Long Comings Poems
Long Comings Poems. Below are the most popular long Comings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Comings poems by poem length and keyword.
The Antique store
Antiques she adored, a relic he was.
She had a special place for art.
Unfortunately it wasnt her heart.
I'm clinging on to the older things
the antiques of our time.
Sometimes they break or get lost.
I cannot replace them,
no one can replace them.
But I'd rather have an antique
than nothing at all.
At least I can say I enjoyed it at some point.
Teach me to make beautiful.
No beauty can I find.
Search me whole.
Tell only what thoughts appear to be mine.
First comings need an exit of least disgrace.
No one wants to be kept waiting.
For then their time might never come.
Trimmed antiques in dusty lace.
A whole world
Begging for
Change
Daring to dream
Endless altering realities
Figuring that the end
Generates a new start
Hinging on the application of
'I'
Just in terms of understanding
Knowledge of the self
Learning about the
Magic inside all of us
Nearing that
Ominous future
Persistent in the
Quest for a better tomorrow
Reach for it!
Stand up for it!
Teach the young to
Usher in their new era
Vestiges of ours gone
Without a second thought
Xenoliths of a different time
Yellowed antiques
Zealous youth to push aside our failures
When you don't need me,
you put me on a shelf
with your dusty trophies
you never really earned,
and antiques
you never took care of.
I'm up front, visible,
easy to reach
at your convenience.
But I know you would rather
take what you need from
your precious china cabinet.
Just know that when you fumble,
when you slip up,
and when you stumble,
your precious china will break.
But I will still be here.
I have gathered all time tellers,
grandfather clocks, alarm clocks, phones, watches -
to tell you that : I have all the time in the world for you.
It might not be the most sophisticated way
to say that I have an ear for listening and a heart for consolation,
but don't be too skeptical with my methods.
Forgive me, maybe, perhaps, if I can't be so bold and concise.
At least, now we've got all these antiques to talk about.
he is a lover of brokenness.
he likes antiques,
collecting little fragments of things.
he hates breaking them,
so he finds brokenness,
fixes it up a little,
takes a few pieces and leaves.
he's already taken a bit of me,
and unless I shatter again,
he'll leave forever.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran
“All their comings and their goings were so closely scrutinised
as the prosecution’s trump card was the evidence they prized.
Though the wily prosecutor gathered facts to build his case,
some old bushmen too were scheming and a plan was put in place.
“They were crafty, artful dodgers, who’d been slipped a quid their way,
and could see to it the evidence might somehow go astray.
The bold band then took advantage of the absence of the guard
for some twenty or so minutes and then broke into the yard.
“In the small hours of that morning they absconded with the stock
and the speed of the audacious theft had left police in shock.
These bold bushmen used a vehicle which, much to their delight,
lured the cattle through the darkened streets and quickly out of sight.
“All available policemen joined the search to find their trail,
but their roadblocks and sheer numbers proved to be of no avail.
Then at sunrise the black constable, a tracker of renown,
traced the mob out to the stockyards on the outskirts of the town.
“All the cattle had been slaughtered and not one ear could be seen
and a piece of hide was missing, where the owner’s brand had been.
Still the heads and hides were proof enough … or so the lawyers thought,
but the judge dismissed the evidence and threw it out of court.
I just sat there flabbergasted as the old bloke rose to go,
‘cause the way he’d told the story he was really in the know.
But he sensed I sought the obvious and said “I need a drink.”
Then he hobbled down the street away … and turned and gave a wink.
In the book Champagne Country, which explores the history of Roma and district, there is
a chapter on Bushranging. In part it discusses how the notorious Harry Redford was tried
in Roma, though found not guilty and also there was another account of an incident which
took place in 1952. A number of head of cattle being held as evidence in a cattle
duffing offence disappeared from the Police yards about two a.m. in the morning while
supposedly being under constant guard. The culprits were never apprehended. Years
later my wife’s dad, who went droving at the age of ten and a well known identity around
Roma, shed a little light on the subject. The above tale tells what took place. Certain
facts have been hidden to protect the guilty.
As I age in place
into awareness of replaceability
I bow to humbling curiosity,
Whether more anxious
or anticipating,
I remain conflicted
About predicting
a win/win global healthy climate
sustainable outcome
In which my own anthroprivileged species
grows in ecological curiosity
and theological humility
Enough for winning healthy Earth
restoring justice,
inclusive
or exclusive?
of us.
A peaceful paradise of curious promise
for resiliently wealthy
multicultural ecofeminists
of all seeing/hearing EarthMother species
AND our leftbrain dominant
StraightWhiteMale capital growing fragile
and increasingly wounded Allies
Or will this Great Green Transition
end and recycle back again
a healthier peace and justice Earth
devoid of inhumane
predative
overpopulated rabid hetero-unsapient pests?
