Long Cracks Poems
Long Cracks Poems. Below are the most popular long Cracks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cracks poems by poem length and keyword.
I am a shadow on the branch of the family tree,
A lost echo in the memory of a mother who would shudder with shame,
A shapeless form trying to survive, to breathe,
Yet failing like a withered leaf falling before its time.
My father looks at me through mirrors of unforgiveness,
Like a piece of furniture silently regretted,
I know I am the child born from an unspoken dream,
The one who wished not to carve a path in this life.
My grandparents, lost in consumed hopes,
Imagine that in our blood flows a rope of despair,
And my mind whispers these things I cannot control,
For I no longer have power over them.
My thoughts are like a river that cannot find its bed,
Filling the cracks of the soul, demanding their toll without mercy,
No comfort remains, no balm for the soul,
The earth groans under my steps, for I am made of pain.
I walk, but I am not whole,
I am the silent and constant stain on the fabric of life,
Who am I, if not too much for every corner and every face?
A name no one will speak, a soul no one will touch,
A ghost that time will not replace.
Lifeless things seem more alive—
A stone, a wall, a dying tree,
They neither cry nor struggle,
Yet they appear more real than I, the lost one.
I am shame, and I wear it like an ill-fitting garment,
No matter how much I try, I bleed,
No matter how much light I try to see,
A part of me truly believes,
That this is my end,
A chapter written in the ink of an endless night.
She wondered, entering the sea, in fierce relentless rain,
As the waves crashed hard against the rocks, would she see the sun again?
Her life was dark now,like the sky that loomed a murky grey,
Her body breathing in the air, as her legs,
start to give way.
Her head’s a torrid mass of thoughts, her heartbeat racing fast,
With terror running through her veins, as she relives her past.
She wades now, deep into the sea, numb and unperturbed,
The voice inside screams “help me”, but not a sound is heard.
Her body shaking violently, her eyes, a blurry glass
In measured breaths, she speaks aloud,
The words….”this too, shall pass”.
The world seems very different now, the pull so very strong,
A song is entering her mind, “I did it my way”, plays along.
If only she’d embraced her life and had the aptitude to think,
Instead of being ruled by fear and turning to the drink.
So many poignant moments missed and memories were lost,
Affirming self-destruction at such a heavy cost.
Now, immersed in thrashing waves and violent cracks of thunder,
She takes one last look at the sky as the water pulls her under.
She can't accept the things, she cannot change, the grief and shame so raw
And, the courage to change the things she can, had always been her flaw.
The darkness, now engulfs her and her body becomes light,
She can see all those that died too soon, each one had lost their fight.
And as she takes, her final breath, the last thought to remain,
Is…. now the clouds have disappeared and I will see the Sun again.
Easter egg hunts are proof your child can find things when they really want to. —Unknown
Peep, peep, peep, peeping, chirping, tweeting, peeping
cheeping wildly, declaring they aren’t sleeping
tiny cracks in shells, sure they’re alive and well,
each fluffy chick comes out in a soft pastel.
Peep, peep, peep, tweeting vigorously, quickly
so we are certain they’re quite strong, not sickly
searching for those bugs and worms, where is their mum?
ravenous, they’re sure to eat up every crumb!
Peep, peep, peep, cheeping so the whole world will know,
it won’t be long before their feathers will grow,
and, they’ll be pecking away in the barn’s stalls,
peeping at the farmer in his overalls.
Peep, peep, peep, singing until their heart’s content,
thinking they might be some child’s Easter present,
fragile wings guide them over the hay and dust,
reminding, in time, to farm life, they’ll adjust.
Peep, peep, peep, chirruping like they’ll never stop,
fluttering round the pigs who’re eating their slop,
trying to coax the cows to give them a drink,
darting in cow patties even though they stink.
Peep, peep, peep, squeaking merrily, their brisk songs,
poking creepy-crawlies, like their beak belongs,
never once forgetting secrets their mum taught,
the mysteries of a world where they knew nought.
Peep, peep, peep, peeping, chirping, tweeting, peeping,
wise as skies, where their gentle hearts are keeping,
panicking inside when the cat comes sneaking,
soothing chicks who know mother hen is peaking!
I flow like a river that moves around rocks,
Molding like water splashed into cup or box;
Like tides conforming to the force of the moon,
A stream twisting through a bending valley's tune.
A soft air slipping through the narrowest cracks,
A wind that changes paths with no stops and tracks;
Like a smoke coiling around every corner,
A kite adjusting to swift gusts or blower.
I am a clay designed by God's unseen hands,
Being adaptable, my mind understands;
I am a master key that suits any lock,
As the Lord Jesus opens the gate of His flock.
The Holy Spirit reminds me of seasons,
For I am leaves that turn with climes in reasons.
I remember the days of certainty
A purpose laid out before me
Faith so strong, inspiration running wild
Motivation compelling, nothing could stop me
But with such powerful insight and feelings,
Some naivety slips through the cracks of a realm...
