Long Be after Poems
Long Be after Poems. Below are the most popular long Be after by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Be after poems by poem length and keyword.
As Marion trod the old familiar path
leading to the river of her childhood,
she viewed the willow tree across the river
and recalled with clarity
the event that changed her life
half a century ago - that memory
which for all her adult life
she‘d managed to suppress . . .
She was being chased by Ellie down the path;
Ellie, the fair haired younger sister
favored by their father
and wearing the golden pendant he had given her
when she’d won a spelling bee.
Yanking the pendant from her sister’s neck,
Marion ran into the river’s icy water,
threatening to throw the pendant in.
Screaming, Ellie followed right behind.
Farther into the river’s center, the two girls moved.
Where the riverbed dipped sharply,
Ellie had caught up.
Suddenly the wind blew violently,
The chain with its beautiful pendant
slipped from Marion’s hand
into the swirling water.
Ellie tottered, falling backwards.
Then the river was carrying
Marion’s little sister to the other side.
Marion called out, but Ellie did not answer.
A strong swimmer, Marion swam
to her sister’s lifeless body
on the opposite bank where a nearby willow stood -
witness to her crime.
Marion now was standing where she once had stood
that fateful day. The river had receded with time,
but its current was still strong.
She stood recalling her parents’ bitter tears
and how she had escaped their wrath
inventing her own version of the truth -
that Ellie had run into the water by herself
when the sudden wind came up
causing her demise.
She felt bad, but in the end,
she became her father’s newfound pride and joy.
Something glittered at the water’s edge.
Marion, now heavy and clumsy with age,
moved closer to see. Could it be after all these years?
Yes, it was the pendant, shining in the river’s sludge!
She stooped to pick it up, but lost her balance,
falling forward toward the slanting floor.
As she struggled, a great gust of wind
moved her out. . .farther and farther to the middle.
Before her head vanished below the water’s surface,
she saw that old willow’s leaves flutter angrily.
She could almost swear she saw the form of Ellie,
fair sweet Ellie, beckoning her from the other side.
For Frank Herrera's POEM ENDING WITH A 'CHILLING TWIST' Poetry Contest
It was quite an adventure. I never had sailed.
Appearances looked like the last trip had failed.
“That rickety old thing? Ya’ sure it will float?”
Nodding my friend said, “Don’t call it a boat.”
We sat in the back as his Dad came up top.
He was dressed like a pirate. I felt my jaw drop.
Wielding a sword, his clothes were so cool.
He was twisting and jabbing as if in a duel.
“What’s going on?” I asked with concern.
My buddy said, “Watch, pay attention and learn.
He thinks he’s the Captain, that this is his ship.
Listen-up, or it could be a very long trip.”
My eyes were wide open as he tucked in his sword.
This might be a journey I could not afford.
“Arrrr…, fresh blood,” he said pointing at me.
“Are ye brave enough, boy, to sail the high sea?”
I cautiously nodded responding, “Yes sir!”
He then threw me a coat, why I’m not sure.
He leaped towards the cabin taking hold of the wheel.
His eye-patch and peg-leg looked pretty darn real.
“Shiver me timbers and spindle me toes.
Nubs to the wind, which way dar she blows?
You’ll swab up them decks and dust off them planks.
Ahoy ye scoundrels now scrub out ‘dem tanks.”
“Clean out the gallows and hoist up that mast,
I feel a storm brewing, It’s coming in fast.
We seek buried treasure, medallions and pearls,
cast off this island and straighten them curls.
Avast ye mates, ye stench of the earth,
we’ll fight to the death whatever it’s worth.
Keep an eye out for crocs. Be ready to shoot.
Be wary of pirates, they be after our loot.”
Crashing through waves like butter through steel,
the seduction of danger was casting appeal.
When this incredible journey was finally done,
I said, “Thanks for the ride in your boat, it was fun.”
Suddenly the veins in his eyes turned to red.
My friend shook his head exclaiming, “You’re dead.”
He wielded his sword like a Samurai Knight.
I said, “Captain, I don’t think you heard me just right.
If you thought I said boat, you misunderstood.
I said … thanks for the coat, it fit me real good.”
He then patted my head, put his weapon away.
My friend said, “Nice save, you can live one more day.”
