Long Community Poems

Long Community Poems. Below are the most popular long Community by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Community poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Hearing With Compassion's Eyes

S/he listens for powerful words
and hears deeper moving sounds
resonant sighs
empowering peace replies
corroborated with his eyes.

I see Her capitalized nurture meaning
and trust what remains visible
long after forgetting short-lived 
persuasive 
weaponized purposes he has veiled
and she unveils

Especially when sight
displays dissonance
betraying trusted 
faithful sensate confluence

Without faithless flaws
bad-humored rumors
mistrusted words
vicious circling tumors
not consonant
with what I can hear
and see nonviolently
however nonverbally
with sacred communion eyes

To perceive
regard
anticipate
compassion
slowly disregarding fear 
of chronic
addictive win/lose compulsive problems
regardless of past disempowering angers
without unguarded win/win passions.

When I can see Her story
I can hear my narrative
spiritually unfold
naturally inside

MetaPhysically where
and sacred when
and soulfully why
s/he speaks
through his lovely
wholesome brown closed sighs
opening regretful blue sky eyes

And listens with unguarded ears
to words for power's integrity
communionating robust agency,
and not against win/win vivacity,

Widening deeper
enlightening
elegant round unsound
intricately felt soul-filled sounds

Intimately touched trust
resiliently seen as heard
resonant resounds.


Premium Member Empty

Empty

The gas tank is empty. 
I have five more miles to go. 
The car glides to a stop, 
beside the road. 

I get out. 
I push it further on, 
into the dirt and brush. 
There is a hush, 
deep in my soul. 
"How can things be worse?" 

I grab my keys, 
my purse, my things. 
I lock the doors 
and leave a note out on the shield. 

"I will be back, it is a fact, please do not take away
my only ride... as the ocean of life has risen, 
I am near-drowning now."

I turn toward the empty road, 
and know that I must hurry. 
There is dinner to prepare, 
and my family is already home. 
They are alone, 
and they should not be, 
but I can not try harder 
than I already do...
lest I fail completely. 
Perfection, a goal, 
a commitment, 
but not attainable 
or realistic.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

One Time

I turned the clock of time to look deeper into the divine; I turned the clock of time to see what is mine. The wheels keep spinning and the machine keeps rolling and I behold an oracle rising up from the sea and it is entering the galaxy guided by a strange satellite with millions of light years cursing by its side. I wasn’t sure what to make of it but it left me completely static. 

It drifts and drifts circling around the outer layer of the sky bidding the old moon goodbye and somersaulting in thin air. Time has taken it to a new dimension when it suddenly collides with the heavens, the devil was waiting on the banks but the angels formed a long line and direct it into space. 

It traveled a thousand miles in space breaking through the middle ground shooting out fire behind its tail and rising to a dimension that confuse the heart and soul of man. It explores the universe, gathering data in its throat with pinhole camera attached to it, it continues to drift in time until you see what lies in the shadows. 

The temperature keeps growing with the time, and the mission keeps focusing on the divine; the dimension widens the suspicious broadens, and time and space compression expand beyond the distance .I can feel the electromagnetic wave pulling me and the distant relationship solidifying me and the feeling of hope  is walking all over me. 

 The mission continues in the sky and I will hold on to gravity umtil  I die, the gravitation fields are strong so I have to find a different place to land .

Mars is waiting for me but that mission cannot carry me. I need something bigger and broader that can withstand the nature of time and move further inland with the divine. 

