Long But Poems

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Anywhere But Now and Here Will Doo Da Jar Vue

Knowing myself as only
i unfortunately do
My feebles and my foibles
Whence life becomes nothing
but this to me
This i also know i am not
the many but the few
Who take safety and comfort
in routine 

As feeling like a postman or a 
milkman following the same
old trodden round commute
I fear far more than change

For if nothing new there be
to see or experience
No corner left to turn every
line runs true and straight

I see no point of journeying
a 1 single step further 

I'd far rather choose to press
the red button marked stop 
get off and eject myself

To anywhere but right here
right now

Because that to me at very
least represents something
yet to be discovered turning
a corner

As yesterday to me is already
old and in the distant past

Truth be told i am far more 
interested in what the future 
holds and creating fresh new
memories

Than having to constantly 
dredge up and ruin my
most joyful cherished
memories of old

To get me through another
day plagued by endless 
Da-Jar-Vue

Pardon my French if you
know what i mean


Premium Member It didn't start with sunlight, but with that slow, unfamiliar feeling

It didn't start with sunlight, but with that slow, unfamiliar feeling
Of being in my own flesh, without the desire to escape into the wind of oblivion,
My body wasn't a fortress of strength, but it was mine,
Like an ancient temple where I can sit without asking the sky for forgiveness.
My hands no longer sought answers in the fabric of time,
They just rested, silent and open, like leaves finding peace on the ground,
As if they had forgiven me for all the burdens I couldn't carry to the stars,
The mirror didn't weave illusions and didn't try to adorn me in ephemeral beauty,
It simply met my gaze, like an old friend finally recognizing me.
The ceiling blinked, like a sky that knows silent poems,
A quiet witness to all the hopes that almost came true,
It spoke no words, just held silence better than an orchestra of stars,
But the silence wasn't an empty canvas; it was filled with unspoken dreams and heavy goodbyes,
Yet I sat with the silence, unafraid, like a navigator under the celestial dome.
And later, I found myself not just breathing as an echo of existence,
But awake, alive in my bones, like a flower opening its petals to light,
Awakened in an inner universe opening its gates to infinity,
Abandoning fear, embracing the simple and profound existence of the self,
To be, simply, here and now, in my body as in an eternal sanctuary.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

But You Didn't

You said you were going to do that thing you always wanted to, 
whether it was joining the football team, 
Or asking that girl you pass in the hallways to accompany you to the dance.
But you didn’t.
Because your schedule wouldn’t allow it.
Because someone asked them before you.
You told yourself that you weren’t going to be “soft” anymore 
Because you never liked being pushed around.
But you didn’t.
Because you hated seeing the look on your friends faces when you got mad.
You wrote that note because you were tired of “not doing things”
Because you were sick of not following through with what you told yourself.
Because you thought that life was spiting you just for living.
You had everything ready, 
You told yourself this was when you would finally follow through.
For the first, and the last time.
But you didn’t.
Not because the knife was dull, 
Or the pills were fake, 
Or the bottle was full of water,
Or the ammo was blank. 
But because your sister wanted to play dress up 
With the person that always made her laugh.
Because your brother wanted to get food 
With the sibling that always knew his tastes.
Because your mother wanted to go shopping
With the child that knew her style a little better than the others.
Because your dad wanted to go bowling
With the kid that gave him a run for his money.
You kept telling yourself, “Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, your sun would eclipse.
Tomorrow, your tide would settle.
Tomorrow, your world would stop spinning.
But it didn’t.
Because little did you know,
Those coaches needed another player.
Because your friends' expressions were of pride
For the one they were hoping would stand up for themselves.
Because that special someone rejected the guy who asked,
Waiting for you.
You had every reason to hope it would end.
But it didn’t.

Premium Member But This Was Real


I recently watched a documentary on SAVANTS
In particular, Daniel Tammet, whose mathematical abilities
As well as other astounding mental capabilities
Will not only blow your mind

You'll probably say to yourself, “this is some kind of trickery
What he does is impossible for the human brain to comprehend”
Yet when matched against a computer
He is able to do calculations up to 100 decimal places in his head

Without a single number out of place
He is also able to learn a new language within a week
And then appear on television and carry on a conversation
In that language with ease to the utter astonishment

Of those conducting the interview
I'm aware there are skeptics out there... BUT THIS IS REAL
In his middlle thirties he possessed extraordinary mental abilities
That defied all logic or comprehension

It's Friday but Sunday's coming

The death of Jesus could not stop His resurrection
The pain He experienced could not stop His Glory
His purpose brought His passion and
The love of the Father restored our souls

It was Friday, but Sunday was coming
The Blood of Jesus cleanses our sins and
The Resurrection gave us the Holy Spirit

It was the day when He laid down His life
It was the day when He finished the task 
It wasn't easy, but He finished it
It was Friday, but Sunday was coming

Jesus died on the cross
Through His shed blood, our sins are forgiven
He was willing to give His life
So that we could have a life!
He died so that we could get back
The kingdom that man lost in the beginning!
The death of Jesus could not stop His resurrection and
Now He is Alive Forevermore!

Mark Frank

Copyright © Mark Frank 2025
© Mark Frank  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Nothing But Steam

A look at the world through children's eyes
Opens a bright new scene
Some things that reach a boiling point
Turn out to be nothing but steam!

Kids have a way of looking at things
We can learn from these little guys
Don't ever take life too seriously, friends
You won't get out of it alive!

