistaking their mutual affection,
Riley the coyote and the lion Anthony,
continue to be very close friends,
and are in the process of adopting,
a wolf cub from China that was orphaned,
and so now another very special bond is forming,
between a coyote, a lion and a wolf cub orphaned.
Inside, rage sufficiently evolves and simmers
It sprawls systematically, abrading my dinkum mind,
The eager embers are zealously veeled by Satan
Until his fierce rage and evil seep into my veins
My mind and thinking are comatose
A fierce ache for blood has me quite oblivious
As yet, I'm on the verge of yielding to the blaze
By the dazzling haze, a radiant voice screams
Let promptly withdraw of umbrages
Afterward, you shall hoist the flaming mantle
My stern eyes are bared by the keen timbre
When I've excused, shout whip, and escape
Forgiveness arises the way to waiving the past
1st PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Written: March 21, 2022
A Brian Strand 1093 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
They built him where the cliffs outlived the storms,
stone stitched to stone by hands that feared surrender.
His windows faced the horizon,
yet none were made to open.
The gulls called every morning.
He answered only with echoes.
Winters polished his walls into silver,
summers baked silence into every crack.
Travelers praised his strength,
never noticing the ivy growing inward.
One autumn, the tide stopped asking permission.
It climbed the rocks
not with rage,
but patience—
a language granite never learned.
Night after night
the sea rehearsed the same sentence
until the cliffs began repeating it
in their sleep.
No tower collapsed.
No banner fell.
Yet somewhere beneath the oldest stone,
where no map had ever reached,
a single drop of saltwater
remembered
it had once belonged
to an ocean.
And that was enough.
For years afterward,
the castle remained exactly as it had always seemed—
except that every sunrise,
those who listened carefully
could no longer tell
whether the wind
was leaving,
or something inside
had finally begun
to breathe.
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop, Wop
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop
The moment I laid eyes on you
I knew it was true love
You were sharing a root beer float with your friends
Down at the soda shop
I looked debonair in my Pompadour
You cute in your poodle skirt
I took out my comb to slick down the sides
As you smiled, giggled, and twirled
I asked if you'd like to go out
Just you and me on a date
I picked you up at seven o'clock
In my 56' Chevrolet
Your father gave me a stern look
Your mother a gleam in her eye
He asked where we were going
Why church sir, I said with a smile
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop, Wop
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop
I took you to the drive in
Bobs Burgers and Late Night Shakes
Afterward, we both went dancing
At the Hop just down the street
You had my heart all in a flutter
As we slowed danced all night
It was then I knew for certain
That I would make you my lovely wife
I got you home way past your curfew
Your dads silhouette by the front door
You said I can't go back to that
I pressed the peddle to the floor
So here we are these many years later
Me as your husband you as my wife
With our grandkids playing about our feet
Thinking back to that fateful night
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop, Wop
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop
In the summertime there were lots of cars and trucks moving up and down Cherry alley where I lived. Like the local bakery truck, many would stop to peddle their wares or deliver their goods. Their engines were not machined as perfect as today and so, when idling, they would inevitably leak some oil onto the asphalt.
In the late afternoon on those warm summer days, an occasional thundercloud would appear. Those dark heavy clouds would then split open like chickpeas, spilling their contents on us. For a short while, those brief, intense downpours would beat everything into submission, then pass as quickly as they had come. Afterward, the sun would appear from behind the clouds in full glory; puffed up to full intensity as though to say: “if you thought that was something, feel this!” Then she would cast her fierce fire upon the asphalt until thin rivulets of steam would rise from the street. It seemed an upward-bound wagon train of raindrops fleeing the sun's heat; attempting to return to the safety of their cloud.
Behind them they left oil slicks in ever widening circles of rainbow colors.
It seemed a reflection of joy as the oil embraced the warmth of the sun. The circles spread outward like the blossoming of a flower. It was like the thankfulness of a prayer I shared with them for the precious gift of sunlight.
I will always remember the beauty of the rainbows on the street where I lived.
Today, I see people who choose only to visit the dark side of their lives.
The oil slick on their road. For them, everything appears ugly or wrong.
But given that we have a choice, wouldn’t each life be so much brighter
if we looked at things through the beauty of the rainbows.
Copper metal is a valuable wartime commodity.
Something new was needed for the cent in 1943.
A strange composition the United States Mint would reveal.
Lincoln’s profile appeared on a coin made of steel.
It was plated with zinc to reduce oxidation.
They were struck at all three mints in the nation.
The three cities were ones that most people would know.
They were Philadelphia, Denver, and San Francisco.
Here is an interesting little trivia tidbit:
This coin is the only one that can be drawn to a magnet.
However, zinc-coated cents were made for just one year.
Afterward, familiar bronze cents would reappear.
The mint made a move two years before that was similar.
They replaced the nickel in five-cent pieces with silver.
A large “P”, “D”, or “S”, appeared above Monticello.
This indicated a silver five-cent piece so you would know.
The following year, production of steel cents would cease.
The mint used the metal to make the Belgian two-franc piece.
Therefore, this is what the United States Mint did for the war.
After 1945, we did not have to worry about it anymore.
To the tune of "Shoo Fly"
Chorus:
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
I don't care to share your company
Chorus:
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
I don't want to be your next meal to eat.
Chorus:
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
I'm letting all bears know I'm in their vicinity.
Chorus:
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
Shoo Bear, don't bother me.
One More Time With Harmony!
The above is a hiking song I created and sing,
either alone or with others, whenever I find myself hiking.
If you let bears know that you're in their vicinity,
the bears will ignore you instinctively .
It is only when one is hiking silently
and happens to startle a bear surprisingly
is when the situation will most likely end in tragedy.
You will become the bear's next meal most probably
and the bear will be hunted and killed afterward unfortunately.
The language of our elders
whispers soft upon our skin.
We see it in the landscape of our lives.
Trees dance to it.
They pull the soul of life
from out the earth.
We will say the flowers grow.
We will say the winds blow.
But the truest words of our language
are the ones that we forget to know.
When we speak to our children
it is from the echoes that we hear.
Those soft sunbeams of birth
upon canyon walls.
Those fierce winds that bellow
down the halls of our lost heritage.
We are the nature
we feel separated from.
The wind is our spirit,
without the burden of time.
The sun was our vision
before we could see to rhyme.
We will always be together
in the heartbeat that is God,
and I will be upon your skin as sunshine
and I will be upon your breath as air
and we will dance upon the earth
to the music of languages
born before our lives were here.
Seems like only yesterday we carved our names in the bark of an old oak,
Each letter was a promise of tomorrow and forever, dreams of our future together~
Endless time, though each moment flitted by like a firefly at twilight,
Moving in and out of focus as we tried to catch the starlit skies
So close and yet so far.
Lightly did the world rest
In our love like a feather
Keeping us warm in the fabric of time,
Each moment creating a memory.
Years pass by and are scattered like leaves in the autumn breeze
Entering at the cold threshold of winter, the fabric no longer keeps us warm,
Seams start to unravel as life becomes a threadbare rag where beauty once created patterned
Tapestries of color,
Each thread wrapped around the presence of your laughter and spirit of you becoming one with me~
Roughly life has taken the half of me that was you,
Death is the curtain through which you have passed and through which I will soon follow,
Afterward the stars may write our epilogue as we journey in realms unseen,
Yet our names will remain carved in the bark of that old oak.