Long Band Poems
Long Band Poems. Below are the most popular long Band by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Band poems by poem length and keyword.
“I am somebody’s child, and I need attention, I am somebody’s child and I need affection, I am somebody’s child and I need love and devotion”, she murmured as she walked through the door. She wasn’t sure where she was going when she left the house; she wasn’t sure about the next encounter, but she walked for five hours until she reaches the border.
The speed, at which she moved, left everyone confused but she was determined to make a point just to stay alive. She did not plan a journey she just wanted to live, and hang out with the daffodils but the trap was already set before they made the bet. She could sense it from within and so she had to learn to swim; with strength in her arms and strides in her feet, she made it through the dark before the break of dawn.
They searched everywhere for her, but they could not find her, the public became aware of it and they start to build a myth. Officer Jones devised a plan to begin the search mission he knew what he had up his sleeve, because he was so hard to please. He had laid the ground work to start digging up dirt, to catch the big fish and throw them back into the ditch, the climate was right and the alibi was riding high in the sky.
The search went on for days with no sight of her abducted in the bush or held captive by the brook; it was just one of those situations where you have to keep on top of things before the universe done you in.
The cheese, and the pie, the crown and the dye were just too reveling so they had to search for another meaning, and the sky was their only hope to keep sailing on the boat and so the narrative changed to give her all the blame.
Was it a crime torn area or someone lost their way and bumped into a criminal flattering in the sky that is a one-hundred-dollar question from a village miner who could not fit the pieces together for the director or the operator.
And so, the question remains, whose back was she trying to cover? My mind wander and wander and it didn’t look like a deal that turned sour, neither was it a set up by gate to discover something before it was too late. Everything seems to be in perfect harmony with the guitar, the piano, the band and the musical director.
The great Gatsby would have won the case if Tom Buchanan had not shot him in the pool over the death of Myrtle Wilson his darling wife. "I am somebody’s child," she screamed.
Lately everything seems to be surrounded in darkness
Either I am way too close or too far away
When I stand close I perfectly see the flickering light ahead
How close it is but when I reach it.. it just disappears
I can't seem to grasp anything that's around me anymore
When I touch it, it just turns to ash...
Seems I have lost the will to do much anything
Sometimes I find myself starring at white walls..
I forgot to think.. maybe I will forget to breath too
The image of the world in my head.. is so different from what I see... with my eyes
Is reality an allusion or is the world in my head..
Darkness surrounding everyone I stand close to
You see them fade in and out like a hologram
When you reach out to touch them.. they are not real
Sometimes they just.. disappear
Then I find myself searching for what I used to know
Seems the world in my head.. is not so bright and colorful anymore
Either everyone is stuck in the past with me.. or they are moving forward..
I am watching them pass me by as I stay within the realm I am used to knowing
No matter how many times I change my appearance..
Everything stays the same... and I realize..
All the people I know..
In the end. .. nothing really matters...
Everything you knew..
Everything you have touched..
Everyone you have loved
Everyone you once cared for
All the lessons you learned...
what are they for?...
Is it better to be... alone..
Where there is no pain in a relationship with another..
I can no longer get close to anyone..
I find myself.. stepping further and further back
Yet I cannot stop myself... there is no rope to grab..
Which world would I rather live in.. the one i see with my eyes.. or the one in my head...
They both have become.. one of the same... covered and smeared in blood..
Darkness...
I have no reflection in the mirror.. and I can feel my soul slipping from within me
All I see.. is cracks.. where my soul is leaking its way out..
Yet no band-aid or super glue.. could help cover it
Hallow...
Nothing can save you now.. because you realize... the truth..
Once your world is coming to an end.. it wont matter..
You will not remember.. you wont be able to feel..
Somehow, even with this darkness and being surrounded by darkness
Having the feeling of comfort and a blind happiness
Everything is perfectly where it belongs...
In the dark she is waiting, 200 kilos of velvet
separating one world from the other.
It was art to her, she was under no pretence,
she was an instrument, and she made the other instruments merge in a delicious unprecedented harmony.
A poet, a warrior, a lover, a sinner. She has tasted the divine and the melodramatic, to capture moments, photographs, for the use of summoning emotion and reality.
She had been hurt and she had hurt, she had walked towards hell and ran away from heaven. Beginning as a muse and then enslaving the musicians one by one with her whispy and sultry tones.
An electric keyboard breaks the mumbling, vibrato, a pause, a cheer. The drape rises and she peers from the darkness, masked by shadow to the floodlit mass in front.
The drums are brushed gently as the crowd softens to the figure emerging from the dark. Not knowing if they were permitted to break the spell or join it, the crowd pay their respect with silence.
