Long Forestalled Poems

Long Forestalled Poems. Below are the most popular long Forestalled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forestalled poems by poem length and keyword.


Float To Me

“Float to me” 


Changing directions
in a forestalled motion,
balanced on the side of truth while practicing losing my step
in the rushing waters of life…
I slip

Clinging to a lone branch
I find it blocking the sky, pulling shadows from mist
and teetering on the edge of someone’s sacred sanity
as I fear drowning

Dampened skin mimics feelings
as loneliness meanders by like a crooked stick
riding the surface to an unknown or wanted destination,
against its will

To my chest it rises
slowly forcing images in my mind,
those what ifs, whys, sinking forgotten, missed by none 

When my eyes, 
stern and fashioned of blinded occurrences that swallow 
the light of day and the masks of sympathetic stares,
focus

For in the distance, 
tapestries woven of heartbeats glisten on the ripples of a naked moon beam,
motioning to me in pleasing movements a’ dance on its reflections 

Passionately in syncopated volumes she whispers,
louder than the hope now swirling in the rising swells
and broken slivers of drastic wastelands which
sit vacant in my mind

“Float to me”, 
I hear as the cool waters so elegantly gather about her perfect feet 
Her toes grip the rocky floor in such beauty that I fall helplessly, 
allowing nature’s crest to take me, singing me sweetly to this pristine dream 

Disbelief churns in fountains of doubt fed wishes and desires
as I submerge in the beauty that is her 
Engulfed by white capped rapids beating faster…only my heart
She, with silken fingers plucks me from the surf,
her fragrance, lilac and magnolia, intoxicate me

We stand, shades of the deep sky and starlight beacons illume her face 
As fireflies play in the trees and
our lips meet, my pulse floods with fever

Her desperate thoughts invade my elated mind and I agree
Together we plunge to the depths of forever 
as I, no longer fearful, drown in her love


An African Dreamer's Dilema

I  dreamt of what I  could  be
when  this faithful  deluge
give up 
when my day 
finally breaks

My bamboo bed
tripled  its size
and has only few sticks
still left 
Behold!
the depth of father’s grave 
came forth;
so also
the forestalled
hopes  of  grieving mother
still in her mourning cloth

I could smell 
the tantalizer  
grandmother once prepared 
for father
oblivious  what next day
portended for us

When the hard nocks 
of the rain
broke through
my thatched roof
and ceaselessly
came in droplets  
on my brow
It furrowed 
to clearer vindication

The light I saw
shorn so bright to be true
every thing in me soothed
and I knew I was coming 
closer to where it all started.

Finally I arrived
the dingy room 
where grand father 
always sat alone 
resting his fragile neck
looking at the world. 
He ceaselessly crunched
at  his well separated teeth
scolding and questioning
his unseen guests
Un-seeable guests
who claimed his only son 
only last year 
they still want
the  remaining
contract performed
Ridiculous. Callous
I imagined grandfather 
Must be telling them.
I  imagined
Okosisi  would  dare the spirits 
and refuse to die
at least for my sake
whatever the cult may say. 

The strands of his hair 
hung somewhere in mother’s  kitchen
and she knows the price
we shall all  pay  
if that loop  is  mistakenly
eaten by the fire
I  imagined
Okosisi would dare the spirits
and stick to his gun
and refuse to die
and if he lives
and the spooks demand me
who will continue the family tree?.
Form:

Elements Part 2: Wind

ELEMENTS part 2: WIND

                                  Fiercely, it seemed the furious wind forestalled
                                    The baseball game, bat and ball suspended.
                               How now must the players play without palavering
                                   all over the green grassy glittering ball field?

                             Each one with helmets, tough hamstrings and hairy chins,
                                   Chasing after that classic colored little ball
                                   That the bowler spins lifting shins showing that
                                      He'll get you out without any fuss for now.

                             A powerful element which elects at times to elope with roofs,
                                    Assuming a  windy whirling wrecking stance,
                                  As though its speed should stall scheduled events
                               For which flyers were planned printed passed around.  

                              A heavy task tidying up after this tempestuous wind, 
                             After gales of gusty glaring gusts, push you from behind. 
                          What a chaotic cheerless crowd, chattering on home,
                                         To tell the terrifying tale  to others.






Title: ELEMENTS part 2: WIND 
Sponsored by: Brian Davey 
Contest Deadline:
4/16/2016  @ 12:00:00 AM

Mary What You Doing Now

March 7, 2014

She patiently sits by the telephone
Awaiting a ring from the one she adores
It seems far too long since her husband's been gone
She wonders if anyone's minding the store

She flips on the switch in the darkened hall
Walks quietly over the holes - back and forth
Reports from her gun long ago were forestalled
She wiped clean the deed by excising the source

Mary what you doing now
As Spring perfume inspires the air
Rise up from your rocking chair
It's so lovely in the South
Mary, what you doing now

Suspicion had mounted until they were caught
There in the hallway, her sister with him
Screaming, she shot five more times as they dropped
On learning the truth, Mary ceased to exist

Mary what you doing now
Inside those honeysuckle prayers
Ask forgiveness, you'll be spared
Long forgotten when and how
Mary, what you doing now

His mother just died
Your sister was kind
A guiltless embrace
Til you blew them away