The planets are boiling and sooner or later a miracle will be exposed. The Earth will raise, Mars, Pluto and Venus will take you to the next level. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune will meet you at noon and you will have dinner in the garden with earth apposite the lake, you will invite a thousand soldiers to dine and you will play the flute to bring back memory of your youth; time has just taken you on  journey to understand the heat and prepare the fleet.
Form: Narrative

Get Well Card from a Writers' Group to a Friend in a Physical Rehab Unit

Mike Bayles


Get Well Card from a Writers’ Group to a Friend in a Physical Rehab Unit


What is important is what we lay on the table.
Poems and stories we write find new life
on the third floor of the library in Muscatine.
We read our works, listen and make suggestions.
We argue and laugh, but we’re just trying to help
every writer make their work better.

    each night

We are working or retired, poets and novelists
sharing our lives and points of view. We have
driven highways and city streets to be there.
Every third Tuesday of the month we sit at the table.

    in quiet skies

You are the eldest, many books written
and every meeting we look to you.
We look for revelations and for how
the pieces speak to us. Works shared
bring us together.

    a shining star


*Braided Haibun Form
Form: Other

Truisms From Down Under

Don't put your best years behind you.

Failures are best made on our own terms.

Success tells one they can succeed. 

A warm person is often the happiest. 

Money puts escape holes in one's pocket. 

Hugs are better than shrugs.

Common ground leaves less bones underground.

Fiends thrive in the absence of friends.

Age is nothing, health is everything.

Straight talkers don't usually slouch.

Life without passion seems to be in fashion.

Love wins the top prize for endurance. 

Those who read labels are mostly more able.

When people eat at the table conversation holds the floor.

One's level of fitness depends on the distance between the couch and the 
  fridge. 

Wisdom lets one know the right time to end a good piece of poetry.


Soundtrack of my life

I went to her first gig at 16
Brixton academy, the new "emo" scene 
I didn't know what to expect 
But everything about the night was perfect 

When she came on stage I was at the front 
The awe I felt has remained untouched 
I sang my heart out, jumped and "moshed"
The memories forever in my head and heart

I was a changed person after that night
I had found my community, being her fan felt right
I became "obsessed" as teenagers do
Vest tops and ties, straight hair and black eyes

I saw her again many times over the years
Met her 3 times, my name she remembered to my surprise!
Her music has been the soundtrack to my life
Everything I went through, her music my guide

I saw her again a few months ago 
For 16 year old me the night was owed
I sang my heart out, but the jumping slowed
When I looked in the crowd I saw we all had got old

But it didn't matter, our lives aren't defined
By the age of our body, it's what in the mind 
Middle age is almost here, she's now old too
But "what the hell" has never been more true

The people I met, the things that I did
All started that night, a life fulfilled 
No matter my age, I'm still a "rock chick" at heart 
Her music made me right from the start

Whenever I feel down or blue 
Her music I play and sing out of tune
Moshing is done, I now need a seat 
But life without passion is incomplete 

When I play her music my mind is at ease
The inner child in me feels free
Life is for living, old age comes to us all
Just don't jump then trip and fall!

The girl in the mosh pit had it right
Laugh and sing as if it's our last night
To 16 year old me I say thank you
You chose the music that got us through 

To the singer I say I would have died 
But the music you made saved my life 
I know it's cliche, but it's true 
Her music is why I made it through 

Things will change, things will slow 
I guess that's part of getting old
Her music makes me feel young, it's part of my story
I'll still be rocking out when I'm 40!!!!!
© Gogster Dw  Create an image from this poem.

Why I keep My Windows open

There is something you should be aware of,
That I need you to hear of,
Something about depression that everyone should know about.

If a depressed person comes into the room,
You need to open all the windows,
And let a breath of fresh air in,
If you do not want to be using words that are stale,
Or in helping you will always fail,
In giving the one you love the chance to exhale,
And free themselves from hell for even a little while.

If you stay in a room too long with depression,
And the air remains stale,
Even if you are immune and think it safe to inhale,
Depression can still grab you by the shirt-tail, 
And take you hostage because of your love of the one,
Who was not strong enough to open a window,
And let the fresh air in.
 
So, if your loved one you do not want to fail,
I hope you will think this more than a tale,
And let the fresh air in,
And if a burglar should see an opportunity to come in,
A knock on the head could be just the medicine they need,
And concussion is better than depression any day of the week.

