Long Filling Poems
Long Filling Poems. Below are the most popular long Filling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Filling poems by poem length and keyword.
Dedicated to my children who have kept my dreams alive.
LOOKING BACK
We can’t go back
To the days of yesteryear
To capture those lost feelings
With those whom we loved so dear
I am just looking back to see
Where all of my dreams first start
You know those deep seeded dreams
Buried way down deep in your heart
I’m not trying to revive a lost love
That I once had forty years ago
Or even trying to replace the twenty years
Of not seeing my grandchildren grow
There were times of much struggle
Filled with pain, fear and torture
It was the love I had for my children
That developed my strength to endure
My children only remember the 2nd set
Of twenty years that have come and gone
When they were all moving out on their own
And when all of the grandchildren came along
It’s like I was locked in a rock
Throughout those 20 to 40 years
Not able to see my grandchildren
Filled my heart with so many tears
The bitterness you feel towards me
Is understandable and really okay
My children, you all have the right
To your feelings and to feel that way
I have finally made the escape
Since that rock has split wide open
I want you all to know who I really am
I haven’t changed at all, only my situation
The gift of feelings we have in our heart
Whether right or wrong, just happen
It matters not what others may think
We should let out our own self expression
No feelings are really ever wrong
In another’s view or even our own
Our thoughts trigger our feelings inside
The feelings we have are ours alone
Looking back strengthens my heart
Reminding me I want to pass along
To all of you, just who I really am
Before my time on earth is gone
One day I hope you will realize
With you I have always been
Filling you up with that extra love
You may have noticed you’ve been given
You have all filled up
Such a big part
Of all the dreams
Living in my heart
My best friend Grace, reminded me
That our feelings are meant to be and to last
God wouldn’t put the dreams in our heart
If He didn’t plan to bring the dreams to pass
My dreams haven’t changed
I am not letting them go
They are for new adventures
With new beginnings of tomorrow
Now that I’m looking back
I’m so glad to have survived
I know now, my love for all of you
Has always kept my dreams alive
Florence McMillian (Flo)
I heard them say,
that life is full of promises.
I hear them pray,
that God makes a way us to excel.
I have a dream,
and each morning I wake up just to give it a chase.
I aim high,
higher than where the moon and stars are placed.
I give it a try,
and the universe gives me a peak of what I can have.
It's within reach,
If I stretch further I can have a touch.
Its all there,
my heart and soul knows this and we take control.
The control of life,
steering with keen towards our goal.
I see the light,
Its shinning brighter for my eyes feel with glee.
...then it all comes crushing down....
I blink a bit and it comes crushing...
down, am left lying in darkness...
It was all there, now nowhere...
shuttered...
am drowning...
How could it disappear I ask,
How can it seem so near,
yet so far I cannot bear,
the thought of losing it before getting there...
How could it lead me so closer,
yet the moment I near it vanishes in thin air...
how could it...
Painful it is to bear,
the thought of being down brings fear,
my mind wanders in confusion as I strive for a better,
feeling than this causing my heart to drown like it's tied to an anchor.
I must wake,
I must rise from this wreck,
I must gather the only strength I have left to try and break,
I must take heart and rise above all fear and torture that evil can make.
and so I rise,
in hope I find the means,
to stand on two feet,
again to keep my goal alive.
In hope I steer dust off the dirt,
I take up the sword and hold it closer to my heart,
arising from the ashes and again seeking to fly,
my focus now clearer and my breathe now deeper,
I know I can do it and all it takes is the inner,
spirit to excel above all that tries to hinder,
me from achieving what I have been so eager,
to find and make my whole life better.
In hope I fly,
In hope I try,
In hope I strive,
In hope all I seek I shall find.
..and so I go,
head held high and full of hope,
heart pumping harder and mind set on my goal,
I know,
that failing doesn't mean the end of the road,
I know,
that the journey of life is full of such falls,
I know,
that the bad sometimes comes our way just to make us strong,
I know,
that the only way I can get there is by filling my heart with eternal hope.
I know...
that in hope,
all,
is never,
lost.
Greeted by the multi-lit display
draped over the hedges
and the railing of our front porch,
the brilliant lit Christmas tree
winks at us, welcoming us home
from the Christmas Eve Mass.
You settle comfortably in your chair
as I walk into the dining room.
Sitting down, I light the lone candle
on the table and contemplate
its flame, dancing and whirling
in the darkened room.
