Long Bars Poems
Long Bars Poems. Below are the most popular long Bars by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bars poems by poem length and keyword.
The songbird sings because she must,
her voice a trembling act of trust.
Her wings press tight to iron bars,
a cage that steals her sky and stars.
She remembers how the wild winds felt —
a freedom stolen, not dispelled.
For memory’s echo, soft and slight,
can hollow even morning’s light.
The bear still paces, slow and worn,
a creature grown from grief and scorn.
Step, turn, step back — the silent plea
of something trapped that should be free.
Even asleep she feels the walls
closing like hands in quiet thralls.
Some beasts grow huge, some merely break;
both suffer for the captor’s sake.
The snake lies coiled, her spine confined,
a tightness clinging to her mind.
She sheds old skin in layered grief,
but finds in each no true relief.
What’s left behind upon the floor
still haunts the shape she takes once more.
For pain, once worn, will often stay
no matter how she fades away.
The wolf stares out through latticed wire,
a ghost of dusk, of wild desire.
Her eyes should mirror nights unbound,
but now reflect the fenced-in ground.
She growls at shadows of her past —
the forests lost, the futures cast.
The world she knew has slipped from call,
and left her here, inside a stall.
And then —
there is me, caught just the same.
I am the bird denied the sky,
the bear who walks though she would fly,
the snake who sheds but still holds pain,
the wolf who mourns what won’t return again.
My bars are memories, sharp and thin,
built from the ache beneath my skin.
I breathe, the walls breathe back at me —
a quiet kind of misery.
And so I whisper, soft and true:
I know your cage.
I wear it too.
BONHOEFFER
intense the man
who asks of God
“who am I?”
it echoes down the hall
through his lifetime
searching, pondering
he’s asked, “do you know God,”
the answer comes,
“i’m getting to know Him.”
i read the chain of words
they bind together
like d.n.a.
it’s not like taking a test.
God does not work
the same as man…
his chapel behind bars.
his hands press against the stone wall
on the other side a flood of fears.
a young man hears the recitation
of a poem —
from war it brings peace
as he stands against another wall
waiting to be shot.
again the echo, “who am i, Lord?”
as he tells lies to avoid the truth,
exchanging beauty for ashes
desiring to see colors,
hear birds sing.
he had a chance to escape
run off with his fiance
but his conscience before God
serves his fellow man
tears for his beloved
he’d like to kiss them away
and he tells her, “you fell in love
with the man i’ve become in here”
war is hell and peace is glued between pages
of a person’s mind,
first given to trembling
then to God.
hope comes after one closes their eyes
and some are cleared after many years.
11/26/2018
Eden grassy walls stood stark,
In the noble bowers, of bending day
luscious fruit-in tempestuous talk
The inaccurate gaze led them astray.
Eve with picturesque temptress voice
Put in Adam's mind the godly tyrant.
Repentance implicit in her silence
She joins the wanton seductive serpent.
Infectious with death before the fall.
crawl with silken skin on Eden grassy verge
A devil who speaks transforms into Belial
upon his wounded knees the beggar surge.
For weed and wort, paradise was thwart.
With disability, we live in the lesser part.
Erotic connotation the notion brought.
Death of paradise portrayed from the start.
A place in dive bars and witchy urinal air
We fell into something drabber and daring.
Such modern methods may yet backfire.
And generations may see lust-inducing.
A threat of the demonic realm insane pain
Haunting malady from the power of the air.
The creation reform movement formed again.
with the irresistible figure in the atmosphere.
I thought Pedro was playing a joke,
lying so still out there in the dewy grass,
just outside of Mr. Anderson rusty red barn, as if he'd croaked.
Hopping closer, careful not to raise suspicion about my upright posture,
I noticed Pedro's furry chest barely moving,
the whiskers 'round his nose barely quivering,
and instantly sweat ran down the black streak of my back.
I'll have to reveal my special skill to save this darn cat!
