Long Boarded Poems
Long Boarded Poems. Below are the most popular long Boarded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boarded poems by poem length and keyword.
Man Solo: Were it not for you, I would surely have given up But with faithful prayers, you were always there lifting me up I was dry and empty, but you never ceased to share from your overflowing cup
Woman Solo: We sailed the high seas; we boarded a plane and started to fly; hand in hand, we touched the sky; we were so close, and sometime fell very low, but never lost the flow
Man Solo: So close, you and me; so much love, and so happy and free
We vowed love for each other, and to God we bowed our knees
Woman Solo: But you must not forget, my love, that I desperately needed you And in your way, without realizing it, you always came through
Man & Woman Duet: In our experiences good and bad, we never took for granted what we had The two of us found ways to be grateful, and lifted our praise to God
Man & Woman Duet: And ultimately, it wasn't you, and it wasn't me But it was God who took us both, lifting us higher to Him.
09022017PSLyric Contest, Just Us Together, James Lee, 7P
ENOUGH!
I felt deaf from the ‘noise’ of information,
constantly butting, buzzing against my mantra of:
“The quieter you are… the more you… hear!”
At present, my lifestyle felt media manipulated:
tv, radio, newspaper, mobile, computer.. ad infinitum!
Besieged by endless emails, monopolizing mobiles,
beset by frenzied yaps from apps!
Enough is enough is….. ENOUGH,
I have to escape from the unrelenting hullabaloo.
Can the human brain endure so much information
and who am I, an individual thinker or group dancer?
However, relief sat just around the corner
as next morning I boarded the flight to Reykjavik.
A three-hour taxi journey with a taciturn islander,
people and communication diminishing by the mile
until finally a twig of a boat out to Ellidaey Island.
Boating and bobbing towards the uninhabited …hideaway,
an isolated jigsaw piece of land
off the southern coast of Iceland,
I appraise a small-boned building clinging to its side
with ‘RIDICULOUS’ scribbled all over it.
Someone had said Iceland was a niceland
where you could float free, peace and tranquillity!
But someone hadn’t warned me about…Mr Loneliness
Who was soon tapping me sharply on the shoulder.
So here I sit, three days into my week’s stay
in the island’s lodge, dubbed the world’s loneliest house,
where the only neighbours are passing ships and puffing puffins.
No internet, no tv, no electricity, no running nor strolling.. water
just remote, alone and contemplating my countenance
while wondering if God is lonely too!
Suddenly, clouds bump and bruise against each other
as they race away before the darkness snarls in.
Soon, night has sent in its stormtroopers
who land and splinter into shadow groups
while wind angrily sprints up to the house
bombing it with blockbuster punches.
Then rain happily joins in, machine-gunning the house
until the building begins to stagger and stumble.
I check my face and it is still in the same place
but I sit timorously trembling, tyrannised and terrified
while my eyes follow the house’s dimly lit path
as it wags its tail to the cliff’s edge
and jumps into the void of darkness.
But this poem is a broken wrist, with a twist,
as suddenly, my bones brittle and inside myself…..I faint!
What possibly could happen now?
But there it is..
the knock at the front door!
Ian Souter
He had do fight all odds
A man of unbreakable idealism
Alone with his ideas
A mysterious death at high sea
The truth will never be known
--------------------------------------------------
Gegen alle Widerstände
Ein Mann mit ungebrochenem Idealismus
Alleine mit seinen Ideen
Mysteriöser Tod auf hoher Sea
Die Wahrheit wird niemand erfahren
-------------------------------------------------
En lucha contra todas probabilidades
Un hombre de idealismo irrompible
Solo con sus ideas
Una muerte misteriosa en alta mar
La verdad nunca será conocida
Note: Rudolf Christian Karl Diesel, 1858-1913, was a German engineer and the inventor of
the Diesel engine. He spent his youth until 1870 in Paris and surroundings. When being
extradited after the start of the German-French-War in 1870, Diesel and his family left for
London. He as a child travelled alone to Augsburg, Germany were he lived for five years
with his uncle and went to school there. He started studies of mechanical engineering in
1875 in Munich and applied for a patent of a „New and economical power engine“ at the
Emperial Patent-Office in Berlin. From 1908 on he developed the first functional model of
his engine with the financial assistance of the Krupp company. In January 1898 the first
factory for Diesel engines was built in Augsburg, Germany. A Diesel Engine Company was
inaugurated by autumn 1900 in London. The first motor vessels with a Diesel engine were
built in 1903. Diesel was at a state of bad health due to numerous patent-lawsuits. He was
not a good businessman and lost his complete fortune. On September 29th Diesel boarded the
mail-vessel Dresden to cross the Channel for Harwich to participate in a meeting of the
„Consolidated Diesel Manufacturing Ltd.“ in London. He seemed to be in a good manner when
he was last seen on board of the ship. On October 10th 1913 the crew of a Dutch
government pilot ship saw a body drifting in the water at heavy sea. As the body was
highly decomposed, the crew only got hold of some personal belongings (a pastille box,
purse, pocket knife and a spectacle case) which were later identified as Diesel's
belongings by his son Eugen. The real cause of his death was never clarified and his
dependants never believed in suicide, but in murder to steal Diesel's ideas. So his death
is still remains a mystery.
