Long Behaves Poems
Long Behaves Poems. Below are the most popular long Behaves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Behaves poems by poem length and keyword.
None knew who or what, how or why, nor how long;
But something or someone must have taken him there.
From an environ of community, gaiety, and hilarity,
Jack found himself alone and locked in a cell of solitude.
Some attempted to aid in his escape, but even he refused the bait.
“It’s been weeks since he bothered to shave”, said his brother Jimmy.
“This kind of isolation can lead to an early grave”, said his sister Jill.
“There has to be a reason for the way he behaves”, concerned ones said.
Both family and friends dared repeatedly to draw near, but it appeared that he withdrew and became ever more comfortable with the cave.
Jack was not the defensive type and rarely spoke.
But suddenly, it was as if from a deep sleep he awoke. That was the unforgettable day that they all heard him say,
“I know that you love me, but please, just go away.
I must have quiet, an escape from the noise.
I delight in being just a tree in the forest.
Do you not agree that it’s my choice?
You need not worry about my attitude; just look to always find me in my solitude”.
12052016 PS Contest, Come And Find Me In My Solitude, Mystic Rose
Horse Power
A great white Steed, carries the strength of –
The fabled Unicorn, carries the mythical passion of -
The legendary Pegasus, carries ( on wings ) the dreams of –
The Man, in love carries ( on his back ) the weight of –
A Mare, of exotic beauty carries not ( a concern of ) –
for what these fine Animals, carry to her – Love !
Horse power exists, not in a world of air waves,
micro waves, radio waves, solar waves, psychic waves,
the wave of cosmic consciousness and goodbye waves .
With all these horses, permeating the air, how one behaves -
sanely or insanely - to the pull of Love’s forces ?,
is a mystery to many a man and all the above horses
B. J. “A” 2
December 3rd 2008
Fairy Tale
Is this a dream ?, that breaths life into my brain .
Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Juliette, no, Moneca her name.
Romeo, Don Juan, Casanova, Eros, I would claim
to be the inspiration for my Love’s game.
These passionate heroes, ooze a desire to express,
to let love flow from every atom, molecule, nucleus,
every pore, from the very fiber of their soul, their being
and nothing less, would we be seeing,
radiating energy on beams, on rays from spirit, and eyes.
My soul, my spirit, wants to touch, but only cries
as love walks on by - as shapeless clouds fill the skies.
Realization comes – love’s expression are in the brain –
a synaptic act – ecstasy for some, for me, only pain !
Electric impulse, energizes Cupid’s bow – guide his arrow
towards me, not ! my life to shallow, my being to narrow,
in the mind, in the eyes of the one I seek to love
who says, who claims, who believes she is so far above
this old man she toys with, plays with and cares not
for who I am, emotionally, intellectually, for what I’ve got
I can not seem to sleep passed this dream / nightmare.
I can not seem to sleep through this dream / nightmare
B. J. “A” 2
December 3rd 2008
To live in the past must be scary a bit
Like you open the novel you’ve read
And it’s not quite the same what now you reread
What you have thought, felt and said
Seems distorted by memory, you ask yourself why
Should it continue like fictional
Though the fiction it’s not, but your own past time
Behaves in some way unpredictable
It's like the Pierre Menard effect in Borges's
Attempt to rewrite an old fable
Don Quixote, who apparently wasn’t obsessed
To fight mills, to impress his fair lady
Reappears as wiser and sadder in time
That hadn’t yet entered back then
To live in the past gives no hope to revive
That familiar feeling again
It speaks of nostalgia, back in the past
You’re trying to hide from the yearning
But it can’t provide you the same healing blast
On this lonely beach in the morning.
Written: April 6, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We dwell in the sanctuary of slumber.
Where stars fade away, light may encumber.
Oh, the comfort found in weak rays of light.
Do they disappear quickly as a passing night?
Fireflies dance upon the summer's veil.
As winter jar embraces me, I stand pale.
Gazing at horizons, seeking a distant light,
Does it seek me, too? In the depths of night.
It softly murmurs, filled with a deep desire.
An intricate interplay of destiny and attire.
Does it hunt me down as well?
It behaves as if it were a mild wind swell.
Keeping hidden tales from the light.
Articulated with precision and clarity.
Seasons, adorned with heavenly sight.
Nature's pattern was weaved into parity.
In hues of gold and crimson blaze,
A symphony of beauty, nature's praise.
Whispering gently, my name echoes.
Through the corridors of time, it flows.
A melodic refrain, gentle and sweet,
In the realm of echos, our souls meet.
Bathed in a light embrace,
Reaching optimum grace.
A speck emerges, sudden and small.
Darkness that outshines them all.
Oh, that ethereal glowing
A strange beauty, perfectly flowing.
Gravity, oh, how it strikes, high
With a force that no one can deny,
It hits adamantine, with all its might.
