Long Downturn Poems
Long Downturn Poems. Below are the most popular long Downturn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Downturn poems by poem length and keyword.
She whispered in my ear of neon lights,
my mother,celebrated actress,
waning star in sick bay,
zany bird nest hairstyle on display,
lock and tress erect,
skin-fold ripple eggshell pallor,
mothball end play flutter from the wings.
I, devoted sibling, reluctant hospital visitor,
now bearing doleful witness,
to the voice that once enthralled a thousand hearts,
with oral feats and seismic tone-shifts,
like someone trying to catch a friend’s attention on an outbound train,
now tragic downturn ache.
Apple walnut salad only deli window fodder in her eyes,
Dijon mustard sachet cast aside as if unwanted email spam,
get well cards cut paper dragon trails.
Nightingales of tender years and warmth who nurse in rosters,
slowly spread those deathly forms right underneath an icon’s split chin rash.
Whiff of starchy clerk and file procedure hovers over gridlock wards,
private health insurance an albatross of waiver in that very human passing out parade.
Yet here I am, son and heir, entr’acte curator of maternal legend’s skyward exit,
tummy rumble moment where impromptu has the edge on solemn plot,
as one walks on stage hoping not to freeze.
The one true screen test all
must face dear mum would say,
before our sip from life’s rich cup becomes a stain upon the twilight bow of curtains.
IN A NOWHERE LAND
I feel like a crazy, mad woman,
chafed and losing my patience.
Feeling so bad, ready to explode
or needing desperately to explore
and get lost to point of no return
or to find a nowhere land.
The nowhere land that is hard to find.
The land where there is humanity
with humaneness, benevolence.
And there is togetherness and unity.
I want to be a nowhere woman,
in a mystical or nowhere land,
living and wandering like a nomad,
a gypsy, a rolling stone, a vagabond,
where I don’t have to witness the divide,
and the selfishness of humankind.
When is this troubled time going to end?
This point of time full of unrest, discontent.
Ongoing protests on multiple causes,
opportunists trashing businesses,
looting, stealing, damaging properties,
the law enforcements’ brutality
and now the deployments of federal
forces to deal with ongoing protests.
There is also ongoing uncertainty.
The contagion with it’s sweeping upturn
with no sign of slowing down or downturn.
Everything around is so out of control
with unmasked people walking around,
group gatherings and no respect of others.
Life just goes on with no direction,
it appears fuzzy with no explanation.
You cannot even go down the bend
without feeling exposed or guarded.
Days, months passed by and gone,
like they were snatched, taken or stolen
without a trace, like we are in a trance.
Life goes on; but missing any substance
like no importance to remember or embrace.
No color, without depth, meaningless.
I yearn for all the things I used to do,
I long for my freedom to just go,
I miss the friends I used to see regularly,
I’m longing for the fire and feeling zesty
that dancing with gusto brings me.
I miss the poetry readings that move me.
I want to be a nowhere woman
in a mystical or nowhere land,
a land free of the chaos going on,
a land untouched by the contagion,
living and wandering like a nomad,
a nomadic, free-spirited woman,
safe and at peace.
8/31/20 Completely Your Choice Brian Strand
any form any theme
judged on 9/1/20, received N/A
9/28/20 N-A Re-Run 11 Poetry Contest John Hamilton
It was just a shadow turned,
some distant memory of which we yearned
and who we were, just children raised and grown
moving to a future unknown;
like everyone who has hopes and dreams
wondering if life could be like movie scenes,
actors on a living stage
bending with the flow of the world's parade;
those years and lessons lived and learned
now seem lost to the changing downturn;
but hope and dreams are ever-present
riding on history's lessons
and for a moment in the windy dark embellished shadows
yesterdays rise from the charred fields and meadows
and all the hopes for tomorrows and todays
always take me back to yesterday.
For My Darling Sister, My Punky
My love for you now aches with an acute, piercing concern.
I feel your emotions shudder inside my own heart’s downturn.
Lean on me, let me absorb your aches as maternal will not break.
You are so precious to me, I would rather life's painful strikes
seek me than witness them blister you with their insistence.
Lean on me, let our combined hearts and smarts find answers.
Know without judgment, fear, or derision, I will lovingly listen
to your broken bits unfurl in plight's reveal of your soul's mission.
Lean on me, for I attended the same hellish multi-themed lessons.
He draws long, panting breaths from a Winston
Then blows a slow line of hazy blue smoke from lips
Which have known the defeated downturn of pain
Fear flames up a burning urgency within his chest
He is ardent with yearning for the second chance
A chance to rediscover the intimacy of youthful dreams
Compromising in prayers, he tells me how to cruise
My Thunderbird whizzes past green road signs
And one exit is the one where he buys his Seagram 7
Without a second thought, I announce to him
“The exit is Exit 13” – Is this a harbinger of what is to be
Him and his muse dies from alcoholism at the age of 44!
