Long Alert Poems
Long Alert Poems. Below are the most popular long Alert by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alert poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Anxiety about what I might think preceded me
As I sat on the stool in the middle of my living room
Ready to think about who knows what,
I relaxed for a moment and then closed my eyes.
Gratitude and peacefulness were my first feelings.
I smiled inside thinking about how literal Ingrid had taken me.
He remembered that I intended to write at 3:00 a.m.
As the clock ticked, Ingrid kept time for me…
Fear crossed my mind next, afraid of my own thoughts,
What they might be. Nightmares. Horrors.
Repressed experiences dreaded.
But thankfully, the ringing in my head saved me.
At least for that moment…
A few things slipped in. The Jeffery McDonald murders
That took place when I was stationed at Ft. Bragg, N.C.
The horror had anguished me on an off over the years.
Then, I heard the crickets again. Thankfully.
Next, a hit and run accident that was reported in the news years ago
Flashed through my mind…anxiety from Army days.
It had happened on a road we sometimes traveled.
Fear, reality check, and cricket sounds followed.
Yes, it is that cricket sound that I enjoy so much.
It took me to the natural world in all its beauty.
Little seeds germinating in my sunroom...
Crickets outside making their noise; I smiled again.
And the crickets in my head chirped.
I was thinking that this isn’t so bad after all.
I have learned to find happiness inside myself
Then, Ingrid said, “Time’s up.”
I felt relieved.
© March 1, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
My DARE: Dane, you picked Dare* I dare you to sit in the middle of your living room...
(on a chair if you have toooo!) Close your eyes, and feel for 5 minutes... (you will need a
stop watch that alert you when the 5 minutes are up. During them 5 minutes, you have
to feel everything, allow your strong emotions to feel. Even if you have little one's are
running or your cat is purring at your feet. Don't allow it to bother you. You have to
concentrate and find that one spot in the back of your mind. The part that digs real
deep into every feeling we forget is there. After the 5 minutes are up... Sit in the spot
where you write, and write for 10 minutes, Write about every thought that passed
through your mind in a poetic way, sad~happy~ mad, crazy.. and so on... Take us deep
into your mind... Thank you..pd
Confession…I wrote more than 10 minutes…time slipped up on me.
1
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing thee, thyself in turn.
Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke –
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.
I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore –
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
2
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.
Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.
I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more –
remembering thy portrait in my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
. 3
Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions, mind alert, thy hungering to learn.
Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.
I watch thee grow, and will, forever more –
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.
‘Tis all I have.
4
Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee.
Break loose those prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain –
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft –
all a capella – pure and long.
Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.
Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.
[Finis]
many of us are living lives of deficiency
not functioning at our full capacity
running on a tank that is half full
coasting in a life that's tired and dull
we make it through each week but only by a hair
TGIF, thank God Friday is now here
we're talented beings who have it going on
but none of that matters if we don't pass the baton
to move to the next level we need to realize
that all the gifts we get from God need to be maximized
to move to the next level take someone along
to making 2008 great by passing the baton
God has an anointing for each of us
God has an appointing for each of us
and despite what it is we think of ourselves
God is the medicine for our spiritual health
so fall down on your knees and to Him submit
going to the next level with a renewed spirit
all you have to do is give God all the praise
going to the next level elevated and now raised
living up to your full potential and no longer stalling
going to the next level by answering your calling
anointed, appointed now it's time for preparation
so let God guide you to your chosen destination
as all things work together for the good
for those whom love the Lord as they should
going to the next level by letting God use you
passing the baton and lighting someone else's fuse
the devil will give you hell so just hold on
as the army of God is on the horizon
the devil will attack your children and your heirs
just stay prayerful for God's Angels will appear
when the Philistines went out on a battle patrol
they were unaware that the new king was under God's control
down on his knees King David did pray
that God would give him the victory that day
the power of prayer is the manifest
that you trust God to answer your request
the power of prayer is more than happenstance
it's the belief that God will change your circumstance
to be placed by the Spirit in a position to stand and fight
for what you believe in and what you know is right
to put on the full battle armor of God
to put your enemies on alert and on guard
donning the Helmet of Salvation and carrying the Shield of Faith
feet shod in the Gospel of Peace and wearing a Righteous Breastplate
to know that God has already claimed
the victory for you in Jesus' name
so continue making it great in 2008 as the legacy lives on
on the next level at your full potential while passing the baton
how much is it worth to you to feel safe and secure?
