Long Chased Poems
Long Chased Poems. Below are the most popular long Chased by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chased poems by poem length and keyword.
She was woken by the sound of moving waters,
She was surprised to see herself by the seashore,
It was a cold stygian night,
She was far from her room’s light.
She saw two beings coming from afar,
She lifted herself and fled like a car,
Suddenly two black dogs came out of nowhere,
She could hear them coming close as they chased her.
She jumped over a river,
As the dogs were about to do the same,
They fell into the river and were drowned,
Her legs shuddered as she stood up.
The monsters were gone,
She cautiously moved on.
As she walked through shrivelled meadows,
She could see walking shadows,
Her heart raced,
She wondered where they were headed,
They went ahead as she followed,
They were suddenly hollowed and swallowed.
She could hear the cry of a bird,
It pierced her heart,
Suddenly a giant black bird chased her,
It came out from an unseen lair,
She ran as fast as she could into a small cave,
The bird passed with a loud wave.
Suddenly dark tendrils came into the cave,
They grabbed her hands and feet and pulled her out,
She was too frightened to shout,
They carried her to two beings standing in wait,
She wondered what would be her fate,
Suddenly she woke up,
It was only a dream.
October 11, 2024.
As I sit here with River in my lap,
I drift back in time to the day
he first came to live with us—
small, curious, and ready to stay.
Tiny paws danced around my feet,
a blur of wonder, soft and fast,
turning ordinary moments
into memories meant to last.
He chased the light across the floor,
pounced on shadows, fearless and free,
a little heart so full of life
teaching joy so easily.
Now he rests, curled warm and close,
dreaming softly where he lies,
and I hold every version of him
in this quiet, grateful sigh.
As I sit here with River in my lap,
love whispers low and deep—
some bonds are written for a lifetime,
and some are born to keep.
The warm spring rain still falls on the cherry trees,
pelting on the sodden and drooping *lavender lilies...
forming a small lake, where playful robins
bathe and fend off the thrusting, thirsty shrikes.
Soon children will come out and act dippy...
chased by wild puppies and mousy kitties
fighting over their stuffed, torn bears;
oh, there goes my peace and *tranquility!
The *fragrant lilacs are in dire need of growth and color,
lately they haven't soaked up enough sun and raindrops:
tingeing them, allowing them to revel in their *splendor;
never denying lovers the *dulcet tones of their voices.
The tranquil skies conjure up a past *bliss,
can a poet's unrhymed words, emitted in a *whisper, go on *lilting?
He will delightfully inhale the strong perfume of the breeze *wafting!
And will he create verses with *eloquence?
Entered in Andrea Dietrich's contest,
Word Warrior Challenge: Beautiful Words
Footsteps echo in the corridor of doubt
A thoughtless mind in lasting drought
Dried up thoughts = washed up habits
Habits sprint like wild jackrabbits
Peaking like a vicious storm crashing ashore
Spreading like a wind-blown poisonous spore
Quick to arrive and leave like molasses
An IV drip through jade-colored glasses
Finally absent with absconded talent
An effort must be made which is gallant
Habitual company was a psychological ally
Fool’s gold with cratering lows and smile so wry
Laborious efforts chased away idiosyncrasies
Stillness in idle dimensions begins to squeeze
Echoes turn to laughter then escalate to shouting
Distinctive accents with tunnel vision spouting
Usher the consigliere back to increase productivity
Compulsive companion whispering notes of creativity
Sweet surreal thoughts return to illuminate possibilities
Cautiously withdraw avoiding cloak and dagger hostilities
many days have passed us by
yet as if the same i cry
no less loss or memory took
tis all the same just like a book
my heart it bleeds in the same places
still kissing pictures of her faces
driving around remembering traces
of the love our lives had made
i had the key to your heart
long before i knew i was a part
and when i put the pieces together
the puzzle was my glory and treasure
a love that could not be measured
second only to heaven this pleasure
a union that had Gods approval
but yet it was so unusual
you knew i loved you when i kept it secret
for so long you let me keep it
then one day you needed my touch
you had told me before; that you did'nt have much
but because of my heart i would'nt listen
my mind and my soul were too busy wishing
and then one day suddenly, i knew you were mine
a few days later we spoke for the last time
one week later i heard you were gone
you had to leave for your heavenly home
i cried that day in the dust and dirt
here was my torment that i knew chased us
with days and months i measure my hurt
but after time God showed me clearly
that He loved us. it must have took a lot
for Him to show me Himself
but with His Holy Spirit He put her soul on my shelf
so when i think about her, God and i
i still can't help myself, i still cry
The story of the young Jesus
Jesus was sceptical of his tribe as a trainee carpenter
he was lousy, could even make a bookshelf, he was bullied for this.
Jesus took umbrage and criticized the establishment of bootlicking priests
whom the Roman occupiers had given them power?
He took to hanging out with a group of radicals of the day
and since he was good with words soon became their leaders.
The groupies, one of the Magdalene, were for the pleasure of the flesh,
although Jesus was fond of this woman, he didn´t show it openly.
Jesus got big-headed thought he could take on the establishment
like when he chased money lenders out of the church.
