Long Differences Poems
Long Differences Poems. Below are the most popular long Differences by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Differences poems by poem length and keyword.
I was looking over my stuff here, and itseems I've lost the talents I once knew here.
I write ancedotes for my column. I do journalism- always some deadline or project that I work well under the pressure of it all.
Writing is what I truly love!
There is just so many varied types I do, my poetry is suffering.
I enjoy reading the great writers here.
Sometimes I do not comment or remark because it is art and I'm at a loss of words.
It's just been enlightening to live such a full life, and to be right here, right now amazes me. I'm searching for some old therapeutic writes. I was on alot of medications at one time.
A victim of spousal abuse.
I came back up North severly medicated, drolling and my family would whisper, she'll never be right again.
Post Tramatic Stress Disorder aint no joke.
To be me, knowing what I do, and how very long it took me to recover...
When some never do.
Many men were nice to me along the way, poetrysoup has the best men in the world, they will embrace your differences, and encourage you to keep your chin up, and keep your pen flowing.
Vince I love you! Frank, you are the best friend that a girl to ever have! You've sent me so many books of stamps to write you back and also send you the latest edition of the magazine I am featured in monthly. Everyone has those times in their life, when nothing goes right. How you knew without me saying a thing.
Are you alright? a concerned letter in the mail when I was having it rough- and the presents that made me cry. It may have been a framed poem, but it meant the world to me, and still does.
And lastly John,
Why oh why did I pick the most just man to give the hardest time to?
He has put up with so much from me over the years. I love him with everything in me. If not for being a true servant of God where would I be without him.
I remember 5 or six years ago, and his lady, whats your problem?!
Well John, you are the very sweetest man I've ever known in my life... without you I would still be cold to the Lord. So many years and mile stones along the way. I can leave here, but just like the sands of Florida, you'll always see me back.
Thank You All, for reading me, but more - to support the struggling writers that fall between the cracks in society.
I love you Frank. I love you John. Don't ask which one more, because John is single and Frank is not hehehehe
Form:
The world does be a mysterious place to live in
Already hampered with its yet to be unlocked secrets
It does cause us all to enjoy while, at the same time, having us basked in sin
If I could change some things about it, pray, life would be as sweet as a ballet
See, humans would need to become pure
No more shall there be wars to endure
Humans shall be tolerant of one another
Even if differences of all sorts, around us all, do hover
Religions would need to be more unifying
Indeed, Holy Books, of the way to Heaven do teach
But then, humans, of hatred and mockery for one another do be screeching
As if, of peace and tolerance, their religions do not preach
Earth has had enough of its fill of pollution
Machines and gadgets I would bring forward,
Having the preservation of nature as their main mission
No more would trash and dirt fill the nooks and crooks of the world
Pollution does cause the death of life
Nature does become impure to our health
So much that Earth does feel like she is going on her way to her own death
Pray, a new world it shall be, one with air so fresh
If I could change more about the world,
Why, I would make sure death and disease do be in-existent
Pray, death does be so bold, it does cause us all to be so sad
Disease and the loss of our loved ones do cause us all to fall to our own detriment
Why, of course, humans and animals would have eternity to live
But at the same time, they would need to be made of good feelings
No more evil, no more sin, no more harms
No more disturbed thoughts, no more wants of abuse
My world, if I could have my way, would be free from poverty
Each and everyone of us would have his own share of gold
So that content shall be his stomach and that of his family
Content shall also be his heart, indeed, content shall be his little world
Why, does the world be a place where we, fallen souls, come to grieve
Does it be a place where our souls are to be always ringing with sorrowful alarm
Why, I do claim not to have, at my disposal, the one magic finger
But I shall try my best, to make of my world, a place, one so better!
This rhyme does be my prayer
May the Heavens bestow upon me, their power
Pray, if I could have my way, the world shall be the solace of all of life
Indeed, such a vision does be in my heart, the strength of my own faith!
10 April 2016
WHEN TEARS TOUCH
The twelfth of November reminds me of the day
when our paths first crossed then came to grow on trail.
Soon... all the days like waves rolled into years
as we reminisce our pasts: joys and tears for fears.
A pad with pen I hold to write what pops by;
Each tint and curve a bell that says, you and I.
The words are mere push and pull medley of thoughts
shaping a circle melody of heart shots.
Learning flower our way as our cultures shared;
gem writings topically crafted are compared.
Feelings flood colours to our world, closer we became--
Creeping longing is "our meeting" as this both our aim
Beep and peek are lace ladders to higher trust grounds,
every tap and trade a thread fortifying our bond.
The lasso tying our heartstrings to etch some rhymes,
vital signs checked normal but awhile raise second hands
Can it be that this a fruit of stardust's grand wand?
Or a rose waiting to bloom and behold upon bosoms?