While this winEarth/loseAnthros
heart-stopping vision fails to mention
all the further kinship species
we have already helped exterminate
and will continue to take out with us,
Still
stunned
shunned
I remain quietly hopeful
that a seventh great extinction
might never come to be
before Second Comings
Of Edenic Civility
bereft of straight either/or lined
leftbrain dominant distractions
Extractions
from right interdependent circling
spiraling feeling
abundant historical multicultural traction
for healthy democratic energy
empowering flow
and enlightened nature/spirit MultiSpecies
Worshipping
polyculturing sensory resonant pleasures
of resilient health wealthy climate paradise
Recovering
old aging wonder,
humbling
and still actively curious
how EarthMother healthy ends
And rebegins
re-ligions wealthily ever after
with Yang empowering
Yintegral enlightening balance,
Either both/and way,
humane-divine hybrid consciousness
of
merely sublime natural
sensory aware
animating spirits,
Breaths of incoming
outgoing life
as love
regeneratively prevails.
And yet
I cannot resist some attachment,
as I limp toward my own ego-recentering
ultra-nonviolet
compassioning horizon,
Rooting for this new global age
of Green Cooperative EcoNonPaternal-Privileged
already leading our nonviolent communion
toward a resiliently restorative EarthJustice Way,
A curious winning for AnthroTribe
also winning Earth GreenPeace
to health/wealth new deal Thrive.
Dear 2020!
This Poem was Inspired by an Acknowledgment that this Past Year Was Difficult or Tough, That I Don't have All of the Answers, But I Serve a God Who Does. That I Did Have Some Beautiful Experiences in 2020, that Should be Celebrated and Not Over-Looked. But Most Importantly That I Must Learn To Trust More In My Heavenly Father, Not Just for the Major of Big stuff, But the Minor Challenges or Obstacles as Well.
A Son of Virginia Who is Loved in Philly!
This Poem was Inspired by An Interview that Mr. Allen Iverson had with the Host's of "All The Smoke". In It he talked Candidly about His Short-Comings, Mistakes and Challenges Which he was Forced to Overcome. When You Read this Poem I hope that You can Think Fondly of Those That You Admire, Look-up to, or Hold in High Regard, and that you Let Them Know that you Appreciate Their Positive Contribution(s) in your Life.
What Price Is Enough For a Win?
This Poem was Inspired by the Malicious Events which took place by People that Held Differing Political Views, or Belief Systems, and their Un-Willingness to See Another Point of View, Reach Across the Aisle and Make a Compromise For The Overall Good of Everyone. This Was Also Inspired by the Fact that After Individuals Disagree or Fight, While Holding Their Political Views Close to their Heart, They Still Have to Live Together, as Neighbors, Family and Members of Society, Long After The Election Results Have Been Decided and Concluded.
Holding Onto What May Never Be Again!
This Poem Was Inspired by the Events of Having Older Gran-Parents, Family Members and Close Personal Friends Who Are in their 60's or 70's and Remembering the Special Memories Made and Moments Shared When they Were Completely Coherent, were aware of their surroundings and Understood what was going on in circumstances that surrounded them. In Comparison to Standing by and Watching as they Slowly Fade into Someone that Does Not Recognize You as Time Passes. Even though You Can Remember Every Thanksgiving, Christmas or 4th of July Celebration. It also Addresses the Fact of How Helpless One Feels by Being Unable to Solve or Find a Solution to their Problem. For In Their Eyes One Can Tell That They Seem Confused and are Trying Hard to Recollect or Remember as Well.