He was wrong!
He was arrested mocked, and given a thorn crown, but he insisted
he was the proper leader of the people.
they crucified him, but women come to the rescue, healed his wounds
and sent him and Magdalen, the despised tart, to France.
He had seven children and ended his days as a valued goldsmith.
Mary Davis dwelled on a fruit farm, adoring the company of animals.
Most beloved was sociable Sam, who made her giggle, like bubbles!
Whereas Mary was seven-years-old, Sam, her lamb, was still a baby,
Given to Mary by best neighbors, when they played in orange daisies.
Sam's white fleece was soft and fluffy, like a mound of feather pillows;
Like clouds of endless, turquoise skies, blown by breezes, into billows.
Sweet-natured Sam and Mary's bond, was special. Soon inseperable!
As one, they chased sun; like heaven seen, through rainbow's portal.
Friends found fanciful, skipping Mary, in the far-out days of fabulous,
Under butterscotch sun of fascination, soon cherry red, as an amulet.
Fabled days told a faceted story of time, in faddish phases of flowers;
As family finished delaying finally, visiting dreamy, dusk's lemon sours.
Sam was usually someplace to be seen, but sometimes he wandered;
And Mary sought him out-like privacy loving night, soon squandered.
The 'sapphire tower' bore rich blooms, as 'zebrina lifesaver' remedied;
And 'sundrops primroses' were lingering, as the silken breeze hurried.
'Bee passion' blooms generated hysteria, with the fragrance of fairies;
As summer saluted lovely 'queen's tears.' Some nomads never marry!
Mary was feeling ill one day. It soon passed, but she was late to class.
It grew later, as she looked for steady, silent Sam, in tall, green grass.
Sam was nowhere about, though they always walked to school together.
Soon worried Mary found the school in uproar, like redbirds of a feather!
Sam was running from the teacher, in the classroom of much disarray;
As the children screamed with laughter, loving the opportunity to play!
Laughing herself, Mary coaxed Sam over. Glad to find her, Sam obeyed.
The chuckling teacher allowed Mary to take him home, where he stayed.
That day became a topic of legend and lore. A song was written about it.
It soon grew old and beloved, like a starbound comet, swift as a rocket!
'Mary had a little lamb;
Its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.
It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play
To see a lamb at school.'
Ironed Shadows
by Odin Roark
Her hands lay smooth
the coveralls worn thin
now wrinkled
once charged with earth
Mended armor from
courageous prices paid
embossed with crosshatched mending
stands raised in triumph
A home plate remembered
by innocence long abandoned
players made humble from
a boy's first slide for life
Vapors rise
from sprinkled droplets of water
beneath handled hot steel
making ready once more
the crusted wafer-thin reason
for kneeling to a non-questioned answers
Facing coerced submission to other games
a purple-robed relentless hand
feeds rewards from gilded plate
accompanied by whispering silver tongue
Such are the scoring points of yet another kind
Youth's pure white
once starched crisp
ever ready for combat
now labors thread bare
atop shoulders and arms
riding the reach for caramel-lathered memories
chased down with silver chaliced promises from still wider mouths
Where goes the love-smooth ironing hand now?
Costumes of rumpled thread
made anew by hot-pressed caresses
now like the ether of memory
drift up past the seeing eyes into untethered emptiness
Tread carefully
lest you become wrinkle-free expediency
sliding voraciously into digital home plates
forever kneeling faithfully before promised obsolescent rewards
delivered smilingly from reflective platters
tarnishing quickly
The sky hounds are tracking me down.
In the cul-de-sac of social anxiety drive...
Despite covering my tracks in a hot, peppered wind...
Sticking the heart into a bowl of burning dice.
(to cover the scent of predictability).
They've arrived. To bore their way back into the core.
Pick the scab off every weakness.
Exposing every soul blemish,
(that crippling, iron face of shyness).
That's chased me through the back alleys of life.
The sky hounds have cornered me again.
waving stingers -coming down hard
like an anvil in the night
getting off on the vibe of
my twitching mind.
Years later I'd half-mastered.
All those black lessons from the past
Kneaded my heart into a quasi-flower.
Dipped the petals in a whorl of lime.
Attracting that swarm of hollow iciness.
Then laughed as their stingers snapped.
When the wet cement of karma had crapped in their minds.
I was running down the street being chased by reflections of me
I ran to a cliff and my body got stiff
One inch closer and I will fall I have seconds til I end it all
I called on God during my time of desperation
He is the sovereign, an all-consuming fire
My spirit is in need of a healing desire
Regrets come to me back to back
Baby steps cause my stumbling because knowledge I lack
At first, I had too much pride to ask for forgiveness
Too scared to pray because I thought nobody would listen
Not disciplined enough to carry out my own penance
Afraid of the ground giving way
Hoping I would go into pitch black before I hit
I really don’t think I’m going to make it
I have seconds to try and bargain with God for my life or to hurry up and take it
I forgive the void for chasing, hunting me down and erasing me
As I plummet deeper into the ground I can’t cry, die, or run because there’s no way out
I have seconds left to live and my time is over and out