Hopeless world*
Hopeless world,
I sat and wonder how the world has become,
Hopeless world,
For we’re all sinners in this world,
But the only thing that set us apart from this rust dust we breathe…
It is the way we rise up through this dust filled with many dirt,
For we are all sinner in this world, in this place of so much hate,
Keep on climbing these hills of holiness,
For you might nev’r know god might be impressed?
In this world of so many wonders,
In this world of so many wonderful tears,
In this world of so many sorrows,
Keep on climbing these painful hills,
For you might nev’r know how beautiful the deck might be after the pain?
Keep on climbing and climbing these hills,
For you might nev’r see beyond the deck of this pain if you’re not trying?
In this hopeless world a mother has to die a child has to wear an image of an old,
In this hopeless world, the tomb became a mother to a child,
In this hopeless world love slips away,
Hopeless world,
For we’re all travelers in this world, invaders, intruders,
In this world of so many sorrows,
Keep on climbing and climbing these painful mountain valleys,
For you might end up feeling comfortable to stumble through the deck of this pain,
This hopeless world took my mother,
This hopeless world took my child,
And this hopeless world the critic has become my friend,
Hopeless world, hopeless world…
I’ve been here many times before,
But every time I sit in front of this world,
I often wonder why there is no door of a smile, peace and happiness,
I’ve been here many times before,
Standing and longing to see the shadows become colorless,
And every piece of breath i draw, become an art to decorate my tomb,
I’ve been here many times before standing across this hopeless world,
Watching and watching as good days become a dawn in the hell,
And every piece of breath I drew through the face of this world,
Become a history to read in tears,
And every moment that passes away,
Become a samber to a dancer filled with pain,
In this hopeless world, the love is no more,
Only stitches that art our hearts to keep us connected with our lord,
End of poem 3
I rode my bike down Omen Road,
Knew they'd be after me, I'd reap what I sowed.
Crossed into Jersey, saw a dead bird ahead—
I prefer voices, I get symbols instead
In a pullout was a convertible with a man inside
He drew his finger across his nose, didn't approve this ride
By Greenwood Lake I smelled perfume as I climbed up the slope
I was tensing up, I was reaching the end of my rope
Heard two sarcastic guys in a parking lot
They could be talking about me, I hoped they were not
Should I keep on my course to Port Jervis Hotel?
Should I cut my trip short, heed the tolling bell?
(chorus)
For whom does the bell toll? Could it be me?
Should I surrender my rights in the land of the free?
It’s a grim kind of fate, riding this road,
Where even roadkill is a phrase in a code.
I cut through Warwick, a town old and serene
What I would encounter, who could have foreseen?
Passed a dead skunk on the road, who put it there?
Was I being paranoid, my accusation unfair?
Kept on a few miles, another dead skunk
I pinched myself, could I be drunk?
Reached a platform, but no train in the station,
Asked a bitter woman where I could find accomodation.
She sent me south, just a mile or two,
But the motel was nowhere, her directions untrue.
I asked a local man to search his cell phone
He found an old B and B that was not well known
The owners said I could stay, though it wasn't summer yet
This was an unexpected rescue, I felt in their debt
Next morning on the road, I ran into a dead fox
Does it pay to be clever, to think out of the box?
There’s a law of revenge, a law of crime,
Their justice isn’t yours, nor is it mine.
They were crusaders, but afraid of exposure
I knew too much, there could never be closure.
Got to the Hudson, got on the train
No way to tell this story, all would think it insane
How can I go against sanity's flow?
When the mundane is an omen, what can I show?
If it can be explained away, it stays unknown
And the startled realization stays alone.
Ever find yourself getting
up on the wrong side of
the bed, knowing your
going to have one of those
days!! Guess what!
everything went wrong,
first, the letters slipped
out of the mailbox when
I went to mail
them.
The cat ate the dog food
the dog ate the cat food
The fish tanks pump
went dead, with the fish,
swimming on there sides.
I left the house, tripping
gracefully over the stepping
block, got my neck caught
on a rose thorn trying to get
the morning paper the boy
threw in the thorny rose bushes.
The dog next door came
in the yard, took a big dump
on my new planted grass, the
city gave me a ticket, for planting
flowers to close to the fire
hydrant..
I went to work, found someone
parked in my parking space, my
computer decided to stop working
and the coffee tasted like tar.
Went to the store, on my way
home, checked everything out
at the counter, realized I had
left both my wallet and charge
card in my other hand bag.