The man wandered through the lonely and desolate earth. Suffering a tribulation
of exile from human relationships. He was the last one, the only one, the only
man left on Gaia. Walking, he went forward, onto the hill where he shall be
saved. The darkness and purity emanating at the same time from the sacred
hill. What was his new fate to be? As he pondered he climbed to the top of the
hill and observed…
The animals, creatures of Gaia
Happy in the solace they found
Butterflies dancing between each other
A dance of courtship
A promise to share lives coherently
As beautiful as the butterflies were, they vanished
The man’s eyes averted quickly and saw…
Power, Dominance, Death, and Beauty
Beauty, oh… the irony
Distressed nature trying to rebirth areas of discontent
Earthquakes, Volcanoes, Hurricanes, and Tornadoes
Problems, but not
Beautiful, the tornado
Nature’s renewal
Absorbing impurities and leaving nothing but a fresh start
Volcanoes blew high stacks of lava
To the sky it rose, no boundaries
While being absorbed in the light of the crimson sky, the man saw something
invigorating…
Comets flying through the celestial heavens
The universe, one space with minor hindrances
Stars, eclipse, Luna, Life
New wonders in the black
Scared and awed at the same time the man looked away…
Trees dancing through the wind
Soothing white cherry blossoms mourning
Mourning the cycle of life into death
As they, the trees
Released the tears of nature’s spores
Sad to the fate of future comings, death
The end of the cycle
Now confused, the man looked abroad and set his eyes upon the whole picture…
All pieces of nature flow together
Life into death
Creation to birth
Controlled by the passages of time
Nature a whole unity
Every area of Mother Gaia is one
The balance perfect without the fingers of man tainting the purity
Then, the man’s memories came back. The human’s tainted ness was like a
cancer to the dear beloved Gaia. Killing her they were. Now the last one was left
to ponder the natural order and progression. Knowing his inevitable fate he
fulfilled his destiny. The man with his final breathes waited on the top of the hill
and passed slowly to the grip of the heavens.
Farewell…
Form:
My destiny..? is preordained & wont be denied
No matter how many times I fail, I gots to keep on trying!
I know...pressure can bust a pipe, but it also can make a diamond.
Enduring lifes' atrocities...gots me striving & shining.
Shining..?, only to be the best...that I truely can be.
Some talked down...some hated...but mostly?, they disbelieved!
As if I couldn't dream, & turn those dreams into a reality.
A man strenght can only be measured, if he over comes his adversities!
Over achiever?, yes!, cuz luck doesn't apply to me.
Becuz, I could've been a Bookie!, who was eradicated by life complacncies!
Wasn't me, so I chose another path.
But, in order to embrace my future?, I most 1st know my past.
The past of hurt!, destruction!, & drugs!
Some one tell me why?,
when black men get money we profess to be thugs!
Entities..? with out a cause, loving just to momentarily ball!
But, with no stability, it's a long , detrimental, & inevitable fall!
Acrophobia..?, we'll die before we hit ground!
Reflecting on our short comings, only to realize we were the ulimate clown!
Asking God to bless me, so I might be a blessing.
Can't forget where I come from, learning from my trials & tribulations.
Gotta be different!, choose a route that's never been chose.
Can't be of this world, yearning for snatch, cars, & clothes.
But, the road of knowledge, cuz I desire to win!
& sleeping on my dreams?, will be the climax of all my mortal sins!
Introspection...looking deep, only to see the real picture.
Praying to God as I take that 1st step, cuz I refuse to be a wisher.
Cuz, man might not get all that he pays for in life,
but he must pay for all that he gets.
& knowing that life don't give a squat about a brother,
motivates my spirit!
Motivation, desire, & plus with a dream.
knowing i'll over come:,
gots me feeling like Malcom Little & Dr. Martin Luther King!
Becuz, it's mind over matter & if I don't mine,
it shol doesn't matter.
Have you ever seen a brother come from nothing, make something,
& climb his way all the way up that tiresome ladder?
Well, it's a 1st time for every thing, & my gift..?, is truely my mind!
I'm claiming 2008, mark my words...This is My Time!!!
wish it were raining pots and lots,
that when it rains or dark comes ,l leave;
because sometimes I do not want anyone to see me .....
I got used to living as a refugee ....
I used to be in privacy ...
and I got no be used to it that what is the opposite ....
is discomfort and my comfort is to be accustomed
to living with my castles and weapons and defenses,
and walls and walls and that nothing prevents,
me from being the, the strong and unalterable,
what I did, and I am, and I love to be,
and I continue this life of being and being,
what I am, and desire; Go ahead ... [...]
with the noblesse time and the ruines in the desolate neighborhood
where I do not know where nobody lives when I go out on the street
I see myself inrouded by looks that are not eyes because there is never anyone in the streets,
or makes it bear in mind that there come from the crevices
of the chasms that exist in the crevices of the cracks
abandoned houses, whether or not they say that old and old people live here,
and there is nothing, and the green walks and square muds
and the crustaceous herbs still leave the sides
and are the look when I follow my steps until reaching the Avenue
in that gesture made my visit to the besieged bees
of the prostrate Pharisees and cripples but all respect me
and more promises that surround the whole labyrinth
I've never seen anything like it, but I already knew it
and I got and I am not used to it
that when I go out, I realize that nothing is there and everything is there.
on my side,
but my heavenly paradise, lined with trees and gardens,
and trees of lights and cracks and leafs of the trees,
inviting me,
to the freshness of corners and comings and goings,
because the grove here is like a blanket of coats that moral and all the splendor of living is against the tide
and of all say if it is not bad at all,
and even my taste and my taste,
incensible but fierce,
arrogant but welcoming,
not sick but sanitary,
otherwise would not be
now and even now among the clouds,
write, what I write and between lines
to say what else ... well I hate, ...joy!