how much would you spend? how much could you afford?
what is the monetary value that you would place on your life?
how much money would it take? how much would you sacrifice?
what price safety? what would be the cost?
what price safety? what would you spend to prevent the loss?
too frightened to get on the elevator in the building where you reside
don't know if you'll make it to your door before a thief is at your side
too scared to walk to your car alone in a public parking lot
don't know if you'll get the keys in the door before you're assaulted or shot
what price safety? how much money would you spend
just to have that feeling of security once again?
most every elected official in most every country in this world
have their own taxpayer funded security detail
the celebrities, movie stars and TV personalities
have personal body guards and/ or private security
America has been on heightened alert since the Twin Towers did fall
the airports, the borders and Homeland Security are constantly on the ball
security has become one of the nation's fastest growing industries
and you can't go anywhere in this world without showing identity
so how much would you spend to remove from your life that spirit of fear?
how many dollars would it take to protect what you hold dear?
there're not enough police to go around to be in society's face
so security officers take up the slack and stand in their place
we've become the front line defenders that the community sees
to detect, protect and defend them and their property
retailers spend thousands of dollars just to secure their goods
from thieves, boosters, shoplifters and your garden variety hoods
the government be it federal, county, city or state
use security officers to keep the peace in abate
yet without benefit of weapons, no batons, no vests or guns
we hold to our positions and we get the job done
we alert the police, FDNY and the EMTs
at the first signs of violence, fire and any emergency
but we're at a disadvantage when it comes to getting paid
for we barely make what would be considered a livable wage
what price safety? what would it be worth to you
to give security officers what they are due?
what price safety? I ask you once more
what price would you pay just to feel secure?
WHAT PRICE SAFETY?
I bet your beds comfy,
I imagine it smells of flowers and vanilla,
Or just the smell of clean,
And you have pillows,
Big soft voluptuous pillows,
And sheets,
Clean sheets.
I could sleep forever in a bed like that,
Literally forever,
And I bet you don’t even think about it,
Because it’s just a bed to you,
And it is,
Id probably cry if I could climb into like that everyday,
I’d cry if I could climb in for one day,
An hour or two,
The comfort would be amazing but -,
probably too comfortable for someone like me,
I’m used to the cardboard thats under me,
And Im quite attached to the bag that I sleep in,
Even the smell settles me,
And trust me when I tell you -
It’s not flowers or vanilla !
The noises of the night are my lullabies,
And the crisp cut of the cold keeps me alert,
Keeps me safe,
You probably wouldn’t understand,
But I’m glad of that,
A bed would be nice,
The comfort would be nicer,
But it’s the home that it’s in that makes it special,
A comfy bed - that’s safe, in a house,
A home,
Secure,
Free from the fear of a random threat,
That’s why you can sleep so well in your comfy bed,
Because your safe,
Because your free to sleep,
Where as my sleep can cost me dearly,
If I fall asleep I can lose the little that I have,
Even the shoes off my feet,
If I fall asleep I could be woken with a kick or a punch,
If I fall asleep,
I might not wake up at all,
So your bed is comfy and would be nice,
But it’s the fact you can sleep freely which is special,
So treasure your bed,
Enjoy your sleep,
And be thankful for your freedom.
I’m not jealous ,
I wouldn’t wish my situation on anyone,
I don’t even wish it on myself but I accept it,
If I fought it I wouldn’t be here now.
All I ask is that -
Next time you see a homeless person,
Remember a little kindness goes along way.
