Long Detour Poems
Long Detour Poems. Below are the most popular long Detour by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Detour poems by poem length and keyword.
Like a child losing eye-spy something beginning with a...
perhaps... No... No ! i lie... that thing with a 'P' -
the past... it's not at all dark and distant dreaming
they just change the target - it's not what its seeming,
"Look... look - they got me / they shot me."
Last year, right now or in the morning -
all the time, just a different space, like a three-in-one place.
Eye-spy the holy trinitye, exactly so
the white-clad father begot the bloody son,
who, once spent and done
released his light spirit as surely as black night
ejected illuminating day,
for the past to birth a brilliant, busy present
to slow-breathe a still-misted future.
And we, humbled in the mud,
badly believing the impossibility of sameness
(thrilling and cheating at the eye-spy gameness)
shout : "Look... look... this time it's different !"
No... No ! we lie... that thing with a 'P' -
you name it with your mouth, i'll call it to your ear
all the way down the remembered shadows
of every bristled, notched, forgotten year.
We end where we begin, on our backs staring up
at yesterday's shining light, and,
as we slowly lose our sight,
lose the final eye-spy game,
like memories in a tarnished frame,
motives, movements, moments stride purposely 'round.
Still we talk without sound,
where we walk without friends
and cry our love away.
Lives lost to time filled with detours.
A hidden world, like a heart's inner word
it cannot be seen, nor can it be heard
everyday of your life, it exists
you try to resist, but it persists
Just as thoughts control one's mind
so too, the will power where one can find
a way to cope, or at least to unwind
from troubles and fears that do so bind
Fear restricts freedom, your mind to explore
it is forcing your happiness into a detour
left is desire to find this calm, and be content
better than suffering, with fear to vent
There is no escape, you feel like your bait
only time now stands, between you and your fate
no respite, whatever you might endeavor to do
knowing those worries, nevertheless, will continue
It plagues your mind, and plagues your soul
hearing inner voices saying, "I told you so"
so once again, withdrawing from that chase
retreating yourself, to your secret hiding place
That place of comfort, and place of security
a location guaranteeing you, your obscurity
time has taught you, you have fine tuned
this is your way, to heal your own wound
Overcoming fear is the only way
it requires patience to wait that day
thinking you can rely, to yourself do you obey
but with time, once again you do go astray
To regain control, of your inner world of fears
you need a friend, with whom to share those tears
someone who has been tested, someone to confide
allowing you to open up, and to no longer hide
A friend who listens, allowing you to mend
on a special someone, whom you've come to depend
that beautiful soul, she alone with her tears
knows that secret, to remove those fears
Your friend for the duration, till the very end
she is not into gossip, nor does she pretend
a bosom soul mate, destroying your world of fears
giving you a listening ear, and her heart that cares
Grace of God* girds me with mercy’s control surely
Toward faithful spiritual life fruitfully.
Wondrous, God’s grace provokes my motives
Enabling me to do well with goodness’ directives.
Marvelous grace upholds my yielded heart
Sustained by the Lord, right from salvation-start.
Striving to serve with faith along life’s race
My soul cleaves to God for His grace.
Entrusting to the Master my stewardship’s earnestness
I need His unlimited grace against weariness.
Protected from deceitfulness’ detour
My spirit flee to God for His grace-downpour.
To declare Christ’s blessings of hope with care
I beseech His unlimited grace I’m ready to share.
*Titus 2:11 For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men.
June 8, 2019
Who is in charge of nature?
Some one mythical called Mother Nature.
She has endured
For a long time to procure
And secure
All of nature.
She nurtures
Everything around us in all temperatures.
She doesn't conjure
Or detour
She's here to ensure
That we see the beauty in all of God's creatures
Which brings us great pleasures.
There 's plenty of literature
With pictures
Where we can read about people's adventures.
There have been movies made in her realm to try to
Capture
Nature.
The brochures
Give a list of tours
That we can go on at our leisure
So we can see in person the signature
Of Mother Nature.
