Long Ends Poems

Long Ends Poems. Below are the most popular long Ends by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ends poems by poem length and keyword.


The Foolish Robin and the Lonely Old Man

It was early in the morning 
I had my cup of tea
When a little robin landed
Beside me peculiarly 

Outside on the porch
We talked, him and I
I taught him how to speak
He taught me how to fly

We glided over deserts
And perched atop jungles
We saw men and women talking
Beneath us just a mumble

We saw Paris and Rome
Geneva and Berlin
We saw wonders of the world
Places no man has ever been

I wiped a tear from my eyes
As we landed back home
For I had seen miracles
Which I had never known


Fly away I said
To that little brown bird
Go away from this place
It is not safe, take my word

But he did not listen
And he stayed right by my side
He taught me how to live
I taught him how to die

Thus is the way
With humans and robins
I am afraid it all ends
In a fate far too common

So fly away
While you still have a chance
Less you end up like the foolish robin
And the lonely old man
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Please Forgive Me

How do I hate thee?  Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breath and height
my plunger can reach, when reaching out of sight.
to the ends of a stopped-up toilet bowl.
I hate thee to the level of everyday’s.
most disgusting need, by sun and candle-light.
I hate thee freely, as no other men would want thee.
I hate thee purely, as thy years have taken their toll.
I hate thee because thy brain appears too loose.
Good grief, thou art a woman no man would choose.
I hate thee as much as crap from a goose.
With coke up thy nose, and smell of whiskey on thy breath,
it appears since thy birth, thou were destined to lose.
I shall but hate thee even after thy death.

Sonnet 43 (How do I love Thee, let me count the ways)
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Premium Member Blood Money

Blood Money 
Ransom for a trade 
Hostile blood money 
Vendita for the victims 
Bad guy on the run 
A bloody weapon in hand 
Manipulation runneth 
A destructive mind-set 
Mental disorder unbalanced 
Morally wrong with a motive 
With madness, no care for others 
Another body bag 
Murder mystery unsolved 
With no boundaries 
Another murder just for the money 
Money for ransom 
With blood on your hands 
Dead presidents in green 
Bloody bank note bleeding 
Greed follows a dead end 
No one wins 
Another lost soul 
Just for engraved images paper note 
Blood money never ends 
Another victim up ahead 
Another story to write 
Another violent villain 
Hunting in the night 
Only to worship money
Form: Rhyme

The Beast

The harshest lessons of the past teach—you need the beast.
The wilderness of future tells you to feed the beast.

Renounce the shackles pulling you down into the mud.
Be as the mud and thrive, embracing the greed, the beast.

Because the nature of the world is contempt; inspire, 
and revel in that fervid pit, they screech, “Bleed the beast!”

Granted, it's a lonely road of thorns and oozing wounds.
Life begins and ends in desolation, speed the beast.

That piece of earth you have sweat on is yours to lay claim.
Morality is contribution, don't cede the beast.

When love does come, remember not to squander the choice.
Rise to magnificence with one of your breed, the beast.

Fate may give comfort to those who seek, opines Tashir,
For harbingers of progress, self is the creed: The Beast.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Form: While the form of the poem is ghazal, the theme of it is closer to that of didactic poetry.

Date: 20 / 11 / 2016
Form: Ghazal

Premium Member Obscure Destiny

Father toils in unproductive land
To meet both the ends,
Uneducated, he has no other option
But to cling to the last straw frail
He got from his father.
He now wants to pass it on
To his educated son,
Exposed to the world by TV
Caught in the web of the internet
Who won’t soil his hands 
Drip with sweat the land
For he sees urban dreams in rural eyes
For he carves modern ambition in rustic fingers.
Hope of turning his blue collar into white
Crashes in the concrete of urban discontent 
For the dream job he doesn’t get.
Losing the race in stiff competition
He is broken, stuck in confusion
Between discarded root and denied refuge.
Bereft of the sense of belonging
To the society divided
He turns a destemmed leaf in cross-wind
Rustling aimless to nowhere
Destiny tragically obscure.

April 1, 2018.


Wishes of a cold Ghost

Wishes Of A Cold Ghost

I emerged! fragmented from a hanging red lamp,
dripped in chemicals, washed clean, previously unseen,
wished for my place, lost in times longest tombs
unclothed now, and bare, breathed on in prayer.

From holy books stacked, but all blindly unread,
I wished for, soft spoken words, pleasantries of Birds,
a fires warmth, not dead embers and coals,
slipping in times endless, returning still friendless.

