Long Chasing Poems
Long Chasing Poems. Below are the most popular long Chasing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chasing poems by poem length and keyword.
Chasing stray dreams down the street
I poked my head behind a sheet
It hung there splashing shadows on
The polished cobbles at my feet
I'd learned ago, it was a sign
To indicate the goodies, fine
That lay behind its hidden edge
A market, grand and clandestine
There was no arrow to indicate
No neon flash or spinning gate
Just that blank white tapestry
Known only to the fortunate
You see, I'd been there thrice before
For treasure, and was back for more
The irony was, it always changed
In ways that one could not ignore
So, then ...
Thru the sheet to market stream
To shops with golden goods, agleam
But then my wife's voice from behind ...
"Sweetheart - you're having another dream!"
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "A Hidden Market" Poetry Contest, Julia Ward, Sponsor.
She turns the radio dial with tired hands,
chasing a voice through the crackling dark.
Every station fractures into static,
a snowstorm of sound that won’t let her in.
She leans closer, as if breath alone
could coax meaning from the broken hum.
The world feels distant, unreachable~
just her and the staticky hiss of unfinished thoughts.
Then softly~
a thread of music slips through the noise,
thin as a pulse returning after silence,
a single note glowing like a lantern
held out by someone who somehow knows her name.
She stills herself, listening,
the melody rising, warm and unafraid.
something in her chest loosens~
a knot she’d carried so long
she’d forgotten it was there.
The song widens,
filling the room with a light she can’t see
but feels, unmistakably,
like hands lifting the weight she never spoke of.
She closes her eyes.
The static falls away.
The music moves through her
like a truth she’d been waiting to remember~
a quiet, holy clarity
that finds her exactly where she is
and asks nothing
except that she let it stay.
Black top was miles and miles away
Dirt road as far as you could see
The future just a minute away
Was everything you wanted it to be
Taking our time but not slowing down
Heads in the clouds, bare feet on the ground
Up with the sun, chasing the moon around
Dirt road living with a real country sound
The black top was miles away
The dirt road was here to stay
Or so we thought
In younger days
Hand me down clothes and used cars
Knowing right from wrong wasn’t so hard
Sunday School and parties at the lake
Life like this is too damn real to fake
We were young on that old dirt road
Didn’t listen to half the things we were told
Fishing poles and twenty-twos
Cowboy boots and tennis shoes
The black top was miles away
The dirt road was here to stay
Or so we thought
In younger days
On a dirt road we were living wild
Free and being nature’s child
Free and living nature wild
Black top was miles away
Thought that life would stay
But the dirt road has gone away
And though the black top’s here today
My heart still runs that dirt road way
The black top was miles away
So very very far away…and the dirt road…
Goes on forever
In my heart
Life dawns like sunrise
Soft pinks and blues against the black from which it came
Sudden burst of light stretching fingers and toes
Receiving blankets of fluffy white
Soft breezes, from Mother Earth, kiss the cheeks of a new day.
Spread your wings and announce our new life!
Rustle the name through the leaves, over fields and hills
Blow strong over the oceans
Grow tall from sapling to a mighty oak
Early morning of our life is for bountiful energy and *****
Splashing and running, carrying treasures to unknown banks
Frolicking from tree to tree chasing the cottonwood seeds
Then approached the noon of our lives
A time to pause; to partake of nourishment for our soul
Lying in fields of bluebonnets and pink poppies
Nestled in beds of paint brush and purple clover
Revel in your time for it is short!
The hours roll by, to a cool afternoon breeze.
Blow softly for the afternoon is mellow
The lake lays still; no ripples in its tranquility.
Comfort years of life taking an afternoon siesta
Bask in the sun; remember the morning.
Early hours well spent exploring.
Places where you once played buccaneer,
Shrubs that just this morning hid fortresses
Each picturesque against a landscape of Kentucky Blue
Too soon Dusk arrives on a charcoal gray charger
Thundering its arrival in the swirl of gluttonous clouds
Chasing you, you seek shelter under the weeping willows
Water rushes in a swirl of memories
Rippling creeks to still waters
The hills no longer beckon
They no longer hold the fascination of an earlier time.
