Long Closeness Poems
Long Closeness Poems. Below are the most popular long Closeness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Closeness poems by poem length and keyword.
Inspired by one of my favorite bands, Rise Against, and the song is called,
“Ever-changing” (Acoustic). Please listen to this song if you don’t know of it. It’s raw &
powerful.
“Have you ever been a part of something? That you thought would never end. But then, of
course, it did.” –Rise Against
“I fell in ‘Like’ with you”
With her smile
I melted unto oblivion’s redemption
Candy coated perceptions, windows’ gap
Seeping brilliance refreshment
Uncertainty resolution, polished
Absorbed into closeness sun
Yet these eyes still…see
Butterflies taking notice, missing you…as you stood in front of me
Strong, yet soft legs
Foundation of my face to rest upon
Scars…fading
A cremated sin
Yet, elongated moments of silence
Created abruption’s new face
The face of change
When she turned to me and said
“I’m not sure, anymore”
Emotional lullaby, rocking me to sleep
New battles with spectral flashback
Trying to get under my skin, a drunken tick facing demise
Phoenix’s sunrise, rejuvenating my recycled defenses
Yet, today, these rays just aren’t bright enough to burn sadness away
And with these sounds of storm clouds & Fall on horizon’s breath
These grounds are so familiar, yet bittersweet
This heart doesn’t want to be enlightened by karma today
It wants to be held for how it shines now
Denied…distance wins again today
Slavery whipped punishments in miles and blocks
This must end
Because I try to keep lines open to get a call from you
Yet all I hear are booty calls with busy signals
And yet something has kept me here too long
But can they leave me, if I’m already gone?
Something has kept me here too long
Karma’s laughter
But, through it all, I will shine
…
How I wish my mere presence can bring joy’s tear to her eye
Sadly though, now, the lines are drawn
Yet I wonder if this feeling is gone
Have the best parts of this…come and gone?
…
Maybe I’ll never know the truth
Perhaps she was misguided by jealousy’s deprivation
Deteriorating heart’s splendor
While I fell in “like” with her
Perhaps “Better Man 2.0” appeared from Cloud 9’s fallacy
While I fell in “like” with her
Perhaps
She held onto the past
As I, drawn to waterfall’s edge
Allowed myself
To let go…and F
A
L
L
© Drake J. Eszes
“We adore those who hurt us. Yet, we hurt those who adore us.” -Anonymous
DO YOU KNOW GOD?
Do you know God?
Do you really know God?
Do you know the Light
That shines brighter than the sun?
Do you know the voice of many waters
Or the eyes of fiery fire?
Have you seen the lightning
The voices of worship and thunder?
Did you see the seven lamps;
All, the seven-fold Spirit of God?
Did you notice the twenty four elders,
With gold crowns on their heads,
Sitting on twenty four thrones round
The throne of Love?
Hark, the worship of the four living beasts
Saying ‘Holy, holy is the Lord
God Almighty, who was
Is and is to come’
See the worship of the twenty four
Falling down and casting crowns
All praising the worthy Lamb of God.
See the Lamb that sits on the throne
As of jasper and carnelian
See the emerald rainbow round the throne
See the crystal clear sea of glass
Beneath the worthy feet of the Lamb
Watch as the double edged sword comes from His mouth
See the glory of the Word.
See the Lamb in form of flesh
See the Lamb tempted by men
See this Lamb scorned and rejected
By the cursed, condemned and doomed.
See God’s Lamb scourged to the bone
See His flesh stick to the whips
See the mockery of the crown of thorns
See the pain and the Blood He dripped
See Him carrying a tree in this condition
See Him fall; vulnerable to pain.
Oh God’s Lamb left at man’s mercy
See Him stripped of every cloth
See Him nailed through to the Cross
See Him hanging naked on the Cross
See men spit and scoff at Him
See God’s Lamb in need of water
See Him given vinegar with a sponge.
See the Father turn away from His begotten
See the Son cry, more helpless than a babe
See God fall into the hands of death
See His body wrapped like the corpse of man
See God laid in the tomb of a man
Dead for three days and alive on the third day.
What’s the union between these two
The King on the throne and a dead man in a tomb?
What’s the closeness between these two
The glory of Heaven and the darkness of hell?
But the King who sits on the throne
Became the dead man in the tomb
And the eternal King of glory
Went to the very depths of hell
Not on a tour or show off
But an expression of His eternal love for us.
So again I ask; do you know God?
Do you really know Love?
Do you know the Love
That shines brighter than the sun?
Do you know the Man of many wonders
Or the Lamb that died on the Cross?
GOODBYE………OLD FRIEND!
