Long Break Poems
Long Break Poems. Below are the most popular long Break by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Break poems by poem length and keyword.
The bay and titian milestone
calls the universe
On everything we have to remember
2019 we met in joy
Raw in our hearts
We gathered in love
Humble without pride
We spoke in a voice
They called us golden ones
Oh yes! Golden ones.
After the last quarter
A strange duster appeared
And erased Gift out of the list
Many emotions were bitter
Just like me
That pended the elite Supper
Chronically, we arrived 2020
Which showed advances on arrival
The stretching chain started breaking
Everyone chose the birds they flocked with
Classic pride developed its wig
From the humble hearts
Everyone real colour start revealing
Like the rising sun in the morn.
Just a sudden
The world was attacked by Emperor'19
Everywhere was shut,
Everyone's lovers were distanced
Nations dropped like flies
Love, value and unity quenched
New fishes entered the friendship oceans of our comrades
In the pandemic period we experienced.
In 2021 we met again as earlier as expected
As there were different faces, such were different shoulders.
Everyone focused on its target
The class attendance dropped like a weighless scale.
Many break, many strike
Affect the 2021 journey.
Just like a flowing stream
The heaven sea journey to the left side
Gave the picture of the sun
Traveling from the North to West.
Days in, days out
There was not a single day without a memory
As we all gathered for the new 2022.
2022 was the year of planting fame
Many people worked to be recognized
The birds changed their groups
Everyone humbled again
Trying to move up a bit
As the result of the shock
From the previous exams.
'Just like yesterday
'I was a fresher
'Today I am an FYB'
That was everyone's comment
When we met ourselves
In the final level of the journey
In the 2022 summer months.
Despite the four years journey's metamorphosed
Into five years journey with hard stress
Joy crowned our hearts because everything is closer
We accepted to involve in the final stress
That has a short time
But so dismal, Lilly fell from the train
Almost at the bus stop.
Now on our table
We cheers to the love that we have got
Toast to the one that we lost on the way
The toast goes to every able that can read this;
And remember the memories we've been through
Which the bay and titian milestone
Has called us to remember.
I'm a Piketown son who left his mum
To sail the eastern shores
Spent a year in Gloucester
'mong the barkeeps and the whores
Then a man came 'round to Gloucester town
Said boys I need a few
Strapping lads such as yourselves
To join me whalin' crew
The pay is mighty lowly and
The work'll break yer backs
But if ye crave adventure, men
You'll ne'er get a better chance
Those who'd go out wi' me, lads
Prepare ta leave at dawn
There's a whaler at the dockside
She's called the Dreadful Mourn
Ho! Called I to Captain Frye
My services you've bought
I've traveled here from Piketown
To earn a tale heart'ly wrought
Aye, me lad then ye shall have
A yarn ta spin yer sons
So join me on the Dreadful Mourn
'Ere long's the risin' sun
I nodded Aye to Captain Frye
Then turned to swig my ale
When a man appeared beside me
And pulled up to the rail
He shook his head and then he said
His offer you should spurn
There was another Frye set out
Yet ne'er did he return
This other Frye for he was kin
Of the Captain now about
That fortune on their family frowns
Of that there is no doubt
I turned to the stranger, smiled
Said thank you for the warn
Then headed down the gangway
Out to the Dreadful Mourn
For weeks on end I coiled the ropes
Boiled the oil and pulled the line
Though it was grueling labor
I was feelin' pretty fine
But the winds they soon blew colder
And the ship began to slow
The Captain said don't worry men,
This is how the whales go
One day the ice so thickened that
The ship came to a stop
The Captain cried a wild whoop
Boys I think I've found the spot!
For 'twas about this latitude
Where me brother's ship was lost
And now I've come ta bring him home
No matter what the cost!
Sorry I lied ta ye lads
I blame ye not for yer ire
Now calm ye selves, we've work ta do
Afore we can retire
Of course you know we would not go
Along with his plan
The crew decided mutiny
Right down to the last man
For Captain Frye's madness
We must pay an awful price
But he would join his brother
As a ghost beneath the ice
The ship was stuck, the stores near out
'Twas nothing left to do
'Cept sing a sailin' shanty
And toast the Dreadful crew
So I took a final dram of rum,
Cursed the day that I was born
And lay down to my icy fate
Aboard the Dreadful Mourn
June 24, 2017
Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium.
Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.
He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.
His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes,
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.
Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.
Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.
Charcoal clouds rumble,
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.
Before him platinum priests preach,
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.
To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.
It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.
Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen.
In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
Sold to the biggest idiot!
His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.
Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.
Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.
Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One
25 July 2018
Written: June 07, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
********************
The Phantom Choir
In the quiescence of last Sunday,
Prophecy heralded the hour past two,
I heard a whisper at hibiscus dawn—
a seamless voice I swore I always knew.
In blissful flutter—it said night was wide,
Chrysalis sorrow stirs a bed for fools,
that in the hush, when hearts collide,
The lost willows are left to wade in pools.
Facing the kernel until the street thinned,
And my shadow’s sepals bled away,
Rusted voice strings within me spoke again—
It's hymn frills poised for slow decay.
The Hollow Pact
Will I wake to descry my cracked mind,
emptied of all its sharpened teeth?
Will murky echoes break their binds,
Or gnaw beneath the sheath?
The alchemy battle sparks, but I am dust—
wispy strands, a soldier tied in flimsy chains.
Each idea erodes the periwinkle ones I trust,
while the weight of stress remains.
You graze me with a maze—why do I stand so still?
Resurrection of the soul—so why shake your hands?
But dread can have its way to fulfill—
The transcendence of love is lost in vicious demands.
The Third Mourning
Wise chakras buried beneath the walls I built,
the zen voice still scrawls its wordless plea.
It concedes my yantra’s vulnerability, my guilt,
peers where peacock pleadings wane into a spree.
It hums inside the tremors of sapphire light,
I close my eyes as it runs over lily-filled shorelines.
Bits of lunar-glazed silver dust grow in quiet nights,
and procrastinated pledges become lies.
In my dour dreams, it tells me not to resist—
“You know that silken shivers favor sound.”
Amid cyan azure peace, I learn misery persists,
for flickers of love fear the burial mound.
The Acoustic Waltz
In nocturnal dryness—sing soft verses in the dark,
claims the enamored inked words are not hers.
She plucks cerulean hymns without leaving a mark,
The tune of her carved kohl was lost in slurs.
She sways in the russet yarns of neon glow,
bows beneath the ricochet’s wild haze—
a phantom waltz in katabatic motion, moving slow.
a cosmic voice garden, too faint to truly be a maze.
Her pocket holds a ring of black gem glass,
won as a child’s dare, a piece of smitten ink.
She warms it, sighs, and watches it pass
through flaming flecks—hands that fight to sink.
1. THE STORM
COPYRIGHT-POETESS-ANJALI DENANDI,MOM
The storm - from where, it comes
Why - comes, it ? Where, it goes ?
When - it came first ?
Forever it goes and comes
Has it any good effect ? Who knows ?
Destroy ! Just destroy ! Just- ! Must !
The nature becomes calm -
All know - it is the before stage of storm !
Oh! Fear ! The nest thinks - on the tree palm !
The storm has no own form ;
Yet - it has very strong action !
Which can break the mother's emotion !
Lives become hopeless by it !
Forever It can stop the heart beat !
Branches never come back as alive !
The buds and baby-birds never come back !
But the storm returns again and again ...!
Bee-eggs never come back -
But after storm - again bees build the hive !
Though trees feel pain -
Yet - branches , buds come back again !
The new branches , buds , baby-birds , eggs -
Take place on the empty places -
The new nests become happy again !
Cont’d
But no kindness of the storm's invisible legs ,
These always break the sweet dreams !
For these bad works - the storm feels the happiness !
To the storm - who blesses ? ! -
Try - in minds - for own love placings !
Oh ! The storm ! What do you mean ? ! -
Now - find and think about blessings !
Yes ! Yes ! Yes ! - - -
Be the well wisher of the nature ! Please !
Not destroys - creations are the lives - keys !
In front good works - down your knees !
Know - follow - who is your creator ? Who is ---
2. AN AIRY AFTERNOON
COPYRIGHT-POETESS- ANJALI DENANDI,MOM
In an airy afternoon-
I float by my little boat, on river-
Smiles, on sky, the silent moon-
I gift it my loving-look, from very far!