I miss him
For the Contest: Abandon
Sponsor: Constance La France
Written 20.05.2025
To live with abandon is to spend your soul as if the tab will never come, but it always does – by unknown
When abandon runs dry
He spent money with merry abandon,
Like laughter thrown into the wind.
Tossed akin to confetti in events of fleeting joy.
He kept no tabs, no ledger,
there was no tomorrow.
He moved through life
as a flame burns through paper.
Notes flew from his hands,
the way birds scatter startled by gunshots.
There was no guilt in his pockets.
He opened the tap and shouted the bar.
People called him legend and slapped his back,
till the wind changed and downturn came.
Then the centre of gravity shifted,
the barstools cooled,
the phones stilled,
silence frosted all the beer steins.
He found himself orbiting absence
nobody patted his shoulder,
nobody flipped a coin in his cup,
He had poured himself into the room,
and when the keg ran dry,
all the lychees vanished…
they all abandoned him.
He doesn’t speak of it now,
just nods and smiles with that tired kindness
you only learn after the last music notes.
Love you Joe
Meg often told Josh
to try to be less reckless
but Josh had panache
when dealing with dangerous
too often being feckless
since days of sixth grade
their hands often intertwined
Meg and Josh displayed
how their main wants were aligned
though to harm Josh was purblind
Meg off to college
while Josh acquired war knowledge
strife without stoppage
where fears must be acknowledged
sympathy soon abolished
is no safe return
for what's lost along the way
only time to burn
no matter what others say
may come no brighter new day
when Twin Towers fell
Josh had rushed off to enlist
Meg's life went to hell
Josh’s words now like a hard fist
boy she'd known didn't exist
the world keeps turning
no matter how hard we pray
or strength of yearning
for that which was yesterday
tomorrow can be stone gray
forward observer
to Afghanistan he's sent
his own preserver
living in wind torn pup tent
letters described his descent
first months Meg worried
next mission Josh would be dead
their future buried
Josh's letters fill her with dread
terror lies in what's now read
tis time which smolders
forever change is churning
both growing older
with each thing Meg is learning
worry won't stop time burning
hold tight to your soul
into the void it may go
longing digs deep holes
upsetting the status quo
mixing up who's friend and foe
tick-tock does not stop
until tense mainsprings unwind
now their ball shall drop
just before ties will them bind
leaving little peace of mind
what scares Meg most
not if Josh is still alive
with return now close
Meg's uncertain she'll survive
what's become a nosedive
measuring last breathes
some things become worse than death
stolen by time's thieves
what we still want to believe
before we can start to grieve
dreading Josh's return
Meg would now prefer to hide
only time to burn
their fate's unwilling new bride
now caught on the same strange ride
only time to burn
while human emotions churn
withal yet we yearn
our ought-to-bes make downturns
changes cannot be returned
Full of wonder and imagination;
beyond beautiful, Earth's a paradise.
But humanity's role is in question,
for we do untold things that make no sense.
Food's plentiful; yet folks face starvation
if they are born in a third-world nation.
As the glaciers melt, and the forests burn;
Climate Change keeps fueling disasters.
And yet, Global Warming's labeled a hoax,
politicians proclaiming it's fiction.
The economy's set for a downturn:
Global Warming is a major concern.
Unless we all agree to mend our ways,
Gaia will force Climate Change upon us.
As seas rise, floods and famine will follow,
while pandemics won't lag too far behind.
And blaming migrants will launch the next phase
in hastening humanity's end days.
Come now, Spring! You’re such a fickle young thing!
On the wings of newborn feathers, your wiles
up and downturn winds to sudden cold flings
tripping warming skins to tremble a while…
Next come your silken color-filled fancies!
Eyes beckoned, step out to be near such charms…
Yens still, as you march as perfumed dandy,
masking musky breath, that breezes sneezed harm…
And when April comes along, your eye gleams!
Enchantment grows, then fades to slushy mush….
Becoming crystals, shatter in your steam
Oh how she weeps, for diamonds rained to slush!
Rivers gush your youth’s enthusiasm ~
Now, may you calm, ere you deepen chasms ~
(2/7/23)
Judging by outer appearance
That too with mind interference
Game of desire and aversion
Instinctive ego dalliance
Jaundiced eye birthing delusion
Enmeshes soul in confusion
Here to learn but cannot discern
Path to God realisation
Loving heart soft but ego stern
Fears and desires, soul goals downturn
Thus reborn again and again
How many times will we return
Know that cyclic are joy and pain
Futile pursuits for earthy gain
Stooped stance, head and heart misaligned
Fallen from grace; dark is soul stain
High time ego, to bin consigned
Love enabled, truth is divined
Next step, unity consciousness
We are He, who we seek to find
20-October-2021