Darkness blankets the earth
Your sit and watch the light show in the sky.
The sun no longer shines; the moon now lights the sky
You reminisce
It was a good day, your life!
From the sunrise to your sunset.
blow the whistle of justice
justice is a stranger in our
generation of today
i wonder how come it gone this far
i wonder who has offended her
i wonder why we are so far
from getting close to her destination
i think humans are not her friend
in our today reality
is obvious is clear
we are at wars with her dignity
we are against her gifts to humanity
so when you are tired of oppression
from intelligent humans
blow the whistle of justice
blow the whistle of justice
justice is on the run today?
i wonder what is chasing her
i wonder why she is scard to dwell
among humans
i wonder when will greedy men
Let her share her wonderful gifts
to humanity
i wonder how much more
we will leave? her this far
among us
yet as much clever we claim
to be
what is simple remains
impossible to achieve
no wonder justice is on
four fourty
so when justice is a
scarcity in your land
blow the whistle of justice
blow the whistle of justice
the scarcity of justice
creates an illusion of a reflection
where we are just been pardon
to return again on same pardon
we are always in confusion
nowadays when we get justice
we are in shock what outcome
our justice of today brings
in our chase of justice
we have been a victim
of terrible circumstances
we have bleeds in shadows
of fears
yet justice is never a reality
and now when we wallow in
confusion of an evil illusion
we go no choice than to
blow the whistle of justice
-In the dead of night, when the world is silent, her whispers haunt the shadows of my mind.
“Daddy, I’m so tired… I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Her small voice, trembling like a ghost, echoes in my heart — a chilling reminder of the fragile life we’re trying to hold together.
Late at night,
when silence drapes the room,
my mind whispers the questions
I’m too scared to ask.
Was I happy?
Or just trying to be?
Did he make me happy,
or was I chasing shadows —
because he was my first love?
Or was there something more?
I gave him all I had,
because I loved him that much.
But my mind spirals,
questions tearing through me:
Was it the right choice —
to stay with him?
I forgave him,
for love’s sake.
I wished…
I thought of dying instead.
But what if he tells my daughter —
the one I want to protect —
“This is why I can’t love you.”
What if our little girl comes to him,
with heavy, silent tears,
whispering, “Daddy,
I have dying thoughts.
I feel lost, alone, and broken.”
Will he see her pain?
Or tell her she’s the reason
he can’t love her?
How will she feel then?
Is that what I want for her?
To carry this weight
before she even learns to breathe?
I love him —
but isn’t she the result of that love?
Isn’t she just as important as I am to him?
Isn’t she our blood, our sweat, our tears,
our prayers whispered late at night?
Then why —
what if he can’t hold her like I hope he will?
What if he can’t hold me, either?
He is my partner, yes,
but she —
she is ours.
Isn’t she?
And isn’t it both our responsibility —
his and mine —
to hold on tight,
to protect her,
to be with her,
to make sure we find happiness together?
Why is he like this?
I know his view is broken —
but aren’t we the ones he loves?
Shouldn’t I, his partner,
and our daughter too,
be safe in his arms?
Can’t he see I’m breaking —
the one who stayed,
the one who loved him
through every crack and flaw?
I want him to teach her
that pain isn’t the answer,
but when everything falls apart —
when my heart feels just like hers —
Is he the one I should trust
to hold our daughter’s fragile heart?
Is he the one I should spend
the rest of my life with?
