Long Cages Poems
Long Cages Poems. Below are the most popular long Cages by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cages poems by poem length and keyword.
In the glow from
the slow flame of
the gas oven
In the red hue of
the sweet melon stew
In the pearl sweat drops of
the labour of love
In the looks of
the stars in our eyes
A savour, a pleasure, we are
charmed we are warmed
Outside
The jasmine tree
is making the handicraft of
heart filling smell
That tells
The stories of
curing the worries of
our birds in the cages
of lonely pages
The guests
Reflecting the restlessness
of their tongues
Following the flavour from the kitchen
Rich in almond and honey
Licky and yummy
Much hoped rain soaked breeze arrives
Hum the beehives
The husbands and the wives
The parents and the children
The brothers and the sisters
The boyfriends and the girlfriends
The boy and the girl
The summer kitchen swirl
The dinner tables gurgle
The gourmet summer meal from your hands
The sands swaying in the ocean
July 3, 2018
What does it take to be Mighty, you ask?
How to find the edge and climb up over the holes?
How to find the energy to Breathe, to Be, to Exist?
How to Understand that you change the world around you?
How to Realize, that you are strong?
It means standing up on your own two.
Standing by your own conviction.
Standing against what you don’t hold as True.
It means NEVER compromising yourself.
Stand up.
No one wins, crawling on knees.
It means Evolving.
L O V E. H A R D E R.
Do what it takes to change and reach your dreams.
It means manifesting your desires.
Paint your life in all the colors.
Reclaim your Life and your Essence.
Fight for your Right to Matter.
Live.
Easily detected in the weak moments
where your source of power lies.
Uncovered, unhindered
waiting to be Seen.
Vibrating, shivering
waiting to be Felt.
Do Better.
Choose.
Unfold yourself, unlock your cages;
Leave unsustainable variables behind.
Screw fear and self loathing, Here;
There is no time for Mind and Illusions.
Fight for who you were
before others dimmed your light.
Be True, to You.
Start walking.
Rise.
Little girl lost
Alone in the dark
What she might feel
No one will know
Thoughts in her head
All locked in cages
Nowhere to get out
No way to run
Little girl lost
Alone in the dark
Curled in a ball
With her stuffed cow
As she walks with a smile
Back straight chin up
Not a care in the world
As people laugh
Little girl lost
Feels truly alone
Sitting in the corner
A tsunami of tears
She looks up the number
Then fails and calls
It rings twice
A female voice sounding warm and inviting
Says "may I help you"
Little girl lost
Hangs up the phone
She can't talk to anyone
She won't
She looks up as her mom
Comes to the door
Saying to her
"Why can't you listen"
"Clean your room"
"You hurt my heart"
Little girl lost
Waits till she's Alone
And the tears start to rain down
Moving over
The rolling hills
Of her face
She looks in the mirror
She doesn't like what she sees
She slaps herself twice
As punishment
Little girl lost
All alone in the world
Little girl is lost
Some dogs call them master, but I always called mine ‘Dad”
I haven’t seen him in so long, perhaps I drove him mad
For when that car bumped into him and knocked him off his feet
Some people took my dad and left me standing in the street
I never saw him after that… was everything my fault
Did he wash his hands of me, I cannot bear that thought
They put me in a place with other dogs locked up in cages
I barked a lot at first but I was there for simply ages
It took a while but I accepted Dad had let me go
I guess I wasn’t up to scratch although I’ll never know
Then, one day a couple said, “We can’t leave him behind.”
And they were nice; alas, they weren’t the dad I hoped I’d find
I never would deny the gift of this my newfound home
Without my lovely humans I’d be caged or left to roam
I’ve never been ungrateful for the love they’ve shared with me
Yet every single time we walked, my dad I hoped to see
But that was many years ago and we’ve had fun and hugs
They even have my picture printed on their coffee mugs
These days our walks are shorter and although they’re still quite fun
My aging bones make walkies slow; I certainly can’t run
I sometimes see my people looking at me like they’re sad
I’m glad we’ve been there for each other… but I miss my dad
It’s strange that since I woke I seem to have new strength today
But now I see that other ’me’ which means I’m on my way
Before I was adopted Ron Rottweiler told me that -
When your time is done you’ll see yourself still on your mat
Your humans will be sad because you had to go away.
