Long Converged Poems

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


Out of Exile

I am not a blank slate to score upon again
Yet there is this gap, this hollow place
That wants a name. I search for it in vain
The alien presence of eyes, and of face
Nothing comes back to memory. We are
Strangers now, and the empty space
Yawns akwardly. Thirty years is too far
For memory to recognize what is it I trace

For family and friends like fluids converged
In a nether space that makes glee brief
I feel the joy familiar as sky and sea merged
But the change in people contests my relief
For man have changed many things, but few
As much as himself - and as if to hide before
Familiar eyes. I remain old in a world new
And hesitance now where once I was very sure. 

Time drizzled, drizzled, drizzled and terminus
Came piling up the sands of days for the wind.
Exile was my fickle way of escaping detritus
The sand shy had not yet blown but I was blind
And in the darkness where spins now alone 
The white leached of soul calcified by snow wet
As unshed tears, under its stigma do so moan
More than the coming home again, the soft death
 
Of bonds, and the sense of proprietary loss. Who
Is left to stare in my face blank and expressionless?
And say by angle of shoulder: nothing here for you
I see all my labor like butter in the sun, and I am less
Than all the worth of man because the price of me
Is trickled in the sand. They kept the rules the same
But changed the game, and for lost of this efficacy
I am poured out from the chamber, a pot in shame.

For this I fled the foolish notion fawning in my head?
For this I left the better known of friends? The mills
Of stress do spin there still, the uncertainty of bread
And age from time's trembling vessel nervous spills
The unfriendliness to share because of a narrow dread
That tomorrow stalk alone will not suffice the failing
New. I was tired of my self-imposed exile, the shred
Remains I gathered and came home to true trembling.

There is only one familiar landmark, a true friend, this
Alone give my days orientation to praise. My true pole
Is where such a friendship in the sand storm still exist
The lighthouse in the billowy mist, anchor for the soul.
But I have no root here to hold me firm to one spot
Roots adventitious grows away, and then cold excision
The stem alone left in the miry mud to to swell and rot
Coming out of exile finds coping a harder final decision
Form: Rhyme


Just Now

The tributes keep pouring in and my heart is singing a wonderful hymn
The lines are getting longer and the passions are getting stronger
They stormed the streets in a hundred thousand  throng; people of all color and creed, husbands and wives holding hands and little children marching along with flowers tied up in bundle to express their love for the diseased queen. The flower memorial is swelling on every corner and the barricades are everywhere giving a touch to the social order. 

They come from Europe, the Middle East, Australia and North America. They come from Latin America and the Caribbean; they come from Asia and Africa with gold and silver to show their respect to the queen. The airports are crowed and the hotels are full, all roads lead to London, by air, by sea on land and on foot. They come from France, Germany Italy and Spain, they are all there. The crowd is getting bigger and the passion is growing deeper and my heart is singing a silent tune

The procession began at balmoral estate when the Landrover suddenly broke through the gate carrying the body of the diseased queen and her only daughter accompanying her on the long journey from Scotland to Edinburgh and Buckingham palace in London, cruising through villages and town, farming communities and breakaway cities and the anxious crowd gather in the street showing their love for the queen. The Face of love, faces of pain, somber face, faces that have nothing to gain watch the procession as it journeyed through the winding street to its final destination. I could hear the whispers and the cries and now and again she pulled out a handkerchief to dry up the falling tears. 

