Long Barcelona Poems
Long Barcelona Poems. Below are the most popular long Barcelona by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Barcelona poems by poem length and keyword.
La Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona, Spain is being finished after 144 years
I'm not a Christian, but can appreciate the labor of love and majestic design when I see one. I, however, find this magnificent cathedral completion being a bit late as the surrounding times had irrevocably changed
The work is finished, took so many years
Time comes for admiration, prayer, cheers
Construction's done, scaffolding's coming down
With folks be flocking way from out of town
In glory of their Lord but also land of Spain
Yet being so late, street riffraff’s in disdain
For Muslim crowds nothing but a joke
No quiet piety these steeples to evoke
Oh, Europe, Europe, one could never know
Why you admitted, nurtured and let grow
Without common roots, rejecting Mothers' Grace
A savage foreign horde of fiendish angry faith
They fill your streets, demanding Sharia
From places far, they made the ‘aliyah’
A malady, from which there’s no recourse
Sad alteration of mankind’s future course
As time flows, a church of yellow stone
This splendid site is bound to stand alone
Eyewitness, symbol-speaking, through her eyes
Of Western world corruption and demise
March 28, 2026
The heart of Dubai, dreams collide,
I’m a shadow the World can’t find.
Tijuana whispers on cold nights,
Lost in reflection under city lights.
Every corner feels like home,
Crowds mask where I roam.
Barcelona or Singapore’s tears,
Hiding in hotels from my fears.
Glass hotels, safe from love's embrace,
Open skies above but an empty space.
Know each city’s soul, I can't let them in,
Every heartbeat a reminder of my sin.
Aberdeen rain falling, sip Majorca wine,
Each drop a memory, chances lost in time.
Bangkok calls to stories not yet told,
Behind closed windows of silk and gold.
Yokohama’s sun never warms my heart,
Laughter echoes, when it all fell apart.
Trace lines of maps, tattoos on my skin;
Cities are familiar, how they pull me in.
My glass hotels, safe from love's embrace,
Open skies above me but an empty space.
Know each city’s soul, I can't let them in,
Every heartbeat a reminder of my sin.
Here I'll hide forever from the pain;
A traveler trapped in invisible chains.
One day I'll break free and go outside
I'm a ghost with no where else to hide.
In glass hotels, silence guards the night,
Open skies above, still holding on tight.
Each city’s pulse, veins beneath my skin;
Love a distant memory, haunts me again.
In my dream, we were all afloat.
My grandpa was riding in a tiny boat.
A whale was lurking big and floppy.
My bed was traveling rather sloppy.
In my dream, there were fish splashing.
They were playing happily, fins a flashing.
The whale had a name, whose name escapes me.
I dozed off happily, in dream land Disney.
We traveled around the world, us five.
Maybe six, I am not sure, but we were all alive.
The whale was gentle, kind, and sweet.
My grandpa’s mustache was better than neat.
We traveled to Barcelona, and Timbuktu,
We met some natives, they were red and blue.
We traveled to Chile, Brazil, Africa, and Peru.
With an imagination like mine, this is what I do.
You have an Alice band, keeps your hair in place,
Dum and Dee said you're so modern, have an interface,
long time since Terry"s tea party, we were timeless,
the Mad Hatter said: 'Poof!' Couldn't care less.
The Doormouse nudged himself awake, for Godssake.
'Can't you let me sleep, I'll decide when I wake,'
The Queen had decided on independence for Barcelona,
'Can not be, ' they wailed, "Shut up, ' she said, 'You're another bloody moaner.'
The tortoise taught us how to make love, mimicked
the Queen, clapped his hands and said: 'Off with his head,'
Tarts were ready but black as the ace of spades,
brought uncerrmoniously by a train of waiting maids.
The King chastised everyone including the seven of clubs,
decided the whole lot were boring, went on a tour of Wonderland pubs.
Footnote: The Queen admonished the knave
and said: 'You"re not alright Jack.'
