Long Await Poems

Long Await Poems. Below are the most popular long Await by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Await poems by poem length and keyword.


Spring Equinox 2018

this middle aged rue stirring bummer
   haint no stranger to cold,
when dark hen stormy wintry days
   eggs hit from Arctic portal en fold
ding Atlantic Seaboard

   in a blizzard of bitterly, blindingly, and
   brutally sub zero temperatures
   from an occasional nor'easter
   fiercely gripping hold

the majority years, sans this prolific
   recalcitrant scrivener lived
   in various and sundry abode
   housed within Southeastern
   Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
   with 19*** zip code,

and during my boyhood recall,
   how massive ice sheets did erode
the (then) opened expansive farmland,
   in preparation for planting time,

   where runnels of frigid water flowed
with childish cheeks exposed to glowed
after hours upon 
   many a green acre got tilled and hoed

despite feeling energized and refreshed
   with arms and legs n'er fro zen
aye didst eagerly await with exuberant yen
kickstarting thy body electric

   experiencing hearthstone nook
   designed and built by Christopher Wren
after heading indoors counting fingers
   and toes to make sure, i still got ten

soon hearing the chorus of fauna,
   and floral kaleidoscope of color 
   aground or taking wing
thus, upon thawing out thoughts
   drifted toward approaching spring,
the season revitalizing 

   dormant natural inhabitants,
   whose excite (like mine) didst ping
announcing the debut of fecundity
nsync with screeching from the lizard king.

This Spring Equinox (i.e. man date:
   12:15 PM Tuesday,
   March twentieth two thousand eighteen)
doth rejuvenate 
   inviolable hibernating animals

   and plants, and me equate
to experience sensation,
   whereby entire being does inflate
and (despite marital status),

   nonetheless envisions another gal asthma mate
no...no...no...please do not think this chap
   mean spirited and under rate
the woman (at present taking a siesta,

   and i breathe easy),
   who oft times doth henpeck, a trait
inherited many a chic hen
   (with tantalizing tail feathers)
   now (until she awakens)
   proscribing yours truly to wait

for my repast most likely ad hoc
moist ideal for any nerdy kid to knock
senseless, the worst facet of self important jock
   consisting of pop slop mock
Hungarian Goulash, a melange
   of relics from age old meals 
   transformed into a petrified sawed little rock.


The Pride of Kings

Let not the pain of death enter my body
I the Pharaoh, son of the gods
Here my wife, who is the daughter of the Nile
The daughter of Isis sits beside my throne,
Is she not beautiful?

I live and roam the abode of the gods,
In eternity I stay with the majesties
Of the immortal gods
Mortality has no hold of me
I alone carry the staff of Osiris,
Behold! I judge thy weight of the heart,
With that of the golden feather
Thoth that measures thy heart shall tell me of thy heart’s content.
If I find thy heart lighter than the feather;
And find thy honesty,
I shall let you enter the heaven of the gods and goddesses.
If not, then, a beast to devour thee, waits for the dishonest.
Know me by my throne, made of gold
I am cloth with ornaments made of jade and sapphire,
White silk of clothing, with jewels from faraway lands.
Anyone that dear look down upon me shall die
And those that despise me, shall fine their homes burned down,
with fires from heaven.

Who am I? I have asked thee
Look at Anubis, the son of Nephthys bringer of death.
Do you await him to bring me great sorrow?
Shall he warp me with a yard of cloth?
Shall I find peace in death and my fate be judge by him?
If so, I have a place among them. 
My afterlife is in paradise, their awaits a bundle of joy
With music of the immortal, with harps, lutes, lyres
And servants to tend to my every need. 

But even if I die, the weight of mine own heart, shall be as light as a feather.
For I know mine own honesty.
As I sail across the sandbank of Apophis,
I have my guide, Ra, the god of the sun to light my path
No monstrous serpent of chaos shall wreck his boat,
The boat in which, I am in.

So, I ask thee, traveler from the west
What is thy business with a god?
Look at my palace, is it not magnificent?
Has is not, the decoration and flowers that surpasses all human designs?
I have built these with rocks
Sands was the foundation of my legacy,
Shall all things compare to that of the past days?
I carry the burden of my glory, and yes, it is heavy.
But will such foundation as the sand be strong enough to hold against the tide? 

