Long Draw Poems
Long Draw Poems. Below are the most popular long Draw by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Draw poems by poem length and keyword.
I Climbed rocks winged with words,
and paint beauties on my path,
invade palaces unhindered,
bearing arms welling from this frame.
I draw the sword from the scabbard,
piercing dictators with a dagger,
I cut their cables by this craft,
and watched their fickle frame subdued.
I soar like eagle in my thoughts,
coruscating gleams attending,
I see nature's beauty and hear voices,
I roam in firce shades in search of jewels,
The pulse of fear or grim assails,
Yet capapie and undaunted.
I see men entrapped in a race,
oh! that they might see the filth,
and time, how short to pen,
these vague and obscure moments.
Yet, poetry catches but a few.
Freedom's Last Cry
I do not agree...
with your personal views,
and prefer to avoid;
seeing them,
hearing them,
reading them.
It was just a choice,
not a judgment.
There is,
still freedom of choice,
until it too is gone,
with the rest.
No safe place.
No law and order.
No culpability,
and no responsibility.
When "we" are all silenced,
by the world view,
The Lion will roar,
and there will be true,
and real fear.
The Lamb that was slain,
will return.
Angels will sing,
and draw swords.
They will know their tasks,
and rush to do them.
Time a funny thing,
the blink of an eye,
the glint of a single tear,
year after year,
suddenly here!
To Mom: 1916-1971
So many years ago you left, that's true-
you, only fifty-five- I, thirty-two.
So many things you missed from that day on;
so much of you I missed since you've been gone.
If only- for one day, you could come see,
with pride and joy, your dear, sweet family.
To meet your grandkids, then so young, now grown
and married with grown children of their own.
Just one more day to reminisce the past,
the wondrous times we spent that went too fast-
like Sunday dinners spent with you and Dad,
where little ones enjoyed the time they had.
Just one more day for us to pause with care
and talk about the things we did not share,
like recipes you kept inside your head,
now lost, not ever written to be read.
Just one more day for me to watch in awe
you needlepoint those pictures I would draw;
with tiny stitches, you'd create great art,
a thread-filled painting, woven from your heart.
Just one more day, to hold you tenderly,
for in the dark, you slipped away from me,
not knowing God would take you that sad night,
no chance for hugs, goodbyes for us in sight.
Just one more day to say I still love you
for being there for me, forever true;
to thank you for your guidance and your love.
I pray you feel these yearnings from above.
Just one more day, just one more heartfelt try
to see you once again- then say goodbye.
December 5, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: From The Heart
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Judged: 10/28/2020
Form: Couplet
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
I ride on a sound Arabian stallion
He takes me to snow mountain
Where snow trees are stunned
by cold wind
I get down by a swirling stream
I walk with him downhill
Where I see Lynx and Bear
busy fishing
Off again on our course free
I ride at ease gracefully
I see a palace at a distance
My heart set racing
We draw close to the mansion
I see a delicate princess
Walking elegantly in rose garden
Blushing wind
She was singing to a chickadee
Birds were chirping to her
As butterflies danced on flowers
Enchanting
I took my three magic rocks
Wrapped in silk, I sent her as gift
With a note that read, ‘Be so
Blessed dear, walk in truth’
‘A rock for good health be
A rock for good life be
A rock for divine blessings be’
Amen
Even before she could read my note
I was riding away on my stallion
Who flew faster like falcon
Down the mountain
What do you do when you reach the end of the road? What do you do when your ambition gets cold? What do you do when your body gets hot and the heat is moving inside your gut, and there is nothing to cool down the crucible that is burning inside, do you swallow your pride and draw from the well outside? what do you do when the water is dried up in the stream and there is no water to wash your feet? Do you continue moving in the same direction or do you go back where you are coming from? I am following you to the end of the road to see how far you will go, I am following you to the end of the road to see what you will do when you reach the edge of the cliff; will destiny give you another lift, I will watch the story unfold as we hit the road, for this has been your long life goal as you unveil your ambitious dream. The tension was so high but you push and pull until you reach the top of the ladder and there is no more places to go except to move with the clouds. What do you do when get to the end of the road and there is no place to go and you have to do the show, the trees will stand still and destiny will ride with you up the hill, and you will gaze into the sky and watch the clouds as they roll by. I have some serious question for you and you have got to find some answers before the day is through. We will journey together to complete the tapestry at the end of the road that leads to the top of the hill.
Probably...
