Long Chase Poems
Long Chase Poems. Below are the most popular long Chase by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chase poems by poem length and keyword.
5/19/17
Lost in space
Little to no faith
Can't find my place
Or always keep up the pace
Among animals and the human race
Don't recognize the face
I see in the mirror, not even a fragment or trace
What exactly is it that I seek and chase?
Something unexplainable
Purely unbreakable
And untraceable
Yet irreplaceable
Meaning it will not always be available
Not doing well at setting a course
The problems come from the source
Despite all the friction and force
It 's mostly erratic, like certain waves at wharfs
All over the motherland
Difficult to understand
Despite what is on the other hand
Something still missing
Continually drifting
Am I really existing?
Or is their a catch, like there always is in fine printing
By: Dalton Ogletree
O vast unbordered sea of fire and silence,
we lift our small blue voice to you.
From a turning stone wrapped in breath and cloud,
we send this trembling greeting.
You who scatter diamonds in endless night,
who spin the slow waltz of suns and shadows,
receive our wonder.
We are brief, yet burning with questions.
In your deep, we learned distance;
in your darkness, we invented light.
Our bones remember ancient stardust,
our thoughts chase the paths of comets.
We have named your storms,
charted your patient constellations,
and still you remain—
mysterious as the first dawn.
Accept our gratitude for the elements of our making:
iron for courage, carbon for dreaming,
time for becoming.
Accept our awe, which never exhausts.
If ever our signals brush your farthest shores,
let them say:
Here lives a fragile species
that looked upward and felt less alone.
O Cosmos, cradle of beginnings without end,
keep us humble, keep us curious.
From Earth, with restless hope,
we greet you.
In the shadows where the whispers creep,
Where secrets lie and silence weeps,
An ancient curse walks through the night,
The old zombie stirs, a ghastly sight.
With tattered clothes and eyes of gray,
It roams the earth in disarray,
A shuffling gait on broken ground,
The echo of a mournful sound.
Once a soul with dreams to chase,
Now lost in time, a ghostly trace,
Forgotten laughter turned to moans,
In graveyards deep where sorrow groans.
Its skeletal fingers reach for air,
Through thorny brambles and midnight’s glare;
Each hollow step tells tales of dread—
Of lives once lived now long since dead.
Oh! How it craves what it can’t find—
The warmth of life left far behind;
With every howl that chills the bone,
It calls to those who stand alone.
Yet in its eyes a spark still glows—
A flicker of life from long ago;
For even monsters know despair—
The weight of love lost everywhere.
So heed this warning as shadows fall:
When darkness rises and echoes call:
Beneath the moon’s pale silver gleam,
Lurk forgotten dreams within the scream.
In haunted nights when fear takes hold,
Remember stories that must be told;
For even zombies have their pasts—
And echoes linger long after they’ve passed.
The Curse
Smitten, battered, beaten, torn,
to this spell, I am sworn.
To strike thee down on this day,
and with thy soul yea shale pay.
To whom that sees thee go insane,
writhe and scream in burning pain.
For all that look upon thy face,
may they chase thee from this place?
Thy ego broken battered by scorn,
and to thy soul justice is born.
See thy self as thine others do,
for when yea speak none is true.
When once thee thought yea were great,
I bring thee down to seal thy fate.
Thy stench of death shall follow thee,
and yea shall know deaths misery.
An evil deed yea have done,
one thee thinks yea have won.
So to thy deed thee are bound,
until resolution can be found.
For what yea have done now is true,
in every act that yea are due.
The only way to be undone,
thee must act for yea’s the one.
Suffer now I shall not wait,
with this curse I seal thy fate.
Smitten, battered, beaten, torn,
I curse thee now thy pain is born.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
With enlightenment, not inhalation,
drawn from Jefferson Airplane's (Starship?) 'White Rabbit.'
(written by Grace Slick)
A Monotetra ~
Don't be drawn into that fairytale
with the Cheshire Cat's grin and tail
He'll lure you in and leave you frail
To weep and wail To weep and wail
If you're in the Red Queen's palace
Don't sip wine from her gold chalice
Her evil thoughts reek of malice
Go ask Alice Go ask Alice
You look weak, skin sallow and pall
Your White Knight's steed is in a stall
Alice won't save you when you fall
She's ten feet tall She's ten feet tall
Don't chase white rabbits down a hole
Deep descent will devour your soul
It's time to wake and take control
Don't pay the toll Don't pay the toll
Life is for many absolutely lifeless
so many struggles having to face
thoughts since birth always same
life seems all one long chase
One is born then one will die
in between it's all just basic routine
school, work, courtship, marriage
children, old age, what's it been?
Is all that amounts to life?
something more surely is there
life abundant can it be found?
oh God don't you even care?
Surely there's life found in God
reality in truth with capital L
bow before the Lord in humility
there be made spiritual well
This is God of abundant love
merciful, faithful, full of grace
follow the Lord who has risen
this is life living in God's place
('you will die without ever being alive' - Richard Burton (1925-1984)
Just some thoughts after reading this quote on life and what it would mean to me.)
Tiny Dancers
Special child, curly hair and dove grey eyes
Watches in wonder from his lonely place
Floating polka dots glide on the breeze
Translucent circles ride into space.
Tiny dancers in the air
You follow their flight - their pace
As wistful wishes tickle the clouds
Rising joy - not erased.
Your hands reach out for perfect circles
Shimmering rainbows of grace
As they zig zag in the air
In a happy childhood chase.
The faintest smile starts to dawn
Upon your solemn face
And from a source deep and still
Laughter your heart can now embrace.
Like sunshine break through the gloom
Bubbles you here give chase
To fantasies of floating spheres
As your first smile we embrace.
10-5-21
Contest: Rhyme me a Rhyme
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Picture #2
No one ever had a more devoted super patron.
He marveled at every painting and poem I thought up.
He cheered at each of my gaudy crazy color choices,
He toasted all my thoughts with a golden glass tribute cup.
He wanted to buy all, the first time I had a white arts and crafts carnival tent.
I was against this of course, wanting a chance to sell to others, to share my soul.
This life is not yours, he said, you are more sensitive, artistic, heaven-sent.
But I wanted to sell to excited children, and their mothers, that was my goal.
My marvelous patron talked me into selling online, and that worked out for a bit.
I was gleeful and happy and awhirl with joy with each sale, so tried and true.
But when I went to visit him, and saw each painting in his home, I threw a hissy fit.
I wanted to sell to others, I said, I didn’t want all of them to be sold to you.
Now when I sell a painting or a poem, I run home all aquiver, excitedly glad.
Sales always chase away any insane feelings of disappointment or unexpected gloom.
I have a patron who believes in me, a man who is honest, and never a cad.
Best of all, to deliver it, all I have to do is walk to my own living room.
If I was never meant to shine like stars,
But walk through dark with dust stuck to my shoes,
Then please forgive me, God, for all my scars,
For finding hope in pain I didn’t choose.
My voice was small, too soft for most to hear,
A quiet sound that faded in the night.
But still I spoke, though no one stood too near,
And held my truth beneath a tired light.
My dreams were big, too heavy for my bones,
They woke me up and made my chest feel tight.
But still I wrote, in rooms where I felt alone,
And told my heart to keep on through the fight.
I shared my thoughts with walls and empty air,
With broken books and skies that never spoke.
I told my fears to corners of despair,
And wrote with hands that shook but never broke.
I didn’t ask for riches or for fame,
Just space to live, to feel, to speak, to try.
My voice was weak, but still it called my name,
And told the truth before it said goodbye.
Maybe I failed in ways I’ll never know,
Maybe I missed more chances than I caught.
But even in the dark, I made a glow,
A small, soft light that came from all I fought.
Now, as my heart grows quiet, slow, and still,
No more to chase, no finish line to run,
Let this be known: I loved with all my will,
And held to love the way some hold a gun.
I didn’t win, or change the world’s hard ways,
But I stayed kind, though nothing felt secure.
And if I broke, I broke through all my days,
Still reaching out, still trying to endure.
I’m pretty sure cringe is the most modern poetic style
Med-school freshman year is over - finals are over,
and if they aren’t already forgotten they’re fading fast
- my relief feels like achievement.
We haven’t gotten our grades yet, but I’m full
of aggressive patience and prom optimism.
One suspects the grades will arrive soon, but if they’re bad,
I hope they’ll have the decency to wait a couple more weeks.
The thing is, I’m no longer spiraling!
My moods changed from high-anxiety to summer itinerary.
Peter (my bf) and I are swiping-right on freedom, messy as that is.
Our mission is to re-write the entirely accurate school-year emotional-math,
from studies 100, boyfriends 0.
No more lectures, labs, and computer screen-time malaise,
we’ll tackle the ‘loneliness epidemic’ in a hundred ways
- because freedom always begins as a decision.
We’re on our way to the sunny-fair beaches of Heraclee
- on the French Riviera, where heaven’s in easy reach
and life can unwind, unburdened by consequence.
Our mornings will be sun splashed and surf-adjacent - I say,
“If youth must be wasted, make it a littoral squandering.”
In the evenings we’ll chase the dusk on rented bikes,
and watch the local kids flying 3D, sculptured kites.
There’s a rickety old merry-go-round that we can ride all night
on garish, multicolored sea creatures from B-movie features.
Busy Saint Tropez is right down the street (11 miles)
where there’s a rainbow ferris-wheel lit by 160,000 LEDs,
Hawaiian ices, neon lights, dance contests, and cotton candy.
It’s very festival-like, and while music spills from local bars,
we’ll sip umbrella’d concoctions under the stars.
I’ll be wearing cheaply purchased, beach-merch tank-tops,
that I didn’t own last week and I’ll donate in the fall,
with prada silk-mini-skirts so short that they’re practically earrings
- no fashion Interventions please.
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Songs for this:
Hawt Heart by Born At Midnite
Celebration Lover by Chuck Senrick
Smash by Born At Midnite
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littoral = seashore