I've seen it done in movies, in plays, even in books!
By ladies in dresses in June,
And swindlers in bars among loons,
But never, never by a 'coon!
So up I hoisted my poor fallen friend
And sauntered to the back door of Mr. Anderson's den.
Though looking around
No one was to be found.
So I laid Pedro on the couch and called 911.
The landscapes I paint have fence one or two
Some with pegs bent, some with bars broken,
Fence between pathway draped in autumn hue
And bare pasture embedding auburn garden.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my emotions dry
In split space defined.
The landscapes I paint have expanse of blue sky
With patches of cloud hanging on hazy horizon
Wrapping the smoky hills, telling them how to fly,
Some drift shapeless in azure emptiness forlorn.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my mooring fly
Life floating behind.
The landscapes I paint have tall trees in thick cluster
Standing in the foreground, some green some brown,
Their roots pierce the soil, crushed grass they devour
In dense shadow of foliage the flowering plants drown.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my identity lie
In soul sinking blind.
The portraits I paint have always birthmark
On lower right cheek, some light some dark,
So on the still face beauty may silently lurk
Carry signature of creativity of artist’s work.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my passion try
Make a mark of some kind.
December 7, 2017.
sexy alligator Sue sat alone, nursing her drink at the bar
the umbrella in her rum turned a bit, not very far
Whispered to her you are going to find the love of our life
Along came an English man, but he was with his third wife
Sue knew she was a hottie, she played it to the max
The next fellow she saw, was carrying a super large sax
He played sorrowful blues music, which caused her to blush
Against a thin wall, you could hear a toilet flush
This is a dive, thought sexy alligator, but I dare not give up now
Next potential date brought his mother, a persnickety cow
Women who eat in bars are pathetic, she said to Sexy Alligator Sue
Pointing her hoof in a nasty way – mean lady, that cow Lou.
1HA I WILL NEVER FEAR GANG RELATED AGENTS ON ANY LEVEL JUST HAPPY YOU OPERATION FOUND A NEW IDENTITY TO COMMIT MORTAGE FRAUD NOT MINE AND NOT MY VETERAN SPOUSE NOT SURPRISED THE SEVERE BLACKMAIL MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND ENDURED TO ALLOW HIS FEMALE AGENTS TO PERPUTRTATE FRAUD UPON ME I AM ACTUALLY YOUR STALKING HAVE BEEN FRUITF6FOR YOU A D THE GANGSTER DISCIPLES FBI AGENTS DANITA DELMONT TALISA SHAW JHORE JOHNSON FILLED WITH ENVY YO BECOME ME YOU ACTUALLY WAS OBSESSED ENOUGH TO ALLOW MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBANDS FETISH HE COULD NEVER LIVE WITHOUT ME 1HA WELCOME LARRY HOOVER TO THE GOLF COMMUNITY JUST MAKE SURE YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY AND OUR IDENTITIES 1HA THAT'S ALL FOLKS.GOD BLESS THE GANGSTER DISCIPLES OF CYPRESS LAKES GOLF COMMUNITY BEWARE OF IDENTITY FRAUD 11111111111 NO FEAR I GUESS I'M RATHER FLATTERED MY ABUSIVE EX AND HIS AGENTS ACTUALLY WANTS TO WATCH MY AZZ IN MOTION BY BEING MY NEIGHBOR HERE IN CYPRESS LAKES IT'S AMAZING HOW FAR STALKERS WILL
GO TO BE IN YOUR MIST THE 1HA THAT SIGNIFIES ALL IS ONE OR ALL AS ONE MEANING ALL MEMBERS ARE ALWAYS ONE UNIT NO MATTER WHAT YOU HAVE IT BELONGS TO THE FOLK NATION IF YOU DISAGREE YOU ARE EXTORTED THESE GANG THREATS TODAY COMING DIRECTLY FROM OLD HEADS OR FRESH OUT OF PRISON BEING EXPOSED AN FBI INFORMANT CAN BE VERY DANGEROUS MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND FEMALE AGENT EXPOSED MY IDENTITY ON THE STREETS AND BEHIND BARS WHEN GANGS ARE RELEASED THEY COME TO COLLECT FROM ALL MEMBERS AND THERE FAMILIES ALL IS 1 IN CYPRESS LAKES 1 GOOD THING I SUPPOSE SECURITY LARRY HOOVER PROVIDING SECURITY COULD MEAN NO MORE HOME INVASIONS AND HEIST UPON MY HOME
My Hooded Towels Hobby
There are so many things I love to do...
