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.
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.”)
Dear Tony,
I see a broken and bruised heart; and I alone can relieve your awful pain.
You must realize that I am desperately trying to reach out to you;
but there are limits to my ability to enter the doors of your heart.
You continue denying me entry and ignoring all my communications.
I know if it were not for the blinders and the fog, you would let me in
I am certain that you are well aware of the padded locks on your doors
You most asuredly have noticed all the iron bars and boards blocking me
Many others have gained entry; and I only ask, "Why not me who love you more?"
We knew each other well when your were young; but now you feel no need for me. You are surrounded and locked away by selfish people who do not really care about you. They do not love you and only want what's yours; I desire not yours; but you alone. They have nothing to give, but everything to take. I have nothing to take, but everything to give. Oh *Tony, you realize this fact in your heart, but you are very lonely and afraid to let them go.
You are being consumed by unsatisfying amusements that leave you cold and miserable. I cannot force my way through all the smoke and mirrors, the false and fading. I know that You don't really want me out; but you want so many others in. Unfortunately, you cannot have both me and them. I am sorry that I cannot be 'just another' among the many who cater to you.
I have called, emailed, texted, and sent regular mail without response.
But please understand that my love for you remains and will never die; I am here for you always.
Longing to be your friend, Jesus
08162017FBTGPSContesy, Let Me Into Your Heart, Julie Rodeheaver, 3Pl.
*I once had a friend name Tony who died from an overdose of Narcotics
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.
Each of us has a talent or gift within us that must find an exit. That gift need not make one a star or set the world on fire, but it must exit. Until the thing that God put within us makes an exit to bless others, there will be no rest within.
More than ten years ago, a friend was going through a divorce. When I came to learn of the matter, I felt sorry inside. It was an emotion that I had never experienced in matters of marriage. It seems that I really took it to heart and felt like doing something about it. But what? His spouse's mind was made up. The matter was settled, and the die was all but cast.
I was awakened one morning with a poem in my head about my friend's dilemma. I started to write, and it was written with the heart and voice of my friend pleading with his wife for another chance.
I emailed the poem to my friend and after a few words of encouraging compliments, he asked permission to use it with his wife. I would love to be able to say that the poem changed the destiny of their marriage, but such is not the case. But it did change something within me.
From then on, I began to write continually. My poems and stories are inspired in a myriad of ways, but the above mentioned story stands at the top. It was the beginning of a most delightful journey in writing. It also spearheaded something within me to launch forward into a desire and longing that had been within me since I was very young. Imagine. 50+ years to exit.
9/2/17Contest, What Inspires You To Write Poetry, Rodeheaver,1p
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
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.
You may want to save this link if you know how to.
It will bring all of my present day and future poetry to you.
Some you may have already read
but there will always be more added that are new to you.
In any event you may find the comments given below any one of my many a poetic piece
to be enjoyable, amusing and very interesting reading possibly for you to say the least.
You can even check out the poetry of they who commented on the poetry of yours truly.
Just click on their link and as quik as a wink you'll be lost in their amazing poetry.
Click Here> The Poetry of William A Cleator
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Copy & Paste the web address below onto your browser and then click GO.
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=16853
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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?)
Mom writes polemics, when a cause grasps her heart
She's a good soul and wants to do her part
A journal took one, so she emailed it to friends
Then found that old age had brought many to their ends
Sometimes children answer back, or maybe a weary wife
They thank her kindly, talk about the hollow in their life
Sometimes they are left to cope alone
But there's always a rest for a rolling stone.
I viewed the emails she’s getting back
This one succumbed to a heart attack
This one had a blood disease, slow but sure
This one slipped on his driveway, could not endure
Her article makes waves, then just ripples in a lake
Tomorrow's news cycle and forgetfulness take
Does she make a difference in the trend flow?
The fish against the current who knew where to go.
I push Mom in a wheelchair, up a path in a park
We sit at the summit, and I rest on tree bark
There's a half-life to friends, it's hard to make more
As your boat approaches the terminal shore.
On her birthday we walked, I watched a hawk soar
Her cell phone rang, a shock was in store
It was the son of friend, a lady healthy and strong
She died that morning, it felt so wrong
She remembers when Dad died, its etched in her brain
He couldn't get words out, and we couldn't explain
The years spiral downward, and life's ripples fade
And yet for a time, a difference was made.
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