Waves touch my feet, which are naked;
These waves are too busy-
These never come back!
Some very little children, they are naked,
They enjoy around my boat, I see and see---
And eat pop-corn from my jute's sack;
Fishes are seen sometimes on open air-
Again hide in deep water;
My white sail- is in joy of freedom!
I reach very far from my little home!
My pets, my dog and my talking parrot,
Freely walk on my happy boat;
I call,"Hey! Children! Come here!
Yes! Please! Stand on my side;"
They do, like my speech!
Then go and on a big horse, they ride!
Which stands on bank, without speech!
1
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing thee, thyself in turn.
Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke –
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.
I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore –
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
2
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.
Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.
I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more –
remembering thy portrait in my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
. 3
Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions, mind alert, thy hungering to learn.
Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.
I watch thee grow, and will, forever more –
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.
‘Tis all I have.
4
Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee.
Break loose those prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain –
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft –
all a capella – pure and long.
Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.
Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.
[Finis]
“I am somebody’s child, and I need attention, I am somebody’s child and I need affection, I am somebody’s child and I need love and devotion”, she murmured as she walked through the door. She wasn’t sure where she was going when she left the house; she wasn’t sure about the next encounter, but she walked for five hours until she reaches the border.
The speed, at which she moved, left everyone confused but she was determined to make a point just to stay alive. She did not plan a journey she just wanted to live, and hang out with the daffodils but the trap was already set before they made the bet. She could sense it from within and so she had to learn to swim; with strength in her arms and strides in her feet, she made it through the dark before the break of dawn.
They searched everywhere for her, but they could not find her, the public became aware of it and they start to build a myth. Officer Jones devised a plan to begin the search mission he knew what he had up his sleeve, because he was so hard to please. He had laid the ground work to start digging up dirt, to catch the big fish and throw them back into the ditch, the climate was right and the alibi was riding high in the sky.
The search went on for days with no sight of her abducted in the bush or held captive by the brook; it was just one of those situations where you have to keep on top of things before the universe done you in.
The cheese, and the pie, the crown and the dye were just too reveling so they had to search for another meaning, and the sky was their only hope to keep sailing on the boat and so the narrative changed to give her all the blame.
Was it a crime torn area or someone lost their way and bumped into a criminal flattering in the sky that is a one-hundred-dollar question from a village miner who could not fit the pieces together for the director or the operator.
And so, the question remains, whose back was she trying to cover? My mind wander and wander and it didn’t look like a deal that turned sour, neither was it a set up by gate to discover something before it was too late. Everything seems to be in perfect harmony with the guitar, the piano, the band and the musical director.
The great Gatsby would have won the case if Tom Buchanan had not shot him in the pool over the death of Myrtle Wilson his darling wife. "I am somebody’s child," she screamed.
there's a whole lot of shaking going on and you're all shook up
but that is how life is when you drink from God's cup
life can take unexpected turns and have you all spun around
just remember who's in control and has the power to settle life down
now Paul and Silas were in prison for simply preaching the gospel
but after praying to God He then did the impossible
when life has you all shook up you need to stand back and sit still
don't be negative, have a little talk with God and then wait on His will
continue to do what is required of you and trust in God to show you a plan
for God can open new doors in a way you might not even understand
but that's okay as the word of God says to lean not towards your own understanding
but to wait for the will of God to intercede and to do what the Spirit is demanding
if you have a relationship with God He might shake up your normal routine
to take you out of your comfort zone and into a place you've never seen
it might not make much sense to you and you might even disagree
but God knows what is best when it comes to your destiny
accepted beliefs, traditional concepts and that's how it's always been done
but a whole lot of shaking will be going on and your faith may be under the gun
sop forget those accepted beliefs and let God guide you along
allow Him to shake things up and put you where He knows you belong
as no weapon formed against you will prosper nor come to fruition
allow the will of God to shake things up and put you in a better position
now the adversary also has the power to shake things up in your life
just recognize the enemy for what he is and then call on the power of Christ
a young girl who was demon possessed had caused a riot to manifest
with lies told against Paul and Silas they found themselves under arrest
but Paul and Silas did not possess the spirit of fear
for they knew that the Lord God would always be there
so at the midnight hour when all hell tends to break out
that's when to the Lord our God Paul and Silas did pray and shout
and lo and behold God answered their call
an earthquake occured and shook the prison walls
then all the cell doors flew open
and all the shackles were then broken
for when the praises to God go up the blessings of the Lord come down
and there will be a whole lot of shaking going on
but that's okay you're on sacred ground
I heard them say,
that life is full of promises.