"The Looped Vision of Futures"
The loop plays non-stop
the needle steps out of time
into the groove of you and me
all of us played for time we are their revelry
hockey pucks struck by
the quiet hidden demons
smiling and licking their lips
already tasting our souls on a vicious ice field
lives matter no matter the colour of political greed
time repeats over the record cracks
verdicts and untruths the bells ringing out
once the song of that king of civil rights now forgotten
the bill players kiss each other with glee
prayers and confessionals are wasted
on all your wise misspent revolutions
wafers dipped into a book of wagers
profits and losses lost in tombs all black sealed
could questioning minds make poetry
from a death's throat opened to sing
fresh air to breathe
evolve some kind truth
for humanity’s last minute a saved dignity
and still the elephants march into the room
slowly holding in their adrenaline trunks the dry bones of doom
swinging low vibes slyly into our world view
in their silent hidden stoic hypocrisy
are we simpletons not alone
wanting some humanity
sanity dies on the detour neck of a road open
when we are down on our knees
praying for some brevity
shortness of time
waves wash over you and me
in that vacant parking lot we wait
when the war has dissolved
what remains of the forgotten beautiful dream
broken sutures misplaced in a corner
no longer no blue nor no green
some bad dream
shelved on parchment hidden
in cracked pots of clay forgotten in caves
some other world's dark gone wrong history
ignored,
ghost wars
crying out
caught and unheard
for some Light and some peace
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
Years have past but still can’t quell… won’t snub Orwell’s “the Moon under Water” pub as did cast a vast spell which did last….but pray tell what the hell should we call the restaurant of our dreams….which memes bestows seems to have all the right themes…glows how about “the Sunbeams below Sea”
Fables about higgledy piggledy chairs & tables
Cradles candles & scandals under their gables
Culinary cables run free no bland brand labels
Feast on every bit of the beast gourmet stables
Restaurant procured and manicured by a savant
Chef the ref hits the right clef is the commandant
An epicure tincture the cure for any bon vivant
An apothecary of wonders dispensed you adore
A third space with grace for either rich or poor
Service smooth as lace sings like a troubadour
Sweet as the smell after a downpour of petrichor
To attract and have a pact with every locavore
Delightful detour will always get highest score
Every encore makes sure come back for more
Beacon of light for us with appetite of a labrador
Another secret lover met palate whet paramour
The restaurateur not only a brassy raconteur
Flavour to savour taste bud flood provocateur
With bravura not bravado true entrepreneur
Not only an aficionado a classy connoisseur
Food looking pretty thanks to chef de partie
Maitre d’ quick with a ditty and slick repartee
Never sh*tty always a pity if they’re not witty
Cheer for every peer & the atmosphere is free
Sanctuary of treats from nearby streets so gritty
Harmonious not parsimonious not overly twee
Sybaritic symphony its rhapsody down to a tee
Glee of a miner finding gold & going on a spree
Umami tsunami a melody for my old china & me
Marvel at the majesty of a well woven tapestry
Pedigree and fancy free filigree the place to be
Treacle toned well honed academy of alchemy
Push the glutton button for a gourmands epiphany
Charms calms any qualms are like balms of apricity
Nowt finer for any city diner than elan & bonhomie
That it seems would be a restaurant of our dreams
Teems with reams of gleams “Sunbeams below sea”
when the plug is pulled
some of us will drain
others remain tethered
left contorting in pain
I wonder in earnest
how else we adhere
there are clues in the dirt
and the dead stares of the deer
white space in the sky
promised us room
but all spaces are full
so we wait in our tombs
the dogs persist milking
their devilish deeds
whilst salvation diminishes
due to miniaturised steeds
there are cages and castles
a whole skyscaped procession
but I'm too deeply entrenched
for detour or digression
out on the lawn
(in the absence of storms)
the answers are spelled out
in finely topiarised forms
with brushing and patience
I untangle and re-knot my tresses
to wear in plain sight
my shielding headdresses
I do cast a shadow
not all of us do
though the odds are against me
and my chances are few
transmutation circled
yet I still toe the line
persisting inexplicably
in search of my kind
I cannot be hurried
