Long Felt Poems
Long Felt Poems. Below are the most popular long Felt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Felt poems by poem length and keyword.
It seems difficult to witness the last moments
Of your near and dear ones
But in reality I witnessed
The last calm heaves of my father
Without the slightest agony
My father
Lain on the hospital bed
Eyes half closed
With only the stare of death
Hazily glittering through the half ajar lids
Heaved once or twice
The monitor indifferently recording
The fast decreasing pulse rate
The incessant AC chilling the air
And then
It was all over
It was the perfect moment
I should have broken down on his still warm body
All the agony, pangs, tears abound
Following the impeccable script
But
I could not
I didn’t weep out
I just stepped out of the cabin
And felt dazed amidst the crowd
I even slept untroubled that night
The next morning
As I entered the lonely room of my father
And looked at the empty bed
With his specs waiting sullenly
His stick leaning on the wall
All his books pining silently
Perhaps they guessed their master’s absence
At that very moment
I felt something happening inside me
A benumbing cry rose from my heart
An uncontrollable one, it choked my throat
Tears, holy tears, bless me, enchant me
I really want to break myself free
From the deep, dark crevices of life
The Reluctance of the Young Runner
by Edmund Siejka
He was a gawky teenager
On a high school track team
Intimidated by his coach
Who exercised almost total control
Over him.
He was examined
Tested
Questioned what he ate
How much he weighed
It became too much to bear
That he couldn’t tell anyone you
How lonely he felt.
Running at a track meet
Neck and neck for third place
The finish line seemed unreachable
His parents, watching from crowded bleachers,
Were proud
Impatiently calling out his name
When suddenly he fell
Tripping over some unknown thing lying on the track.
Falling, his long legs cascaded over the white lines of the track
Colliding with the front runner
Who had the looks of an actor
And the temperament of a snake.
The coach was angry
Thick fingers pummeled the young runner’s chest
Because he fell
The team was disappointed
Not so much for him
But for the lead runner
Who struggled to third place.
Facing dismissal from the team
An inner smile caressed the young boy’s heart
No more coach, no more watching
Waves of relief gently cascaded over him
Bringing with it
A sudden realization
That he would no longer
Have to hide.
Sky seem to touch the distant ocean
Vastness surpassed my limited vision.
Sky and Sea were with me in unison,
as I walked on sandy- rocky beach.
Waves, rolling, roaring, rising high
amusing silent witness azure sky.
Sky-blue? Ocean-green? Which thread to apply,
for veil of Mother Nature to stitch?
Petrichor of wet sand particles I smelt
crawling crabs, corals and clams I met,
moistened windy breeze over sea I felt,
pleasant pretty charms to make me rich.
Overwhelming beauty of sea, I visualized,
on depth of emotion I was mesmerized,
too small was my existence, I just realized,
appealing to any one or each.
Where the sky drifts into the sea
Vastness, wideness, enchanted me,
so ridiculous my quark-type identity,
Eternal Divinity to reach?
At age twenty I had made it to Earls Court.
The rented room was seedily solid
having been for decades
filled with wine and cheap sunlight.
Until then I had not read a thing
apart from: ‘The Ship’ by C.S. Forester
and ‘Arms and the Man’, by G. B. Shaw
both part of a school curriculum.
I liked Shaw for his wit and intelligence
No one told me then that he was, in fact,
a fascist of the worst kind,
I thought he was an erudite old Irishman
like my uncle Sean.
A pink girl with huge eye-glasses, moved in.
She was studying Geoffrey Chaucer
in the original middle-english.
I hadn't a clue.
I bought a book of poems by D.H. Lawrence.
I forget why, but I liked his name
and my uncle Sean often talked about his poetry.
Turns out Lawrence had written a pile of books also,
but back then I was just into his poems.
I read ‘Grapes’, and I read ‘Figs’.
I read ‘Medlars and Sorb-Apples’, I read ‘Peach’,
I read ‘Cypresses’.
Back then I don't think I had ever seen a cypress,
a ‘medlar’ or a ‘sorb apple.’
I read: Snake,
Baby Tortoise,
Turkey-Cock,
Kangaroo and many others.
A few years later I found out
that the poets that were considered
to be good poets, and the critics
who were thought to be good critics
didn't think much of his poems.
I tried reading the poems of the good poets,
but after a while I felt nauseous.
Then I discovered Dylan Thomas.
The pink girl did not understand his poetry,
neither did I much,
but I ate up his words like a starving man.
Turns out Dylan Thomas was a drunk
and a mean bastard,
just like my uncle Sean.
If life were a book, I'd hesitate to touch it,
Standing on the edge of the shelf, fearing to discover,
That the story is written in tears and deep shadows,
I'd burn the pages with a match of extinguished memories.
But fire doesn't erase, it only turns to ash,
And the desire to read on is like a curse,
For this book must be read to its end,
And life, no matter how bitter, must be lived and felt.
If life were a book, it would have no title,
No word can encompass its entire essence,
If life were a book, I don't know what I would change,
For the unknown is the charm that binds me to it.
A single word changed would rewrite everything,
My story would be entirely different, without a doubt,
Even if it's bitter, I wouldn't give up the people in it,
I embrace the good with the bad, for that's how it must be.
But what if the bad is too much and hard to bear?
What if the good isn't worth the pain it brings?