I always hoped I’d see my dad again before that day
In this new state I know much more than I had known before
I know that there’s a bridge to cross but I want something more
Before I cross to what comes next and set my spirit free
I want to find my dad so he’s the final thing I see
I know now where I lived and it’s a long, long way to go
But wait, I see my favourite toy and hear a voice I know…
I turn to see the rainbow bridge and yonder rainbow light
A figure stands in silhouette and yet an awesome sight
The figure walks towards me in its own familiar way
It reaches out its hand to me and then I hear ‘him’ say,
“I’ve waited all these seven years - the angels think me mad -
We’ll cross that bridge together for I’ve always been your dad.”
It's disgraceful that migrant families
are being indefinitely housed
at southern detention facilities
that reek of urine and feces.
These people are human beings!
It's unconscionable that ICE officers tear them
apart with no plans to ever reunite them,
put them in cages to sleep in their own filth.
History will not look back fondly on
the Trump administration for this atrocity
We'll never forget that little girl crying
after being ripped out of her mother's arm
at the border. Let's call a spade a spade.
This is cruelly unAmerican. It's child abuse,
if not kidnapping. Regardless of our race...
or what name we call our God
or which side we lean on politically
or what side of the railroad track we hail from
Wrong is wrong; we should all be outraged...
by this inhuman cruelty!
One Hundred And Thirty Six Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
Date written and submitted: 08/22/2019
In the cages at the zoo they crowded around each other
A million milling from father to brother
All speaking in a babel a million languages
From clicks and keyboard clacks to switches and bandages
A group is seen on a higher levee
They understand all, the interpreters you see
While some lower below compiles the dictionary
That translates to what is used by the assembly
A little farther around a table three Gs sit
they’re a python a Ci and Jav a’ Script
Sadly they discuss an end to their spec-ial woes
And thus the weird discussion goes
We hear the Ci talking first wheezing (he’s old)
What do you think makes girls so cold
To us our relationships’ are no success
And that’s the principal source of distress
Well as for me a girl who can’t commit
(Python interjects) I can’t have here cos she’s a git
And by the way Ci you need to have some class
There are some social functions you should pass
(An argument ensues)
Well I’m not the one who treats them like objects
That’s why they hate you, the Ci interjects.
And Jav a’ Script forget all the hype
You really need to settle on a type
Jav retorts, You’re the ones behaving slack
When they leave you simply call them back
Console them too if they cry
Be prepared to catch them if they try
Ah yes the man who always rejects
The promises he promised, (Python interjects)
(A lull in the storm, they begin to examine others)
Assembly’s got to make himself understood
Most of what he says goes under the hood
Swift’s got to slow down and not dart around
and Vue needs to react to their sound
There’s a theory I’d like to test
Says Python (although it’s half in jest)
If we work together as a unit
Then maybe we’ll be able to git one init?
And have mocha babies like Sinon no thanks
I’d rather throw myself on the express
Outside the cage the label reads
An endangered species with special feeds
Only pizza and soda strictly junk
For the whacky programmers inside this hunk
Sorry to say but you may regret it
Cause only programmers will read this and get it
"A Silent Song"
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Blessed or cursed
Morning shave
Coffee please
Write a verse
Remembers last night’s dream
Grabs a napkin, spills his spleen
Shoves it in his pocket
Walks to work
Sits at his desk
Carries on as usual
Chats on with the new study,
he’s on a roll, softly flirts
Quietly, silently, it always works
Groundhog Day that’s the worst,
Where’s the breaker to dive under it all
Every now and then a Tempest is called for
A heavenly thunderous squall
Just to shake it up
Move through the strung out long day pall
Cover his mirror with her fog and all
All the while
He’s talking it up, little work day dramas
Meetings minute cutlass pen thrust
Business as usual, balls to bust
Still underneath it all he’s thinking the stories frame by frame
She whispers out of nowhere ethereal in his brain,
“The best story is yet to arrive, it’s only the middle of the day…
maybe some gold glitter, a Llama and a Toucan that sashays?”