Premium Member Strive To Be Entwined

Do we not procure enough happiness in our dull lives?
When someone else is amply satisfied with themselves,
Otherwise, how much joy does one merely receive?
When someone else gains trust and in you can believe.

We should all endeavor to esteem and regard every one of us.
A more peculiar companion or family isn't genuine, thus.
May our excursion be one of happiness and daintiness?
What's withal in all we serve and heed, with spiritedness,

To set up an external assessment for everyone clod.
It is out of the compass of any individual who isn't God.
Regardless, there is pain and gain in the present situation.
Otherwise, there is a service of both joy and tribulation.

His power, weakness, and feelings were frittered away.
It's paradoxical since he was destroying his own joy.

Written: December 21, 2021
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Sonnet

Black History Is Lived Everyday

BLACK I AM

WE THE PEOPLE, DESCENDANTS FROM THE GREAT CONTINTENT OF AFRIKA!
A LAND OF MANY LANGUAGES AND CULTURE

BLACK I AM

WHO WALKED THE EARTH LONG BEFORE ALL OTHERS

BLACK I AM

OUR ANCESTORS WERE KINGS, QUEENS AND GREAT PHARAOHS, THAT RULED THE ANCIENT EMPIRES, WISE PEOPLE WHO'S CONTINENT WAS BLESSED BY THE GODS

BLACK I AM

AFRIKA! IN ANCIENT TIMES WAS ABOUND WITH VEGETATION, AND MANY SPECIES OF ANIMAL LIFE
ABUNDANCE OF MINERALS, THE LAND OF GOLD AND DIAMONDS, WHO'S PEOPLE TOILED THE LAND, WITH LAUGHTER AND DANCE IN OUR HEART, AN OPEN SOCIETY THAT WELCOMED ALL.

BLACK I AM

A CONTINENT THAT WAS THE ENVY AND LIFE BLOOD FOR ALL OTHER NATIONS, SO MUCH THAT MANY OF THEM INVADED AFRIKA! AND CLAIMED 
PARTS FOR THEMSELVES.

BY RAPING PLUNDERING AND MURDERING, TAKING  THE PEOPLE WHO'S LAND THAT THEY INVADED AS SLAVES, MANY LOST THEIR LIVES FIGHTING FOR SURVIVAL, AND TO THIS DAY IN TIME BLACK PEOPLE WHEREVER THEY ARE ON THIS EARTH ARE STILL FIGHTING FOR SURVIVAL.

BLACK I AM


THROUGH ALL OF THIS, WE STILL HAVE A SONG AND DANCE IN OUR SPIRIT
SOMETHING THAT KNOW ONE CAN TAKE FROM US, WE ARE SURVIVORS! WE
STAND FOR JUSTICE AND TRUTH FOR ALL, WE ARE NOT A SELFISH PEOPLE
WE ARE A PEOPLE OF LOVE FOR ALL

BLACK I AM

WE ALL WANT PEACE, BUT THERE CAN NEVER BE PEACE ON THIS EARTH UNTIL THERE IS JUSTICE FOR ALL. KNOW MATTER WHAT UNJUST LAWS THAT MAY COME OUR WAY, WE ARE A PEOPLE THAT ENDURES, WITH A SONG AND DANCE IN OUR SPIRIT, WE SING THE SONGS OF MOTHER AFRIKA! JUSTICE FOR ALL.

BLACK I AM

WITH OUR TEARS, SWEAT AND BLOOD WE BATTLE ON.


BLACK I AM

Premium Member Grid Locks

Just another day of obstructions, heartless
                              souls, lack of communication on a daily. Obstructions
                             of gridlock. at a crossroad, at a crossroad, at a crossroad.

                        Around the corner cut across to abandonment, made a
                           left turn to mistrust swerved right to divorce while
                         approaching slander at a intersection. gotta find my way
                          back, gotta find my way back.
                     
                          Should it be suggested the world seems to be so distorted?
                           trying to find one's way back, from these sign posts and
                          roadblocks and gridlocks.

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