After the family comes this ‘friend’
Holds your hand from the beginning and walks till the end
I remember my first day when I entered the school
With teary eyes I looked at you
U too looked at me but smiled
That was the last time, alone I cried
Remember how we walked in corridors
And rarely any classes we bunked
But whenever v used to have a fight
Each time a little my heart sunk
Surely, school life would have been incomplete without you being with me
If today I look back to those 15 years, you are the most important thing I see
Talking to you about every bit and piece
How much ever wasted I may feel,
You had the power to bring my mind at peace
Being called the twin sisters, and saying *touchwood*
But guess the roots were not so strong, on which that wood stood
A different charm, when we spent the time together
Friendship stays the same, I thought, forever
But CHANGE is the only constant, that’s what I have heard
People change unexpectedly, isn’t it absurd?
people may come and people may go
that’s how life maintains its flow
but, memories choose to stay with us always
with tears and smiles they constantly play
some people will make memories till the end , a few
but some will give memories to you
remember, without emptying the glass
more water cant be poured,
without losing some, new ones, you cant afford
I know,
Even today we talk and chat everyday
But the charm and closeness is fading away
May our friendship stays always
But I will miss those school days
‘Best’ friends do exist, as we have always been
But time to move on, it may sound mean
I guess someday you stop by, and read these few lines
But that tag of best friend that you gave me
Hope it always stays mine
i know we both have changed from inside
but having that bond for years
our greatest pride
i know one day we will hug each other
and i know one day this bond will choose to stay forever
Good luck old friend,
I know for each other we will still be there
Our words may lack that charm
But never that bond that we will always share
Good bye old friend,
But as you go, always remember
The memories u gave me will stay with me forever
I will find new ones, so will You
But the bond we shared,
Was just between us two!
Cast Down
I am a young girl with a delicate mind
to be molded,
Sitting in the front row with a pressed sundress
and hands in dainty white gloves gently folded.
My society is a cast system that allow me to go
no further than this station.
There is no upward mobility, no promotion.
The government genocide my girls,
saying there are too many in our world.
They are not as important as the males
that are pushed forward to assail.
My husband died,
therefore I must be ostracized
and live in the City of Viridian, on the streets outside.
I’m only 15 and the law is the blame,
that when my husband died I am to be shamed.
I’ve been here since the beginning of time put here by
The Master of birth,
creator of earth.
In my land singing songs in my voice
Can be a deadly choice.
I have dwelled in caves, houses, palaces, and shanty huts
I live in the hottest and coldest of lands
I’m a queen of nations
with many challenging vocations.
I’m suppressed by Taliban regimes
I am too one of God’s most prized creations
Living in depressed nations
Man forgot how special, delicate
and strong I am. But if I smile
it could mean my exile.
I must go through body mutilation
Only to rise up as a tribal creation.
My mother sold me
for a month’s supply of tea.
My husband suppresses me,
ignore me like I’m an invisible shadow,
a fly on his shoulder.
I the woman, have to break up boulders.
Not allowed to speak to move about with the free
spirit I am.
Used only for whispers and closeness at night,
Not for my mind or my insight.
To bring about the birth of another that will
stifle my flight.
who will ignore me while learning
the unequal culture of this place,
judging me if I am in the sunlight showing my face.
I sit in boardrooms among the tailored made suits,
dictating the plans of the day.
They stare at me with silent harsh words.
I’m one of the brightest recruits.
Being strong, intellectual and watching my back,
climbing the ladder pass the glass ceiling
Working with small minds being ever unyielding.
Still at times suppressed and cast down.
I refuse to walk with my eyes on the ground.
I thank those before me
that had the strength, patience and endurance that led us to be free.
I come, I rise, I wake-up in the morn;
Co created by my mom and dad and God;
Well\, well, you might find it a bit odd;
But I believe that I've been here before. . .
I rise, I open my eyes and see;
I rise I see the majesty of the Lord;
I see as I rise
I open my eyes and see;
the majesty, the majesty of the Lord;
I rise I fall out of my bed;
I get up I get up out my bed;
Will you, do you listen to what I'm saying
In the morning, in the morn;
I rise unto the Lord;
I said I come, I rise, I awaken in the morn;
I thank God for this day, this new morn;
But I believe that I've been here before...
and for this and other blessings, I rise;
I rise , I open my eyes to see;
I rise, to be whom I was meant to be;
I rise, to the closeness of the ALL MIGHTY;
and for this and more I relize in all this and more I rise;
I wake up get out of bed;
I fall down on my ashly knees, to pray;
I rise awaken in the morn;
praising and thanking God for being born;
I worship HIm I rise
I worship Him I rise;
even before I close my eyes;
I rise, I rise
I wake up then get out of bed;
I fall down on my knees, to pray;
I acknowledge you each and everyday;
Jesus as I rise. . .
Worship Him I rise;
Worship Him I rise;
Worship Him I one day will meet Him in the skies;
I will rise with my whole mouth speaking, and singing His praises;
I will rise with words forever engaging;
And I shall not be afraid, If there be no more days..