What if the good isn't good enough for my soul?
The questions flow like a river, winding through fields of longing.
I wish I could choose a life perfect like a novel,
With a happy ending and a moral, with gentle ups and downs,
Perfection is a dream no one reaches,
Yet everyone tries to live it, seek it, create it.
In the flow of my consciousness, endless questions stream,
Where each thought is a chapter I haven't written,
Dreams are pages I've never turned,
But the hope of finding the answer keeps me awake.
Until then, I continue to read, to live, to dream,
To hope that one day, life will wear the desired light,
And that I'll find meaning in the unwritten words,
For each day is a new page, a beginning.
[Verse 1]
He lived where silence made its home
In a house of creaks and dust and stone
No letters came, no voices stayed
Just shadows dancing through the day
Then one soft knock, a bloom in hand
A stranger smiled, said, “It’s been planned”
He said, “Not mine,” she said, “It’s free”
And left him with a mystery
[Pre-Chorus]
And he said, “Why me, who’d even care?”
But he felt the warmth hanging in the air
[Chorus]
Now he hears whispers in the leaves
Words like rain upon his grief
Wisdom bloomed from silent seed
And found a voice where none would speak
Whispers in the leaves… set him free
[Verse 2]
He talked to walls, now talks to green
To something more than what is seen
Each word he heard, a thread of gold
That mended what the years had stole
He walked outside, the town took note
Of something gentle in his soul
They listened close when he would say,
“It’s not from me, I just relay”
[Pre-Chorus]
And still they come from far and wide
To hear the truth he left behind
[Chorus]
Now they hear whispers in the leaves
In quiet hearts and passing breeze
The lonely find, the searching see
That hope can bloom from broken things
Whispers in the leaves… set them free
[Bridge]
And when he left, he left a note:
"Let kindness root where silence grows."
"Speak your heart, then let it go—"
"The answers come like winds that know…”
[Final Chorus]
We still hear whispers in the leaves
The echo of a soul at peace
He gave us more than we believed
From one small gift, a legacy
Whispers in the leaves… set us free
[Outro]
A simple man, a gift unknown
Turned an empty house into a home
And where he sat, the plant still grieves
But speaks in… whispers… through the leaves
JUDGE AND JURY
Condemned by judge and jury,
All I felt was fury,
That’s me,
Now all I see
Are four high walls,
And all I hear,
Are the prison guard’s
Loud calls!
I exist in just a
Tiny space,
I’m counting days,
This torment must
Now end and I must
Leave this human race!
My hopes collapse,
A few more hours,
Must still elapse.
I’ve seen that “place”,
Murder is my case.
Oh God, it’s only
I to blame,
My whole being
Feels aflame!
I have been bad,
For that I’m sad,
So I confessed,
I thought it best,
For now my soul
Should rest.
As chained and handcuffed,
Shuffle to my death,
Where I will take
My final breath,
I see the priest,
He sees my
Fear filled face,
He looks again,
With love and nods,
I know now,
That I have His grace,
I feel no fear,
But for a
Wasted life,
I shed a tear!
I read Your POETRY and try to imitate Love
In my POETRY I pretend to know what I write
My heart does not feel anything even for GOD above
I talk to HIM in Prayer, never see HIM in my sight
I never knew my Mother, I did not know my Dad
Imaginery Brothers and Sister is all I ever had
I read so many POEMS of Love as many as I could
I never felt the pangs of lost Love even though I should
I felt a twinge of feelings for POETS on the Soup
I feel I have betrayed YOU, and most likely lost YOUR Trust
I ask for Your forgiveness, From the Lauretes of this group
My Lenore, was and is and Epic tale of Lust
To be Cont. on this page in about an hour
I'm at the Library and time is Up
It was the most empty basement I’ve ever felt.
Creaking, support beams, and spider webs.
Nothing nice like flamingos or lip gloss.
A chair for so long.
Then not even a molecule.
There’s nothing in a shoe box except shoe prints.
Things that don’t move.
Or even try to jump out of the way.
It was the most empty basement feeling ever.
I stopped getting tangled in spider webs.
It stopped, it did.
It was the most…
Like a collection of walls and the support beams that mean well.
Empty.
I got caught up in the relaxing dust, and must.
It was the most empty basement sound I’ve heard.
Strumming along with a bass hum.
I have an empty basement inside.
Got fumigated one too many.
Last born of three
With loving and caring parents
Although through life
I could not see
As I grew up
To belong was my need
Rejected by some
Concentrating only on me
Seeing what is not
Was my deal
Fearing the unknown
Was all so real
Each head is a world
And mine was in turmoil
The power I had
Was shortchanged and soiled
I did not fit in
So I made it a point
To fit in with all
Even if it meant hurting me
When at the time
I didn’t realize
That what I felt
Was a normal life
They could not adjust
To my caring and empathy
They all thought me weak
And saw me with sympathy
My family is all to me
And being there is all I need
To finally see that all the problems
Don’t lie within me
Yes I kept to my self
And I hoped that no one saw
All the sadness
That came through me
Yet life is short
So I make the best of it
Now knowing that
This life is what I make of it
Life goes by day by day
And I now enjoy
Waking up every day
Full of love and joy
I now know how to love
Who to love and why
I can truly say
I LOVE and ACCEPT me!!
A Diamond in the Rough.
By: Nena Enriquez