Long Fade Poems
Long Fade Poems. Below are the most popular long Fade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fade poems by poem length and keyword.
Fade to the back
Dreaded memories
Ascend to no man’s land
Where no one knows you
Where no one recognize the past
That imprisoned them
It is a new year
Time to look beyond the faults
Of yesteryear
No one lives there anymore
The blanket of comfort has lost its shine
Don’t be fooled by your thoughts and feelings
Try something new-fangled
Just to change your frame of mind
An innovative outcome deserves a diverse approach
Don’t be stuck in that space where comfort becomes your prison
‘Cause it is all you’ve ever known
Things will remain the same
Those memories will remain your prison
Be the change - start today
©220120141455
You just can't fight the feeling
You've tried for years now, to find your true love
On your knees you've pray'd to God up above
You've spent years, testing all the pretenders
Waiting for the day, you can surrender
And that day will come!
Chorus 1
You just...can't fight the feeling
Oh yeah you know,
You just...can't fight the feeling
Cos, when you know, that it's love...you give in
When you give up the fight... that's when you win
I too, have been searching for true love
Spent my nights praying, to God up above
The first time we met, I knew it was true
That I'd spend, my whole life, loving you
And that day is here!
Chorus 1
You just...can't fight the feeling
Oh yeah you know,
You just...can't fight the feeling
Cos, when you know, that it's love... you give in
When you give up the fight... that's when you win
In a world where love is played, like a game
So many players, just don't have any shame
but, with me don't worry, trust what you feel
Cos with me, you know that my love is real
Now we both know!
Chorus 2
We just...can't fight the feeling
Oh yeah we know,
We just...can't fight the feeling
Cos, when we knew, that it's love, we gave in
When you give up the fight, that's when you win
repeat chorus 2
We just...can't fight the feeling
We just...can't fight the feeling
We just...can't fight the feeling
fade to zero
John Derek Hamilton
January 30, 2018
Nothing is worse than badly rhyming verse
Or poems so obscure that no one can read
Sadly, after investigating some dreadful examples
Writing poetry is now banned - the police have decreed!
So writing poetry is now illegal
I’m bereft I’ll just sit down and cry
If I can’t dip my pen in the ink
I’ll simply fade away and die
I’ve decided to produce a ‘poetic licence’
Forbidden poets could then apply
The licence could only be used
On days of the week that end with a Y!
Poets found writing without a licence
Could be condemned to the dead poet’s society
Their illegal poems would be locked in a vault
And this would add to the poet’s notoriety
Of course I would have the final say
On poetry licences to be sent out
People caught plagerising would be banned
They won’t be accepted no matter how loudly they shout!
Contest Unshackle my Verse
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
03~25~17
I am lovelorn, she ditched me
If she comes back, what then?
The wounds she inflicted on me
If they begin in heal, what then?
The memories that I hold so dear
If they begin to fade, what then?
So I’ll pray with all my heart
If my dreams come true, what then?
I set out eagerly on life’s journey
If I reach my destination, what then?
I might close my eyes to dream
If I fall asleep, what then?
I am world-weary willing to die
If there’s an afterlife, what then?
Oh, I’ll battle my demons alright
If I win God, what then?
11/20/22
~Contest: A Brian strand Premiere Choice.
When quiet in still, some music of notice from deep within,
soft and clear as the dew in a night of sichel Moon gleam.
Notes that gentle with those spirits breathe,
bringing sweet lullabies from blissful skies abilities.
Beneath a sparkle dark and holy,
heavens bright river drawing slowly.
In that chord and stream where flowers weep,
taken your and into the land of all consuming sleep.
By the abyss of toiling weariness,
taken away the shroud and weight of heaviness.
Stilling all sorrows from throne to throne,
and easing wandering whatever known.
Steeping brows in slumbers holy balm,
guardians of dream stories keeping calm.
Light changes during expanded flow,
Colors ripen and fade in that silent sphere.
Vaulted between worlds of time,
portions and pleasures finding its same.
Measures of living sleep in a half a dream,
dreaming the dream by notes of certainty.