The flame draws me
into its story.
Its bright yellow light
thinly framed in blue,
speaks to me about
many dark places
penetrated by its light:
caverns and street corners,
vast fields and mighty forests,
tall buildings and small homes,
and the darkest place of all
… the human heart.
The flame tells the story
of a long time ago,
of a world enveloped
in the darkest of nights.
Violence and cruelty,
poverty and pestilence
heaped upon a brutalized,
battered and lost humanity.
In a miserable stable,
its walls and floor painted
in manure and straw,
the dark dank smell of
wet hay, and its livestock denizens
filling the air, there lies
in a feed trough a light more brilliant
than the dancing flame.
The flame of that light
dances in the eyes
of his homeless parents,
his mother who birthed him,
and his proud, protective father.
The light is reflected
in the eyes of the animals
shuffling about in their stalls,
and in the eyes of the shepherds
and the travelers from afar.
My gaze, fixed on the flame,
widens as I detect
other shadowy shapes
around the table.
I sit in communion with
my father and my mother,
my sister and my brother,
their lives, like others,
lived in various degrees
of perfection and imperfection,
drawn to this light whilst alive,
and now in the life beyond,
join with me transfixed
by the light of the candle.
I smile to be once again
in their company, and,
with a nod and a parting glance
their shapes slip back
into the shadows of the room.
Once more alone with the light,
an image forms in my mind,
that eternal light birthed
in Bethlehem so long ago,
which danced in the eyes
of Mary and Joseph,
in the eyes and hearts
of many burdened by the weight
of scandal and shame,
poverty and despair,
which the world was unable
to crush and snuff out,
this light will always be there
to guide and to light me
through the dark corners
of my life yet to be,
to the eternal Christmas awaiting me.
When my eyes met his,
Met his, for the first time
I could discern a ray of
incensed passion and love
intense, so I thought, piercing
gently my heart and filling it
with true love, so I thought;
so thinking, I surrendered
myself to him, like a fool
only to allow him to have
all liberties with me and freely
play the game of love, for I
thought without doubting
even a wee bit that he would
remain, my man of love, and
ever so till we live ..............
Love's true devotee to one another
But oh ! how will I, say that now
he chided me today, for no reason or rhyme
and in a fit of anger, said he loved me no more
and left me, deserting me all at once;
I remained in great shock thereafter
God knows for how long, till
I came to my sense to, realize
that I was cheated by the very man
whom I thought was Eros and me his Venus,
All these thoughts suddenly vanished
vanished into thin air
And I lie here, under the tree I met him
for the first time, writhing in pain inconsolable
And now see the very ray of hope that he shot
at me when our eyes first met, piercing my
heart, shattering it, emptying it of the nectar of love
I thought it poured in first.
And I now remain emancipated from this love false
realizing at last the meaning of true love
from this experience so bitter
bitten by pangs of false love and deceit
of a man whom I reckoned wrongly
was going to be my Eros in life.
oh women harping love
please beware of men
who wander for lust
wandering as foxes
in the robe of deer.
Eternal buzz of voices, heard by the wind
Stilling the music of yesterday,
Reassuring the soul has a friend
Breathless music of hers and his, in amazing
Stories, poetry and senses, embracing
Kissing away the melancholic wounds, feelings
Dazed by the night who is no substitute
Inspiring colors, in whispers of light
Softly flow from yesterday throughout paradise,
Rising in blending wishes for grace and ghostlike
Psalms, blessings remembered by the fall,
When wind feels like a promise of what is meant
By gentle and honest, gratitude’s permission
To erase the past with its heavy grasp,
Warming by the fires of wonder found when
One heart discovers the meaning of a kiss…
Is it the river of feelings, flowing, knowing
That wind through the spirit,
Awakening the music of a passion, sensations
Alluring, assuring, enthusiastic as trust
Washing the heart in grace, and feeding the feelings
Like faith who is absorbed by the way
Hearts heal when God’s love stills the spirit,
Resting His calm, like a clear pool of unforgettable,
To the tune of eternal truth, easing away the shadows,
Filling the soul with sincerity, serenity, silence
In peace, two wishes find the music that sees
Through the darkness to the destiny,
Believe, just believe, and receive what God brings
When He sends His ultimate beautiful, His music
In the seeds of lasting wonder, a muse
The feelings who grow and continue on, forever
Wiping away the tears and the fears,
All the past’s melancholy and bitterness
With light that frees the spirit,
Considers what has been and leaves a watermark
Of what it means to be free… free at last,
Because, in God’s grasp, there comes a true freedom…
Free as the wind and the sea,
Free as the music that resonates
With a feeling that can only be stirred
By two who know, with God at the center
This wonder will continue on… forever and ever,
Love that causes the wind to vibrate, to babble
The words of a love song, a fire burning
Like the promise of everlasting – free as the knowing
Love knew, all along, love knew the song
Freeing those who simply blow their kisses
In rhythms of praise, just praise, praise the One
Who brings love it’s light, brings hope its sight,
Brings faith its everlasting fight…
Sing the song, it’s a love song – God is strong
God will sing along, because God’s love is never wrong!
You, me, seashore, one place, one earphone,
Coconut with two straws—one ice cream, two noses.
Cold winds, but your warmth wraps me whole,
Two souls in one sweater, hearts beating slow.
Sitting under the moon, watching him chase the clouds,
And that night, love, I realized how foolish I’ve been,
Calling you my moon in all my poems—
When he borrows his light, and you, you shine without a single shadow within.
Our legs sinking into the sand, always chasing the shore,
Waves kissing our toes as they meet once more.
I’ll show you the pictures—screenshots I took slowly,
Not the perfect ones, just the freaky, fuzzy shots where you’re you, wholly.
I lied when I said I was chasing butterflies in your hair,
You were between my legs, your spine pressed against my chest,
Wrapped in one jacket, sharing warmth, our breaths in sync.
The shore beneath us, waves whispering secrets at our feet.
I told you I was playing with a butterfly,
But really, I was setting your hair free from that clip that didn’t care.
I needed to feel your hair wild, untamed, falling like waves,
As it brushed against my face, soft strands dancing with the breeze,
Every lock sent chills down my spine,
Your scent filling the air, your hair wrapping around my fingers,
And the wind, like us, was making us one,
Your hair, in its messy perfection, said more than words could ever speak.
Your hair blowing, my eyes closing, breath aligning with the wind,
Like the universe itself was folding us together, as if it had planned it.
Let’s forget forever—just be with me tonight—
Until we count every star, holding on to each other tight.
No time, no crowd, just you and me, enough as we are,
I want to bury my ego in the sand, let it go,
In that moment, I’ll be mad, unfiltered,
The way I would be before my mother, no regrets left to show.
We’ll dream of a future, a life we’ve yet to write,
Maybe two passengers might join us—two little hands we’ll miss tonight.
And as our eyes grow heavy, as stars fade from the sky,
We’ll break the chains that hold us, love—eyes closed, we’ll fly.
Good morning, whenever we wake from that sleep so deep,
Now four hands and two rings—two hearts that forever keep.
The rest of the story, love, I’ll tell you in a language only we’ll know...
When we leave this seashore.
My new husband was a farm boy
who didn't like to roam.
It always took a lot of nagging
to get him to leave home.
But we were newly married,
I hadn't learned all of his dislikes.
I imagined us as travelers
who'd be going on big hikes.
So I was unaware of his sacrifice,
when he asked if I'd like to go
to the Exposition in Vancouver.
He probably hoped I would say no.
But I was more than willing
to go on a short vacation,
and it was more appealing since
we'd be in another nation.
We left early Saturday morning
to drive the one hundred miles.
When I thought of all the fun to come,
I could not hold back the smiles.
The closer we got to Vancouver
and our final destination,
my husband got more nervous
about the thick traffic congestion.
He drove right to the fairgrounds,
and didn't stop at our hotel.
I thought he did it to please me
and perhaps it was just as well.
There were so many great attractions,
we didn't know what to visit first,
and we ate so many exotic foods
I thought we would truly burst.
In the late part of the afternoon,
I said, "If you don't mind,
I'd like to go to our hotel now."
"You're right," my man opined.
They'll probably be filling soon.
we better go and lasso one."
I knew he must be joshing me,
just trying to have some fun.
He kept driving by the nice hotels
with signs "No Vacancy".
He drove on and on and on until
it really frightened me.
"You didn't make a reservation?
I can't believe that's really true.
We'll have no bed to sleep in.
What ever will we do?"
He kept on driving quietly.
Motel rooms had all been filled.
Although it had been a hot day,
I now was feeling chilled.
We were in a dingy part of the city
and were starting to turn around
when he saw a sign that promised
a vacancy would be found.
The registration desk was manned
by a man in an undershirt.
"Money first", he said before showing the room.
I felt like a piece of dirt.
"I think it's a flop house," my husband said.
I didn't like that term.
I though of rats and bed bugs and
it really made me squirm.
There was no way I'd get in that bed.
I chose a big leather chair.
With little to say, my husband laid down.
He was too tired to care.
I knew not what occurred in other rooms,
I heard footsteps and showers.
But you won't be surprised I know to hear,
nothing at all would happen in ours.
To You, I’d used to address my man covered with grime
Poetry was space of style and dressing that I fill
Panicked, incapable, feared loosing rhymes
I thought once: my language of filling fell ill
Even now as I’m struggling to unclothe You, I’m still wrong
With more confusion, madness I dress you like a spruce
Well, I have a first why (readers) added to your hurried Whys
I’m confused and nothing can ease me like rhymes
Why I keep writing, if I still can’t say who I’ am? ain’t that an abuse?
Well, there is always place for questions and I have the all night long
Questions are human’s one n only answer: don’t know.
All answers are just veiled questions. Time’s up for covers to blow
Time to be free of answers, no more questions to conceal
Only questions can turn out truth: new answer? Misguided again, I feel
Watch the oceans, winds and desert, in silence life goes on
Watch whales, birds, and ants with no answers at all
Speaking to life with life not with foolish words
Life can’t be judged by the language of best and worst
Yes, the oceans told me that life wasn’t written in a book
Nor sang in a song or pictured in a film because life was alive
Life wasn’t death to talk about with known pain to brook
Life was alive speaking to us like sun : inviting roses to thrive
Why? Why Should I wake few hours later, living meanings of life?
Why shouldn’t I go: swim with whales, work with ants n fly with birds
Why should I take a picture from an angle which never recreates life?
Why, should I learn languages, while I could be part of the picture, speaking language of worlds?
if I could speak life, I wouldn’t fear loosing rhymes! Or needed to address you my man
Because I’ll be you and you’ll be me, I won’t need stupid words anymore
No poetry, no descriptions, no judgment, no ‘wisdom’, no answers
Only love of life, love that can never be expressed or released with pen
All those questions I posed were only first mumbles, I guess
Tomorrow, I’ll pose no more questions, I’ll simply say to life ‘yes’
Then I’ll speak life like birds n ants, celebrating life is the only thing to remember
Only then, I can speak life, shouting not mumbling and knowing for sure that my saying(this last one) is answer!!!!
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
Courage is not having the strength to go on; it is going on when you don’t have the strength. –Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), 26th President of the United States
A year of heartbreak, soundless as the stars
who glitter, surreal, remembering
while we make our wishes, feel the darkness
surrounding, gentling at best…
the beautiful kiss of a lonely death,
fatalities sitting in heaven,
never listening to the falling rain,
all the clouds, the edges of each shadow,
forbidding my heart this feeling, so insane…
hurricane helene, with her deafening embrace
left hearts without the rhythm
of hope that quiets the soul,
when the thunder leaves its witness
to the darkness’ demonic twist,
the unending silence from a storm, the risk
imagine a world standing still,
awkward without her joyful voice,
darkened by fears, tears, and despair,
all the dismay that comes to those
who witness the heavens pouring out
not only the flow of rain,
but the waters so explosive
they are truly a hurricane – hurricane Helene
writing her story on our land,
fighting the mountains,
filling lives with her shouts,
seeking to break us,
with her screams and her roar,
as she raises our waters,
our creeks and our rivers,
brings mudslides that change us forever…
oh, what a story she’ll write in her journal
about the day she touched down
on this quiet, quaint home – Western North Carolina
no, we’ll never be the same…
there will always be a hesitation
when the rain begins,
an anxious foreboding,
apprehension of what might become
another Helene, another hurricane,
another rain who silences every soul
with the breath of a tempest
so out of control….
oh, my, what a tale these mountains could expose,
a story of darkness, a story of dread,
a story of fear that is filled with regrets…
how we will remember Helene
I believe… is the storm who reminded
we must always seek
the One who created us to believe,
without His protection,
we’re a people without any peace,
we’re a people without hope or grace,
we’re a people who life will replace,
with death, darkness, disgrace,
all the reasons that storms rage,
all the reasons that we have to abide…
in the love of the Father,
the hope of the light,
the peace of God’s Son,
who will heal those of us,
who’ve been touched
by the storm who taught us…
we must never give up!