Long Continuing Poems
Long Continuing Poems. Below are the most popular long Continuing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Continuing poems by poem length and keyword.
When thinking of me,
I find myself of two distinct minds.
When thinking of me,
I don't know which to listen to.
One is confident, filled with strength.
I take care of myself,
so that I may take care of others.
I spend time the way I wish,
with those whom I wish,
and where the group wishes.
One is pathetic, filled with confusion.
I have no idea why not one
will let me take care of us, of her.
I spend time imagining spending time,
with one who shares my thoughts,
one that my heart desires.
When a soft song plays
and I imagine what could be,
I wonder at why I can't seem to pair
two minds into one.
Whether those be my two minds,
the strong and the sad -
or whether those be mine and another's;
both seem beyond my ken.
It's difficult to reconcile
one half that feels as though
I'm doing everything right,
continuing to be me, to live -
with the half that feels as though
I've never figured it out;
my longest liaison a matter of months, in twenty long years -
who am I to know or speak of love?
Part of me knows 'tis only occasional melancholy,
and yet it rears its head more often these days.
I've never been truly alone,
friends and family always my guides - and yet.
I know I treat passion with reverence,
and a lover with great respect - and yet.
I know I work to compromise and hold on,
to enchant and live every moment - and yet.
Poetry is said to melt hearts and connect minds,
and yet even that can't surmount whatever I face.
'Tis directly from the soul, the spirit, the everlasting,
'tis the greatest beauty I can create - and yet.
Electrifying and terrifying,
amazing and terrible, it ranges the spectrum.
I see awful men abusing but still possessing it,
and I've never been called an awful man.
And yet.
The first mind wonders why it's even a problem;
live your life, and she will come, or she won't.
Thinking about it causes naught but worry,
worrying about it naught but sadness.
And yet.
My friends say they don't like
seeing the second mind rear its head, not one bit;
citing me bringing a smile to others' faces,
and how I should be proud of that, at least.
And yet.
I know I should enter the blanket's folds,
a new, perhaps better day waiting at the other side.
After a night of dreadful thinking and painful writing,
a respite, a relief, a required and rightful rest.
And yet.
OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)
Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.
Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-
Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.
Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.
During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.
Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.
Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.
Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;
Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
“The Shedding of our Skin”
I am writing about the transition from lost now found,
Darkness to light, one being into another, death to life,
Old skin to new skin.
Its like the rejuvenation of skin
The restoring of flesh over flesh of an open wound
And that does not happen all at once but over a duration of time.
Little by little not specific, but unpredictable start to finish.
My skin was tough, tough as leather
It had to be broken in, sat and stomped on over time
It was miss-used, abused
Unappreciated, contaminated and unpurified with uncleanliness toxic substances, people, places and things.
Miss-guided with ill desires and will
But by grace my transformation had begun
Before it was to late there was a death to life ending activated
In my darkest space, In my mess
The shedding of my skin had begun
There was a shift in my ways my desires my walk and talk
My mind and heart had started to align up with the whispers of Gods divine word.
My old skin of the one-track roads, addictions, attitudes and desires.
I no longer craved or desired
My mouth was filled with affirming empowerment for myself and others.
I was able to articulate the things I felt, thought, wanted, and needed, liked and disliked.
Speaking fluent in the moments with no more hesitation or reluctancy holding my words or fear.
I am shedding my broken past of my childhood strongholds and obstacles.
Letting go of my resentments and anything that has kept me in chains.
I’ve moved from complacency to contentment with a peace and understanding I cant explain.
Compelled to be of service and good works with a drive of passion energy and love.
I AM SHEDDING
No longer stagnant in my engrafted past
Now free and flying through the fog, trauma and strongholds that once hindered me and my growth in so many ways.
Today my mind is renewed with thoughts and visions of life and light.
My new skin enables me to persevere on in faith and hope.
Trusting and dreaming of an abundant life sober and free
To properly handle and face life gratefully
Overcoming any of its obstacles that may come up against me
I am shedding with new profound revelations and abilities
My shedding has provided me with a variety of new talents and gifts.
Something that my old skin would have never allowed....
Continuing to shed “The Shedding of my Skin”
When I was born, my life sucked. I wasn’t important, nobody really cared. Some bad things happened, and eventually it led me to you. I was only three, and didn't have much. Then you gave me a home, and became my family. You made me feel safe, and I was happy. I finally felt like I meant something to someone, I found self-worth because you made me feel as though I had value. Treated me with kindness and with care, as if I was your own. And I knew then, when you held me in your arms, that with youI am loved.
You were patient with me when I couldn’t understand. You stayed calm when I freaked out. You stayed strong through the struggle. You made me feel like I was enough when I was doubtful. All those nights I would cry, wishing I could be normal, to be like everyone else, just wanting to fit in. You hugged me and said that everything will go the way it’s supposed to. All those years I would take my anger out on you, didn’t change how much you loved me. But made me love you ten times more.
You gave me a life worth living, and I wouldn’t change anything. Because of you I wake up every morning, continuing my life that you gave me a shot at. Everytime you push me to be my best has made me stronger, and makes me better. I can’t imagine life without you, and not sure I’d make it without you. But I will always try harder and harder, in hopes that maybe one day I can give back some of all you’ve given me. I will always push myself to succeed, just to make you proud. Maybe one day I can give a better life, of which you are much more than deserving of.
I thank you for all you have done. For all the times you cheered me up when I was feeling grey. For all the opportunities you have given me. For pushing me to be a better person, so that I will get far in life. I will never choose for this to end, because you have given me something to love. I love you with all my heart, and that love will never end. You have done so much for me and there aren’t enough words to express how grateful I am for you. Hopefully one day I can repay you for it all, though I doubt that is even possible. I am so much more than blessed to have you because you truly are better than the best.
I love you to the moon, the diamond stars, infinity and beyond…and then back again. To my universe, Momma Bear, Happy Birthday! And may all your wishes come true.
A figure, sickle in hand, wearing a dark cloak
approached a couple of woodland creatures.
He decided to choose them due to their features.
The Hare he noticed was a nimble and fast bloke,
and a Tortoise who would continue on no matter.
He offered them a race. (Something they’ve done before)
The grand prize to be announced at the end.
The finish line had yet to be decided, somewhere past the bend.
Hare needed to hear no more, ready to settle the score.
Tortoise agreed in his slow and quite manner.
With a wave of his sickle the race had begun
Hare as always is off like a flash nothing ahead but this goal
Tortoise picks up his claws and started his march, a stroll
Neither knew how long it was of a run,
till they would reach that finish banner.
Hare fly’s down the road nothing in his way
All sights around just a blur
Sounds ignored like a rambling slur
As his energy began to fade away
He decided it was time for a rest, by the water
The Tortoise with his steady pace
Looked around seeing all to be seen
A little butterfly at his side, the trees so green
Sounds of the birds chirp, water bubbling apace
Continuing on at his steady trotter
As day turns to night and just past the dawn
The Tortoise walks past the Hare
“Good morning my friend how do you fair”
The Hare startled awake, stretches with a yawn
“I’ll catch you Tortoise without bother”
Hare catches Tortoise with his quick gate
Suddenly a line appears and there he stands
The figure with sickle in hand.
“Ah you tied!” he says “Let’s learn the winner’s fate.”
“Welcome both of you to your death.” he said in calm candor
“This is no prize! I won this race!” said the Hare in a huff
“Oh but there is a prize that you both receive, which is the winner will depend.
Your prizes are the memories from this race. They will be all you have for now till times end”
Death said with a smirk. The Tortoise looking around lets out a puff.
Hare arguing it’s not fair, while Tortoise agrees and takes one last gander.
Hare realizing that he has nothing to remember,
No sight, sound, smell or friends from blind sight of his goal,
begins to ball uncontrollably as he enters his eternity alone, dark and cold.
Tortoise now resting by the water he saw, the sweet smells of September,
with his butterfly friend to talk to forever in such a pleasant manner.
You came home from Quebec,
you were never alone;
your shadow chased you around town
like a dog in love or out of love.
They told me you have been to places
where flies sat conveniently on the ledges of your lips,
you've eaten ugali with your fingers, someone else's fingers,
soaked in saliva and the red juices of greens and beef liver
I remember you leaving Scott County to drive along the roads
of summer with green trees waving at you. You were famous.
You sent a picture of Niagara. Before a mirror,
I saw my eyes in the falls that should've lectured you,
then you sent Alberta dressed in flora and sunshine,
but before a mirror, I saw where sorrow dug trenches in my brow.