A sea of flowers converged in the square with a powerful message from the heart. I remember the queen from the start I can see her dainty smile and I imagine sitting with her for a while  having a cup of tea. Just yesterday she was with me talking about her family and I am sitting here bearing the weight of her coffin. The dignitaries are coming to town, and they will meet at West Minister to pay homage to the queen. Everyone will meet at west minister Abby to pay the final respect to the queen and so the legacy of the daffodil lives on and the story of cactus hang on the window is showing its sorrow, And the lotus is dancing in the stream.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Chapter 122-- Damian Delilah Mallory: Our Children Our Strangers

Date:  March  2049

The day starts well. Molly is in the 
Backyard preparing the garden for 
Summer. Dolly is in the kitchen 
Setting up meal time. Damian was 
In the front yard watering the lawn.
Chino made 15 years old in February
He was walking with CJ and the
Other children they  were now all adopted.
 All Hakim kids growing up together.
CJ was father to ten kids now, including 
Damali and his 4 adopted Children 
Hiliah Horn, Felix Aboni, Techiah Rose
And brother Till Rose. Heliah and 
Felix were the oldest. The children 
Argued running behind CJ.  12 years old 
Tekiah Rose poked CJ, "Dad, is it
True we all have the Hakim name 
Now and which one of us is your
Favorite?"  Felix jumped up in front
It's me!" CJ laughed with loving
Emotion, "Haha Hey you are all my
Kids all Hakim man! I love you the 
Same. Got that." The kids responded 
"Sure Dad." They pounded onto 
Damians front porch of the mansion 
CJ rang the Intercom. Damian said,
"Yo! CJ I'll be there!" Damian Bounded
Down the steps in minutes. 
Across the way, the older children 
Were planning a visit to the main 
House just before they surged
Out into town. Amadeus with his
Wife Amani and their baby son, Damian 
Amadeus Junior Aka DAJ. 

DJ and his wife Sashi with their two
Children plus
And Damali Desharah and Sedanah 
With their growing gang Sedanah 
Had one child she was 2 months
Pregnant Desharah had the twins 
She was now, 5 months pregnant. The
Older adults saw their approaching
Mob, and began speculation, 
Molly came out to find Damian.
Dolly followed, "Now. What is this."
Molly Pondered. They
All converged onto The opposite 
Side of the street with their children
These young people planned the
Popular plan among them which was
Preposterous. This is the way it played.
The older parents watched the younger 
Ones form a small circle with a 
Secret short discussion. They turned 
To the porch parents saying, "Ma
Dad, auntie we are going some place
So we want yall to watch the kids
Okay. Bye!"  They began walking away.
Dolly tried to protest but the kids
We're already out of range. But
Dolly was upset so they had no 
Options. Damian Dolly Saderi and
Molly scooped up the 5 abandoned 
infants and took them inside.

Premium Member Bad day at Stop And Shop

Jack had just escaped the local slammer
He’d struck the sheriff's car with a hammer.  
He tried to look normal, in an aisle in Stop and Shop
But he wondered who might be an undercover cop.

Sally was unhappy, by the baked goods she would go
She wondered about her past, did other shoppers know?
An embarrassing movie, gone viral on the internet
She tried to look normal but was tormented with regret.

Harvey assured his family they could stay in the car
But his cart was getting full, with cakes and a chocolate bar
They were getting impatient, why was he taking so long?
His daughter had a date tonight, she felt this was so wrong.

Then the Stop and Shop robot got hacked, started racing too.
The hacker steered it after Jack, Jack thought someone knew.
Jack ran toward the exit, only to run into Harvey's cart
Harvey didn't like this and wouldn't let Jack restart.

I was looking for Mom, ducking around each cart
Finding that lady at the best of times is a real art
If I look in the dairy section, mom is by the beer and wine
If I'm in frozen foods, she's on the fresh fish line.

Mom was on her cell talking about an old classmate
She said out loud - "She was in that movie - not at all great"
Sally being paranoid, started yelling at my mom:
"Won't you all forget my past!" I couldn't keep her calm.

Harvey's daughter came in, she was really mad
Ran into Harvey confronting Jack, yelled "what kind of Dad?"
Jack looked around: the robot eyes shone green
Jack toppled the canned peas trying to escape the scene.

I pushed Sally to another aisle, but there was Harvey and Jack -
Plus that hacked robot, approaching as if it was on attack
Jack said "OK, I give up, it was just a cop car, I was drunk."
Sally pulled away from my chokehold, said "your mom's a skunk!"

