Long Around Poems
Long Around Poems. Below are the most popular long Around by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Around poems by poem length and keyword.
Freedom,
It comes with a price usually lost lives
so lets call it blood money
this money been threw a constant tug of war
and it don't matter how many
just look at the lives lost
look how much your American freedom cost
and I been a soldier yea I know the creed
but like Biggie said "Niggas Bleed Just Like Us"
so I guess true lyricist bleed whether alive or dead
but enough said, and if you been threw the struggle
you know what I mean it ain't about the green
but how you carry yourself
It ain't what you know, but how you use it
and real niggas gotta feel this yea tru shhh!!
and forget my skin color,
lyrically I made my words fade to black
and I was brought up on ounces of that good in a nap sack
but just because physically you a street nigga mentally
that ain't where you gotta stay at
freedom is between the mind set and the imagination
the difference between taking responsibility
for your actions, and just laying back contemplating
your business & procrastinating and look around you
everybody fears someone or something
and if they say other wise they bluffing
everybody is leaving this earth one way or another
so I suggest my sisters & brothers
you stop chasing this highly anticipated blood money
because with the right motivation
you can be everything you want and more
you're already free well your spirit is and
that's the only thing that matters where I'm going
forget being lost, at age 17 I was found and finally set
FREE
Each memory made
Is just an added page to a story of a small life that will end one day
But before my timely demise, I will collect more moments to read for those ending days, with my remainder of time
When my ability to make new memories is no longer a choice of mine
After my body has lost all communication with my mind
I will have an endless book filled with chapters
Taken from a story of a life, I am proud when looking back to call mine
It will read the tale of a girl who turned pain into pearls and wore them around her neck screaming:" I’m ready for you world!".
Who grew into a woman birthing her own kin
Eventually, teaching and leading her to be the warrior she holds within
Guiding and showing her that she's the author and illustrator of her dreams
Every minute lived is a page
That will one day become an access point
To chapters and the memories in between
And one day time will take back what it's graciously lent
Making new entries stop
Creating our inevitable end
So make many memories with care
Remember, seconds make minutes and moments of time
As pages collected mentally timestamp days lived and survived
So fill each page
Until the end of your book of life
Last night I got a call.
- The fall is coming.
The moon is getting brighter, bigger.
Air is getting sweeter, full of magic.
Star dust is sprinkling from the sky
and even pill popping ghosts are growing wings.
Knit me a dress from the evening fog
and watch me shimmer in a dim light of street lamps.
Back home wrap a blanket around my naked shoulders,
hand me a mug of hot, jasmine tea
and let in that chilly wind knocking at the window,
whispering all the secret spells, wishes, dreams…
I hid mine in the eyes, scared to say them out loud,
for during the fall everything can happen.
Especially when you are a witch.
Form:
Once a lovely lady held me in her hands to dig holes,
in her beautiful garden full of flowers of all kinds;
we were always moving things around, here and there,
or planting new- somehow, together we found the space.
When finished she would place me against a brick wall,
of course, that is after she cleaned me, she was so kind;
during the winter she would put me in the garden shed,
then, in the spring out I would come to work with her.
One day she put me against the wall and I just waited,
the day, turned into another day, then weeks, months;
the summer ended, autumn came and went, it was cold,
I leaned on that wall all winter, I could feel the rusting.
Somehow, I knew that lovely lady was gone forever,
I was in a dark place as I watched to garden go to waste;
oh, wished I could just be thrown in the garbage,
then, the summer came and I felt a hand touch me.
It was a young woman, so pretty, she said hello,
you are just what I need to fix up this old garden;
I was so happy to get to work- and we did that day,
she told me that this was her gran's home- now hers.
Each day we worked and soon the garden was delightful,
she would sing as we worked, oh, I loved that so much;
and at the end of the day, she cleaned me very well,
and placed me safe in the garden shed not against a wall.
Birthday in the sky
Dedicated robert thomas madden 28/09/75- 01/02/2015
As another birthday rolls around,
Its another i will cry,
As we celebrate in sadness,
Your birthday in the sky....
I miss you with my very being,
And every breath i take,
Another year with out you dad,
Another year il ache...
No texts, calls or cake for you,
But you’ll have a birthday all the same,
We do something special every year,
Even the boys know your name...
So happy birthday daddy,
I hope iv done you proud...
Sending you half kisses,
As you sit upon your Cloud....
>>>> love you......
Glistening Glimmer;
Glitter Gold to chase
The Pot.
A Richness Galour
Of Fallen ANGELS,
Beauty...
..That Shimmers A
Love Featherd among
A White wing spread.
To the pearly gates of
PETER I have come to
An understanding: agape'
Love is all around.
So bless those who
Will follow me, and fear
The ones who don't.
As I Step up to the stair
Way to heaven... To
Open my soul.
To lead gods exsample,
For he was known
To retain all sin, and release
Them to his flood of Wrath...
Beyond the waters.
Against 40 days n' 40 nights,
To survive it's blasting roar;
I have become one with him
For he is my true father... For
He is Our only GOD!