I hear them pray,
that God makes a way us to excel.
I have a dream,
and each morning I wake up just to give it a chase.
I aim high,
higher than where the moon and stars are placed.
I give it a try,
and the universe gives me a peak of what I can have.
It's within reach,
If I stretch further I can have a touch.
Its all there,
my heart and soul knows this and we take control.
The control of life,
steering with keen towards our goal.
I see the light,
Its shinning brighter for my eyes feel with glee.
...then it all comes crushing down....
I blink a bit and it comes crushing...
down, am left lying in darkness...
It was all there, now nowhere...
shuttered...
am drowning...
How could it disappear I ask,
How can it seem so near,
yet so far I cannot bear,
the thought of losing it before getting there...
How could it lead me so closer,
yet the moment I near it vanishes in thin air...
how could it...
Painful it is to bear,
the thought of being down brings fear,
my mind wanders in confusion as I strive for a better,
feeling than this causing my heart to drown like it's tied to an anchor.
I must wake,
I must rise from this wreck,
I must gather the only strength I have left to try and break,
I must take heart and rise above all fear and torture that evil can make.
and so I rise,
in hope I find the means,
to stand on two feet,
again to keep my goal alive.
In hope I steer dust off the dirt,
I take up the sword and hold it closer to my heart,
arising from the ashes and again seeking to fly,
my focus now clearer and my breathe now deeper,
I know I can do it and all it takes is the inner,
spirit to excel above all that tries to hinder,
me from achieving what I have been so eager,
to find and make my whole life better.
In hope I fly,
In hope I try,
In hope I strive,
In hope all I seek I shall find.
..and so I go,
head held high and full of hope,
heart pumping harder and mind set on my goal,
I know,
that failing doesn't mean the end of the road,
I know,
that the journey of life is full of such falls,
I know,
that the bad sometimes comes our way just to make us strong,
I know,
that the only way I can get there is by filling my heart with eternal hope.
I know...
that in hope,
all,
is never,
lost.
Since the begining of days when my heart became an advocate of concrete paths, I have
come to understand the joys that are unprecipitated fears and the fears that are purpose.
For so long I have adapted to the muddy waters that breed beautiful roses with thorns of
such pure poison. Taking into my lungs the fresh air, this same air that is only fresh with the
will of foul principle, yet some how law. Speaking the language that has no sound and
somehow it is always too loud for its own good. Induction in the chase for things that keep
my temperature down in the summer while making the atmosphere a little warmer. Like
something chilly for my wrist ,neck, ears and hands. In the most artic of winters things that
keep me warm like having a personal zoo, mink, chinchilla, fox, rabbit, beaver, and ostich
and yet winters are still so cold. Realizing that somehow winters burn the soul, as summers
tend to freeze the heart. Love is the sound of nature and its remeberance of present. Eagles
scream through the air, colts break the pavement with 38 and 45 calibers of pressure. The
floating of land crafts with special made wheels, stars, spokes, claws, blades, all in chrome
reflecting the spite of happiness in this life. Delicate feminims that perform the sweetest of
actions with the audacity to control the wheather of man. Sunny days, cloudy months, and
years of storm. Pleasure is found everywhere and yet it is never found, so pain is the
blessing of that same pleasure seeked. With each passing day I appear cleaner, except for
my work related smudges(from the parkway to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the
community). All the things I want I have and still I have nothing. Today has been here a
thousand times and only once,tomorrow will pass as yesterday returns. This is where the
truest kisses come from angels, yet the only blessings are from the breath of the demon.
This is home, the city of hustle in the divided states of atrocity. So much passionate turmoil,
so much un-affordable affection that is afforded by price and un-conditional purpose. As the
tears of an infant blend with the crying of the clouds this waters brings hope of a changed
existence. One that is the best life, not heaven or hell, not paradise, but life as it could be,
life in a drop...a single drop... Of Rain Water! Live, Suffer, Celebrate!
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