Long Four times Poems
Long Four times Poems. Below are the most popular long Four times by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Four times poems by poem length and keyword.
Chapter..........1..........Part..........1..........4.
Now, mighty ones,
I return to sing the song of Alahsar,
now, come with me,
once more, let us stand in the priceless dream,
like the eagles, high aloft,
let us fly now too Dream-Scape.
A great wall stands,
ever impenetrable,
this outer wall to kingdom,
it stands firm,
within the great wall,
the largest, silver gates we behold,
this is where the song does take us,
now, let us see what we shall see,
let us watch the scene unfold.
We see many soldiers of the outer guard,
armour shining,
they stand watch at the outer gates,
Now, listen, a great hammering on the gates,
something hard strikes four times on the gates,
then a short break,
this repeats, time after time,
the signal of the enemy dignitaries,
outwith the gates,
in eternal darkness,
these damned souls awaited entry.
the gates are slowly opened,
soldiers now stand expectant,
mighty hands on sword hilts,
spears at the ready,
shields held tight,
the great silver gates,
they open slowly to the darkness,
a gasp from the soldiers of the golden king.
These mighty soldiers,
they now take a step backwards
out of the darkness,
eight spider riders of Akrah,
they advance,
they come forth on their gigantic spiders,
shudder now at this sight,
slowly, these abominations,
they did come into the light.
soldiers of the golden king,
they begin to retreat,
stand tall, men of Alahsar,
the order of the golden king,
let them pass, these loathsome beasts,
The gates stood atop a hill,
at the bottom of this hill,
one hundred of the elite knights,
the Captain and ten others,
they did splinter from the group,
ascending the hill.
The mighty bastions of Hellish design,
they move so slowly forward,
eyes of amber putrescense,
aligned on head,
perfect sight,
poison fangs begin dripping,
food so close,
bodies of the most mighty bulk,
carried with such hateful ease,
eight mighty legs,
they carry the weight with ease.
True, dark-haired demons,
born of the darkness,
what fear they do instil,
their leader, on the first spider,
he pointed a long finger at the captain,
Slowly, the spiders moved in line,
towards the Captain, their Hellish march,
when the head rider was up behind the Captain,
they all started down the hill,
Let us now follow this strange procession.
To Be Continued..........
i was arrested because my room mate wouldnt leave my condo
then i was arrested because my roomate wanted me to leave his apartment
cousin died after going to dentist
ive been held hostage
222 tips wouldnt take the information, the news wouldnt respond
ive had a gun pointed at me
i lived in an apartment where night after night doors were kicked in
through my relationships i know of 3 people who have been murdered
ive grown a lump on my forehead and jaw due to medication
i endured pain in my testicles for over 6 months, and no doctor would give me the
treatment
in a hospital i was held down and injected a needle, to wake up 3 days later with
nerve damage
father died in head on collision
my computer accounts have been hacked
ive been a victom of identity theft
rash for a year and no doctor could remedy it
molested as child
grandpas estate was a mess
abandoned by mother
hider in the attic who tore up my belongings
grandpa was in a coma
my grandma was quadrapalegic
police have ransacked my apartment
beaten by two cops
victom of drug ring
i have a sister and brother i dont know
ive moved at leat 20 times in the last 15 years
ive flatlined
been homeless four times
my first middle and last names are titles to songs
as is my birthday month and year, good movies too
ive been drugged
woken up with strange bruises
been plajerised
abandoned on the side of the road and strange towns
attempted suicide several times due to medication
know of paralegal and judge scams,
police loophole for the insiders of drug ring gangs
my grandfather was a war hero, on both sides of my family
i at the age of 31 years have yet to have the right to my own person
or live where i want
if the above doesnt sound like torture to you
you are the enemy, and wipe that smile off your face
ive predicted terrorist attack in my tourism class
tidal waves in the hospital
and like i said on youtube charlie, they don't see it coming
i predicted my grandpas coma
a girl with shingles that would live
i still wonder if the conversation i had with kurt cobaine through the television was
real, but he did comit suicide a week or so after,
i know we as people like to sing and dance and compete as we play house
so what would you bring to a remote deserted island?
