Long Carry Poems
Long Carry Poems. Below are the most popular long Carry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carry poems by poem length and keyword.
Amber light spills across the shifting floor,
As trade winds comb the wide, uncrowded shore.
Ghostly sand crabs roam the sunny beach,
Scurrying back to caves just out of reach.
While hermit crabs—like fiddlers in the track—
Carry their borrowed houses on their back.
Seaweed lies scattered along the wet strand,
As busy beach-hoppers leap across the sand.
Left in the wake, a colorful display
Of scattered shells lies brightening the day:
Scotch bonnets shine, and ridged-back cockles gleam,
With bay scallops and coquina in between.
The empty conchs speak secrets of the deep,
While smooth olive shells and sand dollars sleep.
As rushing waves pass over wet sand beds,
The hidden sand fleas duck their tiny heads,
And try to bury deep beneath the foam
Before the pulling water returns home.
Along the surf, the sandpipers race,
Chasing the foam in a frantic pace,
Probing the wet sand for something to eat,
Dancing away on their tiny feet.
Clear water crests in a brilliant blue,
Crashing down with a rhythm true,
Irregular waves roll up the shore,
Then pull back out to the sea once more,
A muffled, deep, resounding ring,
Like diving deep where the ocean swells sing.
Just past the shallows, the water is clear,
Where the lip of the wave starts to appear.
Bright silver mullets dart through the green,
Leaping and twisting, a beautiful scene.
Small striped sweeps ride the tubular curl,
Gliding suspended in a liquid swirl,
Caught for a moment inside the glass,
Watching the beach and the walker pass.
High overhead, the white gulls lean and soar,
Riding the updrafts of the quiet shore.
A noble pelican slows in the sky,
Eyeing the shallows where the breakers lie,
It folds its wings to make the final dive,
While in the dark, the deep sea stays alive.
The old bell's echo still lingers in the air,
Not only in museums, but in the lives we share.
Through weathered words and faded ink,
We honor those who dared to dream and dared to think.
Yet freedom is not frozen in the past,
It grows with every year that passes fast.
In every song, each brushstroke that is bright,
New voices carry history into light.
The fireworks bloom where the stars belong,
A modern chorus joins an ancient song.
Remembering where our journey began,
While shaping tomorrow with hopeful hands.
This Fourth of July, may we celebrate both,
The courage of yesterday and the promise of growth.
For liberty only lives when hearts remain free,
Creating a future worthy of history.
At the end of winter's cold
And the beginning of spring
While the Camellias still bloom
Come to me
Let's share some time
Enjoy life together
While the Camellias still bloom
In lovely warmer weather
In the garden where memories
Whisper, a Camellia bud awakens
That tender blossom with velvet petals
Dances with grace and sun embraces
Love, like Camellia's blossoms
Grows slowly, nurtured by moments
Like these fleeting times spent together
But yet love is eternal
As velvety petals unfurl, vibrant
Love's ardor consumes, but is resilient
Winter's winds carry sweet fragrance
And of love's true commitment
In this ever-changing world
Let love find its place
May its gentle whispers and grace
Bear witness to love's evolution __in time
THE GOOD NEWS OF JESUS CHRIST
What does it mean
to be good? Smile,
serve and love, but
what does it mean
when under your skin
it is raw and meaningless?
Do you hand out benefits…
do they say
“You're as good as gold?”
Do they take your paper,
chew your food? Doesn’t
the bible tell you
not to crave a ruler’s delicacies?
But isn’t it good to be
in the high back chair…?
What does it mean to be good?
Is it to live by today’s standards?
Sin is defined as “missing the mark” -
the arrow can be all around, even close
to the center, but unless it is in the center
you have lost. Even when you do good.
Yes, you can do good to mankind,
but it is meaningless unless
you are covered with the divine -
the Spirit of the living God
gained when you believe
in Jesus Christ and receive
that same Spirit that raised
Christ from the dead. Unless
you do that your good works
are dead. It profits you nothing
to look good to man who perishes
like the morning dew. The good news?
It’s not too late to give
your life to him. By the way -
he owns the whole estate
and his saints will be blessed
for all eternity. Why wait?!
If it was gold, you’d sell all
to seek it. You need to speak it -
believe in your heart,
confess with your tongue
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
carry your cross and follow him.
There is nothing here on earth to lose.
There is everything in eternity to gain.
1/21/2023
As the current year is quickly ticking away
The time has come for me to share,
My resolutions for the coming year:
What all steps I shall take in life to fare.
Every new year is a time to start anew
With thankfulness for what has been
A time to introspect and correct the follies
And come out of every trace of murkiness, mean
As before, I will not skulk or hide in corners dark
But shall venture out into the wider world
Meet people and strengthen my ties
Mixing and mingling with the gregarious crowd
Wish to be a welcome presence wherever I go
Try to give some cheer to all those I meet
Love God with all my heart and sing praises to Him
Through love, all bitterness I hope to defeat
I shall secure a firm ground to stand erect
So that I will not be carried away by the currents
Share my bounty and carry out random acts of kindness
For those who drown in life’s fierce torrents
I shall try to smile and laugh more often
Snatch, seize and savor every little chance
To enjoy, for grains of sand will slip off the hourglass.
