Long Dallas Poems
Long Dallas Poems. Below are the most popular long Dallas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dallas poems by poem length and keyword.
I travel the whole land
of blistering sun and whirring wind
to seek revelation;
and I come from the deep south,
delivering my freight to the north:
making of this lonely life a damnation...
I drive past Dallas,
the city of cowboys...
to chase the fumes
of your burning engine;
you didn't leave a note
or didn't bother to call...
your wavy,brown hair
blowing and glowing and
you laugh in your
Chevy convertible;
who's that man you are talking to?
Am I being trashed by you?
I spent long hours driving,
hearing my own voice
trailing off into silence...
even my words have no meaning;
there's no strenght and main:
to assure me I won't die in vain!
I trave the whole land
to seek revelation
through cities with steel and glass skycrapers
and busy habors jammed with sailships;
I stop for the night at a nearby hotel
to go to sleep...to dream dreams
I can't imagine to be real,
why haven't I used my intuition?
I've been trying to save money
to buy the dream-home you dreamed of;
but in the hush and rush of this daily living,
I've neglected your feminity...
but the most important thing you wished for:
was to have me beside you and feel complete!
Brings Back A Memory
The soft glow from that candle Brings back a memory,
The echo of the words a young man spoke that chilly day in January.
He spoke of many things that day, his wishes, dreams and hopes for
All shattered two years later on a Dallas day.
Words that continue to live on in our memory,
Words spoken that day are now forever part of our history.
And so as each year we pause for a moment in memory,
To remember his words and dreams for this country.
The glow from that candle still shines brightly
It reminds us of that day so long ago and a young man named Kennedy.
It’s boxing day (the Brit name for the day after Christmas) and Pamela, Lisa’s grandmother is visiting our little pandemic ark. Pamela’s a Cowboys fan so we’re watching them slaughter Washington - between commercials - but now a Tesla commercial is running. “Those electric cars,” Pamala says dubiously, “seem problematic.”
“You’ve heard of global warming, haven’t you, Pamala?” Leeza says? Leeza addresses everyone (even her grandmother) as if they were her age (12). It’s both seductive and lazy. “This whole system,” she raises her arms to include the apartment, the city and America, “will collapse - we’re DOOOOMED,” she concludes, as if speechifying to an eager crowd.
“Everyone’s heard of climate change,” Pamela says, sipping her eggnog. Pamela is as well informed as any of us and seems rather envious of the future, even the coming awfulness.
“Leeza’s her own theatre,” Her mom says, grimacing indulgently.
Leeza’s full attention was now on the pastry tray - having spotted two small eclairs under the bear claws - she'd lost interest in the conversation and saving the planet.
“The system won’t collapse,” Will says. Will received his early acceptance letter from Harvard the other day and now he knows everything. “We’ll lose Florida, South Carolina and New York,” he pronounces calmly, “so there’ll be some.. migrations.”
“Thank you, professor,” Lisa says, rolling her eyes as if to say ”Harvard people.”
“I think the Covid might get us all - before climate change,” I say, in the spirit of the holiday.
“Well,” Will says, grinning, “that’s what ALL the people at inferior colleges think.”
Leeza, passing by my easychair, curls into my lap like a cat, gently petting my hair. “Don’t be mean to MY friend,” she says, purringly - I was suddenly her possession. Lisa comes out of her chair, a sly smile on her face, to lay crosswise atop Leeza (and me).
“Ugg,” I managed to say, squirming to get comfortable, then “Akkkk.”
Lisa says, “Leave my poor roomie alone!” and starts baby-kissing my head.”
Will starts in our direction like HE’S going to pile on. “Egggg! I shrek, “HELP!”
Pamela whoops with glee as Dallas scores another touchdown.
“Like beating a dead dog with a stick,” she says.
What We Should Learn From Dallas
By Franklin Price
7/8/2016
What we should learn from Dallas
And the tragedy we pan,
Policemen killed cold bloodedly
By a sicken minded man.
Took advantage of a protest,
Of killing elsewhere by police;
Despised black on white authority,
If cops are dead it has to cease.
As of now he was the only perp.
There was no larger plan.
He felt he had to do it;
To get rid of the man.
Get rid of perpetrators
Who happen to wear blue
Whose actions are above the law
Don't have to pay for what they do
He was past considering
that cops are also bad and good.
Most protect all people,
And are doing as they should.
They put their lives upon the line;
Each and every day they work.
The bad apples among them
Are statistically a quirk
The media and politicians
Take sides to drive along
The minority views of both sides;
This direction is so wrong.
Reporting, on these deeds
At best is very mixed
Not only deeds, but also reasons
Are what's wrong and must be fixed.
Fifty years ago...the age of self-reflection
Hollow crumbs, shadows of proud vestiges
As minneapolis' jim crow vanished slowly,
Painfully, no longer admired at country club
Cocktail parties celebrating ribbon-cuttings
My family was inside and unaware of history
Working class achievement,
First deli in marble edifice
To corporate greed,
Connecting the longest Minneapolis
Skyway North to Washington Ave.