A power that holds us tight.
March's dreariness looms
when no pigeon coons,
it grieves at spring's doorsteps
not willing to pass the baton,
resisting to give in until its frown
vanishes into the brightness of sun rays!
March is wilder than storms,
it can retain its brutality,
even being mean to Nature
which knows how badly it behaves,
letting lose its frightening madness
that viciously destroys wilderness;
how vile is it to withdraw from mindfulness,
continuing the brief journey
into time swifter than a hunted creature!
March has no time for debates,
it wrecks everything in its path...
scattering branches on faded meadows
that await stillness, not chaos;
when icy winds blow hard, it's a threat:
stay inside, grab a pen and write poems!
March is fierce and increases fears,
its awareness of limitations is indisputable;
it chooses viciousness and pretends to be invincible;
March snatches your umbrellas, chuckles, and sneers!
March's dreariness looms for very long,
it can be broken with a cheerful song!
When a man stepped out his childhood home,
planting a brave foot in the open world, not an age,
not a generation, not a world ago,
There breathed and burned in him hope shared with
mama's receding figure frozen in prayer by the
doorpost to his back
That his way he would make through this mild wild
that law and claw both make the world with flesh
unmarred by scratch or patch.
"You'll keep out of trouble if you behave yourself,"
she would advise.
That, sure, was the wisdom of her world, her old
world now long gone,
When the law was still a genuine ass, not a
chameleon in ass skin,
That turns deathly black when around blacks and
pristine white when around whites.
Black or white, all will rue the loss of that world
when a man was safe if he behaved himself.
Nowadays, he'll keep out of trouble
Only if he behaves himself,
The police behave themselves,
And court behaves itself.
Be mine. My sunny little valentine.
Be true. As blackbird to skies of blue.
Be shine. As stars, and night so fine.
Parlez-vous. Is it love I see in you?
Be real. Show the heart that you feel.
Be more. Than ones I've known before.
Ideal. Like pretty flowers in a field.
Don't ignore. Love waits at the door.
Likelihood. Fate behaves as it should.
Clocks chyme. And whisper summertime.
Understood. Love blooms, if it would.
Sublime. Music plays at moon's prime.
Be sure. That this love will endure.
Be now. This moment shines, and how!
So obscure. Great mystery and allure.
Anyhow. Moonlight magic will endow.
Be fair. As scents wafting everywhere.
Be mine. When in love, you give a sign.
None compares. To the music in the air!
Be mine. And never know a love decline.
I raised an Australian dingo,
no name came to mind but Ringo;
he jumped on me,
ripped my clothes daily...
it costed me plenty of money!
Only once I left him alone;
good grief... my furniture was torn!
Oh, should I be mad...
or be kind instead?
I'll sleep over it for tonight!
All Ringo did was run, bark and howl,
mistaking a small cat for an owl;
They took him away
to the zoo today;
he'll whimper form his cage, not rest!
I'll take him back, lest he behaves;
his lesson he'll learn: good manners!
Now, Ringo just stares
to earn forgiveness...
it's fun to play with him and laugh!
To my children, grandchildren and Patricia my wife.
You all are the blessing God placed in my life.
Don't think nothing less if I don't call you each day.
Know that I think about you and to God I do pray.
From my heart there are three words, I need you to hear.
Please know that I LOVE YOU! everyday of the year.
Don't worry about people, what they think or might say.
We'll explain our behavior to God on judgement day.
Just ask your Creator for grace from above.
To forgive your enemies and help you to love.
Nobody's an angel, that includes me and you.
I've messed up many times and truth is you have too.
All people in this world behaves wrong in some way.
The bible says still we must forgive everyday.
Thinking of you as I pen this has given me a smile.
Having you all in my life makes living worthwhile.
To my children, grandchildren and wife let me say.
I'm here for you everyday until God takes me away!
It took me years of training
to move my legs like this,
gliding over the granular
on long feet with curved width,
to make my legs flail left and right,
my upper half stock-still,
balancing and countering
so I won’t take a spill,
I’m going about forty-five,
but I’ve got no steel cage,
just long blades cutting through the white,
so long as it behaves.
Gravity is now my plaything,
as much as I am hers,
cross a mile in two minutes,
a small grace I have earned,
the blur of speed makes its own wind,
downs out the weaker noise,
just a fast bubble around me,
that calmness I enjoy.
Gray mercury says twenty-three,
but I don’t feel a thing,
you really only note the chill
when you have stopped moving,
my weight becomes a shifting ball,
it flows, then it slams home,
at other times it’s zero-G,
a feeling few have known.
Winter-brown trees are flashing past,
guiding the broad, white trail,
they remain still, branches don’t wave,
this time I am the gale,
it’s rare to find a day like this,
where crowds don’t slow you down,
when you can streak across the snow,
flying just off the ground.