Long Drag Poems
Long Drag Poems. Below are the most popular long Drag by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drag poems by poem length and keyword.
Each time I’ve loved, the wound ran deep,
A crimson truth I could not keep.
So now my heart, in self-defence,
Builds iron walls, immense, intense.
When someone stirs that fragile flame,
I whisper harshly, call my name,
And drag myself from passion’s shore,
To guard the ache I’ve felt before.
I scold the spark, I dim the light,
I shun the warmth, embrace the night.
Oh, what a maze of love and pain,
Where loss feels certain, joy feels vain.
Am I my foe? It seems I am—
I wound myself before you can.
And still, from every scar I bear,
A strange, fierce love grows stronger there.
Shall I once more embrace the fall,
And risk the shatter, lose it all?
For even if my heart should break,
It’s mine to lose, my choice to make.
And now I wonder, endlessly—
If meant to be… must still be free?
In playful hands of fate we sway,
Like toys upon her woven way.
In dreams that haunt and softly gleam,
Such visions stir—a waking dream.
Oh, destiny, if you are kind,
Let me slip through thy sleeping mind,
To see if there, the scene I see,
Plays out within the reverie.
Archangel, if your grace allows,
Unfold this truth beneath your vows.
She was at the height of the women's liberation dear
But not the kind that you might think about
She was never scared at what women too often fear
Said yes when a man would ask her out
Never took full advantage of her attitude
Her smile was always genuine
Left alone the expensive grub on the menu
Always lived and loved the best in life
She was liberated of all the cares
That seem to drag most women off
Take all the time you want to stop and stare
She didn't care what other people thought
Never really worried about her weight
Or the style of clothes that she had on
Knew that really wasn't how she was made
No that wasn't how she was made at all
Sugar and spice and all that's nice was fine by her
With a touch of sour if you rubbed her wrong
Though on a dime she could turn with a kind word
For a poor soul who didn't play along
She was liberated of all the cares
That seem to drag most women off
Knew that attitude would get her nowhere
So she didn't care what other people thought
Written in the Viator Poetry Form
Invented by Robin Skelton (1925-1997)
Canadian Author and Poet
'Tis of Thee Canada
For my country, proudly I wave the flag,
surround by great oceans north, east and west;
lucky to be born in Canada- blessed,
have lots of things famous for that we brag.
Like the awesome Mounties in their red dressed,
for my country, proudly I wave the flag;
of green wilderness on and on we drag,
oh, with eh and sorry- I am obsessed.
And sweet maple trees, maple leaves and moose,
come fishing here and put fish in your bag;
for my country, proudly I wave the flag;
sorry for Canada Geese flying loose.
Of our diversity I will brag,
eh, love poutine- and the changing seasons;
ice, snow, beaver, hockey, beer more reasons,
for my country, proudly I wave the flag.
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August 24, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/'Tis of Thee Canada
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1054-566-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Thirty-seven moves in my married life.
I jumped into each new situation ready to make friends.
There is almost always something I like about everybody.
I drag them home to introduce them to my husband.
He’s not as fond of people as I am.
Now I had friends.
Bam!
We moved again.
One time a minister came to welcome me to the neighborhood.
She was too late. I had been there a month.
I was rude, because I was busy packing.
Moving again.
Another time my children got on a school bus with three gerbils.
To give them away, because we were moving across country.
Two enormous dogs and three cats were enough trouble for the car ride.
Moving became my way of life.
People asked if my husband was in the military.
They knew I wasn’t because I did not have combat boots.
He didn’t either, but no one knew him or me.
Because we were always moving.
Not sure yet, I slowly turn to the sound of a familiar voice.
Yours maybe?
It has been three years since the social dance of co-workers and mingling - inevitable small talk.
Three years ago, this was a not so foreign path.
Is it too much all at once?
These long office corridors can be home
versus the long, dreadful, hours spent at home
the winter months are not the worst - June, July and August are the culprits.
They drag - like an old train chugging past.
Whistling in the wind.
My life is not a rundown railroad train.
dodging my own shadow, I spent what seemed like lifetimes, watching the sun slouch across the carpet.
Seated at a round table, they laugh in the crowded cafe.
Alert yet apart, I will blend in like a chameleon, like a flower in a vase I will arrange myself to bend with my fellow flowers.
We will all bloom and it will all be glorious.
Keep thinking, keep interested, keep praying, keep dreaming. Be mentally sensitive at all times so that the magic word that motivates you may one day speak to your deep inner self. Norman Vincent Peale
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Keep faith and brace to initiate your wave.
Stay resilient—reject to succumb or cave.
Dwell directly down the desire you have set.
Venture for your ambitions without regret.
Strive to weather any obstacle or spree.
Undying faith and clear aims are success key
Implies sacrifice, commitment, and skill too
These are critical to an edge or breakthrough.
Fulfill your goals, none is vain if you believe.
No drag can be dealt and no dole can deceive.
After exertion—there is no desultory vitality.
Never settle for a skewed version of reality.
I was supine simply—staring at the wall.
Blinding lights shatter the glass hall.
Growing an overwhelming feeling of fear.
I still close my eyes and dream of sheer
Strolling in a dense woodland as it gets dark
Bright stars and an orange moon draw a spark.
Anything in my close vicinity is lively and alive.
Soaked and at peace, with no drive to strive.
The faded history will be right in our grasp.
The faults and lofty goals no longer unclasp.
In the deepest, darkest world, there is no fear.
I am presently unfettered, resistant, and clear.
Living this way would have been flawless.
Relishing the splendor, peace, and aweless.
Realizing that our destiny is in His control.
Trusting His epic might bestow souls console.
