Long Exist Poems
Long Exist Poems. Below are the most popular long Exist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exist poems by poem length and keyword.
In a world where I do not exist, poetry lies.
My progeny disappears - there are no words.
Exists not a pair of green eyes, only the wind sighs
at that particular point when angels are birds.
In a world where I do not exist, air is arms,
fleshless, without compassion, unfelt. Steam
enfolds those I’d have esteemed with my coat of arms.
I’d be nobody at all, not even a forlorn dream.
In a world where I do not exist, I do not serve.
There is only one me with my speciality.
The sick, dying, those crying, get not what they deserve.
This time and place features an abnormality.
In a world where I do not exist, even my ancestors
are forgotten. Who exists to remember their stories?
How is their time filled, those honeymoon trimesters?
My name, my soul, my spot has naught its glories.
Has my husband found another honey or died?
In a world where I do not exist, can my soulmate strut?
Perhaps and rightly so, he believes that poetry lied.
Alone, forgotten, divorced, devoid of he knows not what?
Does it still exist?
Walks in the park
Seeing lights in the dark
Sparking conversations
Helping in different situations
Sharing your thoughts , and your dreams
Building a foundation , becoming a team
Waiting to hear the telephone ring
Talk for hours
Fall asleep on the phone
Wake up still thinking about
Tell me does it still exist
Me and you !!!
Chorus
Does true love exist anymore
Do guys still open doors
Take you by the hand
And just dance
Can you give everything you got
Does true love still exist or not?
Verse 2
It takes alot of hard work
And trying , because if you don't the relationship dying
Do people still date, I mean go out
No Netflix and chill , that's not the deal
Find out the interest of each other
Make it happen do it for one another
Do we pray for each other that works
Wipe the tears from the hurt
Put a smile on each other face
A love like that can't be replaced
Respect my decisions and my visions (that's dope)
You give me hope
And don't get it twisted I'll do the same for you (that's true)
You are the re to my mix
Tell me does it still exist
Chorus
Does true love exist anymore
Do guys still open doors
Take you by the hand
And just dance
Can you give everything you got
Does true love still exist or not?
Hook
Does it still exist
A love like this
(Repeat 2x)
Chorus
Does true love exist anymore
Do guys still open doors
Take you by the hand
And just dance
Can you give everything you got
Does true love still exist or not?
(Repeat until chorus fades)
Written by: Concetta Hardnett
08/29/2021
There was a Homeless guy on the corner holding a sign
It said I need some help, I'm running out of time
So I stopped and asked him, how come and why
He told me he has cancer and he might have to die
He needs to have surgery to remove a tumor from behind his eye
Should I believe him, it could all be a lie
He said he has three kids and a wife
And can't afford to go under the knife because of the price
If he doesn't get it done soon, he will no longer exist
I had this overwhelming feeling to help, I just couldn't resist
The tears in his eyes made me believe he was telling the truth
I know longer needed anymore proof
He said he was unable to work due to his condition
The tumor had started to make him lose most of his vision
So I pulled out my wallet and I helped him out
Isn't that what kindness is all about
I hate to see people go without
They are people too, it's the least we could do
Even if what there telling us, is not completely true
Faith in humanity needs to be restored
So please everybody, jump on board
There down on there luck and need a little help
Have a little sympathy, the kind that I felt
Form:
DEAD END STREET --WHY do dead end roads Exist
"Are you my enemy, if you’re not my friend?
Alternative exit without exit should be posted dead end
When “Google” tells you turn right at the bend
Daylight night time Run Johnny Run gets dark at ten
~
Its GPS systems “Google” shows and tells you the road there
Maybe curb site lodging house in front of thee
As connecting when they actually do not trail, where?
I fell off the rugged deep end plummeting free
~
Keeping wheels on the road round, round you go
Rounded end to facilitated to slow, flow on cul-de-sacs
I driving off the freeway, spinning my way to and fo
Up down alleys down yield, slow, stop, dead end signs surface
~
Disconnected streets filled with trash cans, homeless and police
Crimes and gangs’ darkness rends why do dead end roads exist?