Aboard boat by TWO'S.
The epic moments of time
Zooming around the planets
Leaves bounding of thunder
Dissolve the cracks
Starts to show
Is the cause you are following real
Or is it a fabrication of your imagination
Is the seat you are sitting on
The seat you suppose to be sitting on
Or is a monument of your belief
Is the lover you call a lover
In your heart
Or is it a wishful thinking
Is the truth you are telling yourself
The truth you suppose to be telling yourself
Or is it a crusade of your insecurities
The sea starts to collide
With the coldness of the ocean
Leaves a powerful mark
All would be done
In the name of the one who bears the soul
There once was a yew tree
So tall and so grand
It lived in wide and vast open land
It loved to feel the breeze
And loved the great rain
The yew tree new it would never know pain
Then once came a cutter
So big and so bold
It came for the wood so it could be sold
The yew tree begged to live
It only could cry
It loved it’s land and didn’t want to die
The cutter couldn’t hear
But only the breeze
He could not hear the beg of grand yew tree
And so tears of sap fell
It knew it was time
But cutter only thought of the money sublime
He swung his axe but stopped
As a squirrel sat
Atop the leaves and on the highest branch
The cutter thought and said,
“I can’t take a home,
So the cutting will have to be postponed”
The cutter left and sighed
And the squirrel cheered
Now safe and saved, the yew tree’s dread was cleared
Again the cutter came
But now a deer stayed
“To make a bow of this tree I’ll be paid”
The cutter says upset
The deer stays in place
And the cutter sighs, “I’ll stay in case”
The cutter stayed, night, day
And saw the beauty
Around him. He realized God made the tree.
He knew the tree was more
More than wood for bows
A home for squirrels, shade for deer, for birds to crow
He say and he waited
And watched the days pass
Then chose to not cut the tree at last
“Oh great yew tree, grand, tall
I won’t cut you down
After all” the cutter said, without a frown
“Though your berries poison,
Your wood good for bows
I will not cut you, animals need you, I know”
The cutter left the tree
the animals cheered
The yew tree only knew one thing it feared
The yew tree was happy
As animals prayed
And as cutters came, they never stayed
Autumn approached about a week ago as stealthily as a fox!
The corn has been shucked and the golden fodder stands in shocks.
Luscious apples have been plucked from every supple bough.
Sweet-scented alfalfa for the cattle has been stowed in the mow.
In yon woods the trees wear robes of brilliant yellows and reds.
Excited children have been burnishing the runners on their sleds!
The rasp of crosscut saws resounds from yonder oak tree grove,
As many cords of wood are sawn for the parlor heating stove!
Skeins of majestic geese grace the sky in their southward wing.
We'll miss their haunting cries but they'll return again come spring.
Cellar bins bulge with onions, punkins and sweet pertaters.
Shelves groan 'neath jars of corn, beans and beefsteak termaters!
Tom Turkey is being fattened up completely oblivious of his fate.
Unbeknownst to that strutting dude, he has a portentous dinner date!
Squirrels scurry about collecting nuts with vigorous animation,
Hiding them hither and yon about my lawn for later exhumation!
Wafting leaves weave a carpet of gold and scarlet upon the lawn.
The rising sun tinted the first snow on the mountain's crest at dawn.
Vagabond zephyrs that now gently shove the lifeless leaves around,
Anon, will become shrieking gales piling drifts of snow upon the ground!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
On this path again this evening, I return
watching golden rays fall
on the beloved grassy banks-
and my soul feels gently lifted
by the scent of lotus,
my heart unfolding
like a hundred golden chrysanthemums.
I hear, somewhere,
the river’s loving murmur,
whispering through yearning stones.
I hear, somewhere,
a bird’s sweet song
carried on the soft breeze,
and buffalo hooves returning-
chewing the same dew-drenched grass
from that very first dawn.
On this village road,
this evening, yellow leaves fall in abundance,
and my soul rejoices
like a laughing child.
Outside someone’s fence,
bougainvillea blossoms wildly—
like the smile of a nine-year-old sister,
like the gleam of joy
in an old mother’s eyes upon her porch.
In someone’s garden,
a young girl hangs her clothes in the twilight,
dreamily gazing toward the far horizon.
Let me send my greetings.
Let me come close to her.
Let me come close, dear soul.
At the foot of this bridge,
this evening I lean in thought,
my heart stirred
by distant memories-
of waiting in shyness,
of the breeze flowing through silky hair,
of a tilted hat hiding a springtime smile-
and somewhere, still,
the rhythm of oars
awakens the heart of a wanderer far from home.
In this roadside teashop,
this evening, I sit and light a cigarette,
my mind adrift
like it’s drunk on old wine.
Why does this marketplace feel so lonely, dear one?
Where have our loved ones scattered to?
Why do I feel my tears rising,
choking behind the walls of my heart?
Around these old haunts,
I stand stunned this evening.
This old, faded shirt
to whom shall I return it?
O passerby-
please, let me come near.
Please pull me close.
Please pull me close.
Deacon Joe Hung Nguyen
(khe Kinh-Kha)