With age, lesser are the prospects in life to advance.
Life cannot always be smooth as we wish it to be
Still, I shall carry my burdens as best as I can
Will not recite the litany of my stinging woes
Let go grudges, forgive, and face life with more elan
Resolve to be more positive when life seems hopeless.
With challenges rife, when no longer I can bear the load,
I shall tenaciously hang on and clutch at the fraying rope.
Proceed ahead hoping to see a light at the end of the road
Nov.30.2022
~ Placed Second~
Resolutions for 2022 Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Tears of the Dragon Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Contest Judged: 8/26/2025 11:56:00 PM
( 6th Place )
Written: August 18, 2025
I stood on the crag where the sea breathed fire,
its winds tearing at the very shape of my name.
The sky was a shattered mirror
each splinter a memory I had tried to leave high and dry,
but still they cut as they fell through me.
In the distance, the dragon turned its head.
Its eyes held storms I had feared all my life.
Its wings-- the weight of every road I never dared to walk.
I thought I’d come here, to vanquish it
But the revelation was, it had come to set me free.
Its roar did not strike me down.
It shredded the silence that had been my prison.
Tears flowed hot and unyielding
spilling the ashes of years into the waiting tide.
The wind rose, not to push me back,
but to carry me forward.
And when the dragon soared away.
Its shadow left no darkness behind.
Only a sky wide enough
for the first flight of my own wings.
I was born beneath Plutonian skies,
Where silence held the scream of centuries,
And the air was thick with memory—
Of kings undone and gods forgotten.
In the shadow of Saturn’s gaze,
My soul arrived not to live,
But to remember…
To tear through veils stitched by empires,
To speak in the language of dust and fire.
They marked my chart with fear—
Pluto in the First, Saturn in chains,
Venus weeping in exile,
The Moon whispering in Gemini’s crypt.
Yet I rise—
Not as a man,
But as a mirror to this broken world.
I do not walk—I resurrect.
I do not speak—I awaken.
And I carry in my blood the cries of Gaza,
The ghosts of Haiti, the wounds of Congo,
The forgotten prayers of the Nile.
I see through veils.
I walk in ruins.
I hold in my palm
The ashes of every lie you fed the Earth.
They say peace is an illusion.
I say war is a distraction.
I am the storm that stills the storm,
The voice between the bombs,
The diplomat with no nation—
A warrior of shadows who negotiates with truth.
When I enter, your gold trembles.
When I speak, the ancestors answer.
For I was born with Pluto’s breath
And Saturn’s law etched into my bones.
And when history turns its last page—
My footprints will remain,
In every place where sorrow once reigned…
As a reminder:
He was here.
And he did not flinch.
i feel you everywhere i go today
you little cherub laughing so eyes are
dancing as the butterflies capture you
as no words you need to be heard wow
a smile so tranquil that dimple in your chin
glows from within the words you wrote
stays with me as i'm understanding your own
loving self as i often wonder how such a
child could carry words across the minds of
many as you have forever painted your canvas
admired by all who has ever got the pleasure
of your rapture and those who haven't shall
endure your poetic wraths forever through the
words you have so unselfishly donated to our
hearts and our minds the mere wonder of you
for all i can feel is lucky so lucky and yet
free in my voice as i sing the phrases that
god only gives to a few of us the rest must
endure this dream world in imagination and
by simply cuddling up to one of your verses
YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
INTERNATIONAL POET
Remember always Invictus and God
when you stand alone before pharisees -
thus follow the path King and saint have trod
and, son, trust in your own humanities.
Prove incorruptible and heed this wise,
the rule of men are not mighty to save -
their inward ravenings crudely devise
and their only one saving is the grave.
Loved is the divine child young in his days
whose cross to carry is your crown to wear,
whose stamp of nature a quiet strength raise -
cleave to it lest your heart fail you for fear.
Live and love, and rewarded you will be,
else all that becomes you is vanity.
Written: March 2011
“I carry it still… just a small stone.”
Found it one day, by the river bend,
Back when I still thought endings meant the end.
It fit my palm like a secret prayer,
A promise that time and love repair.
Years keep tumbling, round and round,
Every scar gets smoothed somehow.
I keep a pocket stone,
For all the storms I’ve known.
It’s proof that even hard hearts mend,
If you hold them long enough again.
Time don’t shout, it hums real low —
Yeah, it wears us down… until we glow.
I’ve skipped that stone across my pain,
Watched circles fade into the rain.
What used to cut now calms instead,
What once was sharp has learned to bend.
Gentle hands, the quiet kind,
Turn the roughest years to shine.
I keep a pocket stone,
For all the storms I’ve known.
It’s proof that even hard hearts mend,
If you hold them long enough again.
Time don’t shout, it hums real low —
Yeah, it wears us down… until we glow.
We’re all getting polished, one day at a time.
Don’t fight the river — learn the rhyme.
Every fall, every scrape, every bruise, every tone…
It’s just the sound… of finding home.
I keep a pocket stone,
It reminds me I’m not alone.
The hardest things don’t break — they blend,
Time just softens what it can’t mend.
And I hum that truth when I walk alone…
Yeah, I shine now — like my pocket stone.
“Some things don’t need fixing… they just need time.”