Rumor was there that he is an addicted soul
A real problem through ongoing struggles,
Was to understand
The real person
Behind
A vague shadow
I do not know him, at all, in real life.
Now...
Do I need to know, actually, an artist?
Art has its own definition of beauty.
With
Some payments in life,
I believe.
Flower of creativity blooms
Slowly...
In a drained, fatigued out life
In reality.
Or could be something else? Do not know.
I do not know him, at all, in real life.
I felt....
This rather neutral observation of mine
Is dropping
And
Bouncing on its own...
Rather than creating bubbles...
Learning to hide
Own woes
Rapidly growing hissing
Of
Sounds of demons
mostly mine, off course.
Should I abstain from further assumption?
I am not sure. I do not know.
I do not know him, at all, in real life.
Out there...
From my window, I see a green, lavish tree
Those green leaves, swirling, shifting,
Tossing and turning
In wind, rain, and sunlight.
I thought...
Should I draw a problematic moment, now?
Of a slain mind with a destined agony
Of a conviction of wasting time, in vain?
I am not sure. I do not know.
I do not know him, at all, in real life.
Most of his mature life
had been a process of recoiling
and mending.
Until late
he had not suspected
that this prolonged retreat
had been his lot.
He thought he was building bricks,
constructing a living edifice
while in realty he was engaged
in an epic dismantling.
He thought he had made inroads,
woven together great journeys,
drawing to himself many pathways
toward a destination or purpose.
Yet of late, he felt
that his life had been a slow withdrawing,
a giving way
disguised as steps forward.
Despite this new understanding
he sensed a strange vindication,
as if it were more noble to give way
and draw back.
The battle at last lost,
the surrender acknowledged;
today he whistles a tune
that the thorn bushes sing
when a homeless wind
rattles through them.
Spirit begins…first songs passed on…link arms.
We’re knit…as one…one voice of saints syncing.
Our praise is wind. It winds through all of time.
We raise our arms on earth; from there love flows.
With kin we rode the ark and now speak life.
Our instruments, one breath…Yahweh…seeking.**
With limbs, we stand up tall, tethered to wings.
High hymns amplifying the one true God.
Trumpet resounds - His voice, in heaven seeks,
and begets ears and hearts, with seven eyes.*
Spirit begins…first songs passed on…link arms.
We’re knit…as one…one voice of saints syncing.
*Seven symbolizes completion. God’s eyes are everywhere
**Yahweh (God’s name) Draw breath in “Yah,” let it out, “weh.”
I teach beneath a foreign sun,
where the desert hums in quiet gold,
and the call to prayer meets the ringing bell
of a Philippine school far from home.
My passport rests heavily in my pocket,
but my heart carries islands
Luzon’s mountains, Visayas’ seas,
Mindanao’s songs whispered in memory.
I speak of heroes not carved in stone alone,
but alive in values
malasakit, bayanihan, dignity in labor,
hope glowing on a smart board.
I tell my students:
Nationalism is not only loving the land you stand on,
but honoring the land that raised your name,
even when your feet are planted elsewhere.
In Qatar, I draw maps with digital light,
yet the truest map is within
a compass pointing always home,
no matter how far the journey goes.
Every correct answer, every dream encouraged,
is a quiet service to the nation I left behind.
For though I teach abroad,
my purpose remains Filipino.
Such a terrible way to be when you've been hurt by the one you hold so dear,
The emotions that rush through your soul alerting you of what you most fear.
Visions of all the cold dark nights with the sound of emptiness loud as drums,
The pain in my stomach aches to my soul and I'm afraid of all that is to come.
What kind of pleasure is this to hurt another and not feel the pain you've caused,
It is clear to see that you do not have a clue of what exactly you have lost.
In the days that will follow will be a reminder of your greatest mistake,
You will beg and you will pray for it to end but it will be to late.
The heaviness in my heart wieghs me down making it hard to move around ,
Knowing this is the beginning of a sad future this is what I've found.
How could this possibly happen to me I was so ready and so prepared ,
One thing for sure I am feeling today that there is no doubt I am scared.
All your lies and deceptions have found thiere way to my once true heart,
I know this for fact what is to happen very soon I will be falling apart.
There will be no more sunny skies filled with those happy moments,
There will only be a shell of a man who once had a dream and felt content.
Do you see the things in the back of my mind shadowing what was our lives,
As they draw closer and clearer showing me just how much it makes me want to cry.
Tac