Mary what you doing now
Have you no memories to share
Must you always sit and stare
Dead within and lost without
Mary, what you doing now
Say, Mary, what you doing now?
© Ben Burton  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

My Modern Day Reality

My Modern Age Reality

The daily commute a daily grind
Bumper to bumper you will find
Asking “are you out of your mind”
Hoping to spot someone that is kind

Road rage is now the new adage
To get where you’re going at this stage
Maybe this can be forestalled with courage
Though that is wishful thinking at this age

My child in the back seat 
She’s my daily joy when I do pick her up and we meet
Her arms outstretched as if to greet
Though the morning drop off isn’t so neat

A woman in a job no less
That a man used to do my guess
Why does it feel so thankless
Although that paycheck is a bliss

At the end of a long day I just want to rest
But hubby dear has announced a guest
Shopping, cooking, cleaning is now my quest
After all we want to show our best

The closing of the door and a big sigh
Tells me that bedtime is nigh
But first tidy up both low and high
Maybe it’s worth a hug from my big guy

My head comes to rest on the pillow
A last glance out the window at the willow
And a snuggle with mine bedfellow 
Leads to a day’s afterglow

That’s all I have for today’s sideshow

Andreas Simic©
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member My Friend, My Love

I imagine being there in enchanting places
Conjuring up insights of sensuous images
Driving friendship to threshold of romance
Confessing my love when she isn't around.

When the uplifting sky adorns rosy sunrise
Quickly I abandon the constraints of norms
As soaring vibrancy celebrates the new day
Guiding my hopes to contours of happiness.

A look in her eyes now transforms my heart
Sending intimate hints to commit a trespass
As a glimpse of her smile boldly reaches out
Tearing down the barriers that hold us apart.

I've seen a change in the way she responds
When walk in the park turns to jubilant stars
And touch of her hand claims a flirting glance
Enticing our vibes to command fervor of life.

Yearning for encounter of alluring emotions
Fire of desire intoxicates dreams of the dawn
In passionate kisses forestalled for so long
Reaching finality of love in each other's arms.

January 16, 2019
Placed 2nd: My friend, My Love contest by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
HM: Strand #700 contest by Brian Strand
Form: Verse

Premium Member The Aesthete


The human body may be a marvel,
yet the aesthete prefers his were marble
or gold or some other precious metal
with a life approaching to eternal!

For flesh and blood fail miserably
as a hope suitable for longevity,
requiring daily sustenance
for hopeful future permanence.

Then, too. human flesh isn’t practical,
it offers life that’s neither long nor natural;
and who wants a life abbreviated
when there’s much to be appreciated?

While others rely on pharmaceuticals
for medications made of mostly chemicals?
None of which a body made of marble
needs unless fools ignore a warning label!

While others take up a livelihood
that benefits others care for their good,
bringing them a measure of fame and wealth
yet cannot guarantee their own sound health.

Accept therefore what aesthetes recommend
accept life just as it has always been.
For neither diligence nor luck nor miracle
has yet forestalled the inevitable.

Premium Member So You Want To Mess With Me - In Trump's Own Words

God what a mess,
My head is spinning,
Each day more stress,
Am I still winning?

Wall street crashing,
The economy near stall,
The media’s constant bashing,
Pelosi’s new curve ball.

My plans are now in tatters,
Forestalled at every turn,
To do what really matters
Is all I truly yearn.

I’m gearing for a fight
The like they’ve never seen,
I use my mouth to bite
And care little if I’m mean.

I’ll tear each one to shreds,
Flail them side to side,
Get well into their heads,
Give them quite a ride.

Clearly they don’t know
The grief they have in store,
They’ll reap what they now sow,
It’s nothing short of war.

Like Bombers flying high
Releasing their payload,
Shells falling from the sky,
I’ll give them what they’re owed.

Cross me once
And risk my wrath,
Yours the choice 
To take that path.

Cross me twice
And stay awake,
You’ve cast your dice,
What a mistake.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member ''Little Bird, What Troubles Thee''

Little bird, what troubles thee
      is it the worm in your belly
little bird, what pains thee
      is it the worm of misery

is it the bitterness in your heart, 
     or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive 
 
is it the cancer of bitter love, 
     or the loss of deserved affection 
is it the cruel withdrawal of 
     his tenderness and compassion 

life is much too brief
      and youthful love's even briefer still,
your forestalled relief 
      keeps you from seeing His eternal will

what befalls you 
      is neither unshared nor a mystery
God sheds His tears for you
      in the midst of your painful agony

little bird, what troubles thee
      is it the worm in your belly
little bird, what pains thee
      is it the bane of misery
Form:

What Is Time

Time is a thief-
a thief that steals dreams-
then youth-
and finally life.
Time is an enemy-
an enemy that cannot
be appeased-
defeated-
or forestalled-
only sacrificed to.

As long as time has existed
not one second has ever been
repeated or reclaimed.
Time gives back nothing-
it only takes away.
Time is a taskmaster that extracts
a high price when wasted-
yet promises no rewards for
frugality.

Time cannot be managed-
it manages those seeking to do so.
Time creates all and destroys all-
time is life and time is death-
time is infinitesimal-
time is eternal.
Time is our captor-
yet also our liberation-
and until such-
only coexistence is allowed-
an uneasy truce.
Time is the overseer of all things-
we are all its slave.

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