At sunsets, I watched the tired lights walked slowly westward like an old lady on quad cane ... and I forgot the sound of my name on your lips
When July entered our town with loud children, you were in Whistler. His mother is continuing in Paris,
and poor James, God rested his bones somewhere in London.
You killed me with Yellowknife when you spoke of the northern lights,
but not once questioned my lonesome nights in White Sulphur
where fresh winds licked the skirt of a White horse to ignite a horseplay
You say Saint John spoke proudly of Como,
so I searched the map to find you where you would sit to sip something
that spoke proudly of Campari Spritz.
I found Whistle Pig Stout.
Some nights, I'd search for you when my finger was tired of scooping peanut butter from a jar. I traced from Revelstoke to Squamish, then to Halifax,
but I found no lobsters big enough to keep you there.
You called about Ottawa, and I found Rideau Canal, a lazy river that still works for the people. You told me Tofino spoke proudly of Costa Del Sol,
so I searched the map to find you where you would drive along something that spoke proudly of Ruta del Sol y del Aguacate.
I found Chesterman Beach Road.
December drove you home, pulling down your dress
to cover the spots where the cold winds were touching you.
I am getting used to being single.
Written 03\28\20
I recall it, and my eyes pump water from deep within my soul; I have to pause and wipe the tears away before continuing to write.
Not far from Wrigley Field nearly 50 years ago; From a little college on the north side of Chicago; I graduated, following four years of very hard work. There was a Bible College, training kids for Christian ministry. I have many fond memories involving good and noble people.
I must site one of such memories, planted so deep inside my heart and mind. It is not the one where 'I froze' in my attempt at learning to preach and sermonize, and experienced no pain nor change of professional pursuit because my teacher and fellow classmates were so considerate and understanding. Nor was it the one where my history instructor, without realizing it, gave me a fresh sense of 'belonging', and reassured me that I had made the right choice of schools to pursue my education. No, it was the one where my theology professor and college president conducted a communion service for all the students.
The manner in which the ceremony was done would be forbidden in today's world because of health issues and concerns. I suppose that is the primary reason I so treasure the memory. On a particular day in a chapel service, as I recall, there were some 25 to 30 students present. We all broke bread from a 'common loaf' and drank grape juice from a 'common pitcher' with never a concern for health. Never since have I shared an experience of such 'common spiritual intimacy', nor expect to; but that treasured moment of 'family and communion' is forever sealed in my heart and soul.
11/4/17PSContest, From My Diary, BW, 10P
There’s thousands of puzzles that have never been solved and never will be
Please excuse my OCD as it floods my brain completely
I’m a man of cold hard evidence
As I’ll be sure to fax you all my fax complete receipts
As they continuing printing
“Follow me, I can give you answers you didn’t know you needed”
What he whispers in the ears of the vulnerable
Dear prince of fallen angels,
Tell me every demon was once apart of heaven
She could have dropped her sword and ran
But instead she used your words against you indisputably
She runs away with the weight of the world on her shoulders,
and the power to turn any metal into gold
And any heart into a slave for her idolized soul
She had the politicians begging for answers and writing down notes
While your fathers prayed tenfold
There’s thousands of unsolved crimes that have never been solved
and never will be
And there’s no justice in higher security
But the warriors in red have a hold of me
Showing me a more progressive way of masculinity
While your fathers blew their money on tokens of affection,
Paying for love tenfold
There’s a million questions I have about my mind that have never been answered, and never will be
Like why my OCD has to take over me completely,
Repeating the same lines to myself quietly
I feel like a mental patient in my own hospitality
Writing novels of accountability
While your fathers were on their hands and knees
With blood on their hands,
Screaming “why did this happen to me?”