I battled painful loss like a fighter with truth, my weapon
But, some things dove into depths, whirling in oblivion
I bolted my heart, safely locked it from love that will bleed
Sometimes, I'd find myself lost, but not like encounters now
When I see pieces of my past, flying in the wind
And I know that I will never catch them
Heidi Sands
8/20/22
It’s all right if I fall apart
Vases are meant to be broken
My glue fails in togetherness
See ancient plain of jars stalwart
Old, weathered, and unwoken
It’s all right if I break into pieces
The day comes with its crazy glue
Beckoning me to keep it together
So what if others look mint
I practice wholeness bruised
I’m letting go of perfecting
Even fine porcelain has its cracks
Brokenness has its rewards
Scattered see how the pieces fit
When the day comes hammering
The whole is afraid of falling
Down below nowhere to go
Perfect in imperfection is a relief
Pieces of me drop away again
My heart lurching finds a home
If only my pieces have a voice
Speak my broken objections
Help me to remember shattering
Natural as peaceful dissection
Poking anthropology for clues
Without dismemberment true
How can I know the whole?
It’s all right if there is no glue
Don’t put me together falsely
Finding perfection in pieces
Vases are fine either way
When eight years old we went to Africa
we spent a couple of weeks in Dar-es salaam
then we moved to Dodoma for two years
It was a magical place for me and my sister
we were right on the edge of this small town.
There were leopards living under two miles away
nightly our bins were raided by these big cats.
We did not often go out after dark for fear of them
in daylight it was a different story we roamed freely.
Our parents sometimes took us to the local dam
where when low it was a small cracked mud pool.
underneath the cracks were hibernating fish
along with frogs and lots of wringing things.
Our dog Kim used to visit the neighbour
carrying back totally unhurt chicks and ducklings
she just wanted to show them to us
the neighbours used to panic at first.
Until they realised big as she was she meant no harm
they would sit in her mouth cheeping quite happily
It was the best place to grow up and we were sad
to leave it but Dad got promoted back to Dar
which was the capitol in the early fifty's
we lived in Oyster bay very near the ocean
Most days we played in the beautiful Bay
at low tide we searched the reefs
finding all matters of things like squid
I often wish I could turn back time to then
You are the captain of your ship.
From birth to death we're on a trip.
Sunny days are times when life goes right.
But storms can make them dark as night.
Waves will rise and lightening cracks.
Those are times we're under attack.
Things in your world are now going wrong.
You feel you no longer want to go on.
Trouble and pain is all you see.
You think this only happens to me.
The boat you sail is tossed by waves.
Is there hope? You ask. Someone to save?
That's when a voice speaks to your mind.
I am your God. You'll be just fine.
My Son will board your ship with you.
He'll tell you what you need to do.
Listen to everything he'll say.
His name is Jesus. He's called "The Way!"
He'll point the direction you are to go.
All the wrong turns he will know.
His words will comfort your heart and mind.
He'll still your waters and all will be fine.
The sun will return and calm seas will too.
Call to him anytime, he will answer you.
You can speak to him anytime, any day.
Tell him you're lost and please show you the way.
So many in life's journey do not have a clue.
That he suffered and died for them and you.
As you sail along on your life long trip.
Talk to Jesus daily, he there on your ship.
Even though you don't see him, believe he is there.
Ask him to help, that is what we call prayer.
In the cracks of a broken system, we find our voice,
a audio of diverse souls, demanding to be heard and rejoiced.
With every shattered mirror, a reflection stares back,
reminding us of the humanity we share, and the rights we lack.
In alleys where silence is a crime,
footprints of the unseen lasting a lifetime.
Voices muffled, yet they rise like smoke,
demanding justice, their stories unchoke.
Behind barred windows, eyes hold the pain,
of freedoms taken, and love thats in vain.
But still we walk, with steps both bold and slow,
our whispers merging, like a river's flow.
We walk the tightrope of justice, balancing precariously,
between the threads of equality and the weight of history.
Each step forward, a step back, we sway,
yet still we march, towards a brighter day.
In the silence, we find our inner strength,
a collective cry, that breezes at length.
We rise, an image of faces, heartbreaking stories, and strife,
united in our journey, for a world that's fair and rife.
In streets of gold and concrete gray,
we seek the face of equality each day.
For every step towards peace, a bridge is laid,
connecting hearts, across divides displayed.
Let empathy be our compass, guiding us through the night,
towards a dawn where rights shine with all their light.
We'll rise, a unique choice of diverse refrain,
our words promoting peace, breaking chains of oppression's stain.
May our words be the reason, for creating change, a world that's more just and fair,
where every voice is heard, and every soul is valued with care.
Being treated equally, regardless of our past, and our differences,
The world will be better, helping those who need more assistance whilst having a strong persistence.
Fear can be so debilitating
when it's allowed free reign
facing it head on is my key
giving up leaves a big stain
Words have been my big fear
getting them from mind to tongue
making that instrument to speak
has been tough since I was young
So easy to speak when alone
but cracks under people pressure
nerves take over stunts thy voice
makes one's mouth show no measure
One must learn never to give up
no matter how fearful we feel
it needs attacked so to overcome
so that in our time it will heal
Fear is never as bad as I think
so need to put fear way behind
must never let fear stop me speaking
in feeling fear so words will I find
(My biggest fear in all my life has been my life long struggles with my stammer, so this my thoughts on overcoming fear which makes one fear in speaking. )