Long Departure Poems
Long Departure Poems. Below are the most popular long Departure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Departure poems by poem length and keyword.
Five vials of hope before 2:55,
An epinephrine Saturday feast
After midday, preventing time to arrive
Again, to stall the curse at least.
The single drop of tear tells it all,
I guess I've seen it coming.
And it did, but very stealthily, the fall
Disguised in serene eyes staring.
Broken voices of 2:55 and hence
A glass of water, a pat on the shoulder,
Paper works, the waiting, querying the sense
Reduced to an atheist's prayer.
The chaos ceased, all quiet on the front.
The war is lost; not a dream did survive.
Life is a poem that is so blunt,
All gone, after midday at 2:55.
"Where are you going?" I asked, but she said nothing.
Her hazel eyes raged like a tempest as she gently closed
the door behind her. "Don't go please. I'm sorry" my
heart cried out but my stubborn pride won out and
I said nothing.
I watched her walk away with that unique stride
which spoke of many past pleasures. while her hair,
Oh! Her fragrant raven hair that used to cover my
face each night beckoned me, but my dignity won
out and I said nothing.
"Wait! Wait!" My tortured brain whimpered while seeing
her get further away. In her suitcase she carried my
passion, my love, my future and my soul. My dignity
smiled while my stinging eyes, like those of a lost and
frighten child, begged her to return, but I said nothing.
Oblong outlines of a soul
Stretched in elliptical misery
Redefines the perfect circle
To a breakable volatile tautness
Loosely cloaked in sheaths of epitonic blue
Draped upon the shrinking body to hide a terrified world
Dressed in swirling ominous patterns of anonymity
To be lost within the deepest abyss of fatal fear
Planted like a tenuous girder of iron truth
On a bridge of no return
There is no departure from excruciating fear
From this wicked self-imposed poltergeist
An unseen force deliberates death
Smothering with tremulous trepidation
Annihilating the essence of existence
With no bond found on common ground
There lies the secret
Within the mystery of a soul’s distress
The exorcism of human strength
As fear brings the will of life to a standstill
7-12-2023
Deep dark blankets
Night sculpts new day;
Pregnant with hope
~~~~~~~~~
Time oozes away
Change in sepia tones;
Abrupt departure
~~~~~~~~~
Memory cascades
Vivid pictures slant;
New versions emerge
~~~~~~~~~
Black cat
Night camouflage;
Ferocious disguise
~~~~~~~~~
Bright floral notes
Bouquet serenade;
Red roses style
~~~~~~~~
Lantern Festival
Mid-autumn procession;
Laughing children parade
~~~~~~~~~
Moon cakes fiesta
Dreamy luna frolic;
Heavenly nocturne
~~~~~~~~~
Lotus paste cakes
Snow skin desserts;
Tea-house extravaganza
~~~~~~~~~
Heart and soul
Moonlight sonata;
Mid-autumnal tryst
~~~~~~~~~
Sad story psalm
Another chapter unfolds;
Melancholy unveils
~~~~~~~~~
Words do not come
Feel the dry season;
Sit still then
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
10 September 2019
Singapore
Be That Rock
by Michael R. Burch
for George Edwin Hurt Sr.
When I was a child
I never considered man’s impermanence,
for you were a mountain of adamant stone:
a man steadfast, immense,
and your words rang.
And when you were gone,
I still heard your voice, which never betrayed,
"Be strong and of a good courage,
neither be afraid ..."
as the angels sang.
And, O!, I believed
for your words were my truth, and I tried to be brave
though the years slipped away
with so little to save
of that talk.
Now I'm a man—
a man ... and yet Grandpa ... I'm still the same child
who sat at your feet
and learned as you smiled.
Be that rock.
I don't remember when I wrote this poem, but I will guess around age 18. The verse quoted is from an old, well-worn King James Bible my grandfather gave me after his only visit to the United States, as he prepared to return to England with my grandmother. I was around eight at the time and didn't know if I would ever see my grandparents again, so I was heartbroken—destitute, really.
You're my one and only
You're my one and only
I'll stay tall, even if I fall
You're my one and only
You're the social butterfly and I'm the lonely individual
You always win, always win our love and hate duel...you're pumping up powerful passion fuel
Addicted to the appeal
Of your suave, sexy feel
I find it appealing for real
You made my scars heal
You brew butterflies in my stomach
My heartache is hurting less and less
Your love made me gain my strength and wisdom back
Addicted to your appeal, but still drinking the liquor of lament that's in excess
Oh I'm such a miserable mess...mess...
I must confess, I love the way you dress...
I must address that I'm going away very soon
I'll see you in another blue moon or maybe on an admirable afternoon
For you're the one and only that I love
You're the one and only I dream of
Missing you due to the departure yesterday
Tomorrow will be a much greater day
Cuz I'll be having it my way with you someday...
I wanna hear what you're gonna say...today...
I pray to see your glistening face of mesmerizing May
You're my one and only
You're my one and only
That doesn't leave me lonely
Cuz I was a pile of bones in a graveyard
Then, your poetry gave me inspiration and a motivation to move on...
