Long Border Poems
Long Border Poems. Below are the most popular long Border by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Border poems by poem length and keyword.
The Sacred Combustion of the Moment
A storm of blood ignites our marrow in the silence of the heavy night,
It strikes our chest like a blind lightning bolt that asks no leave, no pardon,
We no longer turn our faces toward the scattered bones of rebel days,
We throw ourselves naked into the flames, as into some ancient, holy feast.
It's a love that tears down old temples and walls without a border,
That tramples underfoot deaf conventions, laws of ice, cold patterns,
When our whole body screams "stop" with its very last breath,
We build from our own chaos a citadel that defies both time and forgetting.
We pay no mind to the world's gossip, cold shadows, petty miseries,
To the judging eyes from houses without soul, without dreams,
We live at the white-hot temperature of a single moment, burned to the forehead,
That feels to us like an entire ocean in waves barely promised.
Stone statues collapse into dust, laws and ancient canons,
Beneath our scorched footsteps that leave embers on the earth,
We are only us, a flame flowing through our veins like a river of eons,
That learned long ago to carry in its palms the breath of the sacred wind.
All that remains is this pure current, electric, magic, and wild,
A windstorm in which the whole world slowly, silently unravels,
A mad dream, hallucinatory, and, in its depths, blessed,
That has no time for gentle tenderness, only for fire that burns, mute.
And maybe tomorrow, from these ashes, someone will speak of a fire,
That I burned brighter than a fallen star at the height of summer, unafraid,
But today we live in the raw pulse of one single, repeated siege,
Loving each other madly, until everything, everything turns to flame.
Adventure had been born with him just like his very heart,
Facing challenges and taking risks had been, for him, fine-art;
His selection, hence, as a warrior, was purely cogent,
Toward solving any problem he proved himself potent...!
Situations got grim in the border of his placement,
Shells spread like dead sharks above terrace or below basement;
In dark, dull, dim, dubious dust and dirt enemies moved,
Unsure erratic environs seemed legally approved...!
Terror mounting; fear pounding; heads giddy and hearts breaking;
Each one as though trees plucked by storm shaking, quaking, aching;
Tried covering their faces not daring to face the scene,
To many men the most horrendous of night this had been...!
He, the daredevil took stalk of the circumstances well,
As though possessed ancient supernatural power-spell;
Plowed through the pitch dark; set the hay-like dry bush in fire,
Tents burnt, unprepared opponents flew as though in dire mire...!
Their abrupt fire-torrents he, like a brave lion faced,
His friends from tents, when as frightened hares, toward hot-spot raced;
They found him dying; midst, yet, his gun targeting the foes,
Inspired and motivated, they put on their battle-pose...!
22 July 2022
Stronger by the Hour
David J Walker
It is
Afterall
Only a wall
Made of words
How many lawyers does it take
To make
A wall of bricks
So thick
That not even air can pass through it
Not even sunlight
That might
Allow passage
but willfully won't
There is a nimbus
Surrounding the border wall
There is an order to
Maintain order
There is a cold fog
That eats the light of
The seawall
on the West Coast
There is a ghost who will
Not rest unless it has
Raised a glass in a toast
To those it is about to devour
There is a storm
In the middle lands
That is growing larger
stronger
By the hour
A poem~ For Alyssa
"Lost border collie...Jordan"
Dedicated to the beautiful children
lost in a Florida massacre!
We can't find Jordan anymore
He's lying under Alyssa's bed.
He does not know she is dead
A killer's bullet in her head.
The TV stations ..ratings mad,
Flash her picture.
Jordan's eyes grow sad
Her father is stark raving mad.
So, off to the cemetery they go
With balloons and flowers
And bleeding hearts... And...
Endless tears, sleepless nights
He cannot walk her down the aisle.
Nor will he see her children smile.
And those of us with progeny
Feel their pain with ultimate agony.
Panagiota Romios
a ghazal
She needs a separation, you can understand,
it involves subjugation, you can understand.
Her boss at work chooses only female colleagues,
some may be a temptation, you can understand.
On break, his frequent jokes border on harassment,
it is only flirtation, you can understand.
Often we see him out in public with his wife
in pleasant conversation you can understand.
But when he’s at work, he’s much too touchy-feely;
it’s not imagination, you can understand.
Quitting her job, she proceeds on to better things;
though he’s the aggravation, you can understand.
Relief is coming to her senses, she proclaims
her self-emancipation, you can understand.
Each element of who she is, is scattered on the grass,
with the scent of earth, the drop of rain,
where dew reflects a sky of blue.
Her senses are illuminated to harmonize within,
with a howling wolf, a roaring bear, the song of evening wind
She walks within a dreamlike world, which cannot be defined.
This puzzle we have come to know has no border, nor an end.
