Long Benson Poems
Long Benson Poems. Below are the most popular long Benson by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Benson poems by poem length and keyword.
“50 Words for Poe: Maelstrom”
A whirlpool in The Ocean
Love is a Maelstrom sucks you in
Dive deep to drown insane smiling
(LadyLabryinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/EGuPCZBulV0
Mrs Bartolozzi
“She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when you're swimming and you want to put your feet down on something solid, but the water's deeper than you think and there's nothing there”
https://youtu.be/ayhBzZHA4c4
Elysian Fields/Rope of Weeds
“She stooped for a stone and dropped it down.
'Fancy being where that is now,' she said, peering into the blackness; 'fancy going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the slimy sides, with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the little patch of sky above.'
'You had better come in,' said Benson, very quietly. 'You are developing a taste for the morbid and horrible.' ("The Well")”
W.W. Jacobs,Ghost Stories
https://youtu.be/IEvzvjV06R4
Out to Sea
Nightfall, Benson & Where the Dreams Settle Softly
By Alan J Winters
The sky folds down its silver wings,
and all the tired fields exhale.
A hush drifts over Montevideo roads,
settling like a hand on a restless heart.
You lie back, letting the dark
smooth the creases of the day.
Every worry loosens its grip,
every hope glows faint but faithful.
Somewhere, a small engine cools,
ticking like a prayer in metal.
Somewhere, a woman’s kindness
still warms the air around your name.
Rest now.
The night keeps watch.
And the dawn already knows
where to find you.
Where the Dreams Settle Softly
Night drapes its velvet over the fields,
and every tired breath finds a place to rest.
The world slows to a heartbeat’s hush,
steady as a porch light left on for you.
Let your thoughts unlace themselves,
falling easy like boots by the door.
Let the dark hold you without demand,
a cradle shaped from quiet mercy.
Somewhere, kindness remembers your name.
Somewhere, tomorrow is already warming its hands.
Sleep now.
Drift where the gentle things gather.
And may your dreams come soft,
sweet as dawn easing over Benson.
Mariah was quite the painter,
oil her favorite medium,
she didn’t do postmodern crap,
old masters showed how it was done.
She made her fame doing portraits,
liked to stream, and paint them online,
soon had half a million watchers
who all thought her work was divine.
She got prices most dreamed of,
“It’s masterwork,”her fans all said,
soon she adorned walls everywhere,
by the people was much wanted.
Benson was a research doctor,
and prions were his chosen field,
he sought chemicals to treat then,
he progressed, and got results real.
Now Benson was quite peculiar,
his social skills didn’t run deep,
if you didn’t know any better
you would swear the man was a creep.
But his research bought people years,
how many? It cannot be said.
Quirky and strange as Benson was,
his mind was very much wanted.
Niles was quite the proud father,
had three kids that he loved deeply,
saw to their needs, spent time with them,
made sure they never went hungry.
His job was not that amazing,
He didn’t look special at site,
but his kids grew strong and stable,
had a deep foundation for life.
He never found a hall of fame,
but his wife and daughters all said
the man was irreplaceable,
and would never live unwanted.
Odette’s voice was like an angel,
from the start she knew it a gift,
and she loved seeing the sweet looks
on people who got to hear it.
It amazed her such happiness
could be born by her innate tones,
Odette liked making folks happy,
the greatest fulfillment she’d known.
“I’ve never heard one quite like her,”
was what the jaded critics said,
she kept no light under a bucket,
and by countless souls was wanted.
But Mariah’s mom was sixteen,
didn’t want to ‘ruin her life,’
Benson’s mom had no time for kids,
just wanted to have fun at night.
Nile’s mom was having affairs,
and her marriage was much at risk,
Odette’s mother was forty-three,
had said, “No, I’m quite done with this.”
We never will know these people,
not even see names on a tomb,
their mothers found them inconvenient,
so they were butchered in the womb.
To such minds, they were not people,
from such minds it can truly be said:
You are not fully human unless
by someone else you are ‘wanted.’
We rode beyond the flip
Of Walter and his friends,
On this *****steady slip
In the cabin to the west,
Where the pride of lions sleep
All night till the end.
On the hillside of west,
The corns are left for rats,
The moonlight is left
For the cave of the bats,
The stars in themselves
Are laid so on the mat.
That same mile leads the heap
Of lofty stuffs up the hills,
The snow of flake spills
Into Eve's marshy opened hips,
And the apples of honey
Are plucked on Adam's lips.
The bed bath of Mr. Benson
Floats out steadily in the skies,
Reaching the pride of the sons
Laid up the feet so high,
Sailing all the phantom men
On the carpet of the smile.
There is a table solely laid
Down below the blue ceiling,
Also is a shea iced cake
In the pie wholly sealed in,
And the storm of the day
Rains in the fields of candy.
The circles are in squares
In the Square at the Circle,
The cycles can be shared
In dome down the valleys;
The clones you can swerve,
And bike up the galley.
Now that I have you mine
On the hills up the shores,
Take a look the while
At the feathers of the scores,
One by one in the time,
And rise up on these songs.
She walked in the door like an Amazon Woman
Let me introduce myself I'm____________
I've been doing this for thirty years
She was pale as death warmed over with red hair
But flawless porcelain skin that had never seen the sun
Well let me take a look ...yep
Here's one of those pre-canerous lesions...nope make that two
Then she draws out her equipment ..a bazooka flame thrower
There's no need to numb these up I'll just zap them
Then she turns on her benson burner and goes hold still...hold still..
I'll never get it burned off if you move away..
They must have just released her from some mental hospital
Where she was on the ward for mentally sadistic disturbed patients
Well at least I learned one thing...maybe two
One..never trust a woman with liquid nitrogen in a blow torch
Then she said to me you are of Scandanavain decent..
