Long Christine Poems
Long Christine Poems. Below are the most popular long Christine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Christine poems by poem length and keyword.
Two faithful souls stand listless in the great big tower
overlooking the stranded city that once stood tall
yearning for a quiet place to lay their heads
while far beyond the deserted land
a soft blue light gleams gracefully above tranquil skies,
dancing shadows rocking to midnight tunes,
and sweet melodies echoing from the gigantic moon.
She spans more than a thousand feet long soaking
up the exhausted earth, her immeasurable depths
cuts and carve through valleys and streams
with clear blue water and powdery white sand
what more could you ask for on that distant land.
They have been planning this trip for many years,
but when the time draws near their saving disappears.
An empty refrigerator with two trays of frozen ice
lean against the corner of the kitchen
in their ten bedroom mansion
and a bare pantry exposing a slice of mildew bread
filled with little mice nibbling and playing tug of war.
Not many people knew their story
they have been broke for twenty years
but lived a painful lie, cutting corners
making back door transaction,
eating lamb and turkey from profits
made from sordid deals.
Their empire that once stood tall hangs in dismay
While it watches the world going up in flame
by those who continue to play treacherous games.
Sobibor and Hiroshima horrors of the past
Should have cleared the way for a more sophisticated path
But now athoroughfare mixed with complexity
packed with insidiousness
have ducks walking around
quacking without wings or tails
They finally got an offer to go to Utopia.
with packed bags not a penny in their name,
they set off for Utopia hoping to find a new life again
but when they got their it was the same old begrimed game.
Their entire world has been shaken,
shaken by its own guilt and self-reproach,
the transgression that their ancestors have borne
have been handed down for generations to shoulder
A land that they believe was pure and holy
has turned into nightmare and horror
dreadful things dismount in dark corners
women raped strangers abused
yet religion forms the core of the throne
They have witnessed empires toppled,
Kingdoms have fallen in their sight
Rulers have shaken and wept bitterly
causing the great big god to balance the scale
but blackmail in Utopia remains a formidable game
©2013 Christine Phillips
I woke up at the break of dawn,
with the feeling that all hope is gone,
I was not sure where to begin,
but I was determined to win.
No dazzling stars,
no visible moonlight,
no chirping birds,
to tease my empty words.
I walked through the door with a subtle grin,
nursing bruises all over my skin.
I tried to escape yesterday’s punishment,
and saturate my mind with hope and fulfillment.
Walking down the dark empty street,
a cab stopped exactly at my feet,
I hired him to take me to the mountains,
to breath out the stagnant air
and repair my body’s wear and tear.
His grouchy voice thundered through my ears,
he spoke with a strange accent that I could hardly hear,
It passes through one ear, and suddenly disappears.
We journeyed through sleeping towns,
they stared at us without a sound,
steep hills and rocky path,
bending streets and winding roads
dumping my burdensome loads.
He made a sudden turn,
and I felt a sensational yearn
spilling over in my soul.
Mother nature bursts from the horizon
and filled my heart with glad tidings.
Layers of mountains blink at me,
taking me up and down the gigantic tree
guiding me to my unseen dreams,
while patches of green and sun burnt grass
prepare the city for the morning mass.
I saw her bursting through the thick grey clouds,
and I stopped the car and spoke to her aloud,
I climb on top of a nearby rock,
and reached towards her and interlock.
I was just in time for the meeting,
Oh how my soul yearns for this healing.
Mother nature looked at me with a grin
she shook my hand,
and said, “where shall we begin?”
I lamented the troubles of my piercing heart,
and requested for a balance start.
What took you so long?
I know that you have been hurting all along,
and I have been waiting for you to prove them wrong.
“Worry no more,
I am going to fulfill the desires of your burning soul,
look around and tell me what you see,
observe carefully and you will agree.
Let me ignite your body and soul,
and sooth the sorrows that you bore,
sleepless nights,
daily fights,
unfair treatment,
and treacherous lies.
The meeting came to an end,
and I felt free again,
the peshmerga drove up the steep hill
and greeted me with goodwill
Dawn fully broke out into broad day light,
and filled my soul with joy and delight.
©2013 Christine Phillips
These are poems for children and poems about children and their mothers, fathers, grandmother, grandfathers and extended families.
The Desk
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.I wonder how
he learned at all...
He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates' necks.
He played with pasty Elmer's glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!) .
He earned the nickname 'teacher's PEST.'