Inside each of us, three entities exist.
It has nothing to do with having a tryst.
There’s a triangle consisting of the I, the YOU
And the SELF. By the way, I’m sure this is true!
The I and the YOU within, each live in its own house.
Sometimes they want to live together but don’t know how.
The I has boarded its windows and doors.
The YOU goes its own way and mostly ignores.
Then one day, who knows why? the SELF appears.
“Hey, remember me. I live here too” …And the I and YOU hear.
The YOU has sometimes dabbled with the SELF.
But the I has kept herself locked away, high on the shelf.
The SELF has awakened though and shines its light.
It can’t help it. That’s how it's made. There is no night.
The light eventually peeps through a crack in the wall.
Warming the I fast asleep on her shelf in the hall.
There’s no way now for the I to hide from the YOU.
The SELF has exposed her existence. Did I say? I’m sure this is true!
Now the YOU is curious about his neighbor, the I.
She’s quite beautiful; and after all, they both live inside.
So the YOU knocks on her door even though it is boarded.
The I has done her best to keep her energy hoarded.
But the SELF, without fail, continues to shine its light.
And the YOU keeps knocking on her door. What a fright!
She buries her head under a thick comforter,
But the SELF and the YOU are relentless. They just won’t let her.
She gives up finally and removes all the boards.
Unlatching the chains too, she cracks open the door.
One thing’s for sure, she won’t let the YOU inside.
She tentatively steps onto the porch. The I can no longer hide.
I now declares to YOU that she enjoys his company.
But she can’t let him in until she turns I into ME.
For you see, the I has been asleep for a long time in the dark.
She must now discover herself in the light. Find her own spark.
The reason the I went to sleep in the first place you see
Is because the YOU took her over and wouldn’t allow her to be.
All the while I and YOU are learning about themselves.
The SELF just continues to shine its bright light on their shelves.
It’s in no hurry. Its light won’t burn out. It can wait till they become present.
For the SELF is the Super Energy Light Field that is their essence.
By the way, I don’t remember; but maybe you do.
Did I say? I’m sure this is true!
releasing me - of minutes, hours, days - of being bored,
as age creeps into my bed, and what is left, is in my head
- providing nourishment for my soul – my spirit being fed
by looking glass images, images that slip through the crack
in my day dreams, my nightmares as my brain, I rack
for images, memories, experiences - that lay dormant in a stack
upon stacks - waiting to escape the boarded up shack
that has been the villages claim to justify its existence.
The grounds, the foundations, reasons to take a stance
and say yes, yes there where days when I knew romance
and as ever the fool, no one around to kick me in the pants
as all has become history, – fourteen thousand pages – turn a leaf
and you will find that this one’s life is far to empty, far to brief.
In it – between the covers of seventy-eight – can there be any relief
from all that has been laid before you ?, can there be belief ?,
in what is before your eyes, as you look into what is laid before
you, as I reach in, grab at, touch that slow closing door
with hope that it will be possible to get a glimpse of more
before my soul, my spirit, my essence takes wing, begins to soar
beyond this plane, all the pain I have known before.
In here – these lines – I feel the loss.
Upon this stone – know – I see no moss,
for on here, I offer no direction,
just many hours of histories reflection.
Empty- I feel in this alone place.
Emptiness - I see in this aged drooping face.
Where is ?, that I might seek to go ?,
to gain wisdom, to learn what I do not know
of a world of spirit, of soul, of a fine mind.
It seems to me, little hope to find
- among humanity – the true essence of woman kind
as she entombs all- such waste – leaving all behind.