Dallas barons, puppet-masters
Guilding their empire on the backs
Of working class talent, eager to eat the
Crumbs of capitalism
Spoon (Mr Witherspoon) slaved to achieve the
Pinnacle of jim-crow "shoe-shine" stands in
Pillsbury's new world headquarters
Admired in his community
Proudly placed out front, then moved
To the back of a hair salon, ignoble-crushed
Under the weight of boardroom glare
jim-crow lost it's shine
Spoon
Lost
His
Leg
4-18-25
5:55am
I’m on my way to the big time,
But first, a road trip with my friend.
We’ll drive through the desert, rain or shine
And make memories that’ll last ‘til the end.
I know exactly where I’m headed,
Straight to the city of Dallas.
Change is what I’ve always dreaded,
But my new life begins in Texas.
I have no clue what to expect,
But I am very excited.
If I make the squad, I’ll earn respect,
But first, I have to be invited.
It isn’t even a dream of my own,
To be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.
I’d rather just stop in San Antone,
Where my friend will, and stay with her.
I guess I’ll give it one real shot
Because someone (I can’t name) insists.
He just thinks the other girls are hot.
Oh, what the hell – his name is Chris!
Well, now you know my little story.
It’s a tale I’ll tell again and again.
I can’t wait to make some memories
With Michelle, my very best friend.
To really understand the concept of this work one needs to go back to that day,
It was that afternoon in Dallas the year 1963 when in the blink of an eye a Family and country’s hopes and dreams were taken away.
For five long years we searched in hopes to find that candle's glow.
Searching for that one who would step up and show us the
Direction we needed to go
As that young man stepped up to address the people that day in January,
He gave us back that hope, than candle's glow, he became our Bobby.
For 82 days we watched him bring life and determination back to this country Again,
And then it happened our young knight was struck down and we found
Ourselves lost again .
Just as his brother before, the young man with a dream was with us no more.
Though they both are gone, yet the glow of that candle they lit will and does Live on.
By Louise Riveiro - Mitchell
I cannot write and have no reason why.
It has been nine days since I penned one.
I cannot just stare on my computer and look
at the blinking cursor telling me to start typing.
Time is ticking and now I remember
when my heart went on hiatus, not forever
but for a long time, sixteen long years.
Not thinking of what might had been.
I was in Texas, nineteen years ago.
He sent me a round trip plane ticket to go
and be with him in New Orleans and spend
the Fourth of July week-end.
He picked me up at the airport on a Thursday
and took me to his parents and while on the way,
he was on the cell phone talking to his son
and while we were in his parents’ house,
we waited for his son’s numerous collect calls.
That was how we spent Fourth of July,
instead of seeing fireworks or celebrating.
The next day, we headed for an hour trip
to see and talk to his son, while I waited.
All I wanted to do was fly back to Dallas
and be with my co-workers to explore the place,
go sightseeing and trying Texas’ dishes.
I dreaded another day of staying there.
I could hardly wait for Sunday morning.
I was out of there and out of his life.
I never picked up his calls nor returned them.
That was the end of our six years relationship,
never look back and my heart went on hiatus
with relationships, although my foolish heart
continued on talking and flirting with men I liked.
However, when it came time for them to ask
me out, NO was the answer with no explanation.
Three years ago, my heart’s hiatus with relationships
ended and now the question is should I stay or go?
2/23/21 Hiatus Poetry Contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Get me inside quickly and as fast as you can,
please turn the time travel dial to September 1963
Get me to a post office in Washington, D.C.,
so I can send an important letter to Jacque Kennedy.
The letter will tell her about her newest son, Patrick,
ahead of time I will give her his four pound birth weight.
To prove I am ahead, and I know what I am talking about,
I will tell her about my time travel, and warn her of the fate
And that her husband, President John F. Kennedy
is in grave danger, warn her on November 23rd, 1963,
If she lets him go to Dallas and ride in an open limousine,
he will be assassinated at her knee.
Trip number two, will bring me to February 1968,
but I will stay in the same post office. Here is the thing.
I will write a detailed letter to Coretta Scott King,
warning her about the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King.
To prove that I am reliable I will tell her that January 30th,
1956 is the day a bomb
will go off on her porch, but it will not hurt anyone.
After a little sandwich, and a drink in a cold fountain,
I will now dial up August 14th, 1969, and head to the
Catskill Mountains,
It will be splendid to be the first to arrive,
At Woodstock, a day ahead of the crowd
of 400, 000, now I am feeling truly alive.
I will be civil, not puffed up or proud.
I will spend three glorious days enjoying the music here,
enjoying the hip-hugging bell-bottoms, dairy cows, staying clear
of the bra-less women and the minds that are a bit unclear.
My last trip is easy. I will return to two days ago, and from breakfast
re-do that entire day.
I was pretty mean to my husband,
and I would like to stop myself from acting that way.
A very big piece of turf we call the “Lone Star State”
is what is called home by many poets that are great.
From the Red River in the north, to the Rio Grande,
there are many impressive members from this great land.
If they live in Houston, Austin, San Antonio,
Dallas, Fort Worth, Brownsville, Arlington, or El Paso,
these are many fine members here everyone must know.
Their wonderful literary works are a delight.
They present themselves on this site every day and night.
The poems these members submit are superb entries
They show more diversity than chili recipes!
Therefore, let’s all salute each poet and poetess
who hails from the wonderful great big state of Texas!