In all that I will rise;
I will rise and praise Him with my whole heart;
I will rise and I never will stop;
In my sickness, in my shame;
I won't denounce His name;
With voice I will rise...
Worshiping Him I will rise with my whole mouth;
I rise and praise Him with my whole heart, I rise;
I rise before myself and Satan;
Chances the way I'll be behaving;
I rise with my hands up lifted in the air;
I rise sinner and saved
I don't care, if you even listen;
Noel had the same opposition;
I have no heaven nor hell to put you in;
So I can't judge even if you're a friend;
I must rise to keep up, just to praise Him;
In all that I will rise;
I will rise and praise Him with my whole heart;
I will rise and I never will stop;
In my sickness, in my shame;
I won't denounce His name;
With voice
I will rise...
A Father Clock chimes from a wall in the dining room, refreshing the idle couple that waited.
It was not as if they were reminded of some pressing appointment or some devoted chores that was delegated.
The furniture in the room where they sat idle was ancient and concealed with cryptic scratches stimulating memories of a once lively lifestyle.
An arrowhead seat, brown and sagging occupied one corner of the room making an impression on the carpet conceding that it's been there a while.
In other parts of the room, the faded blue cut pile carpet flaunted gummy substances and foot tracks that were desperately in need of a broom.
Chopin's Nocturne, (seeking their memories of the days of wine and roses), smoothly flowed evenly from the highly varnished Philco console radio and turntable, graced the room.
He sat in a high wing chair opposite her steeped in an art and literature magazine.
Occasionally his deep brown eyes circle with a gray arc would give into a burning need to close and he would nod off, which was a daily routine.
In the highlights of his years, he was a successful entrepreneur, delightful, sophisticated, a celebrated man among his race.
That was more than two decades ago, and although he still hungers for those days he knew that he has grown miserably slow and not able to keep up in a modern-day virtual place.
She sat in her favorite chair that had conformed to her weight over the years.
In her lap was a start of a colorful throw, knitting needles, and shears.
Her honey color skin was slightly creased with tiny folds around her lips and neck.
The imagery of her once sleek body and beauty she deeply reflects.
Her curly snow-white hair rests on her curved shoulders.
She wished that she had not lived her entire life crippled to vanity.
Yet she would think that the fact is, that on the days and nights when love was a cold memory she was grateful for the memories that realistically were a safety net for her sanity,
They both were adrift on a calm sea of tedium.
Boredom breeds contempt and the closeness they once shared disappeared unobtrusively and conjointly with the years
All was left was the bitterness between them along with the tears.
copyright 2016 Looking At The Light At The Bottom of The Lake.
The knots of your words have slowly begun opening for me.
Through the sweet scent of your presence.
They have awakened a sleeping bird which rested in my heart.
I don’t know about anyone
All I know is that I have found peace in your presence.
Because the want for knowledge of the hidden is lost.
As your fragrance touches the air.
I want to feel your closeness in my heart.
You are sitting here in front of me yet your distance is more than I’ve ever felt.
These trials of your love, for me they seemed easy.
But now every grade is harder than the previous.
You have started a river of love, which runs from your heart to mine.
Yet I thought again if I should close my heart from you.
They say to me that I speak like a disbeliever,
If only they had seen through my eyes.
Or the eyes of the corpses that lay here.
No matter how many times I wrote to him, there was no answer.
Sinners don’t get answers.
But through his light you came and gave me
The answer of love, that I had never read before.
Maybe I should die, or maybe I should live a little,
I don’t know the answer to my burning question.
But Dying would make my pain easier, and living would suffocate me.
Who is it that I live for, and what is my purpose?
If I search for you, I am expected to follow the laws of religion
And if I don’t then I am without faith.
Then maybe staying in between with you is better.
You are like my dopamine or a wind of euphoria.
You change me for a while, lift me off the floor.
For hours or days. Sometimes minutes and seconds.
Then you wear off, and I long for your dose again.
It is your love that keeps me close to you,
Otherwise, how would I have found you?
It isn’t my love, or else I would have run away already.
The chains of pain that followed me everywhere,
Have slowly begun falling off.
As new feathers of love grow on me.
But the weight of feathers can be more than the weight of chains.
When the expectation of love overpowers the will,
When we begin wanting more than we’re getting.
That is when the feathers of love begin suffocating.
But even if I stray away or expect too much from you,
I hope you can keep me in your safety.
Or if not, then I may die a silent death.
Surely, in love silence is sometimes better.
Form:
It all started at a young age
The love I had for my parents only went one way
They were too drunk to ever care about their own son
Maybe I'm a sucker for pain because its what I've grown from
Parents shouting while drunk as I lay in the corner crying as a baby
Smashing plates, spending their money on alcohol so they had no food to plate me
Got took into foster families never did I feel welcome
Going through hell without my parents to help some
27 foster families before I turned twelve
Sitting in my room alone wondering how can I earn help?