Now the day has arrived, suitcases packed, I smile
a journey, I have dreamt about, many many miles.
Nervousness cocoons but it's normal to feel this;
for this my long wish as I enter the coming hours.
Distance and differences our silent enemies!
But... It did not stop us from thinking sound strategies.
Interest and love gleams as our loyal company
enabling us to draw verses of harmony.
Broken bridges we cross by grace of felicity~
yearning to meet eye-to-eye an intensity!
Along the wires we jibe to friendly deal
that as crisp December sings we will make it real.
The cool December made our wanting a tip-top exhilarate..
and from somewhere, a song plays:
"When you feel in your skin in your bones and the hollow
Of your heart, there's no way you can wait till tomorrow.
When there isn't any doubt about it once you come this close
Cos you know and you know that you know...."
_____________________________________________________________
*** the last stanza are lines taken from the song: "WHEN YOU KNOW" by Shawn Colvin from the movie Serendipity.
©J.A. Fraser and O.E. Guillermo
October 29, 2014; 10:05 pm
Born Doris, named for our grandmother Doris Owens,
she is nothing much like grandma.
If anything, I am more like grandma
for my thrifty ways and down-to-earth practicality.
Doris, nicnamed Dorie, how we tease her when we hear
her name like the name of the spaced-out fish on “Finding Nemo.”
Dorie, who we teased as a child because she always dawdled,
always losing track of time; we never could guess why!
In that way, she never was like me, but was more like Dory
from “Finding Nemo.”
Dorie, who like me, is long-nosed and full-bosomed
and of all my sisters, has the most in common with myself.
Dorie, who got confused for me, particularly by our grandma,
the woman after whom Dorie had been named!
Dorie, who got to be the cheerleader I failed to be
but who majored in my field and never got to work as a teacher.
Instead she works today in a place for special needs adults,
working many hours now that she is divorced.
Dedicated, hard-working, studious and conscientious -
in those ways Dorie is the most like me
of all my other sisters.
Who else but Dorie would write me back 40 to 50-page letters
back in the day when all we had was snail mail!
My letters to Dorie I copied off each month as a record
of my hectic life when I was young in college and
also when I was dealing with my new role as a mother.
Dorie, my writing soul mate sister, who probably
does not write much any more and I doubt that she writes poetry!
She is busy working up to 60 hours a week!
But when she writes, her emails are long and detailed
just like mine.
Dorie, in whom I gradually saw differences from me.
More emotional, more hormonal, more maternal -
this is Dorie. More religious and in politics,
the opposite of me.
Despite all that, we love to chat.
We laugh and laugh, as I do with all my other sisters.
Dorie, who like our youngest sister Theadora,
shares with me a fascination for things such as nutrition,
all three of us sharing with each other our recipes
fitness hints, and special ways to boost metabolism!
Dorie, the sister who Mom says "leapt with joy"
inside our mother’s womb right before Mom went into labor
just for hearing the voice of me, her oldest sister.
I love all my sisters equally, but for many reasons,
Dorie is the sister most like me!
March 6, 2019 for the "What's In a Name" Contest of Kim Rodrigues
Contrary to popular myth, Einstein did NOT reject the existence of Time, but he did reject the differences of its elements, stating that "the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion" ...
TIME ...
Is a phantom with many faces
It drifts, a blotchy mist from our early years
The cognizance of self-awareness like a patchwork quilt
Most memorable moments shining like warm sunlight
Mundane and everyday, a foggy swirl, as we slowly become ... ourselves
Memories splicing together like a movie in our mind ...
We learn and experience, as the images from memory clarify
All flowing like a rill to who and what and where we are
It is an invisible, ghostly yardstick
Chopped up into segments that we build actuality around
An ethereal inchworm, crawling at the pace we allow it
We watch it, breathless, wondering what branch it will take
What it will make or show of the now or then or later
It is beastly wraith that controls and objectifies all we do
We are powerless before it, yet we worship it with our every heartbeat
It is a monster in the dark
A horrid creature under the bed, waiting to grab our ankles
And pull us into the bleak, oily black of oblivion
It dances in the dark of night
Wearing the skin of our hopes, and the mask of our dreams
Laughing at promise like a mad moon laughs at the tides
It is a demon, immutable and brazen
The unchangeable mirror of our mistakes and pains and decisions
Thumbing its nose at our cold conscience
And yet, it is an angel, too
That carries on its wings the brightest of thoughts
The joys and loves and friendships that sustain us
Bright sparkles on the wave tops of what was, treasured and golden
And though we strain with all our might and marrow
We can never touch those many faces
For no sooner have we gazed on its visage than it has turned away
No sooner do we see it approach - smiling, waving, affirming
Than it has flashed by us in a swirl
It is our god and our devil
Our hope and our despair
Our villain and our lover
The keeper of our consciousness, moments and prospects
Our precise measure of what can NEVER be measured
And the universal spirit of existence
That will never, ever ... exist.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List" Poetry Contest, Dear Heart, Judge & Sponsor.