You can almost see the phantoms she has witnessed being beckoned into her. Short linear smoky essences, touching her then being pulled inside. She saunters slowly towards the mic, eyes closed, and with both hands it becomes a sceptre. This will be a heartfelt song again.
She inhales, her belly fills, and she breathes life into the mic. Her tones slice through the thick air, soft yet with such projection and feel. The crowd can not contain themselves and let out a cheer as their eyes fill. She masterfully picks up her bass, as if resurrecting a lost love, and it sings for her.
Her hair is gone now, most of the crowd know why and they want to cry. But she holds them, captivated, and hypnotises a smile into them. They sway to her, some hold their chests as if covering some hole for fear of their hearts falling out.
This will be the last time we will feel her grace. But she will be summoned herself. The band know this. She sits, the treatment has taken it out of her. But her voice never falters. That chair will be kept alongside the drummer that loved her. Her bass will be his kryptonite. But he will keep it close anyway.
The curtain will not fall tonight, it shall remain at half mast. She will bow and we will fall at her mercy one last time. In homage, and respect. She will leave but she will never be forgot. She has trained herself into them, and she will always be singing.
you remember that one time when ava fell off the swings and cut her knee?
how everyone laughed at her for her childish hubris in thinking she could jump and land,
unscathed, from that high a distance?
how the laughter roared as they watched a 9-year-old cry
and clutch her knee with both hands,
creating a burrow for blood under her nails?
how, without a moment of hesitation,
you ran to her, helped her up, and walked her to the nurse’s office?
yeah. didn’t think you’d remember it, if i’m being totally honest.
well, that moment, watching you put her arm around your shoulder for balance,
so she could hop her way down a flight and half of stairs for a single band-aid,
i think I fell in love with you.
maybe love is an exaggeration,
but looking at these old photos of us,
with your hair flying in the wind and my hair tucked in your helmet
as i clutched your waist for dear life,
the two of us,
flying down the freeway on your motorcycle,
i can’t think of a better word to describe my feelings for you.
these pictures,
now covered in layers of dust,
remind me of everything that could have been.
of everything that will never be.
i lost you so many addictions ago,
i guess i should’ve known when your words turned to lies,
and your lies turned to routine,
but i didn’t want to believe that the girl
with the bright pink hair and tacky leather jackets,
the girl that i had fallen so hard for,
was now gone.
that she had been replaced with someone who simply
went through the motions every day,
no longer able to feel anything for anyone,
someone who looked in the mirror,
wishing that the reflection would be blank.
the doctors say that your liver gave out,
but i think that the real cause was that you gave up.
i saw how hard you fought,
how you ran away from who you’d become,
leaving us behind in a race to find yourself.
you were gone long before the red line representing your heart’s last efforts flattened.
you’ve been gone so long that i’ve had to rely on these pictures
to make sure that you were ever real.
you’ve become nothing but a memory,
a hope, a wish for better,
a tragic story that i wish i never was a part of.
i miss you,
more than you could ever know,
more than i can ever process.
i miss you because no matter what happened,
no matter where you went,
no matter how long you’ve been gone,
i still loved you.
He plays the chords with his blue depression
still searching for true loves heart expression
Though there is praise for this worlds celebrity
true satisfaction from there will never be
There those extol the merits of your voice
or the fantasy of ones visionary choice
ones merit to run with company so grand
or be courtesan to the leader of the band
Can such a person ever truly see
be freed from the snares of this society
reject philosophy and understanding realize
seek for all the truth and for its prize
The concept of purity can he ever hold
reject the hype that these teachings sold
escape the prison of pride and vanity
the pursuits of the world and its insanity
All of these issues we have had to face
the system is designed for humanities disgrace
liquids full of poison forced ingestion sup
the table of corruption with its broken cup
Oh how the gold of vanity has shined
and its thought adulterated and unrefined
the glitter of those lies have truth polluted
with the leaven of the religions instituted
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Gal 5
19 The works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21 and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.
22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24 Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.
Rev 22
12 “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done. 13 I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.
14 “Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city. 15 Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.
THE CONCERT
The members of the orchestra had each gone to his chair;
The audience was waiting now for the conductor there.
And when he stepped on to the stand, applause was heard, and then
He lifted up his white baton and music soon began.
It started out quite beautiful, each person played his part,
But soon some went on their own way; they thought they were
more smart.
Some put their music on the floor and stopped playing at all,
While others stared around the room at all the lights and walls.
Some started playing other tunes, some played too sharp or flat,
Some even talked among themselves, some even got in spats!
The leader was beside himself, not knowing what went wrong,
For he had planned this concert night for oh, so very long.
And now he was embarrassed by the actions of the band;
He tried to calm confusion there by raising up his hand.
The members of the orchestra just went their separate ways
Each thinking they were doing right with music they did play.