Such Sad in your Eye
As one is ready to leave
A Mother's womb
From Time's winter Eve
Starting anew at 0
Ready to experience Short-comings
By the early age of 5(yet barely Alive)
Young peers are thrown at you
Bullies to pin us down
Mock now
Tease which hurts
It embodies the cruelty
of this Stage all around
Exclaiming that WE are just a Clown
Piss-ants,by the age of 20
Harboring only allusions of Helping the Needy
Instead of serving ourselves
And when 40 is close at hand
You and I are tired and withdrawing
For today and forever
God is just a Friendly three letter voice
Pointing out the fact:
YOU,AS MY 1,243,678,000BORN
DO,INDEED,HAVE A CHOICE
"amen" to that!!
Form:
A simple god so slender and symbolic
having a one way onslaught in his approach
and toiling with the master-class of the game
to revolutionize an entire country away from his.
He bastardized his inheritance of stiffness and a crunch system
To transmit the pleasure of a video game to a live coverage.
A believer of his approach, a missionary in his style,
legendary in his execution, but often blind to its short comings.
Going an entire season without a fault
and giving the possibility to travel cloud 49
makes his glory carry such schoolbag of mysteries and awe.
From the African prince of Monaco, to the great George Weah
and the Dennises, Thierrys, Vierras and Anelkas,
he converts a dusty wood into a luxurious boat.
Academy is his bedroom, ventilated by continuity
even though some megastars were short of understanding this.
Maintenance of a certain threshold even with half loaded guns
is very difficult to achieve and impossible to maintain
but not at all to this attacking minded General.
Spending a decade to shoot regions near the actual target
under the stuffiness of limitations both in finances and talents
shines the stadium light even in the darkness of his underachievement.
Prudence and a closed fist was his personality’s widget
b’cos glory on the pitch alone isn’t his mental gadget.
Placing a repercussion of a very stiff budget
and his command, downgraded so low to a midget.
All these because he’s carried the club like a personal object
placing the short sightedness of instant glories to an eject.
Stability in his empire is now a complete project
As his winning dominance was once a European subject.
He’s now back with an intimidation which will make opposition fidget.
Back to his rank, as he wears all the colours
rising in significance after all the hurdles
heart poured out to a club glorifies him beyond a mere coach,
the riches of such dedication influences the staff of his reputation,
winning and being a champion has always been his signature.
He has once again proven it,
as the world of sports stands still in ultimate salute.
The Mansions of Heaven
I’ve birthed poems that still miss attention from friends
that are company to me. Downpours? Keep me dry!
Life provides, both in comings and goings (some fear).
I find joy in the knowledge some things can’t get grasped
that we’ve worth past our ‘sell date,’ own space on love’s shelf.
All sea’s shells still grace beaches whose fate is just sand
when their colors have faded, their spiral caves smashed.
A child’s wonder can visit both sand and God’s love.
All life groks that life is! Is it Death that pretends
its thoughts count in this life? Does Death laugh? Can it cry?
Tell me, what can Death own that a fool would hold dear?
Is there something Death hopes for (can Death’s hand be clasped)?
If Death ‘IS,’ then what’s death without life? Is ‘itself’
to be treasured, its absence a victory stand?
Hmm? If nothing had value, would nothing get trashed?
Should a hand you would prosper count less than its glove?
Words Muse links are each mansions (1) past ancestors carve
out of air whose mute poems form cities that shine
on a hill (with worth seen from a distance), each star
that inhabits the heavens though blue-washed by day
(sky obscured but still there). Words are pearls we secrete
to smooth what pricks the flesh in the shells of our time.
Though we shed words like skin a cicada forsakes,
they inhabit the trees or the shrubs of our choice
till they don’t, till they’re sand too, or food for a voice
that finds own ‘hill’ to climb. All life has what it takes
to give breath to a city that struggles with rhyme.
Though rhyme’s only breath’s air, it’s still shell at God’s feet.
Can a poet not dream there’s a God, or just pray?
If life ends, we’re still blessed to have been who we are,
not just one in a trillion but branch of True Vine.
Oh, it’s not from a lack of God’s love that fools starve.
Long Tooth
January 6th in 2022
Poet's Notes:
(1) Are there not entire universes waiting to be discovered in each drop
of water? Has a 'word' (of any language) ever been uttered that does
not 'source' a mansion in heaven that shelters God's children?