The frantic employees converged, I said it wasn't my fault
Sally pointed to me, said I was guilty of assault
Jack thought Sally meant him, said he hit a car, not a man
I figured I better shop elsewhere, but Mom had another plan:

She wasn't going to leave, she had so many coupons to cash in
Then real cops came rushing, it seemed I couldn't win.
And somewhere a hacker is laughing, he can't stop
Telling his pals about his fun in Stop and Shop.
Form: Lyric

Poetry Portraits Ii

I can’t afford for this one to fail

She was just a stranger

And somehow we ended up in the same 

Space and time

Now, mother nature is taking over once more

And I am admiring your attributes

The strands of your hair

The hazel circle around her eyes

Creates a hypnotic state of mind

Telling her all my secrets

And sharing all my treasures

Hoping this was not a deceptive choice

As your hips are parallel to the skyline

A path that started in 1900 has finally converged

Which was first the thought or the path?

Is she the one of my dreams or not?

As a lovely smile warms its direction to me from that beautiful face

The chance meeting was an ingenious plan

To heal the battered dreams caused by the one before her

Glimpses on the pain, just a blur now

A professional hunter 

She shot down all the competition

Without a quiver or arrow

You are

The difference between a soul and a soul mate

Alone and love

One to the other the moment we met

Scatter the roses around this bedroom

Let’s save the beauty of this moment

My words fail to capture,

Her tender beautiful feature,

I’d rather wait as a mute spectator

As beauty beg to be define by her

It is her signature

The owner of the promissory note for my heart

Is that the reason why my heart has been aching all this time

I excavated my town

And finally I had good luck in an unexpected and fortunate discovery in you

Swirling burgundy around the crystal

Dinner by candlelight

Taken aback by the glow

Nothing remains but the fiery flame around us

Eternal beauty and grace there she is vulnerable as a tear drop

Tears of joy because she gave me a shot

I used to wonder where love lives

Would I hear drum patterns if I got nearer

For sure Lady Loneliness is no longer here

It is been more than difficult trying to find you

A symphony created as our hands rip through layers to acquire nakedness

More than unique

We stood there so close together

Holding onto a dream realized

We knew the choice wasn’t whether we loved;

Rather, to what extremes

Are you the one that I can depend on when I’m at my weakest moment?
Form:


Premium Member Get Low- Three Trains

Three trains

 
	The first train was bereavement, in the cab the driver died
	pulling a coach of grieving souls, unknowing yet, inside
	The second train was unemployed and heading where it will
	no scheduled destination and so many miles to kill
	Third train was steaming in real fast, relationship express
	out of control, the brakes applied but flat out, nonetheless.
	Where the tracks all crossed was a signal box, manned by a crew of one
	who bumbled by from day to day not knowing what was wrong.
	But up there in the box he heard, and from all sides could see
	the trains approach their final stop, and that last stop was me.
	Bereavement got there first and there was nothing I could do
	no lights nor signals made a difference, it just ploughed on through
	as unemployed converged at speed and rolled on to it's side
	the pair of them went in nose first as relationship arrived
	the signal box was crushed beneath, it didn't stand a chance
	buried in the twisted wreck of flaming circumstance. 
        Shock finally subsided and the smoke began to clear
	just left with total darkness and no way from out of here
	all the wreckage pressing down  meant nowhere else to go
	just curl up in a tiny ball, try not to move, get low.
	So there I stayed as unbeknown their night turned into day
	the sounds of all around me going on their merry way.
	Many days entombed were spent, not praying for release
	comfortable in misery, my loneliness my peace
	until the silence broken by a piercing warning shout,
	'No rescue's due, it's up to you to dig your passage out'.
	From where the voice had come from I could neither hear nor see
	until the realisation that the sound had come from me
	skin tearing on the razor steel I slowly fought my way
	and finally emerged, bathed gratefully in the light of a new day.
	No fanfare, and no wild applause, no ticker tape parade
	life went on, oblivious to the escape that I had made.
	Since then I've built another box around me, much much stronger
	and hope the time till the next train will be, Lord, much much longer.