Love is abiding that is true, but only in those who welcomes it.
My love for my beautiful wife, oh! How well have I been treated
With love from her is better than any pleasure a man can have.
Faithful to the gods or my wife? That I know not.

Premium Member Morning Has Broken - 1

Morning has broken as it has done for many years
Day to day we continue without the fear of fears
Then out of the blue their comes thoughts from long ago
Prophecies of a past, that could halt us humans flow

Tablets scribed in gold, have been uncovered in Peru
For in them they tell of the future, surrounding me and you
We await with fervour in the media, the radio and the t.v.
As I try to get my head around it, and what it means to me

The day that they speak of, it's a little over a year
Do we just laugh if off, or do the sensible in us fear
As I drive through my city, towards this impending day
The street corners start to fill, does panic have it's say

Speakers start to recite, of this doom that welcomes we
I see suicides in escalation, jumpers in front off me
Families leave their homes, for they no not where to go
Panic buying surrounds me, anarchy appears to flow

We now reach December 2012, as we gain on the scribed day
Can it be all that was written, have the ancient had their say
My eyes catch the clock, midnight is awaiting it's strike
It'll be the twenty first of December, are the Mayan scribes right

The minutes pass the hour, everything appears to be normal
Maybe the writes are fables, to them simply formal
To pacify myself, will it be the radio or the t.v.
Sometimes one has to ask oneself, to simply look and see

Visions on the screen appear, many screens my eyes do view
Reports from many countries are brought to me and you
They show events of nature, more fierce than naturally so
Rainfall in arid areas, deserts in metres off snow

The Polar ice caps start cracking, exploding ice in crying break
Mudslides now carry cities, everything caught in their wake
Bangladesh now no longer exists, the Maldives have disappeared
The Mariana Trench now starts to rise, her ridges in rampant rear

A bulletin catches my ears, Yellowstone has started to erupt
Is this what the scribes have warned of, our planet being so abrupt
A rumbling I start to feel, where I stand I feel I move
I'm in tumble across my floor, in fear of their impending prove

My apartment on the only hill, allows through my window to view
A giant fissure slices through my city, for into it, buildings spew
The free ways now broken and torn, many cars in tumbledown
From here I hear the screaming voices, I'm deafened by their drown







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-20.php
Form: Quatrain

So Close Yet So Far Away

You are amazing , I can't help but stare, you are so close yet so far away. What has happened to drive you away? You once loved me, I could feel it every day, but now you are so close yet so far away. We lay next to each other talking, so close yet so far away. I massage you where you want, so close yet so far away, it's not my touch you want, so close yet so far away, you wake in the morning, you feel me there, your heart sinks, it's not me you were hoping for, so close yet so far away. I love you so much though it's not my love you want I try so hard, all to be unnoticed , so close yet so far away. I call your name and your smile sinks, so close yet so far away. I walk in to the room and your spirit sinks, you're smiling but it's not real, so close yet so far away. I ache for your love, your touch, your kisses, the feel of you in my arms, your smile as you look into my eyes, so close yet so far away. When we do make love you're not all there, tour mind is not all on me so close yet so far away. You sometimes  wish I was someone else, so close yet so far away no matter how much care and time I take, touching you in the ways you want, my touch is just not enough  so close yet so far away.  You dont think it comes from my heart ? So close yet so far away It's not my touch you want, so close yet so far away. You think I'm only doing it because of her, so close yet so far away. When I'm really doing it cause I want to change the way we were.You close your eyes and I sometimes get the feeling, your wishing I was her and  envision another woman, so close yet so far away. I await an I love you that is more than habit. I dream of the day your anger leaves, so close yet so far away. I cry myself to sleep every night, so close yet so far away. I ache for a loving embrace to hold me in the night, so close yet so far away. I hope every day for this nightmare to end, so close yet so far away. I awake in the morning hoping it was just a dream. I dream of the past when you loved me then, I hope you can again, so close yet so far away. You felt I no longer loved you, so far from the truth. I vow to win your love again, so close yet so far away. I dream of the day you look into my eyes and say, I love you , so close yet so far away. I dream of a time when you say I am forgiven and mean it, I dream of the day that you are no longer, so close, yet so far away
Form:

Premium Member The Mark of the Mother

" My mother shed her protective love around me and without knowing why, people sensed that I had value." ~Maya Angelou

" As mothers and daughters, we are connected with one another. My mother is the bones of my spine, keeping me straight and true. She is my blood, making sure it runs rich and strong. " ~Kristin Hannah

“ I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind"


Born female, and upon my brow the magic mark ,
 as my mother's mothers before me. 
Red pigmented and shaped like a broken heart,
the very heart of my story.
 