Laugh at the world, it's just a game
One with the most marbles wins
What can you buy with a bunch of marbles?
Maybe a bottle of grins!

A look at the world through children's eyes
And all of a sudden you're free
Free to go round talking to the birds
To climb all those big old trees

Life was really so much simpler back then
In the morning you went out to play
Winter or summer, it made no difference
That's how you would spend your day!

A look at the world through children's eyes
Opens a bright new scene
Some things that reach a boiling point
Turn out to be nothing but steam!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Do Need You So Lord But Why

The Past Flutter

In the ‘shame’ of the mother the daughter and
in unruly spirit a drag queen enters the land

Why not she ponders my Jesus is transgender
he himself turned the tables and went on a bender

Engaged with Magdalene and not all disciples
fit nicely with the notion of strict archetypal

‘normality’ posterity wants to make us believe
that queerness was not up his caring sleeve

Rags and pink feathers surely adorned his crown
yet straight followers of conviction whittled down

diversity otherness distinctive medley variance
excluded themselves from a different stance

Lesbian gay bisexual trans-all Jesus’ are so close
to his or her message in open minded repose

I am not mocking and do not wish to offend
but greatness has no borders in this holy land

10th February 2018

You demand our forgiveness But we say hell no

They claimed they freed us
But if chains instead of whips 
Was your idea of freedom
We'd rather be dead
At least then we wouldn't have to deal with your racism
All you did was remove the sun
Put is in solitary confinement 
Psychologically tortured us
If this is your idea of an apology 
We'd hate to see the solution 
Was reparations segregation 
Or was it martyrdom 

You demand our forgiveness 
But what have you done 
To earn salvation 
Especially when that's not what you want 
You just want control
You just want to be a hero 
That is not propaganda we are falling for

Telling you 'no' 
Gives us generational power
Knowing we won't be your puppets no more
You're not our masters anymore
The taste of victory is the taste of no remorse 
Our ancestors ran so we could walk
You'll know no peace until you acknowledge your wrongs 

So when you demand forgiveness 
We will scream hell no
How dare you still try to control 
After everything you've done 
The way you treated our ancestors 
The way you continue to treat us right now 
How dare you insult our intelligence 
Did you really think we are that gullible 
You erase our history
You steal our culture
You eradicate our people 
And you expect us to be quiet 
And be your soldiers 
To do what you want 
Then take all the credit
And reap the rewards 
We know your system and we can't be bought 
So now we'll say it one more time 
You dont have our forgiveness But you will pay for your crimes

No objection to cold weather, but

No objection to cold weather, but...

ah jest wanna boomerang 
back into the womb
versus being threatened 
courtesy beastie boy gang
beating me to a pulp 
after accurately discerning 
being scared less pang
suddenly imagining myself 
buffered, and buttressed 
within zen Sibyl 
prophet table Chinese philosophy 
known as Yin and Yang.

No matter birth canal
long since got breached,
countless scores of years
I quickly grew
impossible mission to plunge
(think Nestea commercial)
headfirst back into utero,
haint got any got any
handy dandy blues clue,

nonetheless said wish
I broach to you,
whether ye reside in Baku
Guangzhou
Kalamazoo
Kathmandu
Peru
Thimphu
Timbuktu.

Sudden pang roared awake
nsync like blazing saddles
hot enough to sizzle steak
torpid, humid, and
arrid extra dry to take
breath away analogous vacuumed
courtesy fire breathing dragon
chilling parched scales in great lake
already this doubting

Thomas doth hanker
for global warming yore
less than six months ago
geesh for goodness sake,
when Earth did bake
triple digit temperatures
no thirst could slake,

thus intravenous feeding
in tandem with trach
still inadequate to brake
yours truly did pine... for chill
against dehydration, ah only to wake,
when came the morrow,
where Jack and Jill
sweat buckets, this

before they climbed uphill
akin to madding crowd
clamoring, thirsting, gulping...
every last drop
essentially emptying damn
immense reservoir spill
futilely swilling parched lips till...

Old cranks shrugged off
exceptionally hot weather, and did scoff
younger generation's creature comforts
old geezers recalled
back in the day
as laddies and Tom boy

lassies did slough
no trespassing signs
skinny dipping after they shuck off
clothes giddily swinging
atop highest bough
playing hooky averse

learning would ever payoff
pitying other kids in school
former gathering rosebuds...
around lunchtime hunger
relishing stealing stroganoff
under nose of Mister Groff,

one former German World War II,
who colluded with American "boys"
despite heavily decorated luftwaffe
and posthumously honored
Veterans day getting last laugh!
Form: Rhyme

But Mostly Just To Remain Sane

Miss could you lie under this stand
We aren't scratching the words upon your lips
slips the line
rewind
times
some
Words juggle for acknowledge meant
to always means didn't
Scrabble Scrambled marbles
rambles ambles able
to change surreal
Sure real
Cant you feel i'm changing the
rules without a crown
Step across the line in the
sandcastles made of sea
See the stillness in the skin
the fake grin
the bruised chin
silence calms my din
g dong the witch is gone
I write of tears journey down the cheek
Of winds mournful speak
The look of love found and lost
Echo answers back
Can you hear me in the back
As i pulled the thorn from thumb
the blood with aura
sunlight split
spilled down the cupped hand
and as tongue licked
at life oil
the heated warmth of the seen
And think of winter sun
that breaks the shadow tree
and finger veins on ground
that twist and turn
against the burn
I write of pain that steals grief
but mostly just to remain sane

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace