Long Distantly Poems
Long Distantly Poems. Below are the most popular long Distantly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Distantly poems by poem length and keyword.
Long green grasses stir in the gentle breeze
bright summer sun beats down upon them
cool fragrant scent rises up into the air
carried across the land in the gentle breeze
bright blossoms of yellow shine in the sun
gently wave in the breeze as they follow the sun
their bright sent mixes into the air
gentle summer breeze carries the scent of life
land slowly rises curving up into the sky
forming into mountains covered in trees
rising high into the bright blue sky
beneath bright white clouds riding high
soft white flows higher climbing into the sky
slowly darkening turning to black
growing spreading covering the sun
casting shadows that cover and dark the land
now racing quickly covering the bright sky
breeze now quickening turning to wind
grasses now thrashing whipped by its strength
flowers whip wildly torn by the wind
in the distance rain now falls down
growing ever fiercer beating the land
coming ever nearer like a battle line
as bright flashes appear in the sky
sound barely heard whispers distantly
growing quickly louder coming nearer
rumbles mutter distantly heard
growing ever louder becoming roars
drops now falling gently down
growing quicker harder now too
hitting yellow blossoms violently hard
blossoms close tightly curling hard
grasses assaulted by falling drops
their weight crushing beating to the ground
flattened into the soil quickly turning to mud
under dark sky roaring so loud
darkness is broken by bright flashing light
thunder covers sound of rain falling down
cold wind roars carrying away all warmth
all life is crushed by the storms might
rainfall slackens fading slowly away
dark clouds rise lifting away
sunlight slowly pierces reaching the ground
wind fades again to gusting breeze
dark clouds race quickly away
sunlight now falls fully on the ground
steam rises into warming breeze
grasses drying lift again into the sky
blossoms drying opening slow
petals opening into the sun
fragrance again filling the air
with scent of grasses already there
distant mountains rise into the sky
shining in sunlight covered in trees
soft white clouds slowly fading away
leaving the broad bright blue sky
If we ever meet
If you ever see me
Where shall I stand?
Where shall it be?
From dreams deep and dark I dreamt
Frequently during night and day I visit it
More times than you will ever know
More often then I would dare admit
Inconsequently the frequency grows
Sending chills throughout my body and fingertips
This is no coincidence
This is destiny at its sweetest
Made to bloom from years of commitment-
My commitment to be yours, no matter the consequence
If once, if only...
Buried beneath flesh made stiff
From the merging of two bodies joined
Joined at the widening of lovers hips
If we ever speak
If ever you were to know me
To speak my name and repeat it joyfully
Spoken into crevices of dirt unspoiled to me;
"I am yours," I repeat, "I am yours and yours alone, eternally"
Such promises would not to be taken lightly
When given as gift from heart kindly
With sincere truth I speak
With righteous devotion I keep
Careful to tread with light feet
As so not to appear conquering when we do finally meet
When, where? Only then will I know of relief
Until then I refuse to resort to man-made trickery
If we ever come to know one another
If ever I am to come to you outside of my dreams
Your hand in mine I will take
Wrenching it and caressing it generously-
Feverishly...
Tenderly, as my desire refuses to wait
My desire refuses crushing
Refuses to be dismissed or refrained
As I speak to you, of you and yet just...
My hope is to someday be near you
Near you and out of this magicians dream dust
To be free of it and free to declare my love
Without restriction or interest in criticism
Both I have known too much of
I speak it, it is spoken
Gifted and I pray received
As if traveling by motor boat
Cutting through waves and currents pushing upstream
This thing, this love I have come to acquaint
Eyes made vision and truthful as I imagine us face to face
Given no dialect, no dialogue, no sense of direction or pace
To be, and yet to have come from two such distantly different states
Makes one's body surge and curve while remaining in one place
Because as I've said, if we ever meet
If ever you are to see me-
I promise our meeting will come to no such waste.
Resurrection
Rise above the swirling waters dark recess.
Rise from deep within the water’s pounding press.
Slowly rise above the centered womb
While tossed by storms
And spun by icy currents;
Break through the surface tension
Inch slowly, with measured rhythm
Through black, to blue to aqua light
And reach with tiny, outstretched, fingers
To the warm, the ever lightening sun of life –
Magnetic, gentle beacon
Of the ascending dawn.
Come! Lift above the surface swell
Escape the tight, restraining bonds;
Climb above the grasping waves;
Rise above the streams of earth
To hear the calling sun
Sing enchanting melody while deep within nativity
A tiny heart responds in love to love;
Quietly slip into the air
Before the waters know you escape
To softly hum in harmony;
Seed of winter
Transcend the wondrous scenes of trees and sky
Of aspen, jay, of color – freedom’s hue -
But do not linger in this finite place,
Stretch for light more bright,
More distant, than this enchanted palace
To soar above the envious bonds of earth
Running free before the channels of the air.
Still higher fly! Lighter –
Seeking oneness with the soaring song
Heard within the waters surging depths;
Rise into the space where torrents gather
Into spiraling circles.
So cold this dwelling,
So cold their breath,
So cold their hands,
So like the blackness of the waters.
Gone the light! Gone the love to love!
The softly singing cradle song vanishes!
Listen. Listen to the murmuring winds
Lay their hands upon the turbulence
Within the stormy crucible.
Be still now. Wait –
Wait among these misty clouds
To bear the signature rewritten
Here in metamorphosis
And singing full the melody, so distantly heard
Deep within the water womb,
See the whiteness – crystalline –
Unique and set apart from commonality,
Released from clouds of swirling storms
Spinning on the whispering breath of morning
To softly fall so light and breathless,
Flower of the winter rose
Through which the sun reflects a sparkling dawn
That drew the birthright from the water’s frozen energy
To rise again,
To ever sing creation’s primal round.
A Hundred Equine
Hot salty drops trickled into my mouth.
The sun had changed my brown flesh to bright red.
Reflected brilliance passed through squinting eyes.
Faint, I rested in shade eating sweetbread.
I lay my head on a smooth slab of stone.
Thinking. Resting, in an ancient dwelling.
Dreaming in the coolness with ancestors.
Imaginary golden wings, flying.
Upon the cave walls were many horses.
Long manes painted wildly around each head.
Warriors running alongside fearlessly,
Man and beast in rituals with the dead.
Distantly, a wild tantalizing sound
Became ever louder, louder, louder!
The earth below vibrated and rumbled.
The great spirits had conferred their favor.
Stampeding horses drank the desert heat.
Galloping with great speed, they came closer.
Safely watching from my hillside refuge.
I saw in the canyon below, splendor.
Gorgeous horses slowly began prancing.
Celebrating there, a hundred equine.
I heard a trickling not heard before.
‘Twas a hidden desert stream, a lifeline.
One appaloosa stallion stood upright.
His front legs above his head reached skyward.
Loudly, with vigor, he announced the news.
The strongest mares came to him pastured.
And I from that lofty cave saw it all.
Mares, stallions, and colts refreshed and resting.
Supple muscles rippled beneath firm flesh.
Memories and awe last forever, dreaming.
© July 28, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
NOTE: Now that the contest is over, I THOUGHT I WOULD GIVE A LITTLE BACKGROUND TO THIS POEM. I used to have an appaloosa stallion that I gave away. Later, I think the people that I gave him to turned him loose at a place called Hueco Tanks, Texas. I used to go there often to be in the wide open spaces. On several occasions, I saw a herd of wild horses that lived in that area. And I was pretty sure that my 2-year old stallion had joined the herd. There were caves there with a few Native American markings, but not the cave paintings like Las Caux France. So...I let my imagination go and had a great dreamy time writing this fun poem. I AM SO HAPPY THAT THIS CONTEST WAS OFFERED. BIG SMILES!
Early Times
Panting through a few females.
Running on the spot mostly.
Go to Paris to find myself
find a locally made Gallic STD.
Have a Ringo mustache,
the prostitutes on the Montmartre
think I’m pretty cool for a kid.
Beach bum along the Mediterranean,
bare feet imprinted on sand do not last,
however, sun, sex, and cheap wine
should not be underrated.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Age Twenty
Took her home to meet the parents.
A good girl,
not much sense of occasion.
Stripy rainbow knee-high socks,
mini skirt, pink hair
deeply cockney accent
and prone to casual expletives.
Father kept grinning until his smile froze.
Mother took her cues
from the Arch Duchess of mucky-muck.
~~~
Age Thirty
In the used car lot
sleazy car salesman blindsides me.
I should have been ready
more alert,
driving home in a ten year old Mercedes
wondering
if my childhood will ever end?
I am now a professional,
nurses figure larger in my life
than they ethically should.
Head for The Far East
to administer to the halt and lame
including, metaphorically speaking,
myself.
~~
Age Forty.
Finally qualify for veteran status
in a marathon race.
My athletic son is also running in it.
I fake a sprained ankle,
then disappear for ages
travelling the world.
When I return,
my shoulders grow cold from icy stares,
wife is dating someone else -
family relief all around.
~~
Age Fiftyish
Fish diet, wife still unhappy, son married
and distantly related to Trotsky.
Adorable brats for grandchildren.
Got a mistress who thinks I’m great,
but maybe it’s too late,
testosterone levels going south.
My Boss hates me.
Adultery & divorce,
new wife, much like the old one
but less y.
We roam the globe again,
desperately seeking something -
anything.
~~
Autumnal Years
The police are getting younger.
Dental appointments are reaching danger levels.
I’m not holding any grudges
for I have been right all along.
Turns out I am a poet
and quite enjoy pissing folks off.
Life is good, but then again
it always was.
~~~
A young sheep among a flock wandered
And as he looked around he pondered
The grass is much greener over there
I'll go yonder and not even have to share
Looking and thinking the shepherd was turned another way
The young sheep bolted and ran toward the field far away
As he ran, he thought with glee
I'm free I'm free I'm free
Upon reaching the field of green grass
The young sheep began to eat very fast
Without any cares and with unseeing eyes
He didn't notice as a pack of wolves ascended over the rise
As the wolves ran, drawing nearer to their prey
The young sheep looked up and saw them to his dismay
He started to run frantically, looking for the flock
And seeing no one, almost went into a state of shock
Running and looking frantically about
He saw by the fields edge; the woods; and let out a shout
I'll run into the woods, it will be safe
I'll get away from the wolves before it's too late
Without even giving it a second thought
The young sheep entered the woods, not finding the safety he sought
The light grew from bright to dim
He could barely see in front of him
Deeper into the woods he was engulfed into a fog
Then he stumbled and ran into a vast bog
Finally he stopped, barely able to stand
Not realizing he was in quicksand
As he listened for the wolves, he heard them howl
And distantly heard as they growled
Oh foolish sheep whose wandered astray
The bog will have you for it's meal today
A cold chill ran down his spine
As the young sheep tried to run to make up time
But he could not move, the quicksand held him fast
And as he sank, he knew his next breath would be his last
The last thing the sheep heard was the wolves as they laughed
Not even feeling the crook of the shepherd's staff
As he hooked it around the young sheep's neck
And pulled him from death's sandy wreck
With big, loving, and caring hands
The shepherd nourished the sheep to life again
The young sheep rejoined the flock he once had fled
Never forgetting without the shepherd, he would be dead
The Godliness of Adoption is...
Or is it not?
…A beautiful spring sprung floret of rose. A rose brought home from humanity's colorful garden of trust? Yet, it was not all that long ago when each cut stem, entrusted to its own gardener's worthy and caring hands?
Hands, now too soon stripped and emptied. Hands that were easily led astray by the coersions of now self-appointed zealots. They, with hands marked with ever stained bloody thorn pricked fingers, which now present each torn stem of rose on heaven-like sent pedestals; until met is a king's ransom; these thirty pieces of silver, being the ask of many an angelic bible-toting broker.
Adoption is...
Or is it not?
...An act next to Godliness when these disguised angels are loosed to search in the mist of this motherland? They, the finders of our pink and blue hued overflow spillage of souls.
This is the nature of guised humanity. Delicately does it assist society in the dredge of waiting collection ponds, pools of tears that gleamingly mirror you and I; and from where our memory should fill with sounds. The siren-like cries of which, now link with our distantly lost... ...or coldly disengage us of our not of want…
Adoption is...
Or is it not?
...The beautiful water lilys of pond? Those that so serenely float above an ever skimming conscience that is this God-fearing couple; a polarized complacency so sweetly lost amidst its own mesmerizing shimmer. They, fooled without inkling of shame. An innocence of eyes that fail to see transparency by such weakly given puruse. A view that cannot pierce the murkily veiled mire that hides just below its own watery reflection...
...And where underneath trails this tangled web that will soon unravel in route to tie with each long waited conscience…
Adoption is it or is it not our "Humanities with Consequence"?
New Jersey Identified Adoption shown as an open door will always yield to truth left on the threshold.
Silently bathed in avocado,
you soaked in the fragrance of a blanket
At midday, crunched your teeth
into something sweet and yellow,
no flower still no pretty petal;
I’ll make our evening coffee, I’ll make amoretto.
Why is it you liked amaretto
so much? As if the melted avocados
weren’t enough, to stare at petals
in the dark, stained blanket
etherized beneath a star shine yellow
Stare, as I stare at the white crevice: your teeth
that are your smile, your teeth
that become stained with the last sip of amaretto,
stained with our silence and the color yellow.
Like the silver knife who’s blade slips through the avocado,
and I wish for more minutes in a day to sit on this blanket
And more staples in this life to puncture the heart of a petal
Its mushy translucence conveys innocence, oh petal!
How I’d much like to forget and sink, or clap, my teeth
in rage but here upon this blanket
exists no rage. Here is where we sip our amaretto
And can think of nothing but the next bite of avocado
When, failing words, failing thought, a yellow
taxicab honks distantly, barely distinguishable from the yellow
buzzing bee in my hair. Swiftly landing on a nearby petal
whose delicate arms, the juice of the avocado
gently outpours from gaps between our teeth,
lover. Lover of the sky, lover of chocolate, and amaretto.
Lover asleep on cushioned soul of the yellow blanket
baked in brilliance from the sun, yellow blanket
under our footsteps, under our yellow
bodies painted in the sensuous scents of amaretto
with gum like innocence floating over any petal.
Don’t get me started that I need to brush my teeth
When yours are green with Avocado
and leaf, like the print on the blanket, yellow like yonder petal
whose strong scent reaches the taste of my teeth, stained coffee yellow
from the over-indulgence, avocado, amaretto.
The keys rattled gently in his pocket.
Gradual jumps like the ocean,
Peaking with every heart
Or every step.
The music was in sleep
Allowing silence for thought
To contemplate on the sun,
Of this clean, clear October.
He sunk his eyes into the core
Of pale and fresh above,
Ember, his numbed head rocked from
Slow and forced breathing,
Suppressing the smell of deep,
Deep purity
Yet conscious of the high brick wall
Where the wind taps
Like a faded voice sighs through a lost keyhole.
He was greeted distantly
By early-anthem families,
Walking the dogs
Or singing with linked wrists;
Sipping at the last, smoked bowls,
And the circling of the roads.
How they would pass,
With a stranger’s recognition
And mutter as they retreated;
“His hair is thinning!
His eyes are fixed, like
The bolt in a crossbow.
His arms are depleting
For slow, heavy breathing...
Yet his eyes are fixed.”
And sometimes they pass alone;
A little too close
With their gaze separate.
Their tight coats
And pocket smokes,
While they sway to poisons.
How a smile can turn damp
At the thought of past brothers.
And how a passing car can sigh,
With misunderstood pity.
The lamplight’s warming,
The Gutter dweller’s dawning,
The dented camber’s pouring,
The rugged throat with it’s sweet inhale
For the decisive steps
And the vivid gold Yale.
Dream in encumbered times,
Where the destination is a home to rest.
And you walk a shadow amongst the binds,
That break the folds of your armoured vest.
For my ear is a raven,
For my feet are hooves,
For I make a thousand strides,
Within these tightened shoes,
And my arms are not depleting,
And my slow and heavy breathing,
Is only the product of the season,
And will soon falter for my reason,
And my hair can never thin,
While the lamplights never dim,
And my strides will form the door hinge,
That stands so high across the fringe,
And I find lavender in the bins,
While I...search my empty pockets.
Theres a clock thats ticking backwards
in the corner of my mind
and it replays all the memories
of the minutes left behind
Now I stare at that same clock
and its ever turning track
and no matter how hard I try
those days never will come back
I had loved the cold air
and the sparkly white snow
I want to hold on forever
and never let go
And now in the middle
Of lovely July
I feel colder than ever
and just want to cry
I would cry for the things
that I never did say
What I could have had
but I let slip away
Like all of the times
that I could have told you
how much that I loved you
how I wanted so much to hold you
Still I could never tell
if you cared for me too
I told myself I was crazy
and tried to believe it was true
But you'd look in my eyes
like you could read my mind
like you could see to my soul
just to see what you'd find
No one had ever looked at me
like you did before
It made me believe that you loved me
It made me so sure
And in my memories I hear it
A haunting cold song
that just like your memory
Constantly plays on and on
Then everything was silent
as if all of time had stopped
and I watched that clock shatter
as these memories all dropped
In my memories now scattered
all over the floor
I had loved you I know it
But now I'm not sure
And for a moment I saw you
in these memories now broken
Distantly I heard your voice
But could not recall what was spoken
When I looked back I wondered
were you even real
It has been so long now
I don't even know how I feel
But all of a sudden
October is here
and though I saw you quite quickly
my love became clear
I had loved you, I knew it
It wasn't a dream
All those memories I lost
Have now come back to me
Now theres a clock thats ticking forward
and it says winters almost here
and I must wait so patiently
to tell you this my dear
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