From generations of wombs and bloodlines before,
 I am chosen to take up these stones.
And being apart of this family, 
I am yet destined to be alone. 
 
The Amber, with whiskey color glowing within… 
 pumpkin tinged and power singed. 
Giving its wielder healing power and 
protection through the midnight hour.

The Sapphire stone, deepest indigo, 
as the depths of the ocean's foaming folds. 
Granting wisdom within it's warming light 
and discernment of truth, of wrong and right. 

And the third stone is a Ruby of red, 
whose clarity muddles the mind and clouds the head. 
Releasing passions once held in check, 
while you see clearly, their pulsing neck. 

Combined the three, passed down to me, 
from maternal bloodline flows. 
So now with these words and the heat of my hands,
 I part the veil to long ago...

Though darkly, I see, far back through time,
 this several great-great grandmother of mine. 
And watch as she, undeservedly, 
is made to lie in an early grave …
No knight in armour in this tale, 
Herself alone she must save. 

These stones that I now hold, she finds,
as in darkness they begin to shine. 
All air is gone, her breathing stops 
and the heart inside can beat no more.
Until the magic finds a home in a wronged woman's maternal core. 

Then hearing 
a weak pulse,
 somehow 
MISPLACED...
upon her brow I see
the red- pigmented mark, 
the broken heart 
Upon her brow,  
BEGIN TO B E A T.... 

And now we know this history,
the story that began my own. 
I await the rest of my family tale 
from inside the stones, I'm shown. 

When I know my true life's purpose, 
when I am connected with all of them…
then my hearts blood will stop beating...

...but my magic heart beat will begin.
Form: Epic


The Meaning of Islam3

..........Please read part 1 and 2 first........

? What is the Quran about?
The Quran, the last revealed Word of God, is the prime source of every Muslim's faith and practice. It deals with all the subjects which concern us as human beings: wisdom, doctrine, worship, and law, but its basic theme is the relationship between God and His creatures. At the same time it provides guidelines for a just society, proper human conduct and an equitable economic system.

? Are there any other sacred sources?
Yes, the sunna, the practice and example of the Prophet, is the second authority for Muslims. A hadith is a reliably transmitted report of what the Prophet said, did, or approved. Belief in the sunna is part of the Islamic faith.


Examples of the Prophet's sayings

The Prophet said:
'God has no mercy on one who has no mercy for others.'
'None of you truly believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.'

'Powerful is not he who knocks the other down, indeed powerful is he who controls himself in a fit of anger.'


? What do Muslims think about Jesus?
Muslims respect and revere Jesus, and await his Second Coming. They consider him one of the greatest of God's messengers to mankind. A Muslim never refers to him simply as 'Jesus', but always adds the phrase 'upon him be peace'. The Quran confirms his virgin birth (a chapter of the Quran is entitled 'Mary'), and Mary is considered the purest woman in all creation. The Quran describes the Annunciation as follows:
'Behold!' the Angel said, 'God has chosen you, and purified you, and chosen you above the women of all nations. O Mary, God gives you good news of a word from Him, whose name shall be the Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, honored in this world and the Hereafter, and one of those brought near to God. He shall speak to the people from his cradle and in maturity, and shall be of the righteous.'
She said: 'O my Lord! How shall I have a son when no man has touched me?' He said: 'Even so; God creates what He will. When He decrees a thing, He says to it, "Be!" and it is.' (Quran 3:42-47)
Jesus was born miraculously through the same power which had brought Adam into being without a father:
Truly, the likeness of Jesus with God is as the likeness of Adam. He created him of dust, and then said to him, 'Be!' and he was. (Quran 3:59)
During his prophetic mission Jesus performed many miracles.
Form:

Memories

I struggle to recall at a ragged bus stop
Writing memories down on a brown paper bag.
The discarded pen I picked off of the weed grass serves
As a key to my past, the paper bag the door.