the list goes on.... im not even kidding
Finding a new phone case you want
Didn’t even get a follow back on
DVT HR in a while ago but
Thrift store in a while ago but
Ends with the new version is better
Ended my life and the rest of
Dusty to be the first half of
4/9/16
In case you're wondering:
DVT = Deep vein thrombosis
HR = Heart rate
This poem was constructed in the following manner: I closed my eyes and hit my iPhone text keypad five times, then hit "autocorrect" to get the first word. The next 6 words of each line were the first suggested word by the iPhone text program. Pure randomness, inspired by the random word orderer found in Gulliver's Travels:
"Every one knew how laborious the usual method is of attaining to arts and sciences; whereas, by his contrivance, the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a little bodily labour, might write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study." He then led me to the frame, about the sides, whereof all his pupils stood in ranks. It was twenty feet square, placed in the middle of the room. The superfices was composed of several bits of wood, about the bigness of a die, but some larger than others. They were all linked together by slender wires. These bits of wood were covered, on every square, with paper pasted on them; and on these papers were written all the words of their language, in their several moods, tenses, and declensions; but without any order. The professor then desired me "to observe; for he was going to set his engine at work." The pupils, at his command, took each of them hold of an iron handle, whereof there were forty fixed round the edges of the frame; and giving them a sudden turn, the whole disposition of the words was entirely changed. He then commanded six-and-thirty of the lads, to read the several lines softly, as they appeared upon the frame; and where they found three or four words together that might make part of a sentence, they dictated to the four remaining boys, who were scribes. This work was repeated three or four times, and at every turn, the engine was so contrived, that the words shifted into new places, as the square bits of wood moved upside down."--Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels, Part 3, Chapter 5
To the people of the earth, we convey this greeting.
We are quite anxious for this long-awaited meeting.
Coming in peace, we are your cousins, as once before.
In a few hours, we’ll be reunited once more.
You will recognize us; our appearance you will know.
We see the sun we once shared ten million years ago.
The planet’s orbit remains between Venus and Mars.
History is forgotten, but we remember ours.
Our first arrival was with the great reptiles roaming.
Something happened, and we could not save them from dying.
Your entire world was completely warm and tropical.
This appeared to be the ideal place for our people.
Our interstellar travel made us masters of space.
However, we knew nothing of climate in this place,
or evolution and genetics within our race.
Your planet is in a section of isolation.
It takes many years to reach your civilization.
Our starships would be bringing news from the galaxy.
They would land three or four times in every century.
Your earth was once a constant tropical paradise.
However, climactic changes covered it with ice.
A strange phenomenon caused some harmless mutations.
Some of us were immune. There were no alterations.
This did not kill, or cause destructive physical harm.
It did start to arouse inevitable alarm.
Two separate groups arose over thousands of years.
Suspicion was perpetuated and caused great fears.
Those who did not leave earth sank into barbarism.
Envy, discord, and conflict were caused by the schism.
We had thought the end came for your civilization.
Your first radio signals gave us indication
that your culture has survived all these millennia.
This discovery has given us euphoria.
We see you have made your long ascent from savagery.
We are here to restore the long-lost fraternity.
We have uncovered much since we abandoned the earth.
Now that you are re-discovered, there will be much mirth.
Perpetual tropical climate, we will restore.
You won’t have to withstand freezing winters anymore.
With genetic mutation, there’s no need to endure.
For your offensive, yet harmless plague, we have a cure.
For what is now wrong, we have the power to make right.
Only let us know how many of you are still white.
Based on the short story "Reunion" by the late Arthur C. Clarke
Day one out of the womb – had a full crop of hair,
black like my daddy’s (it later went more fair).
Early childhood – Mom kept my brown hair short
because I’d twist it into knots. What a silly sport.
Peanut butter and some gum in my hair might stick.
Never a long hair style could I ever pick.
Pre-teen years – at last I saw my dark hair grow.
Pony tails and pig tails were ways my hair might show.
Junior High, late 60’s, hair piled high like a hive.
A wonder that no bumble bees were seen in there alive.
My hair was also parted always on one side.
I’d wear curlers in a store. Did I have no pride?
High school days – hair longer. In boring math at school,
I sat there pulling off split ends. Must have looked a fool!
College days – used a cheap product from the store.
“Sun-In” gave me reddish-blonde. I used it four times more.
The 80’s – got a perm. The curls were tight. Had oodles.
Now I can have sympathy for cockapoos and poodles.
90’s – used extensions. A lot of folks I fooled.
Strawberry blonde seemed to be the color then that ruled.
New century. New color. My hair was very blonde.
There were two guys in a tram in Rio that I conned.
My friend who looked American knew every word they stated.
About my natural color those guys in Portugese debated.
They finally decided my blonde was natural.
I got a kick out of those young fellows’ folderol.
Later on, my hair got over-bleached. I showered, and
lots of strands of it crumbled right into my hand.
After that, while growing out dark roots about two years,
I wore a wig until uncolored hair went past my ears.
A co-worker , not knowing I wore a wig at school,
told me that my hair had never looked so cool!
By 2010, my hair was in a rut.
Only one side of it grew, so I’d always get it cut.
Turned 60 and got cancer. Ate better to be stronger.
Miraculously my hair AND nails grew a whole lot longer.
Since then till now, my daughter’s been my dear beautician.
She keeps the gray away and my hair in good condition.
Were my hair not dyed, salt and pepper it would be.
I love my gold-like hair, thick, and long and wavy.