Life’s a funny bugger -
There was a time when I had a comfy bed,
In a nice loving house,
There was a time when I would look at the homeless I passed in the street,
Never once imagining that the cardboard mattress next to them was reserved for me
So sleep well good people,
Treasure what yo have because time is fleeting,
Good fortune is a gift,
When you climb into your bed tonight,
Stop for a second to appreciate it,
Just ..... appreciate it for me,
Because I can’t.
Not right now anyway,
But hey -
It is what it is.
An email written to eldest daughter
December 28th, 2019,
which unwittingly, magically, accidentally...
resurfaced while scrolling
thru outdated emails
and OpenOffice documents of mine
thee evening of February 20th, 2022.
The remaining lines
comprising reasonable poetic rhyme
sent to said offspring
more than two plus years ago
and dada feels grief no more, cuz time
heals all wounds.
Papa unexpectedly overtaken with woe
flashback shook me complex edifice
head, shoulder, knees in to toe
quietly processing silent film status quo
shant upended jollity
between when a little girl no
matter mine nonconformist
mien unconditionally accepted,
ye dear daughter(s) don't know
sudden onset of anguish ho... ho... ho
holiday cavorting accentuated as
charade, facade, masquerade fueling ego
particularly Santa with the Misses,
and her sharp faux claws
keeping warm while
temperature five below.
No matter most every detail
I accurately gauge to attest
your life bustling
chock full o' zest
withheld, no doubt emotions
smolder within your chest
and kudos to thee lovely offspring
(both) packed bags
and headed out west
twas honorable duty, though now...
papa feels like
an unwanted guest
thee survived, albeit psyche bruised,
undergoing the electric
kool aid acid test
laughter when playing
Mancala, Uno, Sorry, et cetera,
how dada predictably did jest
when table turned,
I (spoiler Craigslist curb alert)
willingly, lovingly, and blithely
lost desire to win quest
to dispose cards, game
pieces, and/or glass beads
invariably other occasions
ye long since left (as thee must)
me and mother with an empty nest.
Nothing more doth
Matthew Scott ask or desire
then to delight and bask
as well educated hire
swimmingly how thee
learned to acquire
confidence and multitasking,
while I trod thru much
psychological muck mire
oft times (like now)
experiencing financial straits dire,
linkedin to when only youngster fire
within me belly to joie de vivre
peter out and prematurely expire
and yours truly reckons nothing
can change the past aghast being
deprived a marshmallow
at long ago time sharing campfire
with shortcomings scalding,
killing, crimping relationship,
courtesy lack of income
rendered paternal bond disastrously dire
doth now conclude another poetic wire.
An Evil War
They walk the plains of sun-dried grass,
together in a row;
the mothers, with their young ones, pass
to search for food and go
for miles with thirst to find a drink;
as dry season appears.
They walk along, each one in sync,
alert with eyes and ears.
On different paths, the males walk too
to feed as they patrol,
and somehow they, with inner clue,
all find a water hole.
And peacefully they live their days,
adapt to nature's reign
that serves them well to drink and graze
and procreate their strain.
But space in their domain is less...
encroached by humankind,
uncaring of the crowding stress
they leave on them behind.
Still worse, they have become aware
of threats of crueler kind,
and learned to watch, to hide, beware
of horrors which they find.
So oft they see a sight disturbed...
sprawled out along their path;
a member of their precious herd...
they trumpet loud with wrath.
They stop and mourn like humans do,
stand vigil, shocked and chilled;
caress the faceless friend they knew...
who for his tusks...was killed.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Evil Is Everywhere
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 10/08/2016
BBC News: The War On Elephants: April 28, 2016
"Bloated and eerily upright the large adult elephant was still standing where it had been killed - just next to the stream - its face hacked off....It had been fleeing the carnage in the mud 100m or so away, where the remains of four other adults and one young elephant lay fallen and disfigured, their tusks and trunks all taken for ivory and meat. Like a macabre statue, this faceless animal stood as a landmark to the horrors of poaching, of the ivory trade, and of the mass slaughter of the last remaining elephants in central Africa...