The audience was quite disturbed, for what they came to see
Was surely not a show like this confusing, sad melee!
This story is a parable of Christendom today:
We started out as one in Christ, but each went his own way.
Denominations, sects, and cults, all claiming to be right,
But all they do is disagree on everything and fight.
We can’t agree which Bible is God’s word for us today;
We can’t agree on how to sing and sometimes how to pray.
We can’t agree on baptism, security, or gifts;
It’s sad to see how very far from early truths we drift!
And some have even now denied the basic gospel truth
That many died for in those days of the church’s early youth.
They say that Jesus was not God, the blood was not required,
Or say that there are other books that God has now inspired.
They say that hell is just the grave, that Mary is the way,
That purgatory is a place where we could go someday.
Yes, many doctrines have crept in; just like that concert hall,
It’s hard for many to believe there’s any truth at all!
Yet our Conductor wants us back! We have a job to do!
If we would follow as He leads, what impact we could view!
It’s time we got back to the Lord, Conductor of our life,
And put away these selfish ways and arguments and strife!
It’s time to come back to God’s word, not ideas of man,
And follow our Conductor, Christ, and trust His guiding hand!
We were extremely delighted when we picked up the keys to our brand new house and starting at the front door, we made slow anticipative steps desirous of testing the key making sure it was correctly made. But to our utter surprise, it did not fit in the keyhole, and we were left outside our new house like house-citing strangers admiring all the landscape and beautifully designed exterior. Although my wife was calm and patient, I was steaming hot in the dead of winter sending out smoke signals both from heat and cold with unspeakable emotions which were overwhelmingly joyous just seconds before. What now and what was I suppose to do? How does one go from 'cloud nine' to free-fall far below the clouds in milliseconds? Not only did the key not fit, but I wondered if there might be some other surprises waiting for us on the inside. Although I pretended to be at ease, my wife was reading the 'waves of intolerance' forming inside of me. My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a quick peek through the key hole never imagining that I would observe such disappointing craftmanship.
That peek filled my emotional cup to overflowing and left me angrier, devastated, frustrated, most utterly confused, and my imagination grew more bewildered when I considered what it must really look like beyond the peek hole. This entire venture of home building was supposed to fulfill our quest and life-long dream of a brand new home, but it appeared that our dream was rapidly turning into the greatest nightmare by the aid of a peek hole. We wondered what revelations lie behind curtain number three or the fourth peel of the banana.
My wife suggested we get another peek from the back, and you guessed it, "The beat goes on". In our view from the front peek hole, we only looked toward the walls and ceilings, but instinctively my wife looked down toward the floors and the nightmare grew bigger. My already painful headache took on 'jet propulsion speed with the beat of the wildest rock band. Water was every where because the furnace had been left off causing the pipes to freeze and brake. Smiles and peace were nowhere to be found as my lovely wife began to cry. The beat goes on but .......
12312018PoSoupContest, Slap The Muse And Turn It Loose, John Lawless *Fictitious Narrative
I write in remembrance of the late Dennis Liwewe (Zambia's No.1 and Celebrated Football Commentator). Here is a short football commentary:
"Ah, this is Dennis Liwewe. We are here in Mauritius, where the two sides, Zambia National Team and Mauritius National Team will battle it out this afternoon. Capacity crowd 40,000.
The referee is from Kenya and match commissioners from Nigeria and Senegal respectively.
At this point in time, the referee blows play on , and Mauritius team take the ball back to their goal keeper. A loose ball pass the centre circle, a bad pass by Zambia we are in deep trouble, Only to be saved by the Goal keeper Efford Chabala. This is no other than Kapambwe Mulenga, defending very well. Ball zooms out for the throw in. We are beaten in the air, Ashios Melu picks up loose ball, he beats a man in a double one two situation, he kicks a tumble, which is well chested by Kalusha Bwalya ( popularly known as Great Kalu). Great Kalu beats two, three Mauritius defenders. Great Kalu within a firing range, hammer. It's a gooooooal 1-0 to Zambia. Back to the studio for our sponsors. Mauritius are coming in a counter attack situation, their dangerous striker is breaking even, Bomber. It goes away. Again and again, Zambia takes control of the situation here, Efford Chabala pumps a long ball passes the centre circle, we are good in the air. Kelvin Mutale dribbles two Mauritius defenders, hammer. It's a goooooal Zambia leading by 2-0 . Second half , Mauritius are very aggressive at the goal, they want to equalize. We are in deep trouble again here, sliding tackle by Kapambwe Mulenga, and the ball zooms for a corner kick for Mauritius. Headed away by Ashios Melu, a little pass to Charles Musonda, passes the centre circle, he turns 360 degrees. He passes the the ball to Kelvin Mutale ( the master dribbler), it's a gooooooal, 3-0 to Zambia. We are in the dying minutes here,
And the referee blows the final whistle. This is Dennis Liwewe signing off. Pick it up ZNBC studios in Lusaka, Zambia.