His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.
But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
One thing, though—
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer's glue...
and you'll outgrow this old desk, too.
Originally published by TALESetc
A True Story
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
Jeremy hit the ball today,
over the fence and far away.
So very, very far away
a neighbor had to toss it back.
(She thought it was an air attack!)
Jeremy hit the ball so hard
it flew across our neighbor's yard.
So very hard across her yard
the bat that boomed a mighty 'THWACK! '
now shows an eensy-teensy crack.
Originally published by TALESetc
Mother's Smile
by Michael R. Burch
for my mother Christine Ena Burch and my wife Beth Harris Burch
There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than 'much.'
So more than 'much, ' much more than 'all.'
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.
There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you!
Originally published by TALESetc
Keywords/Tags: children's poems, child, children, childhood, family, mother, father, son, daughter
Everything has changed in a jiffy
The sun is balmy, the grass is green
And no trace of winter can be seen.
I ventured out on my usual nature stroll
To penetrate beauty, breathe fresh air
And mingle with nature that is so dear.
I walked along a clear- cut path contemplating
the mystery of the benevolent sky,
analyzing the soul of the city
while communicating with the swirling wind.
It’s a beautiful day filled with children at play
groups of children assembled on the playing ground
and instructors and parents hanging around.
Tiny tots, elementary school age, strong headed teenager
were all apart of this enthralling game.
The tiny tots could hardly hold their bats
Fathers’ gathered around helping their boys
as they struggle to make an accurate shot.
Something spectacle caught my eyes from a distance
a laden tree decorated with beautiful flowers
pulled me along a magnificent path.
I couldn’t help but tossed myself under the tree.
I lie on the splendid grass beneath the laden tree
and stared intensely towards the heavens above me
laden branches juxtaposed against the thrilling
blue sky reminds me that life is beautiful and divine.
Passionate pinkish-hued flowers hanged cheerfully above me
while dozens of bee suck nectar from their nourishing blossom.
I lie very still focusing on the scenery above me
trying to figure out the unknown
so that I can compose a true story of my own.
It was a magical moment all wrapped up in the appealing blue sky
I watched the sun forced its way through the laden branches
and penetrated my entire face with its glaring ray of light.
Birds lands upon the crammed branches singing melodious tunes
and a gently wind passed through swiftly scattering petal over me.
Not far from the blossoming tree a naked tree with dry branches
dressed up in winter boots, encumbered with winter gown
is still feeling the winter punishment from inside out.
beaten and battered red buds lingered on the tip of dry branches
trying desperately to bloom again.
The laden blossoming tree leaning against the clear blue sky
with its pinkish-hued flowers and gleaming sunlight
paved the way for a brand new day.
©2015 Christine Phillips
As the morning peaks over the hill, I wander through the dark and stroll down the park and whisper a silent prayer for my rose. Its fragrance filters throughout the atmosphere touching hearts far and near, it is the part of me that you cannot see that is always crying out for thee and deep down in my heart I want you to set her free. She has sacrificed for everyone; cleaning garbage and emptying pan, but no one ever says thanks.
My heart goes out for thee and I will do anything for you to set her free, she spends longs hours typing away on the computer, writing long letter some of them are more than fifteen pages , long enough to turn into a book or a lyrical song. I don’t know exactly what she does but she works night and day and when she is not outside the yard cleaning the garbage, she is at the computer typing away.
She wants to go to a country where she can breathe fresh air, she detests being over here; I don’t’ like the way they treat her and I don’t like the way they communicate with her, sometimes my spirit groans when I look at her clothes. She walks around in dirty clothes and doesn’t even have soap to clean her body and I feel very sorry.
They use her and abuse her; she is the money-making machine and the brains behind the wheel. She is educated to the highest level but goes to bed hungry almost every night. Please help her to get out of this awful plight.
She is brilliant, focused and fit and has the remedy for everything, she is stable and kind and is in love with the divine, where that person is I don’t know but I can tell when she sits and look into space, she is bringing the image of a close friend to the center of her being .
She loves writing but she would love to do that at another place so please don’t stand in her way. Please give her what she needs so that she can fulfill her lingering dreams.She has a big soul and she love from the depth of her heart and when the day is done it breaks my heart to see that no one cares for her.
She doesn’t get pay for what she does and she work for long hours seven days per week without a single pay; they have turned her into a money machine making but I hope that she will fulfill her dreams when she unites with destiny beyond the hill, she will continue writing those inspiring letters.