write poetry, create with art and more,
like sewing...awesome hobby while I make
fine hooded towels for my daughter's store.
A quaint established shop at the east end;
her hand-poured soaps of lovely scented bars
with lotions, creams and varied novel gifts,
assure her store earns ratings of five stars.
I sew my hooded towels, trimming them
with grosgrain ribbon, printed with designs
of sports...like baseball, soccer, racecars...or
cute kittens, ponies, flowers, and peace signs.
From ages five, perhaps to eight or nine,
the kids love them for baths or water fun.
While sewing each, I often think who will
be wrapped in cozy softness of that one.
For ten years now, my hooded towels still
are sought as special gifts...one of a kind,
hand made with loving care and packaged well;
my help for daughter...fun for me combined.
January 29, 2019
For Contest, 'Hobbies',
sponsored by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
Note: I do not make these for profit, just for my
daughter to sell. For me, it's a fun-time hobby,
and a great feeling to make them for her.
How much time will you be in room?
Please come, play with us and bloom
Behind the bars, there's a chirping bird,
Sleeping still, have you not heard?
The gentle air through the breeze,
Occuring from moving of trees
Forests looking beautiful by its blow
"Hey You, focus it's showing its glow".
Everybody likes the rain,
And go for a dance on the plain
It fills the ponds and rivers with cheer
Making the weather a little quiver.
So let's go and break the boundary,
Leaving behind each doubt and quandary
With courage and fears and spirit wild,
Will face each challenge calm and mild.
Backbone Slim’s Blues/Tony Adamo
12/10/2024
In the deep south, where rivers wind, A tale unfolds, of a soul inter-twined/
Backbone Slim, born where the cotton sways, In fields of labor, he spent his days/
Weary hands, skin kissed by the sun/ Back-breaking work, but he never would run/
Close to the soil, where his roots dig deep, A rhythm of struggle, a song to keep/
Voices holler, chanting through the air, From the cotton fields yonder, a story laid bare/
The gins were a symphony, grinding away/ Blues notes forming, In Slims younger day/
His early life was painted in pain, sorrow, disgust/
Lookin’ for freedom, in a world full of rust/
“Man, I gotta get out,” he whispered to the night/ Who can I trust in this endless fight? /
NOLA called out the soul in his blues/ A blues sanctuary where his heart could choose/
Man, give me a big holler, give me a shout, In the blues rhythm of life, let the music pour out/
So, dig, the blues is his canvas, his solace, his strife/ He’s hip to It/
It's not everyone’s life/
The Smoky Bars/Delta deep Juke Joints/No Bandstand Brother/Just Play in the Club Back Corner/
Slim will Play till he drops, it’s the pulse that beats in his life/
In every strum, in every blues vamp's embrace/
Backbone Slim finds his rightful place/
His 12-bar blues, a shot of hard gin/
Warm on the tongue, where the journey begins/
From the cotton fields' labor to his heart's sweet bluesy refrain/
Backbone Slim’s legacy is a testament to pain and gain/
So, listen closely, and get hip to the blues story, In the deep south, where the blues is gold/
For in every blues heartbreak, and every cryin' soulful tune, Backbone Slim sings to the rhythm of the bright full moon/
So, jump aboard his blues train and feel his song roll by/