Empath on his knees by midnight
He’s writing melancholic love songs
The words are tight, verses short
Not long, he’s thinking Turtle Doves and short skirts
That won’t work…
scrawls it out, writing’s gone with the wind,
The best words for the story don’t take too long
He listens to some music, thinks of her and sings a new song.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Dreams flourish dripping words
black on white her familiar screen
pounding faster like raging horses hooves and heart beats
bleed vibrant colors mystic legions of wars and lovers
a foreign sovereignty her mind and wily covers her pageantry
Her eyes the windows of her world
Wings beating flying free
Cages broken, horses hooves hearts racing
She follows him on another shore a dream by sea
Praying prophecies
Empath on her knees
Two very different minds
Free to be
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
Music/ Paolo Conte, "Sparring Partner"
https://youtu.be/tzjdY5rmpCA
Ash Groves
“Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander
When twilight is fading I pensively rove,
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely Ash Grove.
‘Tis there where the blackbird is cheerfully singing,
Each warbler enchants with his note from the tree,
Ah, then little I think of sorrow or sadness,
The Ash Grove enchanting spells beauty for me.”
Wales to me,
Though stranger to my step,
Like the Ash groves on rolling mountains
Blackbirds warble - long days of summer’s smile;
A pensive rover with my Welsh companions
Of Corgi’s, wily terriers
About my feet;
Honoring a Red Dragon, in this land of song
Where songs bequeathed to my heart -
Sung before my time - left for me sing;
In lyrics of canaries free of cages
Rising up from deep shafts of dark coal
Sing out their freedom;
Still heard in voyages ‘cross the Celtic Sea –
Pensive legends of home
‘Cross turbulent oceans;–
Finding rolling mountains to climb
Upon Liberty’s broad wings
To Ash groves of white and blue;
Ne’er forgetting Rock Rose or Snowden Lily
The Red Kite soaring
High up in Welsh hearts;
No more to pensively roam
Through new ash groves of freedom
In this new land of song -
New land of song.
“The ash grove, how graceful how plainly ‘tis speaking
The harp thro’ it playing has language for me…
The Ash Grove alone is my home.”
Based on the Welsh folk song “Ash Grove.”
Song form AABAABA
Part of my family came from Wales to Kentucky and Tennessee in the 1800’s. Their last name was Henderson.
7-2-20
We are born into the abyss of existence, like birds trapped in cages of beginnings,
we don't run toward death, but flee from the catastrophe of birth, hiding from truths,
survivors who forget their first breath, like a dream lost in the mist of time,
in each moment, we strive to forget the primordial cry that shattered our silence.
The fear of death is but an echo of the fear of the first light that blinded us,
a projection into the future of the shadow that accompanied us the first time we opened our eyes,
the memory of that first moment haunts us like a ghost in starless nights,
when the soul struggles to find peace in the turmoil of unfolding life.
In our intimate universe, we carry the scars of birth like hidden maps,
seeking to lose ourselves in the labyrinth of forgetfulness, to escape the memory of the beginning,
but in the depths of consciousness, that forgotten cry always resounds, like an ancient song,
reminding us of the moment we were cast into the world, naked and vulnerable.
We are prisoners of a desired amnesia, fugitives from a memory too heavy,
for birth is the catastrophe that opened the doors to an unknown destiny,
and the fear of death is but the shadow that dances on the walls of our soul,
a dance of shadows that begins and ends in the eternal silence of the beginning.
In silence, we watch shadows pass.
They shape our thoughts and feed the farce.
Moulding lives to fit the lies
that see us strive, conform and die.
And scared of what we do not know,
we do not move or seek to go.
But idle in their well-known forms.
Find safety in such practised norms.
There is no need to speculate;
the shadows teach us fear and hate.
Breed small world views and selfish thoughts.
Dispense with troubling shoulds and oughts.
It matters not what's right or wrong,
so long as we all nod along.
Accept those preached invented truths,
and justify each new abuse.
While newborn Gods, those few rich men,
close liberty's gate and lock the pen.
Embrace what once seemed quite absurd;
they are the path, we are the herd.
In barless cages, with blinkered eyes,
bearing witness to corpocracy’s rise.
The missing light upon that wall
...an absence which now stains us all.