To wander i desire, wishes seem futile,spent !
Faceless Phantoms, gather and,mull ; another blind skull,
again all my wishes, particle to aged dust,
reflection lives in life’s mirror; i become deaths bearer.

Wishing to glide, in a caring embrace, held!
Maybe to return to ashes dust, my spirit to readjust,
this day again ends, for me it never exists ;
To ether wishing i am bound, once again stardust drowned.

My Sweetheart, My Love

"My Sweetheart, My Love"
© 2016 by:Michelle Lynn LeBlanc 

My sweetheart, my love, 
My confidant and best friend
I am so happy to have you in my life
Having such a love that never ends

I know we have had our bumps in the road
Especially these past seven months
But I am so proud of the progress we've made
Even when we were in such a crunch

The fact that you continue to try 
Means more than words can say
Even when I often bring issues up
And it kinda wrecks the day

I know sometimes I focus too much
On all the things that we need to fix
But I know as we press through our issues
We will resolve even these conflicts

I know I'm not always easy to deal with
Being over-sensitive and all
And I know you often feel powerless 
When you come up against my walls

But I want you to know that I'm trying too
And that I love you, oh, so much
You are my knight in shining armour
The one who melts my heart with touch

You are the star that brightens my night
The sun that comforts my pain
You have given me a reason to believe
That real love is there to gain

I respect you and honour you my husband
You are forever my dearest friend 
May we never lose sight of this love we share
For it's the one thing that will never end!


© 2016 by:Michelle Lynn LeBlanc
Form: Rhyme

My Grandma

My grandma had a book in which
To write what she recalled
Of her early life; I found it
And I read what she had scrawled.

She came from Pinsk and she described
A time when she was young
When she helped her mom make matzoh;
To this memory she’d clung.

Her father drove a trolley car
But left her mother when
She was pregnant with child # three – 
That happened even then.

To make ends meet, her mother ran
A restaurant from her home,
A two room flat - how hard was that?
(But that’s another poem.)

My grandma never got to go
To high school, but she stayed
At a job ‘til she got married – 
Just three bucks a week she made!

She never once complained aloud
Yet as I read each word,
I’m glad that even though she’s gone,
Her feelings have been heard.
Form: Rhyme

My Faults

(09/15/11)

I have so many faults, I know it’s true
I’m trying to correct them, but it’s hard to do.
My faults have become goals that I must achieve
By doing this, they won’t be seen.

I’ll turn off the television and at my computer I’ll sit
My wife sees me and she catches a fit.
She says that if I could - I’d be on the computer 24/7
And that’s not the way that I’ll get to heaven.

She says it’s an obsession, and I say it’s a passion 
And my daughter tells me it’s not in fashion.
My daughter tells me “ dad- you’re up in your years”
And the loss of the other eye, I do fear.

My grandson calls me “ one eyed jack”
And against me the cards are stacked.
Mom and granny are ganging up on you
And there is nothing that I can do.
They’ll tell me to keep quiet or go to another room
So my fight ends real soon.

For  a seven year old , he has wisdom beyond his years
And both women against me he does have fears.

My daughter is getting me a laptop with more memory
Which I think will make it easier for me.
I could hide in the bathroom and continue to write
And I’ll be out of her sight.

             ( ha-ha - I can’t wait) p.s. -this is my 600th poem     YAH
© Louis Rams  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Wrist of the Snake Killer

 ( for what its worth. ) 



-- Instruction:  How to know there's nothing left ~ you've over-stayed your visit
   
    I recall the sun of old thoughts seeped under:
    
   ~ How to 'Improve the world' ~ leave something useful behind ~ something better.


    --Instruction:  The first evil act is eating
  
  I see the shocked wine bottles
    steak sauce and
    jutting ribs of celery bunches
    the next shelf
    down

       but if i eat the stings
    of honey bees

    claws
    of the great bear

    follow
    these wild-flower trails up
    into conspiracies of wood

    and whispers

    where all else
    watching following is santified
    by my return

    but men weep weed broken
    sorrow condemned

    See the little beetle there

    safe
    
    crouched in a crusted earth church
    sleeping in a god circle

    only men careen cloudward
    wandering into the gray ends of the world

    Now the old oil lamp bends
    the kitchen dark

    the lines dark
    forms looming
    from the side

    I see myself

    ablaze in the still hours
    before dawn

    it doesn't show on my face though
  
    sad like salt or
    shadow spent

    like ash gone cold

    07/06/01
Form: Elegy

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