That’s All
Christine
Vincent…
This is the time of the year
When I see the ravens and the crows
Especially in an open field...
It's when I think of you…
I catch myself remembering…
I have to stop myself and breathe…
I daydream of our starry nights
I think of the ravens and the crows…
I think about your untimely plight
I wonder if you ever felt like me
If you ever felt my presence near you
And I wonder now….wherever you are
If you ever missed me too.
Could you have ever imagined
Could you have possibly known
That I’d still be thinking of you
Missing you...
After more than one long century.
It’s only been a hundred years or so
Since you severed off your ear
Since you shot yourself
Since you killed yourself
Since you shortened all your years.
If I had been there and loved you
Could I have saved you from yourself
Would it have made a difference
Or would everything have turned out the same
Would we both still be feeling lonely
Would you still be thought insane?
I did love you Vincent
I just could never let it show
I didn’t know how to tell you
Back before these 100 years
I just kept hoping
that somehow you would know.
Whenever I am in Chicago
I visit the Art Institute and sigh
As I gaze upon your starry skies
I stand before your paintings in wonder
And look deep within your eyes.
I always have to ponder
If you painted thinking of me
I know that you always knew
That I loved your greens and vibrant blues
I see that you tried to show me
How the stars reflected you in my eyes
I see the colors that you have chosen
Have always revealed your truth.
When I see your painting
Of the ravens and the crows
I know that you remembered
How the sky that day looked too
How it felt to have autumn ending
And winter closing in
How wonderful that day was
How happy we had been.
The last time we were together
Everything seemed so right and true
I had no idea
Your heart had turned so blue.
Your feelings always hidden
You never said a word
How things would tragically end
There never was a clue.
So now I stand here after 100 years
I still miss you Vincent.
I really, really do.
I wonder if you are thinking of me
And if you are happy or if you are blue.
(November 16, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
I awaken to the sound of your voice, your words, calling to me...
Calling to me...Petitioning me... like an ethereal Siren's Song
Moving towards me just as waves journey toward an empty beach...
Always and forever...moving towards that lonely shore.
The Inevitable.
The speed of their emotional swells depending upon the wind
and the temperaments of the day.
Soft and lapping curiously when all is calm and clear
Furious and violently agitated when darkness hides the sun.
In spite of Saturn's cruelty we were destined to intersect
to hold these ongoing conversations...
Venus had put forth her resolution and now I wait for you
Just as the sands have waited endlessly for the eternal cycles of the tides.
I have been waiting...waiting...waiting...
waiting for you to meet me
waiting for you to come flowing in
waiting to absorb and finally feel the liquid of your caress.
Morning, noon, and night
I wait to hear from you
I wait...the Bullish Immovable Beast...I am the constant shore
Shaped only by your fascinations.
And you come to me, changeable Capricorn
Fluid as the great blue divide that separates the firm continents
Always changing, never stagnant...Always moving toward or away
Timeless ocean, timeless current, evermore.
I hear you singing an Ancient Mariner's Song
Its meaning holds the depths of repeated sailor's lore
Your stories sharing vast oceans of wisdom
that may have been floating on some wizened seaman's mind.
His voice, as yours, always sure to find
A welcoming lonely harbor on an expectant, yearning shore.
The tides mark the times for when we will meet
For when you will continue your engraving
Etching your love on toward me
as a fine lithography for now and forevermore.
Waves serve as your wild embrace
You place your countenance upon my face
I am unable to resist your advances
You have laid claim to the barren coastline of my heart.
Although I long for a permanence
In which Venus would so rejoice
You always leave me wanting more
Saturn still rules your mind.
There is nothing I see as so inescapable
as your leavings and your ongoing returns.
There is nothing so inevitable between us
except the Terra Firma of our minds.
(December 1, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
I feel my spirit burning inside me
And years of fatigue draining out me
My heart is racing, my spirit is swelling
And my heart is singing a wonderful song.
I can still feel my heart beat and I can
still hear the noise in the streets
Motorcade after motorcade brighten up the streets
And the jubilant crowd waving blue
and white handkerchief high in the air.
I could see it from a distance
people join hands in hands
rocking to a spirited beat
as they watch the parade
floating peacefully through their street.
It moves from community to community
through rural towns and dangerous hills
cascading the untrodden green valleys
sweeping darkness and poverty away.
The trumpets and drums grew louder and louder
It pulled my great grandma out of the house
And had her rocking to the rhythmical beat.
I listened to the sound as it fades away
and the life in me was perishing away.
My fatigue grew stronger and stronger
And nothing I do could make feel better
I bore the penalty of sleepless nights
and the torture of guiltless sound.
I could hear my heart murmur
and the blood gushing inside
whoosh, whoosh, swish swish
the sound grew louder on every side.
It’s as if the world was walking with me
And something powerful was propelling me
I took one stride and walked boldly by its side
but something stronger than me was forcing me
to surrender to hope and succumb to the boldness inside me.
I fought relentlessly to deny this feeling
That was forcing me to get away
but something very forceful was beckoning me to stay.
I am here and I am still breathing
dying to journey to the mountain top
to appease the Gods and make my final stop
so I inquired of a special place where I could
be alone and meditate for the rest of my days.
The endless journey has exhausted me
but I was determined to go through it with dignity
my chins up, a smile on my face and positive words
to keep me ahead and on top of the race.
My blood suddenly felt hot and
And fire starts catapulting out of my belly
I found myself on the mountain top
Looking down on throngs of people
singing, shouting and dancing.
It sounded like a grand jubilee
But for me this was my final destiny.
©2015 Christine Phillips
I awaken to the woodland scent
of a favored fragrant herb.
Its aroma transcends nocturnal bliss
and then softly seeks so gently to kiss
the distant lingerings in my mind.
Of a cherished place where I had laid
embraced warm in a lavender field
and was but long loved
by its strong perfumes
so fragrantly released.
Overfilling my heart
and infusing my mind
with all earthly bodily pleasures due
Its overwhelming possession of my sensibilities
its passions hence do hold my senses close
as an all encompassing lover
that it doth still now consume.
Its intoxicating signature fragrance,
like no other that hereby exists
The most vivid contemplation of Indigo,
that one could have ever seen
Infusing its heady oils upon my much younger memory
and an older and much sweeter tryst.
The palest shades of those lavender flowers remembered
each blossom a sweet sachet
Eternally to be engrained upon my mind
the heady confections of that day
to be forever missed.
The most complementary plumes of color,
that before I'd ever had met
Stretching toward the horizon's backdrop
a blanketed sea
a gently moving ream
A natural artistic composition of heady lavender
composed of surreal artistic color.
A palette holding court over the opposing values
and yet very complementary hues
of lovely, lovely lavendar
and wonderful planetary greens.
And if I ever were a bride to be,
I would desire to marry among the flowers
My sun kissed hair would be loosely worn,
its wildness framing my upturned face
In a field of the world's most ethereal scents,
a regal vison in colored lace showers,
Surrounded by a heaven
of millions of happily scented blooms.
In an outdoor cathedral of fragrant herbal spears
the lovliest of earthly rooms.
I would share my love,
of my beloved and with my beloved
for all whom by their presence cared.
I would unite with my love to be right there
I would unite with my love to be
for all to witness as I promise you forever
for all to witness our solemn vows
above a cloud of perpetual lavender
amongst the waves of those purple seas.
In Lavender and Lace
I would marry my love
I would marry my love to be.
(December 3rd, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Sleepy eyes awake to crashing sounds on window panes
Creeping animals scramble around bristling forests nesting for a spot
while thousands of mad ants crusade in barren fields storing food in tiny plots
Along the busy high way meandering trees parted wide asphalted roads
and thick wavering clouds peak above shrouded path waiting for it to start.
Countless loaded trucks speed down bending roads honking horns
forewarning oblivious travelers not to take a chance
In the center of town busy shoppers paraded the crowded plaza
Ignoring beckoning dark clouds pressing upon them from pregnant skies.
Laughing children swing high on Ferris wheels
grown men tossed up down expanded roller coasters
screaming out of control
amused with laughter.
Unforeseen the gigantic Ferris wheel halted
And a terrifying sound emerged from beneath
Stealing the happy children’s delightful laughter
thick black clouds overshadows
the sounds get louder and confusion drenches the streets
dust and debris flutter in the atmosphere
A thunderous sound spits venomous vengeance
whipping and lashing
whistling and barking
and maneuvers the busy town
it dances from city to city
Wrenching up a destined path
disseminating people all over the streets
But the terrified children grip tightly
Kept calm and ride out the raging storm
©2013 Christine Phillips