Long Emailed Poems
Long Emailed Poems. Below are the most popular long Emailed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Emailed poems by poem length and keyword.
“Good morning, morning all;
Oh, my may God continue to bless you so;
Abundantly in your creative journey
May you find the way?
I need to confirm, this day;
To convey,
The purpose only;
Finding your love O’ Lord;
And it gives me the push I need to confirm;
That I’m on the right way…
Well, that I’, on the right way see;
I am looking for continued, continual blessings…
As I sojourn this quilted beaten path;
I am so glad that you’ve shown me Lord O God;
Where I’m truly at…
That I’m on the right path;
Like a pep talk before a big game;
You call me out by my name;
11/05/19
Written words by Genysis DMaurie* and James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
*based off of written emailed commented words of Genysis DMaurier
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I've emailed the above to all of my loved ones who are not Poetry Soup members. Who
knows? Maybe it will generate some more recruits.
(I wonder how many reading this actually attempted to click on the above link that isn't
there. I wonder?)
I realized this one day, and others also concur
Men have a difficult time living alone, but women love it.
When a man’s spouse runs away or dies,
He seems to replace her in seconds, a week at the most.
I look around and see Mr. B, Mr. P. and Mr. D.
They each replaced their spouses before they had been gone a month.
Whereas Mrs. G, Mrs. H. and Mrs. P. are content with their alone time.
“Best twenty years of my life,” Mrs. P. tells me.
Mr. B. emailed high school girlfriend the evening after his wife’s funeral.
Mr. P. began dating wife’s best friend two days after her disappearance.
Mr. D. brought home a new bride a month after his wife was committed.
It is the norm, my friends told me. Men cannot live alone.
They cannot entertain themselves. They cannot stand the quiet.
They have to have a woman, or they cannot function.
Women are okay with it, but not a man.
If I was Mr. P’s new wife I would have preferred to live alone.
His last wife was his third wife who has gone missing.
The chancy countdown clock of my mortality
is ticking toward some unknown preset alarm.
I’m aware of every taciturn tick tock
in unrecoverable moments spent waiting
for something to happen…
and I do not wait well.
I wait for stiff slices of tanned toast to pop up.
I wait for the microwave’s proclamatory ping.
I wait for endless dreary drizzle to stop.
I wait for supplemental shoes to drop.
I wait for stern scarlet stoplights to glow green.
I wait for stalled responses to emailed queries.
I wait for weighty debts to be repaid.
I wait for market losses to regain.
I wait for unsure recovery from illness.
I wait for a time and place of serene stillness.
I wait to watch news that makes me feel happy…
instead of sadly numb from unrelenting horror.
I wait for a time when love and peace…
are not hammered by hate and violence.
I wait for our warming forests to stop catching fire.
I wait for AI to prove its promise rather than peril.
I wait for a clogged Congress to civilly meet in the middle.
I wait for common sense and facts to regain a following.
I wait for a time when cynicism concedes to optimism.
I wait for the long dark night of our collective souls to end.
I wait for the culmination of all things, large and small.
I wait for a time when all our waiting concludes.
I wait for anticipatory hope of Advent and Eschaton
to authentically, faithfully, finally, feel real to me.
But I’m mired in my own limited perception.
I need another perspective for waiting well.
I recall my life spans just an eye-blink slice
within deep, astronomical, cosmic time.
From the Big Bang to the Bethlehem star
over thirteen billion years passed by,
a very long Advent time indeed.
God must be very good at waiting.
(First published in Valiant Scribe Literary Journal (Issue V, Winter 2024) 46-47. See also my poems “Star of Wondering” and “Bringing Heaven to Earth.”)
I never saw him coming nor did I feel his shadowy presence. Not to mention that no one informed me of his visitation.
Not all 'bang bangs' are created equal with bells and whistles. Clueless, it was simply me and him, head-on and face to face.
How was I supposed to know, having never met him before?
Oh, I had heard of him and that I would no doubt meet him 'someday'.
But 'someday' is a very long time, especially when you are busy with life. I knew others who had befriended him, but not many people I knew liked him.
Anyway, I was looking forward to meeting him "someday" with the understanding that my life did not have to be radically changed by him.
I had places to go and things to do and no time for 'Mr. Aging' to creep up on me. Anyway, he never called, emailed, texted, or informed me in any kind of way that he was intent on paying me a visit for the very first time. So it's no wonder I was surprised when he just showed up at my kitchen table as I was
reading a roadmap.
That's right, Mr. Aging just showed up unannounced one day and said in his own quiet way, "Hello, these eyes I've had for some 49 years can use a little help because the print is too small to see". It was Mr. Aging speaking to me, and that was the way we met for the very first time.