            For contest 'Get low', sponsored by Casarah Nance

	In memory of that dreadful year 2002.
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Last Drop Of Their Blood

In a realm where feuds festered, fierce and free,
Two clans clashed, Kovacs and Petrovics, starkly set.
Amidst the mountains, a tale of sorrow spun,
Where bloodied bonds bespoke a bitter debt.

Within the heart of Europe's emerald embrace,
Their homes, once harmonious, now hushed with hate.
Like whispered winds, war's woes wandered wide,
And peace, a petal plucked, left to dissipate.

The Kovacs, kin to Axis, saw strength in steel,
While Petrovics pledged to Allies, armed in kind.
Their friendship, fractured by the folly of war,
Torn asunder by the tempests of mankind.

In shadows cast by cannons' cruel caress,
Misconceptions marred the minds of men.
Foreshadowing fate's fickle hand, poised to strike,
Innocence lost to the echoes of "when."

Personified pain prowled through their streets,
As homes echoed with the cries of kin.
Hyperbole's heavy hand weighed upon their hearts,
Each loss an unbearable burden within.

With euphemistic whispers, they spoke of strife,
As similes sought solace in the storm.
Paradoxical paths led them to the brink,
Where love and hate converged, deform.

Anaphoric echoes echoed through their days,
Repeating tales of tragedy untold.
Mixture of memories, mingled and mourned,
In the tapestry of time, tales enfold.

But amidst the chaos, a glimmer of grace,
A love, forbidden, yet fiercely ablaze.
In the hearts of Romeo and Juliet, intertwined,
A tale of passion, in starlit haze.

Their love, a beacon in the darkest night,
A metaphor for hope in times of despair.
Assonance of affection, whispered sweet,
In every breath, a vow to dare.

As dawn approached, the final hour drew near,
A crescendo of conflict, destined to collide.
In the last drop of their blood, a legacy born,
A testament to love, undeniably tried.

And as the crimson tide washed over the land,
The Kovacs and Petrovics stood side by side.
Forged in the fire of their shared sacrifice,
A new dawn emerged, where peace could abide.

For in the poetry of their intertwined fates,
A lesson learned, as old as time.
That in the last drop of their blood,
Lies the seed of forgiveness, sublime.

Lascivious Friends Amends

Lascivious Friends Amends

Coincidence, simultaneity, with a pinch of merriment
And convergence of moments, opened up this gate to hell 
(I had to open the door…didn't I ?…)
It was at their convenience, not mine
Cursed by fate, unwanted visitors, (I forget their names.) 
I only knew them as fornicators
The lascivious friends, (Not mine.  I inherited them.) 
Converged on me, a wild pack of hungry hyenas 
Yelping, laughing, “Where’s the food!”
Kissing and slobbering all over themselves
Antique furniture and glass began to shatter from their antics 
We were all mutual friends of Jack
I wish he’d take them back
They originated, I suspected, speculated
From unknown depths, bottom feeders, society leaches
The underbelly of low life
As synchronicity would have it, in its awful syn-chronic manner
I had to face them, entertain them, could not escape them
Had to be a proper host
A host in the true sense of the word
The parasites took hold of me
Bled me dry of all my food and drink
Did I mention that they stink…or is it stank?
Nearly bending me in half down to their lowly level
They implored me, no, they insisted on more and more
There were four of them who strained my will
Two men, two woman, as they proclaimed aristocracy 
I drove off to the store to get them more
When I returned with beer and snacks
They asked me for a favor
To stay forever as they unpacked
I said, is doomsday a good starting date?
They laughed 
I called the girls, Jane and Jane
The boys I called Bob and Bob since I did not know their names
And they did not care what I called them
As long as they could stay
Jack, my roommate, was out of town
He would not return
His parents didn't raise a dummy
They trained him well
I was stuck with a couple of nameless Jane’s
And Bob and Bob.  Let’s call them double Bob’s 
The lascivious ones were here to stay
Debauchery all the way
They will have to live on beer and pretzels
As I await doomsday and pray it comes today