Some people think a woman of my age should wear a shorter “do.”
Decades it took to get this look, so NO (and I’ll keep my cute bangs too!)
Here it comes again, the daily reminder ...
cold sweats out of nowhere that hit me like a slap
on the face, my entire body turning clammy wet in an
instant, three-or-four times every day. Then there's the
uncontrollably exaggerated yawning and eyes that won't stop
watering, a runny nose as if instant hay fever, and that nearly in-
tolerable creepy muscle thing ... that's the worst symptom of all by
far, (akathisia, it's called), because you CAN'T hold still - all your bones
and muscles have to move at once, or you quite simply can NOT tolerate it.
I always say a prayer that it only happens a few
times each day, and only lasts for a short time, but
to be honest, it's a nightmare, and inside I'm cursing ...
cursing myself for this reminder. The reminder of a terribly
bad decision that I made thirty years ago. Oh, my "problem"
is under control, thanks to a wonder drug that did indeed save
my life, (when my heart stopped thrice), and while I no longer abuse
anything, that accursed monkey is still there, riding me like a two-dollar
mare, and reminding me a few times each day, that it's completely in control.
Yes, I'm alive and writing this because of it, and
as thankful as a human can be, truly, but I'm light-
years from the obliged kiss-off I dream about giving it.
You see, it creates another problem all its own, one they
don't tell you about when you start on "The Program", that
this particular monkey, while having the power to save your life,
is also the strongest, most tenacious monkey that exists, by FAR,
and the chance of you ever giving it that dreamed-about final goodbye,
are easily the longest odds you've ever had, especially with a weakened heart.
But you push your mind to try to remain thankful
nonetheless, because after all, you ARE still alive ...
alive and kicking and getting these wonderfully horrific
reminders each day, of just how little control and charge
and health and power you have over your own life ... alive
and moving through life like you have a giant condom on your
body and mind and emotions, not really FEELING or emoting or
experiencing much of anything in the way a human being SHOULD be,
but alive and breathing and functioning ... you ARE still alive ... aren't you?
CHOREOGRAPHY of LIFE and DEATH
(Four times I have crossed swords with death up to now!)
The cheerful trumpet of
Miraculous life,
Imperatively sounded in
My mother’s life-giving womb,
Heralding with its melodic tune
Another animation:
MINE!
And as my innocent
Infantile heart, provoked by
The challenging divine call,
Started beating tenderly in
The rhythm of the never-dying cosmos
Thus making me
ALIVE!
The promising sound was
Still ringing in my delicate
Ears
Singing the marvelously hopeful song of life,
When the sound of a second trumpet, similar to the first,
Filled with its melancholic tune my tiny world,
Announcing the coming of calamitous death
Thus
Condemning me to die.
LIFE and DEATH beside me they stood,
Facing each other,
Tenderly, holding my hands
And claiming me as their child.
Life was the first to whisper into my ears,
Promises so many.
She talked to me about joy, happiness, love and
Procreation,
About thousands of other things that
She would like to offer.
Only a favor she asked in return;
To be hers and only hers forever!
-
When death heard all this, didn’t make any sound,
Only sardonically smiled at life first,
And then to me emphatically declared:
“The cup of joy you can never drink before you empty
that of sorrow, and no matter what life says to you, in the end,
you will be my very own.”
-
That’s the way my trip in this ephemeral world began,
With vigorous life, leading and tracing the promising way,
And death kept following her, just a few steps behind
Patiently, was waiting to catch up with her pace,
But,
As years, were passing fast one after the other,
Death was approaching rapidly each, and every day.
So the fight they had begun so many years ago,
Relentless war now becomes, with life still the
Winner.
Yet, the ill-fated date, unexpectedly, came to my great surprise,
When the cold hands of death I felt around my skeleton waist,
Squeezing the life out of me with all their force and main.
Eager to extinguish in me wished, the very last spark of life,
And as the shrilling wind of death was howling throughout
My body, I fell at once breathless, dead and
Still over the ground remained!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
2 February 2013
I was just four when I discovered that some grown-ups cry.
That’s because I saw my mommy dragging my daddy down the stairs,
Her eyes so full of tears that they fairly poured down her flimsy nightgown.
Daddy wasn’t crying. Daddy was dead.
When I was six, I had cause to cry on my own account.
Mommy had been dating a man, she said if they married I would be a flower girl.
One night she came into my room crying a little and said she was sorry, they eloped.
I cried quietly. I’m not sure it was all for me.
At eleven, a whole new kind of tears entered my life.
Asleep in my room late at night, I awoke to my mom screaming and sobbing.
My three-year-old sister slept next to me so I just listened as my stepfather beat her.
I cried so hard. I thought I would never stop.
Age 20 and happy to be in college away from the pain.
Divorced, mom found a new love in vodka, and he controlled her more than her ex.