I was about to scream, when my
son came home from school wearing
a black eye, which his girlfriend gave
him for something stupid he had
said to make her upset.
Now was time for bed, and decided
to take a nice soothing bath to relax
my shattered nerves, when I realized
their was no hot water, because the
hot water tank had broken.
I just had it, got into bed, thanking
God for giving me a wonderful day to
tackle, with patience and gratitude.
I figured if thanking God for a wonderful day
my day tomorrow may be just great which I
needed so badly to be, after the stress of
today's craziness.
Should I tell you what happened on my
wonderful day, I thought would be great?
I really better say nothing about it.
(Please don't expect to always have beautiful day)
By Derena
© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)
If We Must Die: (Dedicated to the Memory of Claude McKay, Harlem Renaissance Poet and Jamaican Born)
If we must die:
Let it not result from, being unable to serve the cause for the betterment of humankind. Or from being denied a seat around the table, in the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
If we must die:
Let it not result from, anger and reprisal against each other, instead of sitting down in peace and love, to bring about God’s blessings, understanding, tranquility and a true quality of life.
If we must die:
Let it not result from, the thirst or want of righteousness and salvation.
Like dry bones with no voice, rotting away in a valley of condemnation without God’s grace.
If we must die:
Let it not result from, the lack of beautiful songs stimulating our souls with God’s love. Radiating from the magnificent choral voices of our children, and grandchildren, immersing themselves in our great cultural heritage of wisdom, knowledge, spirituality and understanding.
If we must die:
Let it not result from, the agony of an unscrupulous person ripping off our safety deposit boxes, and cleaning out our bank accounts, while we are tucked away in an old-folks home somewhere.
Alas, my brothers and sisters, if we must die:
Let it be after, and only after, our souls have passed on the renaissance knowledge of God’s grace to all humankind.
Like a shining star created by God gliding across the universe. From the East to West. One which raises aspiring heads and beaming eyes.
Opening up wondering minds, and joy filled hearts molded from God's hand. Leaving on the tongue of all who seek to reach for it…
Words of everlasting hope— “I wish!
Then, and only then, if we must die, only God in Heaven awaits us!
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 8/21/19
All Rights Reserved
I thought for this'n I be a dodger,
But the Cap'n told me to hoist the Jolly Roger.
Skull 'n Bones on Black in the air,
Ye know, matey, that I be thar.
Me peg leg be a clompin' so loud,
Ye be sure to find me, even in a crowd.
With a patch o'er one eye 'n me parrot too,
Ye be sure that we be lookin' fer you!
Cutlalsses out 'n daggers in our teeth,
Ropes from the yardarms, hangin' b'neath.
If'n ye see me thar up on the deck,
Ye can be sure I be wantin' to put a rope 'round yor neck.
We be after the spoils of a bounteous sea,
That means RANSOM to you...GOLD for me!
For we be sellin' you to someone for gold,
'Else ye be not gettin' very old.
'N if we be needin' any more,
We be a takin' all them trinkets in ye ship's store.
Our Cap'n orders the ship turn about,
We be after yorn, without a doubt.
The Cap'n be a mean'un ye ought to know,
He be a blood spiller from long ago.
That's why he be the Cap'n ye see,
'N the crew to his word, we all step lively.
I seen him cut a man in two,
Cut out his heart, 'n eat his liver too!
So I be doin' what he tells me I should,
'Else I could become the Capn's food.
Any man of our crew ye would not want to see,
They be all cutthroats, just like me
The crew is lively that's for shor,
Especially when we get ashore.
We take no baths and get no scrub,
We be downin' all the ale, left in the pub.
They may look dirty and smell to thee,
But they be pleasin' 'n have a sweet aroma to me.
Oh, the pirate's life is one o' glory,
'S long 's ye be 'round to tell yer story.
'N one thing more I be tellin' you,
A'for I go 'n get a brew.
You can tell one's a pirate if'n ye want to seek,
Their talk is filled with contractives and other speak.
They eat only meat 'n fish fer no Gar,
"N at the end of their words, they al'ays say RRRRRRRRRRR!