9/23/14 Poems or new magazine please - Poetry Contest

The End of Time

A sweet aroma is coming from the kitchen, but I don’t know what is actually cooking but the sweet spicy scent perfume the atmosphere sending up a dust storm in the air, and the wind comes with a bang spreading the dust all over the land and the sweet aroma slowly perish in the ground and I stood there with my coffee mug slowly capturing the fun. 

The cooks adorn in white apron girted tightly around their waist held on to the wooden spoon and fanning dusts out of their faces. They closed the doors and windows and continue to kick up a cooking storm; scrambled egg, bacon and toast and vanilla yogurt to wet the throat, mince beef and curry was on the menu too and spaghetti with tomato sauce is waiting for you, toad in hole lettuce in a bowl and hot dog mixed with turkey sauce. 

The cultural mix filled the sky with darkness and everyone scrambled for a place to reside, another group of people with chimney pooping out from the side rode with the wind to cross over to the other side and the message was loud and clear that a miracle was on the way but the price was too hard to pay. 

A breaking news suddenly appeared on the screen with a simple message to wake up out of your dream, a new tornado was making land fall before noon and everyone should move to safer ground.

 Suddenly everything around darkened and the bird’s starts flying around, the street got crowded and the traffic start moving up and down the town but the police man with the whistle was nowhere to be found. All the streets were blocked and destiny converged on the plot; they shout and scream and opened open their windows but they had to move swiftly in another direction. 

 Smoke and dust mixed with acid and pus, riding on a motor bike to cross over on the other side, the wind picked up speed spreading the dust in the street forcing everyone indoors; the streets were empty and nothing could be seen except for frogs, bats and caterpillar scampering around in the street and the wind kept moving around cleaning out the entire town.
Form: Narrative

W. E. B. Dubois (From Pages)

Martin,
Not the German patrician, his vision was a stair
But our own peaceful prince
Well he invoked you
And not by calling Samuel back from the dead
He invoked you as seeker
He invoked as our searcher
For history, he said, is built on truth
No, not the lineal story
Of one race's glory on my marginality
Our history is always a collective place
A yard of memory
Where we meet at evening to tell
The honey and milk
Of our emasculated hell.
There is no dying here
How can we
What will the predator parasite live on then
So we are made
Zombies of an eternal pain
And you 
Our seeker for the antidote

Between Fiske and Berlin
Here we come again
First son to be honored there
Among the ivy league
The doctor to proclaim
Himself one tenth of all of us
With the same double consciousness
Was it not for Fanon
I almost converged to the monstrosity
But then looking back
Over the Pan-African Secretariat
I knew we will never be divided again
So easily
Just rivers of different colors
Destined to end our struggle
Down awful topography of mountains
Down the callous memory of history
Between the churning white teeth of the sea
From my bridge
I watched that wave rise and fall
A thousand times
Pushing us against gravity.

Garvey would agree with me then
He would shake his head
When you were fled to Ghana
When the merging was no longer tenable
For a man lie to himself only for so long
While he searches for truth
I heard the abeng blow to call you home
William ... was not found in their register
William ... he was a Norse conqueror 
Edward ... and all of them spineless kings
Burghardt ... and you ask me why
Why should not a thing like this make Africa invisible?
Du Bois ... so you mapped all the colonizers in your name
No, not you,
Our parents always conscious of their power
Yet I knew every cocoon
Is just another state of cobweb
And you would broke free
And many evenings I see you
Just flying on a page of empty sky.

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