Trembling in the silence of a fresh snowfall, awaiting the struggle of laughter and tears, the beautiful that comes from stars shadowed by flakes so gentle they seem to speak silence into the spirit – like the voice of a vision, preaching peace ~ quote by poet
Secreted beneath the gentle fragments, shivering,
Blown in piles, demanding as January’s piercing light,
Silence caressing the stones, the oaks, the pines,
In glistening reflections, hearts possessed,
By the indigo skies who are burning with grace,
Speckled with sensations, amazement –
Sweltering in the 12 degree rays, where moments
Tend to breath in the crispness and release brilliance,
In waves, wisdom from the hunger
Ravenous appetites, awaiting the colors of light,
Friendly aromas of souls, newly blooming,
Emitting sounds that go on, unnoticed, echoes,
Vibrations trembling in soothing sighs…
Melodious blessings, ranging from hearts to insights,
Lifting the nights on wings of angels,
Promising the heavens to release the broken hearts,
Send comfort to the earth in the form of snow,
Who breathes a quiet truth, silence…
Beaming from the tender scales, shavings of ice,
Glittery and crisp, crumbling into moments,
When the laughing sun kisses the blanketed ridges,
Stirring the scene so that only the blurry vision,
Squinted from eyes who remember –
On the snow covered land there is plenty to glimpse,
But only the blinded eyes can truly remember,
How the sparkling snow seemed to shudder and shake,
In silence… deciding just how significant
How consuming is the silence of a shadow,
Reflected on the land whose bathed in fresh white,
The frosty sheen of hope breathing its lasting glance,
Over the peaceful promise of this kind and graceful spectacle,
Commotion in brilliance, awakening the spirit,
With a wonderful white home where the fires crack,
Popping so that even the wood can feel the flames traveling,
Deep into the bones, risking tragedy…
To be lauded by the sensations of Winter’s amazing,
Winter chasing the dreams, the belief, the faded hope…
For those silhouettes who follow the moon,
Ride the stars and twinkle like the deathlike grief,
Who arranges for even the darkness to be plucked from the earth,
By the fresh fallen flurries who break away the brittle,
Soothing souls so that they’re sanctified by the sentimental.
Wales to me is a floating melody of soothing hums,
when sea breeze to tranquil shores comes,
sprinkling buried golden hues,
over swaying grassland in recluse.
Lulling little kids to breathe free -
in spiral dreams, come sing of Wales to me.
Wales is an exquisite painting of ancient mysteries,
of the hill forts from buried cities
that once bubbled exuberance in glee
now boast of a beauty carefree.
When daisies bloom in lilac spring,
asleep under soothing blankets sing,
oft shimmering crystals on canvas-
on starry nights, come paint Wales for me.
Wales is an unwritten muse to be poured in ink
from the red brick window turning pink,
preserved in the breeding-box valley,
shimmering dew on golden hay in old alley.
Rising aroma of cuisines from wet chimneys,
hustling wind rushing through wagon dinghies,
chasing me to the castle in hilltop fields -
in long lost pastures, write of Wales to me.
Wales is a rejuvenating dream that quenches my thirst
to explore unseen soaring bubbles burst,
taking me through white patches of dusk,
in blue skies drenching me with musk.
The mornings welcomed by chirping bird,
lamb white days riding with their herd,
mauve twilight sparkling rising moon,
beholding me from afar as I swoon.
Beyond continents and vast seas free -
loving people, come dream of Wales with me.
June 10, 2020
Wales Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
~Premiere Contest Winner: 3rd Place
(10/13/11)
The autumn leaves falling on the ground
The autumn leaves of yellow, orange and brown
The trees like a rainbow of colors
Such as this there is no other.
My friends would climb up the smallest trees
And shake the leaves down to me.
then the leaves are raked up and placed in a large pile
Children diving in and laughing all the while.
The crispy crunch that you hear
Sends the chills through your ears.
The autumn leaves reminding us
That Halloween was very near
Where we could dress up and create some fear.
But for now we would have our fun
Chasing each other with our water guns
Diving into leaves of gold and brown
Hoping that we wouldn’t be found.
The park keeper was as happy as can be
From raking the leaves he was free.
He would pick them up and putting
Them into the metal cans- and the smell
Of burning leaves would fill the air
Letting people know that autumn was here.
( memories are made of this- like the song)
Sweet scent of magnolia permeated the air
on the cusp of a balmy summer gloaming
Myriads of stars would soon gleam above
My garden was already dappled with light
awash in the luminance of tiny fireflies
Diminutive lanterns had taken wing
in search of a mate or to feast on prey
Dancing in circles while crickets chirped
Not syncopated in rhythm, but all the same...
I was enchanted with their golden glow
Flickering sprites, mystical fairy creatures
They lingered long after the moon had risen
I dared not move in fear of chasing them away
No lidded prison would hold Nature's treasures
flitting in my garden in the aura of dusk