My memories gush from the back of my mind,
Long lost in the torrents of tears
And the literal shattering of my heart 
Between my breasts.

This was not planned,
This living on my own means,
Struggling to make ends begin.
I’ll worry about them meeting
When the time comes.

The memories I loot 
From the locked treasure chest
At the bottom of the barren sea
Of my mind
Seem irregular and appear to belong
Elsewhere, to someone of fiction.

Emerging from somewhere, 
I sense a longing. 
For what, I wouldn’t say.
Saying what I could say would slow me down.
I’ve struggled to progress past the memories
And until now, the longing has been stifled.
But my memories have broken 
Through the dam I built
And they charge like an army of Trojans,
Fighting to the surface of my mind.
It appears I’ll have to drown them...
Again.

It is said that after the first time of anything
That thing discussed becomes easier to do
Without fail.
Well, it’s not.

I examine the brown paper bag and the words
Scribbled on it, much like the rants of rudimentary children.
I take the pen and wind my hair around it,
Pinning it on top of my head, since all my hair bands
Were left behind, like my memories, my spirit,
My smile.
It’ll have to do for now.

I see two yellow eyes in the distance,
Eyes from another world,
That glow with radioactive promise;
It’s one of those grand busses of leisure
Where anyone could have a seizure
in peace,
Coming to me, to take me away.

"Come to me, metal extraterrestrial,
Take me to your leader.
Whisk me off to your world,
To your life, your memories.
Everything is better than this."

It slows to a stop in front of me, 
And opens wide, it’s abnormal vertical teeth 
Directly in front of me.
A familiar sound emotes from within:

“You coming or not?”

The brown paper bag slips from my hand 
And falls to the dying grass.
It stays to pass with the grass,
Or to be found by the Nameless
Of my past.
I once carried my life in my arms,
But I’ve abandoned it
On the side of the black tar road.
 
“Well?” 
It’s that sound again.

Well, here’s to my future.
Take me away, Mr. Alien;
New troubles await.

Donna

In your eyes I can see, I am all your desires, cravings and aches. The obession 
to which you wish to be bonded forever. And you'll gladly pay for your prize with 
endless tears. I cannot deny the passion you stir in me and that pours out for you 
virtually every moment that we exist  and is as strong as your love and 
commitment.
Your warped mind is a treasure to me. It propells you into the dark where I enjoy 
your pleading. I watch your strange love of suffering and you bring me into your 
soul to relish it with you. I am amazed when you do this. I think its for me but it 
somehow fills you.  I see that you must be with me each night and your craving is 
desperate and way beyond anything normal. You cannot exist without it. You 
must feed on me. 
I am completely invested in you. I must have you, strenuous, throbbing and 
twisting, and sometimes shrieking for my entertainment.  Your gift to me. No 
matter how I exercise its power, which I so enjoy, I can only own it as a gift. I do it 
sometimes just so that I can make you bear it. You bear it again and again 
without complaint. Because it is a gift, love can remain. And no matter what you 
bear, you have solace that it is a gift from you. I can never take that away. 
I experience joy when you delight in my voice and follow its flow.  Can I hold you 
forever? 
My intense, inner desires combine with your foolish love and willingness to 
become everything and anything I can delight in. I think you must be stupid to give 
so much until I realize that your gift is the one I treasure. I want to hold you and 
have this kiss forever. You are a feast for my senses and a slake for my thirst 
which always returns. How you have given over control to me is a measure of 
your soul. How I accept it and play it over and over again is a growing obsession, 
that knows nothing but pleasure. I want to hold you, kiss you and taste you more 
than anything else I have ever desired. 
Our passion is easy for me and so hard on you. You rebound again and again 
seeking even more to steady our hearts and increase our hope. Your suffering 
holds you while you await the eventual tender moments that always come and 
you once again drink in my love. I look at you admiring everything that you are and 
desiring the moment when I can take you at will. 
Please, give me your tears again.
© Black Hawk  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Painful Perspectives: Bullying In America