110519cjFBPoSoupCtest, Strand Select M, Brian Strand. IP
My older sister,
now in her early seventies,
which was about the last time
she enjoyed a new idea,
in the early 70s, possibly earlier,
I would guess...
She moved to white middle-class
Republican Texas,
with aging Texas sized unresolved adolescent issues,
not too long
after dropping out of Bob Jones University,
southern capital of all-white evangelical anti-Christian racism,
which had fallen prey to unfiltered privilege
of Republican Pharisees,
BadNews for all non-white
non-straight
polycultural ecofeminist Aliens,
therefore not authentically heterosexual white Jesus lovers,
or something patriarchal like that.
Anyway,
a few years ago
I let her know
I had recently been invaded,
not by a goodnews Hetero-Revival,
but by HIVirus.
HI!
I'm Positive.
Don't pass it on.
Keep me to your loser self.
She emailed me back:
How do you feel about your choices
now?
A few years later
a hurricane went through Texas
and her gated community flooded
resulting in new front porch vistas
of alligators or crocodiles
or whatever Texans have down there,
besides angry straight white privileged Republicans
and Johnson Democrats of suspicious color
and green ecopolitical WinWin persuasions,
swimming upstream
hunting for white-meat prey.
I emailed my sister back,
How do you feel
about your choices
now?
Have not yet heard back.
Last December, I had my birthday celebration,
It was so much fun that I forgot to use my walking cane,
At the end, all the leftover food must be dumped,
Even cake and sweets must be parted with pain.
Next morning, I must return the hall keys,
I looked in the drawer where I put my keys,
Looked inside and outside the car for any clue,
There was no clue for the missing key.
I called hall in charge,
She said there is $1000 penalty for lost keys,
I would go to other functions in night,
And ask if anyone had the hall keys in sight.
With the key lost, all the sweet memories were turning sour,
I emailed all the participants if they had an extra key,
No one replied, I was planning to get a loan to pay the fine,
When I was ready to go out, I saw something under a standing lamp,
Its brass base was like the color of key,
The key was there, hoping someone would find it there.
A mass of thoughts cascade upon my chest
each day that night comes
for I hover day by day at your door's step
but I see not your appearance
Flood of thoughts run within my mind
time to time that tic-tock of the clock
goes without a seconds wait
for I hover over emails I send each time
but I see not your reply
Wave of thoughts spill over my sense
I trudge around with heavy head
miss you
Imiss your uplifting words
Autumn leaves heavy with thoughts
for they awaiting your early morning sprinkle
miss you
miss you my lovely friend.
Note: A dedicate to a friend whose her words had for long heard, although I'm to blame. She emailed me then,"therein, I know she wanted to tell me something," but I was ill, I cannot stare at light. therefore I didn't check her mail for some days. Each day by day now I'm confusing...
I'm having trouble leaving comments that I find frustrating
Soup have kindly emailed me saying they are investigating
Yesterday I tried leaving comments and a couple did get through
Then that frightful message appeared that turned the air blue.
I even wrote about it in a blog to throw light on the situation
So you'd know I wasnt ignoring you that would'nt be my intention
It happens on my tablet and even on my smartphone
And from the comments I've read; I know I'm not alone.
Russians, Chinese and aliens have all come to mind
But realistically I'm pretty sure a gremlin they will find
Though why this is happening? remains a dark mystery
And its adding fuel to the fire of some dark conspiracy.
I've made contact with some poets away from the site
They too are in agreement that something is not right
Ive added screenshots as proof so that you can all see
I'm confident they'll find the problem and restore my sanity.
Or maybe I'm in a nightmare and everyone has me blocked
Thinking that I'm some sort of troll, well I'm truly shocked
It certainly wasn't me that stole someone's verses of rhyme
If that was the case soup would ban me for a long time.
Written 4th August 2020.
The Way
By Curtis Johnson
One wet and cloudy day I was in the way
Until someone shouted, “get out the way!”
Mr. 9 to 5 got real tired just the other day.
He emailed an old friend simply to say;
Someday I am going to find away without delay;
To get away and find a place to hide away.
Mr. 9 to 5, who lives up the street not far away,
Said one day, “my house, I would love to give away,
and pack up my things and move far away.”
Then Mrs. 9 to 5 said, “no way, put him away.”
Mr. and Mrs. 9 to 5’s kids want to all run away.
They want to stay away, because Mr. 9 to 5 says,
It’s going to be his way or the long highway.
So all the kids got upset one day and ran away.
We all get upset at times and don’t know which way.
I remember Jesus said one time, “I’m the way.”
clj111306