Oh !, if only the fickle hand of fate
could lay upon these drooping shoulders, in these arms, a mate
that in ones darkest hours, a soft glowing light, shine
upon this old soul and in the light of day be mine
that would share on a world , not to compare
with anything like my world of despair.
The hour has passed, the rest are in decline.
The minutes that remain – with stain, are mine.
There is little I see, that will make life fine,
for the ephemeral time left to me, little will shine
through as I look into the black, storm cloud ahead
that rage, stage battles, assassinate instead
My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong.
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.
My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.
Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.
It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic.
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.
In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.
Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.
Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?
Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.
Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.
The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.
Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.
That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.
When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.
I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.
© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Penguin the pilchard leapt onto the ice
He flipped and he flopped and arrived in a trice
He took a deep breath and he held it and then
He bellowed with all of his might… “MEN!”
Pilchard the penguin said, “Where have you been?”
And then asked his friend, “What on Earth have you seen?”
Penguin the pilchard said, “I’m telling you,
A big boat has come with a whole TV crew.”
With all of the penguins now gathered around
Pilchard’s mum, Herring, prepared Pilchard’s ground,
“Remember the plan, we’ve done it before
For when men with cameras visit our shore.”
Pilchard the penguin said, “When they arrive,
We show them the struggle we have to survive.
Let’s huddle together then we can deliver
The image they want so let’s practice our shiver.”
A rumble, some heaving and ice cracks appeared
And up popped an orca… who nobody feared
“Okay,” he said, “so who do I chase,
and who is the stand in, you know… just in case?”
Pilchard the penguin said, “No ‘just in case’,
Nobody’s getting consumed in this place
It will be I that you shall assail
And I won’t be eaten by no killer whale.”
Seagull, the polar bear, said, “Holy cow…
Does this mean I can let my wind go now?’
Pilchard the penguin said, “Don’t let it go,
Until you’ve scraped ice up to make flakes of snow.”
The film crew arrived and they took up positions
They struggled to film the Antarctic conditions
It came as a shock that the blizzards that blew
Came with a stench that was rather like poo…
The penguins all shivered while stood in one place
While foul smelling snow pelted everyone’s face
The crew filmed the penguin as orca gave chase
And shed tears of joy when the whale lost the race
Penguin the pilchard said, “Give them some smiles,
And leap from the sea like Polaris missiles.
And then do that thing that all humans find sweet
Where young penguins stand on their mum’s and dad’s feet.”
Pilchard the penguin said, “It’s for the tele,
Won’t it look good if we slide on our belly.
You see that ice gulley, why don’t we slide through it?”
And Penguin the pilchard said, “That ought to do it.”
The crew packed their gear and they made for the shore
Where they boarded their boat and weren’t seen anymore
While back with the penguins where men were now gone
Pilchard the penguin said, “Get the fire on.”
Some folks believe it. Others do not. The legend told in the Bayou Cannot. The only witness who can swear that it's true, are the creatures who live in the bayou. The owl told the gator, the gator told the frog, about the horror filled night that changed their home in the bog. Far off on the mainland, miles from the marsh, in a large city, where living is harsh. A man's world invention sprang into life. A breath of fresh air to man's world of strife. A new deisel engine, queen of the line, would make it run for the very first time. The sunset limited it was aptly named. Gleamed in the station waiting its moment of fame. Boarded by folks going south, some headed out west, none mindful of anything, but each's own quest. New York to L.A. via the southern run. So it was, the trip had begun. Back in the bog, things were happening too. A barge made its way north with its captain and crew. The day had been hot. The night had turned cool. The fog roiled in, with its blanket of dew. The captain steered his tug, painfully slow, caution was key to safely deliver the tow. All of a sudden there was a scrape and a jolt the barge floated free, not held by a bolt. Panic seized the crew! "We've lost the tow!" "MAYDAY!" screamed the captain over the radio. Amid the chaos and moans of disdain, another great jar, "We've got it again!". Back on land not far down the track the Limited sped with a clickety-clack. Approaching the tressel no one noticed the shake. Who could blame the poor folks; the hour was late. Midway over the bayou came the tressels demise. A great shiver another great quake, tons of speeding steel, folks met their sad fate. Days went by weary and sad. Rescuers agreed none worked a wreck this bad. Twisted and bent the engine was pulled from the muck and the slime. "102" came the final count, the coroner spoke and noted the time. A weary voice shouted "Wait!" "Sir, I disagree!" Tired eyes turned, what did they see? A weary man held in his arms a child about three. Today believers say "an angel wanders." "A tiny spirit" Others agree. On foggy nights when no moon can be. A tiny light flickers so you will see. "It's a firefly!" Say the skeptics of haunt. The creatures disagree and murmur their taunt. They know the spirit of the child now lives in their swamp.
Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch
The Seconds
[Excerpts]
(c) 2019, Anita Lerek
Section 1/4
First Generation - Before the Holocaust
Lvov, Poland 1930s. Mother, you were a Jewish girl but you were not expected to enter history. You played outside time like a star burning for trillions of years. Hands of pleasure created fire, and tossed in rags of exotic oils and sunflowers to heighten the mingling of school yard bodies barely formed. You lived inside bushes filled with chocolates, ghosts of guardians, and boys measured by swagger and expensive shoes
Your lives were handcuffed by words, set in the grammar of racial separation. But there was no one else, just you and your friends, beauty marooned in floodlit trance
————————-
Section 3/4
The Survivors
............
You lie on the beaches. You lie in the fields. You are bits of debris, tufts of life stuck together, shadows thrusting and contracting in search of embodiment
So many lost, beyond mouthing. What history removes, language cannot restore. Rather it is a burial ground, an anti-galaxy of boarded up stars. How many forms are there of nothing?
Ancestors cry out to you from pine trees and flowers, from buds and branches. You hear nothing. You seek out strangers. By touching them, you try to rouse a sleeping god of your lost civilization, to reach the boys, the sunflowers, the shadows begging to return
Your limbs touch, boxes smacking against each other, filling, releasing. You barely move. You let him have his pleasure. Then without a word, you leave, and return, to release the one valve, day after day; all others seized by horror. You never exchange names
—————————
Section 4/4
The Second Generation
..........
I was of the same cloth but not the same cloth. I did not occupy the same land as you. I grieved our severed skin
I come closer now, hover at your borders. Mother, your elements are wearing down, motions slowing, your fragments crumbling
Stop, stop, stop the cycle
of trauma: its birth, hardening into splintered towers, falling apart and re-forming
Let me into love before you leave me, here in this final land
where love crystallizes
into the expansive images
that cradle me
in beds of rock,
the last images
that I send up
to mend babel’s darkness
for trillions of years
What are you willing to do to show God you care?
My wife took our daughters from me and left me in despair.
She made up stories to the law, just to destroy my life.
She was my childhood sweetheart. How sad, I loved me wife.
A 17 year Army career ended and I'm now disabled too.
A wife lusting for money and no children, what would I do?
I was weekly seeing a VA Shrink, because I wanted to die.
One day an old woman in Food Service, said "give God a try!"
We met at the VA Chapel to talk to Him everyday.
I admitted without Him I was lost and to please show me the way.
We prayed for other people and let God speak to our mind.
One day He said "Go to Denver and I said "Is that You this time?"
I said "Lord I want to know if you're real, so this I'm willing to do.
I admit about this I am scared, but I'm willing see if it's You!"
I went back to the kitchen and asked how to resign.
I told them God had spoke to me. They thought I'd lost my mind.
One week later I walked out the door with $300 dollars in hand.
Didn't know where or what to do. He had given me no plan.
Two old women on the Greyhound, said "Child, the Lords on you!"
I said I'm doing this and I'm scared, but I think God told me too.
They wrote names and address in my Bible & for me they prayed.
We laughed and rejoiced until Atlanta. Then went our separate way.
Next stop was St. Louis. A woman that I didn't know.
Said her friend agree to pick up her child, instead she had to go.
I told her about my story, and where I was headed I didn't know.
That I was putting my trust in God and the way He would show.
She became very emotional, saying "This you won't believe!"
I felt God's call to the Mission field. His response I've now received
He sent me someone that thinks and feels like I do.
Who will trust Him blindly. Sir that person is you!"
We both were high on His glory, after what we just learned.
Shortly after they boarded for Denver. "By now, It's my turn!"
I sat down in peace. Smiled from there all the way in.
Reflecting on the talk I had, with my new Christian friend.
Miracle after miracle, too too! many to list here.
Experience things I can never explain. God stayed so very near.
He ask us just to only believe in Him and try to obey.
No matter the road traveled. God will make a way!