WHEN TEARS TOUCH
The twelfth of November reminds me of the day
When our paths first crossed then came to grow on trail.
Soon... all the days like waves rolled into years
As we reminisce our pasts: joys and tears for fears.
A pad with pen I hold to write what pops by;
Each tint and curve a bell that says, you and I.
The words are mere push and pull medley of thoughts
Shaping a circle melody of heart shots.
Learnings flower our way as our cultures shared;
Gem writings topically crafted are compared.
Feelings flood colours to our world, closer we became--
Creeping longing is "our meeting" as this both our aim
Beep and peek are lace ladders to higher trust grounds
Every tap and trade a thread fortifying our bond
The lasso tying our heartstrings to etch some rhymes
Vital signs checked normal but awhile raise second hands
Can it be that this a fruit of stardust's grand wand?
Or a rose waiting to bloom and behold upon bosoms?
Now the day has arrived, suitcases packed, I smile.
A journey, I have dreamt about, many many miles.
Nervousness cocoons but it's normal to feel this;
For this my long wish as I enter the coming hours.
Distance and differences our silent enemies!
But... It did not stop us from thinking sound strategies.
Interest and love gleams as our loyal company;
Enabling us to draw verses of harmony.
Broken bridges we cross by grace of felicity~
Yearning to meet eye-to-eye an intensity
Along the wires we jibe to friendly deal
That as crisp December sings we will make it real.
The cool December made our wanting a tip-top exhilarate..
and from somewhere, a song plays:
"When you feel in your skin in your bones and the hollow
Of your heart, there's no way you can wait till tomorrow.
When there isn't any doubt about it once you come this close
Cos you know and you know that you know...."
_____________________________________________________________
*** the last stanza are lines taken from the song: "WHEN YOU KNOW" by Shawn Colvin from the movie Serendipity.
© J. A. Fraser and O.E.Guillermo
October 29, 2014; 10:05 pm
Times were hard – that is what they said
When they told me about their early years -
before I was there, their son
Filled with the hunger of youth, the lust
For life, passion – the truth
Times were not easy – and I could tell
Life had been a journey
Through fears, tears and years
Between rocks and hard places, through
Darkness and dread, doubts
That left them with questions
And uncertainty that bled through the
Joy that longed to give them hope
Wipe the slate clean, so they might see
What love reveals when it stills
The beating of heart who is living
With a past that is so unforgiving
Times were hard – and their souls bled
From the wounds they’d acquired
Damage that couldn’t be settled
With bandages or dressings that might
Seem like the thing to do
When pain erases all the good
Times were hard – but they never let go
The blessings that comforted, the ones
That soothed and uplifted,
Blessings of love that came from believing
Despite the worries that erases hope
Despite the struggles that bring mistrust
Despite all the differences that came along
To destroy their faith, their joy, their peace
They found a way to believe in their hearts
That His love would see them through
Cleaning the slate so that they could find
The beautiful secreted
Beneath the darkest of nights
Times might have been hard, but they knew
With love, they could travel
This world with one assurance –
Light and love comes alive inside those
Who know that the struggle
Is actually a blessing in disguise
Because when He decides to erase the pain,
Hearts have so much to gain –
As He wipes away the past, there is a promise
That, with time – these will only become
Memories of hard times, memories
That assure hearts – they can survive
They have what it takes to face their hurt
And, despite the damage, venture
Into the future with assurance that,
With love – anything is possible,
And everything, surely, will be made good again
He cleans the slate every morning
When we wake to the new dawn
Lift our eyes to the fresh thoughts
Delight in the beauty of our hopes
He is love and as long as we live, we know
His love is the truth that reassures
In spite of hard times, there is so much good!
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Blank Slate
February 7, 2023
Life most certainly seems like it’s so easy to some people
And you may be right on, to something
That is, if you are looking at life as a, one period at a time, thing
But when you get the chance to add every period together
Then his life or hers, is not so different than yours
It’s just a matter of how we wear our differences
Life is a lot like the clothes we put on
And/or whether, if how we wear it, puts a smile on our faces
And how that same smile can be re-assimilated to other races
It’s all about reaching the best illusions of the truth
And the truth is…We can wear anything we want to
You and I, certainly earned our right to choose
We’ve inherited it
That is your gift
And your gift is the same as mine
But it is the same in a different way
Like how an art is different to another art form
Where every art is beautiful
Where every beautiful thing has its story
Where every story has a home in mind
And where every home is also where the heart wants to live
But I’m not talking about the heart that pumps blood in our veins
But the heart with its entire soul, unified in spirit
Like when you close your eyes, knowing full well God is in it
Like the most feasible conclusion to a punch line
Sometimes it doesn’t make sense but you get it anyhow
Because for some reason the joke made you to laugh
And your laughter makes someone else, to laugh
And all the sudden, you are a genius
All because you recognize the point to a period
And life gets reborn; that moment on
But seriously the joke is in you
And I mean that in the most constructive way
Because if you were to break that down to the tiniest piece
Life becomes all too small to miss
Or else we’re left just to reminisce
I suppose, that is, what it is, where it comes to the truth
We can only control what we can control
And we can only become who is already inside of us
And so, I thought we must all reach a point of acceptance
"This is who I am"
"This is who we are"
Individually "This is my world"
Together, “It’s ours universe”
There’s always a time to be picky and to be reserved
But now is definitely not one of those times
Because this moment, is your time to choose
As to which life to wear and what makeup to make up on
Where the best way to celebrate being, the same, is to make a difference to others
By:Wilbert E. Dela Cruz
Fragments
They will be...