“It's worth so much more than just the animals. It's about trying to stabilise a whole region which has been unstable for decades. It's about trying to basically build peace. And that is why we wake up every morning, why everyone fights this war, and why we try and save the elephants. It's about basically saving Congo. On 23 April 2016, three rangers were killed in a fresh clash with poachers. Park manager Erik Mararv and another ranger were badly injured."
When you see the desolating (Emptiness or destruction) abomination (a thing that causes disgust or hatred) standing where he should not
Then those in Judea must flee to the mountains
A person on a housetop must not go down or enter to get anything out of his
house
And a person in a field must not return to get his cloak
Woe to pregnant women and nursing mothers in those days
Pray that this does not happen in winter
For those times will have tribulation such as has not been since the beginning of God's creation until now
Nor ever will be
If the Lord had not shortened those days
No one would be saved
But for the sake of the elect whom He chose
He did shorten the days
If anyone says to you then
'Look
Here is the Messiah! Look
There He is!
Do not believe it
False messiahs and false prophets will arise and will perform signs and wonders in order to mislead
If that were possible
The elect
Be watchful
I have told it all to you beforehand
But in those days after that tribulation the sun will be darkened
And the moon will not give its light
And the stars will be falling from the sky
And the powers in the heavens will be shaken
And then they will see
The Son of Man coming in the clouds
With great power and glory
And then he will send out the angels and gather his elect from the four winds
From the end of the earth to the end of the sky
Learn a lesson from the fig tree
When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves
You know that summer is near
In the same way
When you see these Things happening
Know that he is near
At the gates
Amen
I say to you
This generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place
Heaven and earth will pass away
But my words will not pass away
But of that day or hour
No one knows
Neither the angels in heaven
Nor the Son
But only the Father
Be watchful
Be alert
You do not know when the time will come
It is like a man traveling abroad
He leaves home and places his servants in charge
Each with his work
And orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch
Watch therefore
You do not know when the lord of the house is coming
Whether in the evening
Or at midnight
Or at cockcrow
Or in the morning
May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping
What I say to you
I say to all
'Watch
[MK 13:14-37]
SUGAR, SPICE, SOUL
Oh, yes~ my friends, that is what poet friends are made of!!
Givers, in the main, not takers. You can count on their constancy.
They read you more than once a year. Not…run over your poem
like a speed bump with no feelings!! They even soupmail you, to ask,
“How’s it going, my friend?” And you really should do the same!
If they really are your friends, they do not, like ghost-ships…disappear
into the foggy night! Nor worse, have the rule…
” I only read, who reads me!” This really would limit my world!
Just pretty words and form-acumen, nor cleverness, a poet,do not make.
It takes a true, warm soul. Whether simple or complex the poem, it is still great artistry! It is sugar and spice for the soul!
Find some soul poet friends, you can trust.Not rare, but you may find
some out to harm you. They haven’t the courage to tell you what is wrong.
So they sneak under other poet’s comments to insult you. It’s painful to
find oneself being shredded. But for me, simply confusing.
The ones with fangs work behind the scenes,actively, working to get you removed from the site. Yes, no kidding. So be forewarned! There are poets with backbone who do stop this infantile and malicious behavior.
God bless them! Hugs to such genteel poets.
I have poets alert me to any evil going on. Hugs to them all. Their numbers
are few, but such poets with high integrity!
Such chutzpah, they have and will back you to eternity.
There are excellent poets on site with over fifty years experience writing
poetry.
Then those who just began. Like myself! Be patient with yourself. Learn the
classical forms. It helps control your thoughts gets your message across clearly.
I wish you all sincere, long friendships here and the joy of writing your best
poetry. An acclaimed poet told me, “The number of poems you write is highly
insignificant. The quality of the poem, is far more important.” I
I do miss Connie Wong as many of you still do. She was the poet’s poet!! Unafraid to pen more than four words in a comment. Never a cookie
cutter comment from her. One felt embraced by her. Remember that?
No “drive-by” comments from that angel. Now in heaven.
Wishing you all sugar, spice and soul! Not only in poetry, but in life!
Panagiota Romios
10/7/2022