Embrace the light of faith—let fears starve.
Dreaming, wishing, and aiming may carve
That's why I keep trying; it's due to one desire.
A dream of freedom and justice never conspires.
If you have faith, your dreams will come true.
And boldly uncover the potential inside you.
Thus, resist the urge to cave up and cave in.
Keep your faith and let your adventure spin.
Stand up straight,
Don't slouch,
Stomach in chest out,
Don't drag your feet.
All phrases to make the child in you cringe,
And widen the generation gap,
With the child's 'but Dad' or 'oh Mum' response,
As head is bowed,
Eyes turned towards floor,
Further slouching,
With chest in and stomach out
Much dragging of feet
And temporary hearing loss.
Yet when you reach an age when wisdom,
Sometimes does kick in,
You realise that Mum and Dad might have been onto something,
When you have difficulty standing up straight,
Keeping your chest out and your stomach in,
It becomes a certainty,
When your line of sight is at ground zero,
And your days of predicting the weather by looking up at the clouds,
long gone,
With summer nights no longer spent happily gazing at the stars.
Fortunately, I sort of listened to my parents,
And my line of sight is a little higher for my age than most,
Looking back, I think wisdom had sort of kicked in early with my parents.
Even though they called me out,
For not standing up straight,
For not sticking my chest out,
For not keeping my stomach in,
For not stopping slouching,
And for not lifting my feet,
They sometimes symbolically pinned medals on me,
Which more often than not,
Caused my back to straighten,
My chest to puff out,
My stomach muscles to tighten,
With no visible slouching or dragging of feet,
All of which brought about a change in my line of sight,
Until the holidays came around
When, even my parents could be caught,
Slouching around,
As long, as their parents were not in town.
Mere words cannot express
The depths of my respect
And how I mourn the fact that he's not here.
His open, honest smile,
His friendly country style,
Of course his voice and music keep him near.
As kids, on Thursday nights,
My dad turned down the lights
And by a roaring fire we'd sing his songs.
I've such dear memories...
We'd sing to his LP's
Until, at last, our bedtimes came along.
Oh, how those songs inspired
And lifted my heart higher
Each time my mundane life would drag me down.
And truly I believe
It cannot be just me
Who wishes that he could still be around.
So, here's to Brother John!
He's never really gone
As long as somewhere someone shares his songs!
He was one of the best
So may his soul be blessed!
His many fans will keep his mem'ry strong.
Ride with me on my time machine to a different time and place
Return with me and let me see if I can put a smile upon your face
To the days of AM radio and the TV was black and white
To lying in a grassy field and counting stars at night
Popcorn and soda in the balcony at a Saturday matinee
Parades led by the High School Band on Decoration Day
Dressing up and going door to door on the night of Halloween
Cigarettes rolled in your shirt, pretending to be James Dean
Pep rallies before the football games, everybody stand and cheer
Going in the woods with your friends at night, sharing a quart of beer
That feeling inside, turning red, when she smiled at you at the dance
Wanting to kiss her goodnight, but you were afraid to take a chance
Playing chase tag at night in the neighborhood, hiding behind a tree
Holding hands with your first steady, so all your friends could see
Medicine Show at the end of town in a giant canvas tent
Saving pennies for a rainy day, fasting on candy for Lent
Going for a Sunday ride with Mom and Dad in the family car
Playing in the yard at night, putting lightning bugs in a jar
Drag racing on that long stretch of road, Chevy was hard to beat
Stealing peaches from a neighbor’s tree, always seemed so sweet
Riding bikes all over town, never knowing the meaning of fear
Identifying cars by their tail lights, make and model and year
News and Stooges at the theatre before the movie starts
Valentine’s day I love you written on tiny candy hearts
Easter bonnets and picking flowers for Mom on Mother’s Day
Opening day at the community pool the last weekend in May
Sock hop in the auditorium, collar up, trying to play it cool
Meeting friends at the usual place, everyday after school
Six for a quarter on the juke box, music that would move your soul
Return with me now to those glory days and the birth of rock and roll.
Oh Lord, it seems to me, You are a God of pain
without which some people say there is no gain.
There is only so much that we creatures can bear
and it’s sometimes I wonder if You really do care.
Throughout the world You’re generally loved, hated or feared
and there are certain times when You are very strongly jeered.
Most people have a hard time making up their mind about You
because of the trials and tribulations that You put them through.
It seems strange and true to say that with Your almighty nature
You somewhat force people to bend to Your imposing stature.
To impress on them that You’re the Only One they should please
You have to prepare and teach them all how Your Will to appease.
Is it because of You’re being Immortal and All-knowing and we are Your heirs
that You subject us all to such rigorous training to overcome illusion’s snares?
One only has to reflect on the lives of Your so-called True Sons of the past
to realize the suffering and attainment their example on humanity has cast.
If I sound to be a little cynical towards You and seem to complain
how could You be so insensitive and not help me get rid of my pain?
Though ignorant as I am to One Who is great as You’re made out to be
please show a little more compassion to those who are helpless like me.
As life in this world demands so much of our time
is it forgetfulness of Thee that You consider a crime?!
This whole world is a cruel proving ground to one higher above
and yet it has been spoken or written that You are a God of love!
If I don’t seem to see the bigger picture now of what really goes on
then You’re held responsible for allowing this situation to drag on.
And even though You have given Teachers to show people the way
the illusion is still so strong that most get caught and lost in the fray.
Remaining a while here where they play out either minor or major roles
being only a matter of time before they too become aware of their souls.
When after much disappointment and suffering that You seem to mete out
they gradually realize by pain that this world is not what life is only about.
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