Days spent listening to Eminem at full volume, At night I was crying in my pillow
Hoping for a better tomorrow as I stared out of my window
5 days before I turned 15 my biological sperm donor left the earth
He was never there so It was no loss to me, so I didn't even feel any hurt
Depression came and got a grasp of me and wouldn't let go
Picked up a blade and started self-harming, wearing long sleeves so it wouldn't show
Wearing my Eminem hoody daily trying my best to be him
Social workers and care staff not knowing I was using a blade on my own skin
My coping mechanism caused me to bleed but feel good
Spent a lot of my time wondering what it would be like to feel love
Sleeping with numerous girls at the same time
It was just sex to me even if I told them they were mine
It was the wrong thing to do, but it helped me to survive
I used to want to be rid of the pain, but now I need it in my life
I've become so used to it, I don't know how to cope without it
Addicted to my own heartbreak, my scars are my favourite outfit
5 years clean from self-harm, but I sacrifice any relationship I get in
I'll love the girl, but leave and have her saying I wish I never met him
Push her away, because I can't deal with the intimacy or closeness
I'm going to be judged by a lot of people because I wrote this
If my parents gave me a hug maybe I wouldn't be this way
Maybe I'm like this now, and my happily ever after is just a kiss away
From a girl I'm yet to meet
Who will heal me and get the best of me
But I've got a lot of working to do because I'm a sucker for pain
I wear my scars with pride, because I'm in love with being hurt, it's something I can't explain
Musing Lately
Let’s just say
with my husband now having heart troubles and my
being old (& bedridden while waiting for my new prosthetic-leg) makes for on-going thinking, remembering, observing, reflecting, tentatively concluding, believing
how the ineffable ultimately rules…and one’s
language (for all its commanding need to be used with a true Love ) finds w
o
r
d
s
to be less than their expressive task f
a
i
l
(despite even some i
divine inspiration)
n
g
to cast some light brighter
than the humble votive’s flame flickering in the heart —
Or more than the one tear — felt but unseen' — in the corner of the eye, bringing along its cathartic story …ready to fall down over the cheek…
Or to realize (especially after 40 years togerther) that devotion lives well beyond a 3-word statement in heights carried there by a tried, spiritual touching of our auras in the room: lives aligned for better or worse in the profound music that our closeness creates. The poems are born in being or feeling before the written.
(c) sally young eslinger 7/13/24**
In my youth, i was a devotee of James Joyce and Samuel Beckett. (Beckett even sent me a hand-written letter in response to one i sent him.). I pretty much memorized “Waiting for Godot.” Joyce and Beckett both saw words dissolving — into the ineffable. Some powerful poems lead us there, but that there, I’ve found is in the unspeakable.
It’s your crazy
Paranormal Poetry Series
What are the feelings I feel
That rattle inside my cage
Like boulders and wrecking balls
Slamming against my heart
With every crash and smash
Tissues are ripped away
As bricks of the beating muscle crumble
And fall to the soulful ground
To be used as material that builds up stone walls
Higher than before
Stronger than needed
Fortified refuge from what my heart should beat towards
My mind tells me of visions
Of horrible thoughts
That haunt me to extreme pains
Firing synapses into demented zones
The only person I can talk to
Is the person whom I lay on the virtual couch
Explaining my fearful sights and sounds
That rush into my mind as terrorizing cinema photography
Wanting help to heal my pain
I ask if what I sense is real
Or of the insane
The answer- it's your crazy
It’s your crazy
It’s your crazy
It’s your crazy
It’s your crazy
How can something that seems so real, not be
How can something that correlates with reality, not be
How can timing of instances, not be
How can, it all just not be
Time and time I ask for truth
Is what I see and sense real
Or do I believe what is told me
That it’s clinically diagnosed as a disturbed
Phantom of the disillusioned existence
Shall I lead a life of mental cushions
Trapped inside my head of padded cells
Laying silently knowing for self intuitiveness
Or admitting to my psychosis of what it is
Do I accept, it's your crazy
Do I trust, it's your crazy
Do I listen, it's your crazy
Do I admit, it's your crazy
If what I see is real
And saying that means alienating my own self
From someone that holds my last beating breathe
In a clutched fist of anger
Have I done what I was afraid of doing
Standing up to my visions of empathic reality
Driving me to the breaking point
Of acceptance to get strapped away silently alone
How as I lay closed up
Distancing me from my own self
Taking me further from closeness
And into beliefs that fight togetherness
Good for what I truly want
To be with
To be near
To be
I scream out louder with every question
Is it my crazy?
Is it my crazy?!
Is it my crazy?!!
Is it my crazy?!!!
Is it real ... or really just me????
Form: