Long Flach Poems
Long Flach Poems. Below are the most popular long Flach by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flach poems by poem length and keyword.
Erect stands the totem poles carved from Western Red Cedar trees
Telling tales of gods and warriors buried by the river as it flows to the seas
Marking the boundaries of these sacred grounds where our native brethren once roamed
For many years and centuries before we drove them from their homes
The graves bear no markings; the Great Spirit knows where each warrior can be found
As he comes to collect each one of them and escort him to a happier hunting ground
One of the warriors laid to rest there was known on earth by the name of Storm Cloud
And he visits the burial grounds often accompanied by lightning and thunder roaring loud
Map makers call this place Campbell River on Vancouver Island in Canada
The natives who lived and then died here just called it the home that they did love
And in the carvings on the large tree trunks that their fellow man did fell
The stories of their life here, the figures and features so vividly tell
by Joe Flach, written and posted on August 11, 2011
Please Daddy, can we build just one more
Just one more castle on the ocean’s door
Build a sandcastle better than all before
Can we build one more before we leave the shore
I can still hear her begging me in that soft, sweet voice
As if as her Daddy I even had a choice
There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her as her eyes grew moist
So, more sand in the bucket I would start to hoist
But summer days soon gave way to boys
And sandcastles were forgotten like her dolls and toys
The sounds of rolling waves were just background noise
Daddy couldn’t entice her to join me with vacation ploys
Before I knew it we were worlds apart
I sat alone on the beach with a heavy heart
The formation of a sandcastle I couldn’t even start
Without my daughter beside me to share in the art
The castles she chased were ruled by bogus kings
She kept reaching for the next golden ring
She found solace in drugs and in other things
Now in a plane, a coffin, her body brings
Please Daddy, can we build just one more
Just one more castle on the ocean’s door
Build a sandcastle better than all before
Can we build one more before we leave the shore
by Joe Flach
I still remember that first day of school in our fourth grade year;
My family had just moved in and I didn’t have any friends there.
I sat in the cafeteria all alone, my lunch box I’d left on the bus;
Sitting down beside me you shared half your lunch and that was the start of us.
I remember that time in our Freshmen year, when your mother passed away;
We cried and we cursed and we yelled at God, when in my house you stayed.
At her funeral I remember you being so brave when you got up and read your speech;
So lovely the words you had written to say, better than what the Pastor would preach.
I remember double dating during Senior Prom with two beauties on our arms;
Hoping to get lucky for the very first time and winning them over with our charms.
Too much excitement and too immature; too inexperienced and too much booze,
Two bigger idiots we could not have been; our virginity we did not loose.
We both went to college at the same school; roommates for four years;
You graduated but I had more to do, we departed with a shake and some tears.
Our paths parted and went separate ways, with letters and phone calls in between;
When I got the invitation for your wedding day, my face lit up like a beam.
I was your best man and then you were mine, four years later when I got hitched,
And you were there to ease my mind, years later when I divorced that witch.
Vacations together with your family and my kids, a divorced father doing his best,
Always envious of your accepting ways, never putting our friendship to a test.
I knew back then in the fourth grade you would be my very best friend.
And I’m sure it will always stay that way until we meet our end.
By, Joe Flach
This time you've really thrown me a challengin' curve, Mr. Flach!
You've asked this old "rhymer" to write somethin' called "free verse!"
To concoct such a "masterpiece" is agin' my poetical "religion!"
But if you insist, I'll give it a try sans my dictionary and thesaurus!
I suppose I could come up with somethin' dealin' with current politics,
But that might cause a flap with those who disagree with me.
Perhaps somethin' to do with hot romance, moonlit beaches and love,
But I'm not very astute about such things and would probably botch it!
Oh, I know! How about an animal theme about rabbits and their prolific habits.
Nah! Probably with my acidic tongue I'd leave folks "hoppin'" mad!
There's always nature things to write about - rivers, mountains and such.
Maybe I could concoct a stirrin' verse such as Kilmer's memorable "Trees!"
I could write about guv'ment meddlin', taxes and the high cost of livin',
But I'd get so angry that I might throw rocks at an occupied hearse!
So I'd better control myself and compose somethin' rather mundane,
Like feedin' squirrels and pigeons and contemplatin' the settin' sun!
Joe, though I doubt this composition will rate a Pulitzer Prize for poetry,
I've had a ton of fun and my first "free verse" made for easy writin'!
But I'd better forego writin' free verse before it gets any "vorse!"
And stick to usin' rhyme, rhythm and meter for my verse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Honorable Mention in Joe Flach's "A Poem That Doesn't Rhyme - July 2010
I go there while sitting in the executive conference room during budget meetings.
I go there while listening to his teacher tell me he acts like the ten year old boy that he is.
I go there while stuck in traffic with the other sheep being led to slaughter.
I even go there in the middle of the preacher trying to send me down the righteous path.
I go there in the grocery store line while price checks are being called for the shopper in front of me.
I go there with uncompleted tax report forms sitting in front of me on my desk.
I go there with a snow shovel in my hand, pushing it back and forth across my driveway.
I even go there in the middle of a prostate exam.
And, every time I go there - it is just as beautiful as ever.
I smell the bountiful fragrance of the most colorful flowers.
I meld with the butterflies fluttering about; I rejoice in the songs of the birds gliding on air above.
That secret garden that exists deep inside of my being is what helps me to carry on.
by Joe Flach for Nette's "My Secret Garden" Contest
2/13/2014
As soon as I had given up on ever finding love
Convinced that a match for me was ne’er to be found
It was then that I was smiled upon by Cupid from up above
So hard was I struck in the heart, it felled me to the ground
Convinced that a match for me was ne’er to be found
The desperation with which I searched left and set me free
So hard was I struck in the heart, it felled me to the ground
Released from the bondage of despair, love was able to find me
The desperation with which I searched left and set me free
It was then that I was smiled upon by Cupid from up above
Released from the bondage of despair, love was able to find me
As soon as I had given up on ever finding love
by Joe Flach, written and posted on 1/12/12 for Francine’s “4 Forms, 4 Themes” contest
Form: Pantoum Theme: New Love
The sun beats down on the hot desert sand
As she brushes their silken white mane
No fairer mistress lives throughout the land
Her beauty as rare as the rain
Left behind by a nomadic tribe
Scandal surrounding her birth
Arabian white horses always by her side
Her only family to speak of on earth
A virgin so pure and spirit so free
No one has spoken her name
She is as refreshing as drops from the sky
They simply refer to her as the Rain
You can see her riding an Arabian white steed
Anytime night or day
No other horseman can match her speed
Is what the locals say
Foreigners think when they speak of the Rain
They are talking of drops from above
But it’s this girl they worship who has no name
That they shower with all of their love
The sun beats down on the hot desert sand
As she brushes their silken white mane
No fairer mistress lives throughout the land
Her beauty as rare as the rain
By, Joe Flach
For Constance's Contest, "Rain, The Story"
There were candles lit afire overlooking New York City
Placed there by the mournful, with heart’s so full of pity
In the park that had a view of a horizon oh so pretty
On the night of 9/11, following a day that really hit me
In memory of those lives, whose candles burned out quickly
We stood there searching for two towers that we can’t see
by Joe Flach for Russell Sivey's "By Candlelight" contest.
In memory of those firends I lost on that day.
An ad-hoc memorial of candles, pictures and letters was created at Eagle Rock Reservation in West Orange, NJ on 9/11 and the days that followed, where people gathered, cried and prayed at an overlook on First Mountain with a spectacular view of NYC. Years later, this park was made into a formal memorial for those souls lost on 9/11.
Summer arrived
After a long and painful day
Some stress, worry and anxiety
Accompanied her on the way
All across America
Loved ones waited for her arrival
Praying that Summer days begin
Some relying on their Bible
Then on the Island of Oahu
In the city of Honolulu
In a hospital maternity ward
Summer finally pushed through
A first time mother and father
Making first time grandparents on both sides
Held their beautiful new daughter
With tears of joy in their eyes
So on the last day of June
Summer came into this world
Welcome Elsa Summer Flach -
My first grandchild is a girl
It takes a lot to drive one to thoughts of suicide
A lot of pain
A lot of sorrow
A lot of loneliness
A lot of heartbreak
A lot of disappointment
A lot of misunderstanding
A lot of abuse
There on the water’s edge she stood
The midnight moon reflecting off the ocean’s waves
Options being weighed
Drift off into the frigid water beyond the point of no return?
Swallow the pills she took out of her mother’s medicine cabinet?
Open the blood vessels in her arm with his pen knife she stole?
She reflected on the many ways she might go about this
on her long drive to the ocean shore.
She tried not to remember the reasons why she wanted it all to end
on her long drive to the ocean shore.
She thought about the irony of finally visiting a place she longed to see
on her long drive to the ocean shore.
She heard the faint bells tolling the midnight hour from somewhere down the beach and felt compelled to find their origin.
She came upon the empty church which echoed her own emptiness
She came upon the lonely church which mirrored her loneliness
She came upon the dark church which reflected her darkness within
She walked in
She knelt down
She said, “Please forgive me for what I am about to do”
The wind blew open one of the two doors in front of the church with a loud bang
She turned in shock to see the light from the moon shining on the word, “No”
The door swung closed and opened again – “No”
The door swung closed and opened again – “No”
She leapt up from the pew
She ran down the beach
She left the waves behind
She got into her car
She drove home to fix her life
The door swung closed one last time, next to its mate
And the “No Smoking” sign was complete again
by Joe Flach, written and posted on 9/28/2011 for the "The Church by the Ocean" contest