you do these kinds of things
can't be helped
imagination Band Aids some call them
I know
you just do
fingers wrapped ‘round cold steel
it's then
it's now
differences slight
like playing marbles
tripod-cradled taws and steelies
"Bombers" "Pots"
"shooters" all
aim straight
roll in the hole
you wait a long time
you know there's more to touch
you'll cradle other steel
formidable kind
you know
you hope
you're a kid
you'll do your best
find other holes
aim and shoot
some you dig
some dug for you
explosions know indiscretion
hell...
they say beginnings never end
always renewing
like dawn's edge ever changing
reds oranges yellow
lying on your back
knew those once
before the night never ended
smell the smell now
it's all the same
keeping life going
safe
clean
sterilized
that's what they do
amplified speakers seek help
always there's a page
off the wall
in your battlefront ISP
headgear no different
always the call
always the request
imagination tools
battle tools
you know what's coming
you just do
the swoosh of auto-doors
distant sirens
always there's sirens
always there's arrivals
like now
drinking my coffee
another first day of a new year
every year so familiar
pushing through iron air
waiting to be free
to see a sunrise again
to know a candle still glances
but now
just footsteps
coming at me
a walk I've known
Bethesda recall
remembering when sight
remained at the ready
absorbing fetid squalor
half naked Afghan children
barbarous patience
staring wildly as we passed
elder's eyes theirs
we cradling shooters defenseless
smiling
until
too many buried IEDs
I adjust
steps almost here
sitting seems forever
that's wheeled-life for now
robotic legs in the works
back there
back in Bethesda
coming
coming soon
for now
standard issue dark glasses
covering eyes that once were
footsteps stop
standing now
in front of me
me
Taking my hands
"Lt. Baygen...it's a boy."
"Shall we...your wife is waiting"
my hands grip the steel
following todays fragment
forging yesterday's pieces
a doctor
an imagination beyond
rolling my hands atop the chrome and rubber wheels
my imagination Band Aids
how shiny it all is they tell me
this transport
this evidence
today's somewhere
will he let me cradle him
will he look at me with hatred or compassion
will he know we have made him
what he might become
fragments
longing
as wars are waged in our homelands we sit out here gettin education for our
own future,
thinkin of ourselves, we forget about the whole purpose of our mission to
America,
we capture the American culture and forget our own,
we show gang signs and skip school instead of learning what we came to learn,
we act as if this was our own country, when we know we’ve only been here for
few years,
we act as if we know everything and don’t need school, when school was the
whole reason for being here,
we start fights at school, when part of the reason we were here was to get out of
violence,
we get on welfare and cheat the system instead of gettin a job,
we leave home telling parents we’re going to be doctors and get to school acting
gangsters,
we talk about making differences in other’s lives when we’re the ones that need
to change first,
we say we are discriminated against, knowing that it’s our own people
discriminating against us,
we watch our people suffer in our homeland on television and shed a little bit of
tears to make ourselves feel better and talk about different subject as soon as
it’s over,
we are cared for, more than we care about ourselves and each other,
when something occurs in a country where we benefit from, we focus on that
country till everything is situated,
but if it occurs in our homeland where no benefit comes from, we turn our cheeks
and ignore it as if it never happened,
we are convinced to believe what we see on television,
we talk about freedom, opportunity, and justice but really when the number one
thing that matters the most is money,
money is not only used but also worshiped due to the fact that you can buy out
laws,
how could there be an equal opportunity when only the rich get richer off the poor
and the poor are left to survive on what they can and then thrown in jail for trying
to stay alive,
we watch the news to only see the negativity of our surroundings,
we talk about the future of our next generations but disrespect them about their
knowledge,
we call our country “United States of America,” while we terrorize one another,
where is the unity in that?
how can we unite when we think so far apart?
how can we make a difference without changing oneself?
what makes us who were are, also makes us an enemy,
who do you think is “we” when I say we
Form: