Long Crossed Poems
Long Crossed Poems. Below are the most popular long Crossed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crossed poems by poem length and keyword.
It was nice to come in from the cold
I ordered my espresso
Sat in the corner by myself
Wanted to read and relax
A man then came and sat
At the table next to me
Uncomfortably close I thought
He took off some layers
Unpacked a bag
It crossed my mind
He may be homeless
He had that look about him
It’s not like I was about to ask
Or engage in conversation
I had not slept all night
Definitely not in any mood
To stir the morning air
It crossed my mind
That I could not imagine
With the oncoming of winter
Being without my home or family
I was no longer in the mood to
Leisurely hang around
I reached to put my coat on
And couldn’t help but notice
The big hole in his left boot
I gasped inside my head
As I nodded and
Gave him a warm smile
Too stunned to do or say anything
I think about him now and then
And how that hole is now
Imprinted in my heart
Read on air by invitation ~ July 7, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021
Those are not the scent of roses in the breeze.
It is more like the smell of aged provolone cheese.
It wavers along with some olive oil and oregano.
Those are some scents I already know.
Who is lurking nearby do I suppose?
It is none other than my dear Hoagie-nose!
She is a woman I can’t possibly forget.
Everywhere she follows me this Italian coquette.
This ragazza has a kiss as sweet as anisette.
This little woman always accommodates a man.
That’s why she drives around in a mini van.
She makes sure the fellow is nice and comfy
in the back of her Chrysler Town and Country.
There was a valuable lesson I would learn.
The flames of passion gave me a third-degree burn.
We crossed the Rubicon to the point of no return.
My Hoagie-nose and I will tie the knot in June.
We will be joining forces around the rise of the full moon.
Yes, this little Italian doll is the one I must choose.
Her daddy made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
A Collaboration with Duke Beaufort
The youthful memories I have did grate
Upon my innermost self and I'd cry
For my depressed spirit which longed to die
And halt life tainted with anger and hate
Yet now in a manic marvelous state
Akin to alcohol’s euphoric high
My heart's core renewed, can soar to the sky
How this came to be, I’ll try to relate
I trapped thorny issues behind a gate
Forgiveness has become a great ally
Love found every day gives reason to fly
Like a balloon, unencumbered with weight
While able to breathe and greet each sunrise
Living and giving seem like the best prize
****
Youth represents life with songs to be sung
Laughing out loud when memories are made
But you wept as your spirit became frayed
Though now you're wiser than when you were young
Having crossed the threshold of angst that clung
See how clover's nectar can be arrayed
Let your heart rejoice and not be afraid
As delight comes from strands of pearls restrung
The door's ajar—from the cage you've been sprung
Take wing knowing happiness will not fade
A heart's compassion will never abrade
Where you go now—no place is too far-flung
Revel in moonlight and dawn's painted skies
An attitude change has opened your eyes
Duke,
Thanks for making our partnering on these Sonnets such fun!
Walking the local area coastline,
Cup of coffee in the local Café
Sitting, observing people passing
Checking on dress sense today,
Shoes, where did they purchase them?
Spotted a homeless person
Shabbily dressed and looking unkempt
He appeared increasingly in the landscape
Popping up in unusual places, staring at others faces.
I realised the picnic area was his hideout
Sleeping bags, plastic bags neatly stacked
He lay asleep on the grass.
Voices woke him from his slumber
Gave a glance, no words spoken.
He walked the village streets, locals avoiding him,
Winter set in, he lived in the cold of the picnic areas,
Spoke of his life when sitting in a comfortable home
The conversation always finished with such a shame.
One cold winters evening near Village shop
Aware of a homeless person sitting near
Huddled, sheltering from the cold wind on a street corner.
Decided to approach him, enough of wondering
Checked on what money I could share.
When approaching he stood as if frightened,
Standing close enough to touch each other
Weariness on his face, easily seen.
Eyes met in silence trying to understand what it was I wanted,
Asked quite bluntly, what and why,
No answers forthcoming just a shake of his head
His eyes showed such torment, emotions coming to the surface,
Never or ever again, seen such pain behind a gaze.
Reached to place money in a tattered trouser pocket
We shook hands, his hand having problems releasing from mine
His grip was quite strong as we exchanged this greeting
For an instant, a wry smile crossed his face.
Realised that he was a young person
His face showed his daily survival
He spoke a thank you, as goodbye was spoken,
Walked away with his eyes following.
The memories of meeting with this homeless soul
Went on and on and even visited dreams.
Not seen since this meeting
Moved on, looking for somewhere else safe to stay.
Positive thoughts of what he was doing
Imagining, what life was dealing him?
Monseigneur Reygus Hameltus—defrocked priest and sorcerer of the black
arts; epiphany of evil and master of debauchery.
He looks among his minions with a grim bearded countenance
and piercing beady eyes with a distinct grimace of utter revulsion.
As the full moon rises and arches in the evening sky . . .
Reygus Hameltus menacingly stands by.
Once a famous devout and humble priest of medieval times,
he was a biblical scholar and factotum of great intellectuality.
His walk and conversion to the dark side
mirrored his frustration with God himself;
Reygus Hameltus felt that God had deserted him
and no longer cared to listen to him.
With this . . . and losing faith
he turned to the Devil, the ultimate corrupter of the human soul.
As the full moon rises and arches in the evening sky . . .
Reygus Hameltus menacingly stands by.
As Reygus Hameltus assumed his apostleship in evil,
every ounce of goodness and spiritual greatness
left his body and soul in good measure.