I brought my love home to meet her, and she asked him how he could like a fat, lazy slob like me?
I knew I shouldn’t cry. It didn’t stop me.
In my life have been many opportunities to cry.
Being told I would die when my daughter was a baby and I thirty-two,
The death of my mother, my youngest daughter’s fiancé dying of cystic fibrosis.
With each tear I fade a little. I’m almost gone.
So now in my 50s, I find out my oldest daughter is sick.
Stage four lymphoma, and she didn’t cry through chemo, hair loss,
Almost dying four times in treatment, emergency surgery, pulmonary embolism.
It’s okay. I cried enough for both of us.
She is twenty-six, and sometimes I can hear her crying.
Her lymphoma is back, creeping into her spine like an armed terrorist,
And while it is a small encampment that hasn’t grown, our fear, sadness, and helplessness increases daily.
I hear her cry. I make sure she can’t hear me.
I am approaching sixty; sometimes I feel one hundred.
I wonder if God has allotted us a finite number of tears for our lifetime,
If those tears are stored in the chambers of our heart and we need to conserve some for what tomorrow holds.
Let her last tear be her last tear. But give me one last tear — sparkling and light — dancing down my cheek in gratitude as I fade to clear.
fbruary 2, 2019
Did you ever look at empty space and imagine
The brilliance that structured its existence
Did you ever call your best friend by the same
Rotten name he just called you
Did you ever fear for your being, knowing your
Ultimate end could be in a minute, in a snap
Did you ever watch a kid circle under a lazy
Fly ball and glove-block its earthbound path
Did you ever love a puppy so much you couldn’t
Sleep without checking him eleventy-four times at night
Did you ever plow the earth and smell God’s gift to man
And talk the next crop up and growing
Did you ever race your friends and run until your lungs screamed
Falling down laughing at victory or defeat
Did you ever watch a spider slowly spin a perfect web
With his patience uninterrupted by your insistence of contrariety
Did you ever call the night-wind to hush
To stillness and lay sandy-eyed waiting
Did you ever accept or reject the norms
Crammed at you or ignore their existence
Did you ever battle yourself with ideas and judgments
That no man can answer and still seek your solutions
Did you ever simply say hello to a perfect stranger
And realize that you are the strange one
Did you ever sit in the grass yard of the post office
And watch the smothered stares of strangers
Did you ever stop to realize that success to one is failure
To another and your words rattle empty to set minds
Did you ever wish for a chance you’ll never have
Realizing you would have succeeded fully
Did you ever feel the grip loosen in spite of all your
Efforts and wonder about tomorrow
Did you ever thank God for your ability to question
To learn, to be human
Did you ever watch an infant think, the wheels turn
And the language of thought distorted
Did you ever try to express your opinion
To one who will not listen.
Did you ever listen when wise men talked
Yet incorporated their wisdom only in painful acceptance
Did you ever wonder what your Mom and Dad
Were like at age twelve
Did you ever wonder what you
Were like at age twelve
Did you ever wish for others to be happy, really happy
But they never are no matter what you do
Did you ever wish for peace but realize
That tranquility is fleeting and temporary
there is a gravity to you
whenever crossing the room
it is an existence that bends light
into an aura capturing my every breath
a plasma that penetrates every atom within
with memories of long ago
when you first walked into my life
from across the room
as you drew near me
my heart counted every step forward
lost in erratic rhythms as they lifted
and returned to Earth
in that face a beauty
causing a full moon to glance
and pause in envy
lips possessing a kittenish smile
driven like a bee to pollen
a promise of being crushed by roses
born from Athenia's brood
and in your eyes a dominion
from which i would be forever held
in John Donne's Ecstasy
these passing years
i still tug on the pigtails
to remind the playground
how much i adore you
just an average man
who stumbled into the arms
of the above average
and careened into eternity
now there will be those of you
quickly to point out
surely there are far too many flowers
packed lovingly in this bouquet
i said average, not stoopid
you take the bolt of cloth down
measure three to four-times
twice and cut is for mechanical thinkers
love has never been a well-oiled machine
a bit more for unexpected contingencies
roll the bolt of cloth more than a tad
in life, one never knows
the lady may have just discovered
she now adores puffed sleeves
i said average, not stoopid
and the lesson i learned from Mr. Darcy
when you open your mouth
let the brain stay idle in speech
and let your heart sing
to the soul, she has in her eyes
therein the permission you seek nests
only the heart can free those wings
and there are never too many flowers
in a bouquet, or a tad more of cloth
be prepared the scouts' teaching
fashion with women are like the seasons
guaranteed to change
did not John Donne ask his love
not to stare into the sun
lest she blinds it
above average, also, not stoopid
OKC 2/14/22
“Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love .” William Shakespeare, Hamlet
"But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity."
Sonnet 14 If Thou Must Love Me
Elizabeth Barrett Browning