When life begins, a tiny seed, is strewn, tossed from the vine,
and picks up speed on feathered wing and touches the divine.
She is daughter of the autumn, and mother of the spring.
Her euphonious legend, an extraordinary thing.
It passes through the blossomed branch of all the sprouted trees.
She is young at heart, and old with drought,
she is strong, and bold, without a doubt, is stalwart through the night.
Standing proud against the darkness, and the sins of those who mar,
her spirit is unbroken, by the scars of bitter blight.
She honors creatures with respect, where unison is found,
with all things wild, whether large or small, ...for every life is gold.
Her songs are as a journey, and frolic in the breeze.
There is prowess and a valor in her lavished synchronies.
Her flute will share her story, in the sound of lonely larks,
of loss, rebirth, of drifting sands, and sweet hours after dark
For yesterday creates today, with a promise for tomorrow.
When songs are played, it can bring us hope, in the laughter of the birds.
Each whisper of a clearer sky, will gently cleanse the smoke,
and buffalo will graze again, the tall green grass will wave again.
The golden sun will rise again, to warm her every word
____________________________________________________________________
10/22/14 Inspired by Contest sponsored By Debbie Guzzi
Resubmitted for Skat's Contest "Premiere Number 7"
The elderly man we call leader
Would shout as if our ears couldn't hear,
Then whisper with the expectation
We would agree to adhere to his
Foreign invasion~
Ten million strong from every nation.
Who was that girl, he could barely recall,
But he finally did (mis)speak her name
Because it wasn't on the teleprompter,
Neither was the word "illegal"
and his mob soon let him know
the word he should use is "undocumented."
The cities are crying blue tears and repenting,
Their citizens are no longer pretending
That all is peace and joy and love;
Our children are kicked out of school
To make room for all the illegal immigrant poor,
After all don't we owe them the American dream?
I am, you know, adamantly* against illegal immigration. ~Hillary Clinton
We simply cannot allow people to pour into the United States undetected, undocumented, unchecked, and circumventing the line of people who are waiting patiently, diligently, and lawfully to become immigrants in this country. ~Barack Obama
The issues surrounding illegal immigration are wide-ranging and complex, but there is no question about the need to secure our borders. ~Roger Wicker
I have fought on the front lines to prevent illegal immigration. I know Donald Trump will stand with me and countless Americans to secure our border. ~Joe Arpaio
*adamantly(adverb): a way that suggests one will not be persuaded to change one's mind; firmly and resolutely.
Reclusing in my solitary lair
Empty nest with no engineer, consort
Sparsely furnished with building blocks for a brighter day
Enshrouded by walls that elicit dreams, hopes
Alternately, that limit my size and scope
Upscale plans to renovate bland lifestyle
To lay the blueprint for a new, broader course
Caged by my nominal status and working class background
Burnished with colloquial, mundane mortar
Blank slate on which to construct a higher order
But shackled to a past decorated with a static border
Misery compounded by the encroaching, empty spaces
Contented to loiter, pine my detached estate
Slowly molding the finish so I can climb the staircase of fate
Felling like I'm trapped in the corner
Always looking over my shoulder
There had to be an informer
There was no icebreaker
Thanks to that skip tracer
The shadows are getting darker
And the nights are getting longer
A gorgeous reporter and her damn recorder
Now I'm racing for the border in this horror
I have to sleep just pray I'm not a snorer
Or I might not wake to see the undertaker
Either way I will end up with my maker
A risk taker in GODS acre
Staying clear of Hells half acre
All this cause they thought I was the money taker
Now I'm the Quaker trapped in the corner
3/20/2017
I would liked to have had the chance to comment on a post,
but that was impossible by the author who is engrossed
in pointing out Democrat's flaws, but I'm not shocked.
So, I wrote this rebuttal because he has me blocked.
(Or maybe he turned off commenting because.... ?)
This political observance was posted on the site today.
I read it hoping to see something worthy it had to say,
but it was just another brow beating upon Democrats.
It's become a ridiculous civil war between crats and rats.
It must be quite a burden to constantly wear a blindfold
and believe Trump's lies to write something so bold.
This poet thinks the insurrection claim is out of hand,
but the insurrectionist's crimes he doesn't understand.
Yes, parents need to know what lessons are being taught,
He claims it's not Trump's fault, but if the truth is sought,
Biden can't be blamed either. He didn't hire the teachers.
Trump still cries, "Foul" to those who sit in his bleachers.
Drugs, crime, and border security, Trump couldn't control,
not when Trump was Pres, an office he says Dems stole.
I don't belong to either political party but on it I'll speak...
Neither one of these men are fit for the office they seek.
I'm permitting comments because it's everyone's right
to do so as long as they're not offensive and rude.