Painful Perspectives
                Bullying in America

"About 77% of students have admitted to being the victim of of one type of bullying or another."
                                                    --www.bullyingstatistics.org

My stomach tightens once again
By now I know the drill
It doesn't matter what I do
Move on, scream out, stand still

My heartbeat throbbing louder now
As heavy footsteps near
My mouth, dry as a cotton ball 
My shoulders hunch in fear

Suddenly, I feel the sting
My cheek turns cherry red
The smack has almost knocked me down
The pain shoots through my head

Now words so cruel they pierce my heart 
I try to block the sound
My efforts useless yet again
Scars stain my soul deep down

I touch my flesh to feel it swell
My light begins to die
My head held low, I walk away
Too numb by now to cry...

"Approximately 30% of young people admit to bullying others."
                                               ---www.americanspcc.org

For me, each morning starts the same
No feelings, just routine
Commands and orders barked my way
"Get up! Get dressed! Get clean!"

I step into the blinding sun
Yet pause before I go
Just once to hear, "I love you dear."
The door slams; I should know

The sadness that I used to feel
Has slowly turned to rage
So off to school I stomp ahead
My heart locked in a cage

Not long after I arrive
I choose my timid deer
My heavy footsteps lead the way
Toward the scent of fear

My hand hits flesh; I feel relieved 
To share my hidden pain
I utter words so cruel and vile
Too numb to feel ashamed...

"It is reported that 70.6% of young people say they have seen bullying in schools."
                                                            ---www.americanspcc.org

Standing near my closest friend
I feel the tension rise
By now, I know what to expect
Not once am I surprised

My fingers tremble slightly still
As I await the scene
I fight the stinging in my eyes
Why is this world so mean?

I watch my best friend cower now
The same thing every day
I cringe for what's about to come
As predator seeks prey

My inner struggle swallows me
I long to take a stand
I fear the wrath if I intrude
Escape, I haven't planned

So helplessly I witness pain
Inflicted on my friend
I wish I had the courage to
Make the bullying end...
Form: Rhyme

Caliber

CALIBER:

Burn out the news,
If you think of it being new.
The talk of what I've been through,
Doesn't appear as truth.
It's a risky deal for you.
I'm seeing it with few,
To be an unimaginable conceptualised deal.
Back in our younger days,
Where we just trap to efface.
Something I never accept to taste.
People call me lame of shame,
For I choose to be myself in the game.
Smoking, killing, robbing never my aim.
Wasn't part of reasons why I came.
I get a different plan all the same,
With my red eyes picturing my lane.
Impressing nobody, fear not to be sane.
Go ahead and shoot me Mr. Sake of fame.
What gets me stronger is an undying flame,
Unlimitedly causing magnificence, 
Born out of intellectuality walled by faith.

This citation proves my legitimacy on slate.
As I stand by personal competence to be awake,
To clearly elaborate minds laid on await.
At the end we all will be clinged by conjugate.
And our spines will elevate,
Causing a tremendous change to propagate.
No suicide, fratracide would be in minds.
And every heart will show some kind,
Only for that goal to be held as one.
When the table serve some wine,
We then say a good deal is done.
But hold on some minute,
Maybe you're actually not getting it.
Well, Some also might be lost to think,
Especially those folks diregarding this.
This is a reality defining who I am.
I don't go contrary to the norm.
That's going wayward or doing wrong,
Because I don't forget where I'm from.
And I throw no stones to those who conform,
To the system that corrupts.
It's their choice,and I'm informed.

In my circle do I not stay common,
Assertively taking refuge in a dungeon, 
Protected by Judah's Greatest Lion.
On him do I forever rely on.
My strength and happiness,
Sourced from his greatness.
Placing me at the top to be fearless.
What then could make my life baseless?
I'm brave and earnest.
Withstanding against pellets, 
Discharged to cause breakdowns,
Against my life anyhow. 
In fact, this is really detrimental. 
Yet, I modify it willfully to be topical.
Funny how the narration goes,
I don't care about it though .
I stay keenly to achieve my goals..
Strictly do I hate to oppose.
And thank God my ambitions is not disclosed,
For my worth to be blemished the most.
Yes,I'm Anderson Walkingshoes!
I'm strong, determined and bold.
Form: Lyric

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