He murdered and raped, cajoled and lied,
and brought deception and reeked destruction
on all who crossed his path and his disciples no less.
As the full moon rises and arches in the evening sky . . .
Reygus Hameltus menacingly stands by.
But it should be said that all evil one day runs its course.
And when the good people of Montserrat fought back and answered in kind . . .
Monseigneur Reygus Hameltus — black arts sorcerer and his witches’ coven
suffered the eternal vengeance and wrath of God
and were banished to the Devil’s Kingdom forever—faraway from mankind!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved - August 13, 2014
(Free Verse)
Romanus country
Romania to us
Iron curtain frontier
Dismantled by fuss
Like us all invaded
But by Goths and the Huns
Typical past history
Populations on the run
The Ottoman Empire, absorbed their souls
A free Romania the ultimate goal
Modern Romania has had its fears
The first world war
In neutrality gear
But by 1916, they released their fear
Allies they joined
As they sung the same song
Austria-Hungary they fought
To get rid of the wrong
In the second world war
Under Stalinist pressure
To remain neutral
Avenues of different measures
The Axis they joined
Once again with the Hun
With Italy and Japan
Their armies over run
Second world war over, but left with a horrific scar
Another country that went to far
Their part in the holókauston
A non defend-able time
The Antonescu regime
Crossed the line
Antonescu's approval for the removal of Jews
To concentration camps, quite horrific news
Eichmann and Richter, confirm the above
Jewish families on their final shove
The most recent chapter, in this ancient place
Nicolae Ceausescu, the people he would face
With the recent demise of the Berlin wall
This dictator so horrid, would also fall
A two hour trial on television
Would see him sentenced to his execution
Taken outside, him and his wife
For treason and genocide, they were shot on sight
Romania to date
A democracy
No longer Iron Curtain
A country now free
" In dedication to the Romanian Poets on Poetry Soup "
October should have falling leaves
Instead of pelting flakes.
It seems like Mother Nature
Has been making some mistakes.
Perhaps she’s getting senile
And dementia’s taken hold,
So despite the date, she’s sending us
Some snow and ice and cold.
The hay rides all have been postponed,
The pumpkins rimed with frost;
And people who planned outdoor galas
Must feel double-crossed.
There’s nothing we can really do
If Mother Nature slips.
With any weather she doles out,
We have to come to grips.
And so today, I stayed inside
And watched the snowflakes fly;
When crazy rules come from above,
We might as well comply.
The sun
has set
in the West.
And now
it rises
in the East.
The spirit
of success
moves in cycles.
The first
become last.
The last
become first.
Such is
the law
of history.
As Asia rises,
the world
enters a new dawn.
For wisdom
came from the East.
From ancient rivers.
From silent temples.
From philosophers,
sages,
and seekers
of truth.
The great intellectual,
spiritual,
and moral traditions
awaken again.
When the West
ruled the world,
its age
was marked
by conquest.
Its ships
crossed oceans.
Its armies
crossed continents.
And blood
was spilled
upon the Earth.
Power
was its language.
Victory
its religion.
But every empire
must one day
face the sunset.
Now the East
steps forward.
Not as a conqueror,
but as a civilization
remembering itself.
China
shall lead.
India
shall rise.
And others
shall follow.
Do not fear
the aging population.
For every age
creates its own tools.
And new inventions
shall fill
the empty spaces.
The peoples
of Asia
now stand
at the gates
of history.
Patient.
Prepared.
Determined.
And from the East,
the forgotten nations
shall find
new opportunities.
Even Africa,
long treated
as the last born
of the global village,
shall one day
be remembered.
History
turns its wheel.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
The East
looks toward tomorrow.
While the West
looks back
toward yesterday.
And so
the world changes.
Not with thunder.
Not with fire.
But with the quiet march
of time.
For no empire
lasts forever.
And no civilization
remains asleep
for eternity.
The sun
has set
in the West.
And now
it rises
in the East.
Sometimes I’m so sad,
Other times I’m just raging mad.
The gal that said she would love me forever
Went and left me for another.
I just hate to say
That I feel like a damn cliché.
She double-crossed me like a low-down traitor.
As much as I would like to amputate her,
I just can’t bring myself to hate her.
(Chorus)
Got too much time to think,
But not enough to drink.
Some sorrows just don’t drown.
Some sorrows just don’t drown.
Some sorrows just don’t drown. (pause)
They just won’t drown.
(Bridge)
I didn’t cheat her, I never beat her, I always treated her kind.
I took her dancing, never quit romancing; was she out of her mind?
Thinking one love’s true
One day could be the end of you.
I smell like stale beer and yesterday’s sweat;
Caught in a whirlpool of regret.
(Repeat Chorus)
One more late Friday.
I’ll probably drink-off Saturday.
If sober Sunday, I’ll go see the pastor
To help me get through this disaster.
(Repeat Chorus)
They just won’t drown! (repeats to fade)
There’s a lot to be said for us in the red
when we cling to the white of our blues.
Do we know the taste of starting to waste?
The pain of a bruise, that we didn’t choose?
We take to the street, world at our feet and claim to be hurt and wounded.
It’s like we forget that before supposed threat, it was us leaving lands marooned.
Blood on our hands, we still hold their scars
from their own skies, we stole all the stars.
So why close the gate, decide it’s too late?
To stand at the shore, above any law.
A fraction of pain we could take away,
their endless night would bleed into day.
We’re so quick to place blame on the ones who’ve just came,
who’ve crossed oceans and worlds so bleak.
All it would take, a swim in their lake
and in their shoes, we’d see our own feet.