Long Asking Poems
Long Asking Poems. Below are the most popular long Asking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asking poems by poem length and keyword.
I love you beyond the borders of language,
where words stumble,
faltering in the shadow of feeling.
No map charts the expanse of this tenderness,
no compass finds its edge.
I love you as the ocean loves the shore,
returning endlessly,
even when it is sent away.
I love you as the sky holds the stars,
cradling light in an infinite embrace,
never asking why they shine.
There is no scale for this,
no ledger to balance the weight of your smile
or the currency of your touch.
Only the quiet knowing
that you are,
and that is enough.
If love is the pulse of existence,
yours is the rhythm I echo.
If love is a storm,
I surrender to its rain.
There are no fences here,
no gates to shut you out or let you in,
only an open field,
a horizon that does not end.
And when the stars scatter
like seeds across the night,
my love will bloom
in every corner of forever,
without measure,
without end.
As we began our ways with Alkaiya in my arms
I knew I was walking towards an awakening reality
And with the undesired reality to come undone
I started to wonder if there ever will be another tranquility?
The paths ahead only promises to be deadlier still
Is destiny to predetermine the succession of either’s supremacy?
Both The Word and The Void, The war between the unreal
Am I really the cause to affect the balance of total ultimacy?
Yet… all that matters now, is the life of Alkaiya
Her infirmly life where only I can perhaps ensave or let die?
And with my unsleeping self, the distance to be is as yet afar
Am I always to despair in reality with a heavy sigh?
Consumed by my own wrath, I see to the day’s passing
Envisioning the impossible, knowing not the unprecedented fate
And of love, uncalled for in any sacrificial asking
Is there a dream… a one earnest dream to rightfully await?
With Alkaiya, its of love to whence outlast
A love pure and unkind, unknown and anew
With Ei-rian, its of love to belong the past
A love impure but kind, a memory left be sealed
It is not of my choosing to unfold the hidden night
I cannot know what seem destined as Knight of the Word
Yet gratefully, my hours of dark is not without light
To have The Askance to aid me through paths unheard
………………………………………………….
Today is your Anniversary of 38 years in God's
place. It is interesting how the years flew by.
I hope I have accomplished what you wanted for me.
I am a poetess and author now. Although I have not
sold a book yet. I have been thinking about you over the
past few decades. And I wonder what you think.
I need a sign.
You probably know why I have not been
able to visit your gravesite. And put my favorite rose
there. I have missed our talks. So, I write what's in
my heart. I'm almost 75 now about the time you left me.
And yet, it feels like yesterday.
You weren't here when I married. But I'm sure
you two are together waiting for me. I miss the love
we had and I know its value. I only want to know
one thing, do I continue on this path of writing?
or is there something else I should be doing?
I need a sign.
It doesn't feel like you're gone, but we can't
physically meet. However, I feel your presents
or is it, my husband?
I write asking what is my gift? If I am using it
correctly? So, I end with your approval and His.
What I must do? In spite of everything I love you, Mom.
I need a sign.
outside my window
there is no mercy left for you and me,
just the sound of traffic coughing
and a siren arguing with the night.
a child is crying because she’s hungry,
not in a poem,
not in a metaphor—
hungry like an empty cupboard
that keeps opening itself
out of habit.
I only go out for cigarettes and coffee,
the two small lies
that keep the heart beating
without asking why.
the clerk doesn’t look up,
he’s seen this movie
too many times
and knows how it ends.
we are doomed, hopelessly lost,
heroes of nothing,
braving the cold apartment
where the walls listen
and don’t care.
the heat clicks off like a bad joke.
the floor remembers better days
than we do.
there’s only enough to pay the landlord,
always the landlord—
the god who never answers prayers
but always cashes checks.
food can wait.
hope can wait.
everything waits except the rent.
outside my window
the world keeps going
without permission,
and inside
we sit with our paper cups,
our shaking hands,
our stubborn pulse,
still breathing—
which is either a miracle
or a bad habit
I haven’t managed to quit yet.
Christmas Nostalgia
Please give me an old-fashioned Christmas
without all the hype and fanfare.
When the tree and the stockings were put up
just two weeks before would prepare.
Our excitement of then seeing Santa
in a red suit, quite fat and was jolly.
Asking, ‘Had we been good for our parents?’
if yes, he would give us a lolly.
Christmas Eve, we went to bed early
not daring to open our eyes.
For when Santa who climbed down our chimney
if you peeped, there'd be no surprise.
Christmas morning we'd all be together
open gifts Santa left near the tree.
Saw the stockings all filled with small trinkets,
how happy we were with no greed.
Christmas lunch, we sat at the table
ate roast meats and vegetables galore.
Next, came the plum pudding with money
a thrill when we found one or more.
After lunch to the backyard, we’d go then
to play cricket we had such a ball.
The old and the young ones all joined in
when OUT, heard the umpire call.
Now, Christmas begins in October
Christmas carols play loudly in stores.
Skinny Santa's are seen all around us
people rushing in frenzied galore.
The money that's spent now on Christmas
would feed all the poor for a year.
Children’s toys, expensive electronics
simple stockings are no longer here.
'Kris Kringle' is now for our loved ones
what to buy causes headaches with thought!