Strange place to learn of where one's ancestors came from..huh.
Form:
In the telling told, the stories unfold
Of days long faded, in history's hold
Grandma, your presence, a memory gold
In our hearts engraved, for times untold
In Leteng's remnants, your essence we find
Folded carefully in our minds
Each tale, a treasure, to keep and bind
A legacy of love, forever entwined
We yearn to meet you in the beyond
Where black linings fade, and souls respond
United in spirit, by Modimo's bond
Together again, in peace we abscond
With fathers gone, we carry on
Through trials faced and battles won
Progress made, under the sun
Guided by love, our journey begun
Lefedile, Gabobintshiwe, and Uncle Benson
Their spirits soar, their legacy unbroken
Rest peacefully, in realms unspoken
Their light shines on, a token
Mogo stands tall, a man of might
Oree and I, embracing the light
Through storm and strife, we unite
Beneath dark clouds, seeking insight
The twins, now women, radiant and true
Mum's illness conquered, her strength renewed
Obiditswe and family, a bond so true
Together we stand, in love we grew
So much left unsaid, in the afterlife we'll talk
No barriers to keep us apart or block
Nightmares fade, as we embark
On a journey of reunion, in the eternal clock
We miss you, grandma, our hearts aflame
In the tapestry of life, you remain
A guiding light, in joy and pain
Until we meet again, we'll whisper your name
Form:
We rode beyond the flip
Of Walter and his friends,
On this *****steady slip
In the cabin to the west,
Where the pride of lions sleep
All night till the end.
On the hillside of west,
The corns are left for rats,
The moonlight is left
For the cave of the bats,
The stars in themselves
Are laid so on the mat.
That same mile leads the heap
Of lofty stuffs up the hills,
The snow of flake spills
Into Eve's marshy opened hips,
And the apples of honey
Are plucked on Adam's lips.
The bed bath of Mr. Benson
Floats out steadily in the skies,
Reaching the pride of the sons
Laid up the feet so high,
Sailing all the phantom men
On the carpet of the smile.
There is a table solely laid
Down below the blue ceiling,
Also is a shea iced cake
In the pie wholly sealed in,
And the storm of the day
Rains in the fields of candy.
The circles are in squares
In the Square at the Circle,
The cycles can be shared
In dome down the valleys;
The clones you can swerve,
And bike up the galley.
Now that I have you mine
On the hills up the shores,
Take a look the while
At the feathers of the scores,
One by one in the time,
And rise up on these songs.
I was on YouTube listening to the many artists that have sung Bob Dylon's song
To Make You Feel My Love. I love listening to the different versions of it sung.
When I saw an artist with a large following I never heard of. His name was Teddy Swims. He performs the song on his Podcast video under his name on Youtube. So if you go to YouTube and type in, Make you feel my love, Teddy Swims, you will hear the song and possibly see this comment that touched me deeply while I heard the song. I recommend listening to the song first and then reading Amanda Benson's comment after hearing the song by Teddy Swims. You have to hear the song before reading her comment below, or play the song while reading. This was so touching I had to share.
After hearing the song To Make You Feel My Love, written by Bob Dylan, performed by Teddy Swims...
Amanda Benson wrote this comment to Teddy Swims in the comment section.
She wrote " My absolute favorite. Sang this to my husband as he passed in the
ICU. Holding his hand, to his last breath. Thank you Teddy, I will always love you. Love Baby."
Amanda, your loving words
touched me so.
As I read your comment,
to the song below.
Words from Make You Feel
My Love, you sang.
To your loving Husband, as his
journey began.
Such pain you felt, inside to hold.
Will live forever, in this story told.
Dedicated to Amanda's love for her late husband.
Michael Tor
I: In Rhyme
when the world had no headsets
the sunbathing crowd
fell asleep to the sounds of
transistors played loud
while the deckchairs and windbreaks
kites, beach balls and more
formed the stripes, lines and circles
that painted the shore
and the longer I walked
on the sand to that sea
the more the sea seemed
to get further from me
and the crunch in my mouth
was that one grain of sand
in the sandwich I ate
with my sand covered hand
while the lemons and melons
and plums I'd watch spin
would stop short of a cherry
one click from a win
and the postcards we sent
from the end of the pier
were of blue skies and donkeys
and "wish you were here".
II: In Free Verse
from the end of the pier
through the stiff breeze
and spindrift
I can still hear the tunes
of the promenade bands
and I can still see the stripes
of the deckchairs and windbreaks
and the box kites
and beach balls
that painted the shore
and I can still taste
the butter
- warm like the canned ham
and the crunch of that sand
in the sandwich I had
and I can still hear the djs
laughing and talking
spinning hits of the sixties
from transistors
played loud
and I can still smell the onions
frying wild in the fairground
to the sound of the claxons
and the lemon. click. orange. click. melon.
click. click.
and I can still breathe the deep smoke
swirling in sand dunes
from the benson and hedges
and
player's no.6
and I can still see those grown ups
staring at mirrors
- their bodies distorted
like the dreams
they once had
today on the pier
the rain that's now falling
falls from a same sky
on a same sand
and same sea
and a
same
me
- yet this air
this air
is not the same air
as that air I
once
breathed.
several formica red tables
glass shakers of pepper and salt
big plastic tomatoes I wanted to squeeze
and shaped bottles of sarson’s own malt.
netting on all of the windows
scratch marks from chairs on the floor
ashtrays with notches to rest cigarettes
and 'open' and 'closed' on the door.
menus upright in a v-shape
the 'royals' adorning the wall
food through the fog of benson & hedges
with no one complaining at all.
my past was another country
before chains, regulations and brunch
places I knew from those misty-eyed times
are no more and have all 'gone to lunch'.