FEELINGS
Here it all goes again
the heavy pressure building upon my brain
unpause my sad songs once again
And scream inside to release my pain
Gasping for breath whilst questioning death
but all you here is silence because I have to hide
As you only understand an argument from one side
I’m here questioning why I’m still fighting
Asking why you’re life gets to be so exciting
you make me feel sick inside
after all you’ve done and you still take pride
I guess I was hoping you’d leave me be after you’ve taken so much
but it’s to late, the only feeling left is my touch
You’ve taken everything worth smiling about
and all I can do is wait it out
you’ve changed my want for a relationship
because if everyone’s like you I think I’ll skip
I never thought my childhood would be this bad
As I sat on the sofa close to my dad
Living with a narcissist was never what I expected
As I played with my dolls, not aware an unaffected
I always try my best
Whilst keeping my emotions suppressed
the anger I wish I could show you
For everything you’re putting me through
the rage I want to let out
for making me hide and live in doubt
the happiness I have to disguise
for its been removed from my insides
the hatred i want to expose
for all the times you’ve yelled and I’ve just froze
the hopelessness and worry I need to reveal
For all the time I’ll spend trying to heal
and the disgust and fear you gave for free
for not letting me be me
the worst part for me is
it’s not our house, it’s his
It’s never going to end
Its her money only he can expend
It’s the crushing feeling on my throat
the love he claims to devote
It’s to making up and getting away with everything
It’s the laughing I hear while I’m above crying
It’s the fact you will never see
How truly mean your fiancé can be
1.
Mom
kept the perch
we caught in a bucket.
And when we took them home
She would clean and place them
In our twenty gallon tank
Where they bobbed in stunned silence
Eyes watching for any white movement.
Nobody cared
when they committed fishicide
on their domesticated tank-mates.
Even the little beta fish
Who had survived our six day pilgrimage from Florida, to find Mecca
was a cool whip container.
2.
Whenever we had guests for dinner,
Mom swooned they
were the smartest fish she had ever seen.
She bestowed upon them names - Jed and Lucy
tapping at the glass
with one extended finger,
feeding them fish flakes,
like porpoises fed from the teeth of a trainer in Ocean World
“You can’t keep perch in a fish tank”
the guests would say,
but
they lived for two years
bobbing and staring
in the vacant tank space.
3.
One crisp winter morning
Jed finished his breakfast of gold fish flakes, took one
last gulp of slimy tank
water
then hurled
himself off of glass
walls.
It went
over and over,
so hard
I almost thought
the glass would crack.
4.
Lucy
sat quietly and watched
him.
She too died a few days later
like aged soulmates
who often cease
to be after their amor
dies.
When someone left the lid open,
she plunged
her blue green skin shimmered
as she laid
making fish O’s in the dry air..
I often wonder
if the air that morning
smelled
like an ice floe
to a better place
somewhere Jed waited
with our beta and our angel fish
a place of worms, kelp
and dragonflies.
4.
Mom
emptied the tank of the murky filtered water.
Rinsed the ultra neon yellow fish gravel,
and placed the fake plants on a sponge.
Separating air filter, from pump
from clear plastic tubing
and put to rest
in a brown cardboard box..
She did it without a word.
Dear Stranger, it's odd to call you that but to be fair that is what you are.
I only have three years of memory of you. The rest are just stories I've heard through the years.
That's all you are now, old stories told that are retold like folk tales of some kind. I have one story about you.
Which I keep in my mind a lot of the time. I'm not going to tell you all you have missed out on. I'm not going to tell you because it's not fair at all.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gotten sick like you did. Would we all still be a family stranger? I have a feeling that we wouldn't be after all the stuff like the fighting. I remember the biggest fight you and mom had on Well's Luke Road.
If you could see what your family has become, I am betting you would have some words for them all. You probably know that you have two grandkids which both drive mom and my sister up a wall. I pretty much tune them out to a point. You probably know that mom has had two other men in her life since you. They treated her right.
I hope you don't mind but I used what I could remember of you for a character of you Stranger. I even made him a Crimson Tide fan. I'm sure you would like that a lot and probably even made you smile just then. Your mother once told me she thinks my writing talent was a way of you saying goodbye to me. If so then thank you. If not, then maybe she was just being nice.
Now I've caught you up on stuff just clips of it. Stranger when I decided to write this to you, I didn't know what to say. I guess you will forever be just stories to me. Maybe like the scar on my hand, those stories will fade.
Until we get to officially meet stranger, I will just keep looking at that photo taken so many life times ago.
By,
the little girl you used to know