Argentina's son, a lineage to immigrants
shaped by boyhood aspirations
diminutive left foot striker
taunted "dwarf" in childhood
his growth hormone deficiency
overcome through meds and workouts
a counter to foes physically imposing
Messi's daily slog of skills
agility and balance
slow grind of mastery to mesh the skills to speed
on the football field, Messi dribbles through opponents
pivots round defenders, takes an opposite direction
accelerates
de-accelerates
takes stock of field positions
awareness like a lordly hawk that calculates its prey
a kick triggered whittles through the air
the ball's stinging centre,
flight controlled
at a goal keeper spiralling to the ground
this FIFA World Cup champion
devout in faith
celebrates goals by a gaze upward
a pointed hand to the heavens
another field of his embracing
790 - Messi's career goals for Barcelona clubs and
Argentinean glory
football awards that roll on like credits on a movie screen
on field moves that burrow into memory
through the entanglement of limbs
Messi's footwork, like a dancer's gift
his sprints to fill the field with unheeding power
midst the bulging roar of fans
a homage to glorify the footballer
before he fades
to legend
Poem written January 4, 2023
as Las Vegas blood pours on Manchester in droplets the shape of poker chips scattered, dropped by a God laughing all the way to the bank
when the lattice streets, corners and cobbles and bridges of London bend with a gasp backward, with the suppleness of a rheumatic spine, to lay a hand over a Barcelona street and Parisian concert hall, whilst trying to shade a train track in Madrid from searing heat, although years before
where Dachau had no birdsong, its buildings walled away from ignorant eyes, death camps today are not so silent with their terror in plain sight, hidden inside vans and suburban semis, in red brick lecture halls, in hundred and forty characters that hashtag extremist slaughter
beside an Orlando rainbow strewn with special offer laptops that print out onto paper guides to gain a gun or build a bomb to ram a Berlin Christmas market where mulled scents of a year are muted by screaming wi-fi connections allowing a faceless anybody to sign up to chat rooms to fell fellow men for beliefs to better an already fallen foreign land, lost
alongside the fallen of the Great War that are not forgotten because they fall today, still - only now, in shorter pockets of horror: in broadband routed trenches untraceable; dug within devices cradled in a millennial’s palm
Another terrorist atrocity has happened again
This time it was Barcelona and that my friends is Spain
My heart felt love goes to those affected
These terrorists need found and dejected
Stay alert everyone they may strike anywhere
Be vigilant and stay aware
They have hit London and Paris
They call themselves ISIS
They have tried to install fear to us all
But their the only ones who will fall
They will not win their religious fight
Peace and tranquillity that’s what’s right
There tactics have been very similar
Killing, hurting with a van or a car
Driving at speed in built up areas
Targeting innocent bystanders
These people really are cowardly
I just wish that they would see
They have been totally brain washed
Reasons and thoughts turned to slosh
Sending healing thoughts to all people there
From the western world we really care
The terrorist should be behind a large fence
For indiscriminate acts of murder and violence
You are the scurvy of this earth
Your radical beliefs buried under turf
You can not see that you won’t win
What you do is a really a Sin
So ISIS we won’t take it anymore
Face up to facts you’ve lost your war
Go back home and leave our shores
Violence and murder we don’t adore
Lovely people and angry people
This afternoon, in Lisbon, a charming march about saving the Sobreiro- tree, about 300 people gathered
under the shade of the tree's big crown, recited poems
and sang; my heart warmed, These are my people and they will never be cynical because there is always another
hopeful poem to write.
Parallel to the tree saver was a group dedicated to saving the old buildings in Lisbon about 2600 fine buildings, that can be modernized and made rat-free
To live in narrow streets near abandoned dwelling
is not as romantic as it looks.
Two minor football clubs I have not heard the name of
showed us fast, furious and violent football, quite different from the female of the same name whose idea of sport is somewhat less rushed.
Later on, a talk program led by a man speaking to two
women about a kiss (not the famous painting) planted on the mouth of a female player, by a manager of a club
the interviewer was on a loser, but the gist of the case was, no man should ever kiss a woman without her permission, preferably in writing.
Furious women in the streets of Barcelona demanded the man's head and got it.
Sigh, we are all guilty and should be ashamed-
Sarah Storey was the first disabled athlete,
In the Commonwealth Games to compete,
As an English competitor, and she’s thrice,
Able-bodied national track champion of ice.
She was born without a left hand, entangled,
But she was firstly a swimmer, she jangled,
Then she became a cyclist on road and track,
And is still pedalling strong, not to look back.
She swam in Barcelona in 1992 and won,
Two golds, three silvers and a bronzed one,
Then in 2008, again at the Paras her fifth,
She won the individual pursuit with much pith.
Sarah Storey won Britain’s first gold in the C5,
In the women’s individual pursuit she’d thrive,
And in the C4-5 5000m, C4-5, and on road,
She won each one with a gold that was owed.
In 2014 she founded a sports cycling team,
Which supports a breast cancer charity keen,
And she became a MBE in 1998, OBE in 2009,
Then she was made a dame in 2013, long line.
She married Barney her coach and duel pilot,
For the tandem duel ride, which could be a riot,
And was on the 2012 Celebrity Mastermind IQ,
With Sex & The City, and also has a girl to coo.
Tomorrow’s going to find me in another place
I never had the urge to settle down
There’s so much of this world that I’ve never seen
Another mountain, another valley, another town
I get those urges every time I hear a train whistle blow
Or the sound of a ship pulling out to sea
Staying put is killing me and I’ve just got to go
That open road is calling out to me
My memories take me to my youth
Just living for each day
Reveling in the joy that freedom brings
Flew from Spain to Corsica
Saw Ajaccio but I couldn’t stay
Listen to a mermaid as she sings
Barcelona then the other side of Spain
Pull cinderella liberty for New Year’s eve
Take the liberty boat back at Two AM
With a bottle of cognac up my sleeve
Walked around an old castle in Patras Greece
On a warm and sunny day
Stopped in town and had a few
Then it was time to be on my way
Remembering all the places that I’ve been
Look at the lines carved in my face
Wishing I could sail again
Memories time cannot erase
Dreams take me back to the open sea
Stop for a while in Kingston town
See the Southern Cross at night
Pour another tequila down