I'd like to thank you, my one and only bard
Who is the fiber of my flavorful being
Sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor, darling
If not, then graze in your own maze and be amazed by your own praise
Stay in tune with the rhythm of my heart
With the rhythm of my heart
With the rhythm of my heart
With the rhythm of my heart
With the rhythm of this one and only heart of poetic art
Airport terminals betray many turbulent thoughts,
as lives pass and friends fly, far away.
I sit here in this chair, wondering when
I'll ever see such faces again.
Some tears have already made their way down,
forcing themselves to the sad surface.
When shaking hands with your teacher and your friend,
hugging the ones who've made you whole - it is what it is.
More, however, are yet to come.
As we taxi out on the runway, departure-bound,
I see behind my eyes this scene on the silver screen;
and lo, what plays out before my glistening eyes.
A soft melody breaches my ears and my mind,
tag-teaming with the past
to bring forth such savage depths;
drops, slowly, continue to fall.
As I think of those I will always miss,
no matter how close or how undeniably far;
as this is born into life on the page;
I ache for home.
I know what I am;
I fight for all things familiar.
I gave up my right to not feel this,
to defend others' rights never to.
A man dear to me once told me
that I've done my share. No matter how long it's been,
just the first step was enough, he said.
That I owe nothing more.
I hope he's right.
I hope, when this is over, that I can find
all these faces. That I can find
my way back once more.
Maybe one day I can figure out
how to listen.
Maybe one day, I'll live for me;
maybe one day I'll believe him.
As my departure from everything I've so far known
grows nearer in my sight, as I prepare to embrace it,
the support from those both close and stranger
floors me; with such backing, surely I can face it.
Occasionally the tears come close to brimming,
as I truly realize what I've meant, to kith and kin;
goosebumps stand out when I sit and ponder
what I've done, how such love to earn and win.
To me, I've simply lived my life, for others and for me,
strove to meet my expectations and done what I chose.
Yet it appears, along the road, I've made some memories, friends,
that I hope to see countless times again, ere the story's close.
Honor, courage, commitment, semper fidelis -
for these I've signed on; the opportunity to serve,
to defend, for this I have asked and been given.
I entreat eternity for the fortitude, that chance to deserve.
If every soul, every story, every journey through life
has moments such as these, then it's worth every pain;
sorrow, while always tragic, lends itself to better appreciation
of the true magic the world can offer - the arcane mundane.
I will likely never be able to say
what these simple looks and words now mean;
I take comfort and emotion from their faith and feelings,
strength that I may truly become a Marine.
Fate sometimes casts us over the edge,
but there's always some path, however faint the chance,
to make your way back; often it's the hand of another.
If you take it, then forever onwards, with fellowship you dance.
Problem with Adonis was his dogged tendancy
To battle heartfelt causes
Ominous obdurate tore us
Tenure, he died fighting against white supremacy
Before he departed, dear reader, acres of passion
Burnt sharper than stars
Aches when we're apart
Tap water sureity came each time turn on happened
I never knew how he loved me so tight, intensely
I admit I present aesthetic enough
Adonis possessed man's best stuff
A muscle hung magnate, somehow meant for me
It fell in co inciding with cruel hook moon crescent
Night prior to my darling's departure
Anenomes bent by dancing's laughter
Crushed beneath our undulations, entwine pleasant
Million finger foliage, amorous wood anenome reach
Myriad of green furrowed feathers
Held my hips, to his vigour tethered
My insides hummed tremors' tune, tangy blush peach
Trampled anenomes watched our praise of abandon
Petal centres shared precious nectar
Raised my buttocks, Adonis so tender
Readily able to press me closer, carefully one hand on
Electrified legs, sent buzzing from his matching forge
Intermittent rippled shoulder kisses
As he sank to me, summoned blisses
Melted insides drizzle seasoned gyrating bones scorch
Ripped from my conciousness, entirely on his platter
Patch of anenome puff flattened
Melded forever in larva orgasmed
Minted delivery of ecstasy, the world ceased to matter
Firm dedication remaining, reluctant shapely loins lifted
Plucked a hundred secret seed filled tributes
One by one, delicately on my body, distributes
Jealous stars sizzled, shot to oblivion by romance gifted
13th September 2020
' Night of Passion and Desire'
Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
Ars Poética (Life’s Ingénue)
I always wanted to die like a hero, but I was never helpful enough.
So I switched to being a genius,
but my time ticked away with the infinite scroll.
I developed a talent for acting and so you casted me
as your life’s ingénue.
Now I’ll be remembered for my endless stream of verses about feeling unmoored.
To live like a poet means to hide the insurmountable
behind shades of gray,
so behind every anaphora, assonance, and ballad
there’s a little bit of you, the pièce de résistance.
And did you know poets weren’t merely entertainers
in the olden days?
If I were a man in Anglo-Saxon times,
I wouldn’t be your royal buffoon.
Instead of being a court jester, I would be tied to the oracle.
So while i dream of dying like a martyr,
my biggest concern shouldn’t be to amuse.
Unlikely to think that you’d suffer upon my departure, my lover,
my owner, my muse.
And when I run out of illusory verses and come to my senses,
lover, you’re on your own…