Limit through-traffic in residential areas.
Conjure up visions of quiet suburban bliss,
Curb line barrier curbs sidewalks houses meet barriers
Far removed from dangers and noisy high-speed traffic
~
One with low wages and no hope of promotion
No speeders, skate boarder, permitted on the shoulders
Cul-de-sac deadlock stalemate blank wall blind alley
Catch me if you can you can’t I am running blindly
~
Short street with a bulbous end, or even to the end just a portion
Why do neighborhoods have dead ends?
A long road that is a no-through road and terminates abruptly
All those speed bumps, curbs, Cul-de-sac deadlocks not our friends
~
Dead ends are added to road layouts in urban planning
To limit through-traffic in residential areas no one carrying
Is the dead end a road or street, an alley or sidewalk meet
No through road or no exit road,
Is a street with only one inlet or outlet?
When you come upon a dead end"
11/13/23
DEAD END STREET Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
Take me back to my mother's womb
A peaceful place where eyes remain closed
Not to witness the tragedies of this world
Where ears hear not the horrifying sounds of this earth's brutality.
Take me back to my mother's womb
And let me stay there where worries and sorrows are absent
Let me stay there where day and night makes no difference
There where food and clothing matters not.
Take me back to my mother's womb
Where I will forever rejoice for I will be having
No idea of whatever is happening on earth
Because there, exist no one else but myself in my world.
Take me back to my mother's womb
And let me swim alone in my amniotic fluid
In a world where jealousy, hatred, anger and bitterness
Exist not for the placenta allows nothing malevolent.
Take me back to my mother's womb
For the world today is rotten, chaotic and painful
Meliorism is the only inspiration we have
As brutality dominates the earth with ruthlessness as a new norm.
Life on earth is full of tears
The future is doomed and hope is lost
Please take me back to my mother's womb
Because that is where I wanna stay forever.
Freshness of morning after an early bath,
The glow of our youth that we never forgot,
Stood by door looking over parapet wall,
You walk as if I didn’t exist at all!
Did you not then steal a furtive glance at me?
Perhaps noticed me, pretended not to see?
I loved those rosy lips pouting in dissent,
How I longed to make them mine with your consent!
Of freshness of body, innocence of mind,
In ageing wisdom we can now look behind,
Tempestuous thrill of love racing through us,
We suppressed it in silence and ignorance!
Youth is spring garden in boisterous applause,
Beautiful radiant colours without pause,
Give utterance to call of its vibrancy,
Before time robs you of this love currency!
Remember the day you stopped to look at me?
You smiled with those lips to fill my heart with glee,
Flash of that moment I had glimpse of heaven,
Our boundless love since then has been well proven!
Souls can wander in loneliness of a crowd,
Those who live without true love wear a death shroud,
That we are together is heavenly bless,
Even after life there is a time for us!
Written 19/08/2020
1st placement
‘A time for us’ Poetry contest
Sponsor JCB Buri
The night air pulses with the tunes of my anguish
Remember, whispers it to my sulking face,
Remember of the romance meant to be lived
In eternity!
Remember of the cause of your fall
Remember of the divine guidance!
The night air pulses and the chilly winds prick me,
Bidding me to open the pores of my senses,
So receptive to the wills of my own fate!
Keeping my faced turned up to the hovering moon
I clasp my arms tight around myself
Letting the tears flow as painfully as they wish
Letting the hurt engulf my whole essence
Letting the agony of my fate coil and uncoil itself
Around me, as much as it wishes to
Taking no account of anything else!
Pray, submission fills up my love ponds
Weary and tired of life,
I have simply turned to love,
Submissively,
Wishing to bloom in between its arms
Or to die at its hands
Whichever shall it will
As long as the night air shall keep pulsating
With the tunes of my anguish!