May his soul rest in eternal peace
Concept by Zambian Sports Lovers
Poetry Chipepo Lwele
Note: Dennis Liwewe made Zambians to love football in the 70's, 80's and 90's when we had 2 band radios and few television sets, we were glued to the radios young and old, less educated and highly learned. He made sure that the message is loud and clear.
Whispering in the dark,
Your hand around my waist
I hear you say “you love me”
All I hear is the deceit in your breath.
You been creeping, thinking I didn’t know.
Laying here with my eyes wide open.
Pretending to sleep, you don’t even notice.
But how can you when your being is laced with lies.
I feel the young girl's hands on yours.
Her sweet purrs rock your body and transcends into mine.
I am a woman and I know.
It’s dark out, its dark inside,
Will you ever admit your infidelity?
Or will it get worse by morning light.
The girl be calling everyday when you in the shower,
She be texting while you eat my breakfast.
You turn,kiss me goodbye, your smile reminds me of the devil.
As I watch your silhouette dance towards the woman you creep with.
Do you even notice the rage and the thunder?
Or you just cast a blind eye and carry on.
Your band feels heavy on my hand.
It’s a diamond I adored once,
But now all I see is sand, why does it even sparkle.
When the sparkle I had is now an icy stare of hate.
You call during the day, tell me you miss me.
I wonder how you can say that,
Do you even miss me or you just need a beacon.
A woman who will catch you when you fall?
I hear her voice in yours, I hear the echoes that still my soul.
I can’t even blame her, I am not even mad at her.
I can’t help but wonder, if she even knows.
If she does, she is set for a life of mishaps.
No bad deed ever go unpunished.
If she doesn’t, she is set for a life misery.
I can’t even be mad at him.
This emotion that I have has surpassed.
I feel nothing but rage multiplied.
I gave him my all, he gave me His all.
It’s all up in flames, it’s all up in ashes.
You obviously can’t be seeing with your soul.
For your eyes are now a mirror of misconception.
You will not even notice my dry tears,
Or the wave of fire in my bones.
Will it surprise you if you wake up alone one night?
I doubt it would, that’s why my fear has melted.
How can I leave in the midst of a situation?
A situation I can easily fix, maybe you would notice then.
Will I use a piece of steel, to silence you immediately?
For silence is what your love has been for two years.
Or will I just choke you, leave your breathless.
For all those nights you breathed out perfume and lust.
Will I even call it even or will I walk and forget you ever existed.
© Herzel Poshiwa
As you see, hear a few moments later a funny looking Huckleberry Hound dopey little dog
cartoon the families all time favorite as the children snicker, and everyone there comes
in the room just in time and laughs together. With our dog cocking her head slightly and
barking with us. As our kitten Timid whacks at her ears stops again and chases her wagging
tail, hysterically.
And I tell you if it is all I can do to cherish the freshness of these things, friend I
will. I tell you I've already won.
My baby's laughter there in the highchair clapping with his superman bottle sitting in his
diaper splashing away all over Him listening to Dave Matthew's' It's Not Easy To Be Me
waving it in one hand as he shimmy's and rocks too and fro to the beat of the ambiance of
the new day, yes, reminds me ... .
Our Oreo cookie looking kitten named pounce, playing alone today now there
in-the-rain. How everything from birth has remained so curious to him. His
resilience as he laid there with her saying goodbye ... . As Gracie his sister just passed
on, yesterday. So I feel fate brings us to this opportunity, gentle mercy, tender beauty,
purest of goodness, when willing, everyday. Though even we do, or do not pray.
Like the perfect feel of those glorious tender kisses. Sweet caresses flying footballs
bike riding scuffed up knees tender love and band aids humming-birds-humming.
As-they-hover by the honey water feeders. The dog barking Pounce and Timid playing with
their super bouncy ball bouncing around whimsically too and fro. The Mango Chicken
Surprise chicken in the Set-It-and-Forget it rotisserie. Slippery wet feet legs flung up
swinging arms and tossing shoes loud thunks of your older swimmer Son slipping coming in
from His morning workout on the linoleum floor being just freshly mopped right bye the
back door.
As Mama cries out ""sorry Son" the dog or cat peed and you yell too"" You alright", and he
yells back frustrated "Whatever!" "This is a crazy family"! "I want out" Let me out"! And
yes some other real good humor I cannot really hear right now, and as well yes I feel he
is like Jim Carry and Robin Williams and a lot like me and my morning coffee.
Still being drank all throughout whatever heat of the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWJVmk8s9NU&playnext=1&list=PLAAF17CBEBB7C3D44&index=78