though birds fall and are sinking
please do not disturb me
I'm thinking, I'm thinking
I idle alone
draped in assorted skins
I'd lay bear traps for thoughts
rather than welcome them in
I trust in the safety
of being part of the herd
a friesian pelt promises
reality is deferred
mapped from this spot
is a three-step transition
stand, fall then rot
I won't break with tradition
there must be logic
to aciniform wrapping
I'd figure it out
but I'm too peaceful napping
Memories, memories, of being here before
I was aged nineteen, not a glorious time
Sadly this epoch will resonate those years
Trying to understand mans to others crimes
Its now many years later that I'm able to tell
Sitting where I sat then surrounded by ochre
Overnight becoming a man amidst dying hell
People displaced whilst a sirroco dustly purrs
That same hush intermittent just like before
Admiring the sand blasting in particle explosion
In drift changing skyline, the shape of the dunes
Their self determination to instant corrosion
But its to the East that totally captured my heart
Leaving the height of arid dunes now in my past
Seeing such greenery range, lush in meander
I may be growing in age, but my memories last
My final viewing, just like all those years ago
Under the searing sun witnessing a delta azure
A striking beautiful colour of water soothing
Emersed in its beauty whilst my life's in detour
Memories, memories, of being here before
I'm now aged ninety nine, a most glorious time
Sadly that epoch will resonate centuries years
Still trying to understand mans to others crimes
Winter's Child
I was severely disabled, meaning that I needed a carer,
For most things, like dressing, eating and walking outside,
But I was not normal in my need of assistance and help,
Because I could walk, and only had mild CP to abide.
My mum thought I had a personality disorder for real,
But I knew it was her that was malicious and selfish;
We had a personality struggle every time I required aid,
About god and his predestined love for me in my anguish.
So along with being not comfortable with my mother,
I wasn’t gonna move my arms or use my hands in case,
She thought I’d accepted god and had become christian,
As that was what she was implying to me by her face.
So it was easy to care for me, and sometimes a hoot,
And I could tell she resented it outrightly, bold and stark,
‘Cos she had thought that I’d be reprimanded by my carers,
For being awkward to care for as it should’ve been no lark.
I think some of the medical staff at school thought that,
I needed the carer to tell me quietly to still my hands,
But I had controlled myself quietly to myself in my bedroom,
Such that the carer always gave me space, had no commands.
Obviously it was harder to give me assistance in winter time,
When I wore many layers, not just one bright cotton t-shirt,
So she used to pep up in December, smiling at me needlessly,
Encouraging me to relate to my school carers then and flirt.
Every year she would have a conversation with me about winter,
If I liked it the best out of all the seasons and weathers,
And so I just took her on a conversation detour and concluded,
“No, I much prefer the summer sun and so as do others.”
"You don't belong here!"
They said.
They doubted the authenticity
Of my identity.
Black night bade me come in,
Provided I sang a song.
Paroxysms of regret filled my song;
The monotonous song from my ektara.
It was a parody of how the sun rises;
And zoetropically sets.
To unveil the black night.
It felt as though the pants had been
Yanked right off my melancholy.
The polka dot boxers underneath
Were memories, regrets and yearnings.
They were scattered like foreign coins
On the side walk and
Not even beggars could pick them up
For they were worthless in that country,
Corresponding to nothing but themselves.
To be righteously indignant and selfish,
Black night taught me.
My packing paraphernalia converged
In the room where I kept the tune of my
Monotonous song and soundless ektara.
My host though bright and caring,
Had hidden many truths from my soul
For fear it would be broken further.
I pulled the pants of pride up
My melancholy and gathered my shekels.
I shuffled off into the next chapter of life,
An instructive detour complete.
Black night wiped off my invisible tears.
Black night was a knight in white
But unrighteous in his cause which he
Veneered behind a triad to give it colour.
Black night bade me come in,
Provided I sang a song.
Paroxysms of regret filled my song;
The monotonous song from my ektara.
As I struck its string
Black night nodded his head
As if enjoying the sound of my sorrow.
Black night deceived me!