Like feeling relief after a break up
Something was your sign all along
We either don't see it until it's too late
Or we choose to ignore it
And you can't convince me otherwise;
Spies have one job
And yours was to be a part of my life
I'm used to feeling disappointed
But that doesn't mean it gets less scathing
And you can't convince me otherwise;
A spy has one job
And with the blood on your hands,
Caught red-handed,
You failed at only disappointing me slightly
You didn't have it in you to give me the bare minimum
Like the warriors before you that dropped their swords and ran,
Regretting their choice of a life of violence over romance
Dear prince of fallen angels,
Please remind me that every demon was once at the hands of God,
fighting for forgiveness tenfold
Trekking The Unwary
The beauty of this day, or is it the night
Cynical her way, Alaskans weathers her blight
The touch of her nature, the chills from her bite
Broken mobile, lost alone, this plane of sight
My family thoughts, as it renders me warmth
For the hardened ground, this snowflaked swamp
Alone, and here upon this land, Alaskan cold, the Northern sand
No helpful hope, no rescuing plan
The point of center, it's the no man's land
Which direction I go, two choices in hand
Continuing towards, the summer home abode
Or turn another, towards the Trappers, journeying road
For now into the forest, between the trees
A cozy nest to find, simple spot avoids the freeze
I'm awakening in morning, now it's time to go
Head towards the Trapper, I remember this fellow.
As my hunger grows, I look upon the trees
The vines, the berries, their frozen leaves
The day goes by, I trek some more
Weary I thirst, hearing a river, the sounds adore
I follow its sound, more and more, closer profound
A watering hole, and the animals around
Quenching my thirst, I see my dish
Beautiful is nature, offering me this fish
I made a stake, from the branch I break
Into the stream, I go, as I stab and take
A quicken fire, the scent of roasted fish I make
Now fulfilled my desire, my stomach won't ache
In a corner my bed, sweet dreams tonight relate.
Awakened by the sound, loud and frightful, miles around
A dreaded bear, larger than a car, his territory I fear
Without a thought, with my stake I flee
The sounds of his victim, his saliva tasting me
Luckily I see, standing, a life-saving tree
I leap upon, I climb this one, bruises gained, my hurting knee
I gained some height, and below my plight
This animal gazing at me
"Go, and leave me be!"
"Leave me alone, get away from me!"
And in his failure, attempts to push this tree
Growing weary after, his brawl subsided with me
Trembling I was, but not of the weary cold
But delighted, I'll live today, as tomorrow my story's told
I trekked each day, all of the 200 mile
Towards the Trappers home, hopeful feelings inside
Through forested cold, and the fearful wild
This guy I knew and handshake we do
Greeting me, a warm, and welcoming smile...
S
F
B
Trekking the unwary
January 3rd, 2017.
Although the kiss was brief
The sensation seem to linger,
His eyes still closed when he felt a pain
As she ran the razor sharp nail of her finger
His eyes popped open as he looked at his chest
She hushed him and stroked his hair while whispering “rest”
He found that he was laying on the floor
Surrounded by snow, his chest was bloody and gore
“What you doing?” he begged
“Hush I said.”
“All will be revealed in time,”
“Rest you’re now mine.”
He panicked and tried desperately to move
But could not, as if his body had been removed
She sat next to him as her tail caressed his face
The scent of a woman was pleasurable, her tail like a silky lace
She spoke “ Do you remember long time ago,”
“The beginning of your people’s sorrow?”
“Yes,” he replied
The reality of his situation dawned on him as he deeply sighed
“The sacrifice should have been from the chief’s fruits not a bearer,”
“Yes,” he replied, “A male child not female that’s what brought our terror.”
“What Happened to Little Irit?” she asked
He hesitated for a while, “She was taken by Coyote,” he said at last
“Probably eaten, how should I know.”
She whispered “That was not so.”
“I am Irit the sacrifice, not little anymore,” “They now call me Irma.”
Child of Coyote, Goddess of Devolma”
“Although you killed my father, his spirit lives in me”
She straddled him, sat on his belly leaned forward and said “Look in to my eyes and
see the fate I have for thee”
Her eyes were pools of fire
As he saw his fate, the terror made him scream out and perspire
Her fingernails slowly pushed under his chest deep inside
Slowly tearing the skin open wide
He screamed but his body did not move
He passed out, she stopped and waited until he was fully alert before continuing the
skin removal
“Medicine man where is the one that should have been given in my place?”
“Show haste and I might spare the rest of you and your face.”
The pain was to much to bare and thought he would die at that moment in time
But her words echoed in his pain “YOU ARE MINE”
“His in hiding in the great towns,” he screamed
The exposed muscles to the air was like no other pain but she had hot water on the
fire which steamed
“Hush, this is only the beginning for you medicine man she whispered….
To be continued….