Hearing the familiar whispering sound,
lending heart and spirit all profound.
To muse and experience in that noted memory,
faces through ages in brilliant mystery.
Dear memory of eternal wedded lives,
naturally embracing lyrics revives.
Ghost of troubled joy in minstrel sings,
great deeds by half-forgotten things.
A blessed day when we first met,
Two souls as one—no divide set.
Like sons of one dear mother’s care,
A bond so pure, beyond compare.
Two birds once freed from caged despair,
We soared through endless, open air.
Each moment held, each laughter true,
My world felt whole because of you.
Why did you leave so soon, my brother?
Why fade away, not stay a little longer?
I reach for you, but feel no trace,
Just silent echoes in your place.
Alone I walk this world so wide,
With only memories by my side.
Like a bird with broken wings,
I’ve lost the song my spirit sings.
I miss you more than words can say,
You’re far beyond my reach today.
But wait for me, don’t drift too far,
We’ll meet again where angels are.
Two Warrior Hearts
Two warrior hearts
Beating separately
The sound is deafening
Telling all other hearts to stay away
They have been alone for so long
Fighting different battles
Under a dark moon they meet
The stars fade away as they get closer
Their beating is the same
Sounding as if they are just one heart
One heart wounds the other
The other hearts wounds the ffirst
Cutting a vein in each other's hands
The weaker heart beats even stronger
That night they shared the sting of blood
Such passion erupts without a word
The two hearts become one
They are united for all time
They are not married
They are bound by blood
A stronger bond cannot be found
A Klingon love is eternal
As it should be when two warrior heart meet
Let's speak of numbers.
I’m a Kenyan 2.0,
With an ID to prove.
I own the code—254,
Been here since I was 0.
Gen Z did awaken,
Learning the art in math—
The topic on tax,
And the story of Zakayo.
Gen Z did awaken,
Learning history’s tale:
The beauty of freedom—independence,
Yet freedom fighters still fade.
And the Bill of Rights,
Freedom of speech,
To stand against the bill—
Its creator sickened the breach.
Gen Z did awaken,
To our new 'Leader,'
A master of language,
Crafting his best lies.
The world on hold,
Schools, hospitals, streets—
All in chaos, all closed,
Waiting for ‘Mr. President.’
To speak of numbers,
Of those lost in protests,
Lost in abductions,
And those gained in corruption.
Protests painted red with blood and tears.
A beacon of peace in pieces.
A home of 'hakuna matata'
Full of mournings,
Numbers adding in the statistics.
Poesy and song are all about
rhythm and flow, and tunes and tones;
how every rise and fall throughout
make melody within the zones
and forms of verse without fade-out
to listener's tympanic bones.
Measure’s a trick of deft poets,
who know the cadence of their feet
gives lines their tempo. And so it’s
like Poesy’s pulsating heartbeat;
it’s hypnotic (and you know it’s
rhythmic),—so feel its potent beat.
Together, Poesy's clear measure
(the crests and troughs of its music,
the highs and lows of its leisure)
can roar like a score symphonic,
an orchestra of high pleasure
with counterpoint so harmonic!
They call me the dying month, the bringer of cold harsh winds from the north.
I sneak up upon unsuspecting late summer well wishers, wrap my cold hands around their cheeks and come forth.
Moving silently across the country side, I graciously give the kiss of death to the once green leaves.
In my path I leave nothing but skeleton shapes twisted and old, they are nothing but shadows of once mighty summer trees.
In death however comes beauty of colour, the brown crispy leaves illuminated by the red autumn sky.
The stage is set and the players cast, the final curtain call is all but nigh.
With a crunch under foot, hat and scarves protecting such delicate pale frozen skin.
The first frost falls upon my deathly hands, I greet winter as my old friend with an honest grin.
Like the leaves from the trees my time is short, but the cycle continues without me and I die knowing my part has been played.
I close my eyes as you do in bed, into winters night will an autumn evening fade.
My time has ended and I bow out gracefully, for the work I've done I feel no shame.
As all things that share a purpose and live with meaning, it's time for us all to return whence we came.
03/01/2015