After all, my story originates from the time
When Creation did not exist yet
It shall have to keep on being alive,
As such is what the bearers of Existence
Have willed for me!
“Chasing Ghosts in Cars”
Like automata
we walk inside
winding up the stairs
it’s all mechanical
the romance
programmed
by steep degrees
in the
well-routined
we can walk
through walls
anywhere
to look out
our windows
towards the better view
each cell in the body
and mind renewed
we expurgate
the misplaced
misconceptions
of others, of ourselves
it’s fair-weather sailing
out there,
the transparent come and go
best to turn
a blind eye
a swift kiss on the cheek
make it brief
then close all
your doors
to their artful dodger hauntings
friendships and felicitations
their joyful gleaming commiserations
whole oceans
full of souls
walking and swimming
treading water
all the floating
poesies planted
mindfully fragrant
fresh bits thrown
parlayed introspection
deliciously blooded with the sharks
such hungry poets
with a well-adjusted
deep knowing
and a quiet
unthorough
understanding
of another
unknown equation
in the real world
never making
premature
judgements
outside is a risk
we all take
we write what we know
we know what we write
ghost written
in the Daily Phantom
in the gloaming fantasy
there still exist
real ghouls calling us in
hungry for kindness
burying pity for
the honesty it lacks
inside we are listing
the volume we turn up
to hear messages better
we are
listening
to cars
lyrics
we wish you
to know
to be understood
when you are
chasing ghosts
some say
they’ve gone too far
they’re too far gone away
forget-me-knots
hanging loose
chasing ghosts in cars
Machiavellians
gone astray
the naked minds
of
undressed nuns
and
sanctimonious preachers
oiling their guns
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Here in my car
I feel safest of all
I can lock all my doors
It's the only way to live in cars
Here in my car
I can only receive
I can listen to you
It keeps me stable for days in cars”
listing/nautical.
“Listing” is a nautical term to describe when a vessel takes on water and tilts to one side. A ship can list either to port (left) or starboard (right). By contrast, a ship is said to be “trimming” when she tips forward or backward.
In the depths of night, when stars lament their solitude and the moon veils her face in clouds,
I sink into the ocean of silence, into the weight of nothingness that enfolds me like a second skin.
I drift through days as a shadow among shadows, unseen, unchanged,
bearing the burden of existence like an invisible cloak, a veil of melancholy.
Silence becomes my music, a song of lost souls in life's labyrinth,
and I surrender to its rhythm, a waltz of shadows dancing in the abyss of thoughts.
I exist only in the moments when silence becomes word, a whisper of eternity,
and I let myself be carried by the current of memories, by the waves of oblivion,
into a world where stars are tears of gods, falling into the abyss of night.
It is enough to be thus, a speck of dust in the moonlight, a dream lost in reverie,
for sometimes, just to be, to sink into silence, is an act of magic.
In silence I find solace, in nothingness I find meaning,
and I let myself be carried by the stream of consciousness, a river of thoughts and emotions,
towards the shores of oblivion, where all is lost and all is found.
I am a shadow among shadows, an echo of echoes,
yet in my silence there is a whole world, a universe of dreams and melancholy.
It is enough to exist thus, in this space of in-between,
where reality and dream intertwine, where being and non-being meet,
for sometimes, just to be, to sink into silence, is an act of magic,
a dance of the soul in the abyss of night.
On subway platforms, long ago,
Were 2 cent gum machines
And splurging on some Chiclets
Was just one of my routines.
I didn’t chew gum often
But I couldn’t quite resist
Those tiny boxes, 2 squares each,
Which now do not exist.
In peppermint or spearmint,
One pack yellow, one pack green,
Those little Chiclet pillows
Made your mouth feel fresh and clean.
Though candy stores had Chiclets
Sold in packets holding 10,
I wouldn’t waste my money
And was only tempted when…
I had to take the subway
And the gum machine was full;
2 pennies in my pocket
Let me give in to the pull.