With the limit that's set rarely followed,
gifts not wanted are so often bought.
Once Christmas festivities finish
we see Easter eggs next on the shelf.
Hot Cross Buns now in stores for the purchase,
Easter Bunny will chase away Elf.
Yes, give me an old-fashioned Christmas
where to gather with families enough.
And a hug, Merry Christmas, is given
without rush then enjoy Christmas lunch
Friendships That End
Friends are the people
who find you in the middle of a storm,
with hurricanes raging all around you,
and even when all they have
is a single umbrella,
they hold it over you.
They become your shelter.
The place you can return to
when the world feels unbearably heavy.
The ones who make you hot chocolate
on your grayest days,
who sit beside you for hours
just to listen,
even while carrying
their own storms in silence.
They love you
for who you are,
not for what you can give them.
And I miss my friends.
I miss belonging
to a little world of my own.
A place where I could be myself
without thinking twice,
where they could be themselves
without ever feeling like
they were too much.
I miss the freedom
of walking out the door
and knowing someone would be there,
ready to come with me.
Even if all I had to offer
was my sadness.
Because somehow,
they always knew what to do with it.
They would sit beside me
through the grayest afternoons,
turning sorrow into laughter
without ever asking it to leave.
And maybe that’s what I miss most:
having people
I never had to ask to stay,
because somehow,
they simply did.
People who made me feel
that being alone
was a choice,
not a sentence.
I hurry to the ladies toilets
Because I need to use the loo
But all the cubicles are occupied
(There’s a stench of rancid pooh)
I stand there with my legs crossed
And I do a little ‘dance’
Oh hurry up and vacate the stall
Or I’m going to pee my pants!
I eventually hear a toilet flush
And I hobble through that door
But I need to wipe down the toilet seat
Removing drips from the butt before
I finally pull down my pants
And I dribble a tiny little pee
I’d thought my bladder was fit to burst
So there was no need for this urgency!
I can hear ladies chatter outside the door
Asking why is there such a big queue
My hubby tells me next time I need to go
I should sneak in the gentlemen’s loo!
3rd April 2017
NOISE AND PEACE
I listen to the noise outside
there is another helicopter flying overhead
It causes a fear in me, don't mean to be negative
But it's announcement is what I dread!
Remembering the promise I made to myself I say,
That this is only one reasons I take time to pray.
I pray for salvation and justice though I don't know what's going on.
Nearer to the end this is, and the beginning of a new song.
I know it's closer to my Lord's day
For Him to come back for us,
The worse that times are here on earth
So I say come Lord Jesus!
This is where the good is bad
And all the bad is good
Though this sounds a bit crazy
It is all to be just like it should!
So I look up at the sky and though I do know why.
Then I turn to my Lord and as I pray I cry.
It is not to remain inside with a bitter taste
And my sadness doesn't turn to waste.
Because it goes up into my Lord's heart
As He returns a healing to mine
It surpasses my understanding
No matter how I whine.
That peace still comes because I ask
And I give it up to HIM
So if it returns to me I give it up again.
While this world causes all the noise in my mind,
My Lord takes it upon my asking because He is so kind.
He replaces it with His peace
Not as the world offers but what He gives.
So I am at peace once again
And inside my life He lives.
Marilyn Davidson
02/15/16
When the long arm of the law,
belongs to an assassin.
And peaceful protests alone,
can bring no satisfaction.
The only choice left to us,
is violent reaction.
Now blood is running too hot,
and it's beginning to boil.
Those that think they are in charge,
have words that act like coal oil.
To fuel and spread hatred’s flames,
while getting rich off the turmoil.
"Sure as hell can't let them live",
from behind bunker walls they cry.
"You should just shoot em all dead",
they’re criminals and thugs", they lie.
"They have nothing left to give",
because they're not rich or white".
Now that our inept congress,
has become indecisive.
They can't pass a single law,
without asking advice of.
The rich Wall Street businessman,
waiting for better prices.
The respect for our brothers,
has long ago gone away.
It is so easy for us,
just to look the other way.
When bigotry and race slip,
quietly into the fray.
Hell, when it comes to the fray,
it sure didn't have to slip.
It busted through the locked door,
with an unsuspected pip.
And grabbed a hold of the throat,
with a steely vise-like grip.
Before the streets and alleys,
are aflame and exploding.
Fires of freedom are raging,
guns of justice are loading.
A spark of insanity,
might just send bodies floating.
I plead that we all step back,
if just for a little bit.
So we might let cooler heads,
try to make some sense of it.
Before the entire planet,
turns into a pile of s**t.
I AM TO ABANDON
Ignoring my love,
once you walked away, I had to observe.
Tear drops in flood left blood red eyes.
Tears dried but heart cried on every sunrise.
Suffered on disgrace:
Disrespect, dismay to embrace.
Relic radiation of refusal
scattered pale glow on wilted petal.
Time wiped my feeling.
Wounded heart went on healing.
Heart turned hard, I totally forgot.
New love, new dream life brought.
Now you are at my door.
It seemed, standing on distant offshore.
You are asking for love begging pardon.
Time is already gone: I am to abandon.
07/09/18
'Abandon 2' Poetry Contest by Brenda Cheri