Long Full(a) Poems
Long Full(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Full(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Full(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
The Camp Cooky’s singin again outa tune,
about turnin 60 today around noon
"What good is there in it?" I hear him say,
and it got me to thinkin . . . seein it was his birthday
It seems bein 60’s got two spins to that tale,
one frittered and wrinkled, the other covered in shale
The one who’s 60 if truth be told,
is still younger than all those 61—to real old
In the campfire’s crackle of light I can see,
how everyone younger, is likely dumber than me
So if my hands struggle with the knots and riggin fer sure,
the knowin and the tellin to those younger’s worth more
Havin outlived many a cow horse, while lovin them all,
the awnry and skitterish, the short and the tall
The summers ridin drag, and the worst winters mendin fence,
with a slicker full a holes, and that ol dog with no sense
And while the cuttin and the brandin seems boring to some,
it’s the importance of their nature and gettin things done
When the hats and the spurs and even the saddles are all gone,
and the sun sinks over that last mountain, like in Dusty’s ol song
I’ll remember the good times, lettin go of the bad,
and think back on the pards and the ladies I’ve had
Because just like for Cooky, it happened last year to me,
and turnin 60 seemed ranker than any bronc could ever be
But like that new Visalia saddle the boss man said was now mine,
I've found somethin that’s different, somethin gentler and kind
The speed and the strength ain’t been traded for free,
and somethin woke up that I guess was sleepin in me
And as I yell to the wrangler “Cut me one gentle and nice”
without loosin too much pride I ask, “Can you help Ol Jim
cinch his riggin real tight”
Then once more in the dark I ride off in search of the herd,
singin that one favorite cow song every real hand has heard
And as I inch up on the lead steer whisperin mellow and low,
“Yippee ki yay, Ol Fella; you ready to go”
For maybe one last time we push North thru the dark,
the sun still two hours off to the right of our mark
While in the distance a wolf howls, as that lead steer catches my eye,
and in that instant I know I’m still needed—a long ways from g’bye
(Dewey Montana: Circa 1990) Read In Elko Nevada, 1993
I faced alarming paradoxes
as I headed toward puberty.
First,
my King James Bible-belting parents,
extended family,
and all-hopelessly-WHITE farm community
taught me
God loves me
and all the children,
red and yellow,
and black almost as much as white.
That felt good
but then I learned God hates me
because I became queerly obsessed
with hot guys,
and not hot girls.
So, God restoratively created me
so He could retributively hate me.
That seemed like poor justice and peace planning to me,
and I was still in fifth grade.
Then I learned that God had given me two extraordinary gifts:
Possibly unmeasurable intelligence,
and so,
my grade-school principal warned
my evangelical farmer parents,
we were not to be surprised
if I was and saw this Earth
in a somewhat different way.
My second gift
was the envy of all good Bible-belting out and still-in teenagers.
I could sing with the angels.
So,
the God of Infinite Love
is my Creator
and I am His Frankenstein *****
with a mind and singing voice to soar,
full of Grace.
You and I might both be surprised
how long it took to figure out
Something is very wrong with this picture,
and I don't think it is just me.
It was merely everyone else I knew and trusted
in that Bible-belting time.
So I sang for them in full voice
but gave as little voice to my sexuality as possible.
I wrote papers and test responses
in full A+ voice
but told no one
I knew they were asking wrong questions
for me to answer with full-versed integrity,
Free to sing with David and Jonathon
free of magic superstitions
standing in for mythic polypathic wisdom
of Solomon
Not to divide innocent organic Promise
God has conjoined as Love
of and for children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and lesbian,
bisexual and transgender
And, yes, even straight-faced
Bible-belted out and inward Hate,
Supremely Evangelical Christian Colonizing InBred Correctness,
while continuing to give birth
to hidden,
shamed and blamed ***** Grace
of a Loving God
polypathically immense,
deep and wide,
future through past
regeneratively just
and peaceful
and wickedly funny
Because if we cannot laugh at our egocentric stupidities,
then we must cry out for cosmic tragedy.
To the Circuit of Energy permeating the garden, sustaining the canopy permeate
Washing through with waterfalls, cascading rivers, and upwelling springs the fermement
Was magically darkened when Eve took her classes at Satan’s grove
Where one tree (or gate or pedestal) stood, and the devil appeared like hand in glove
To capture her attention, draw her away from her programmed obligations
Little did she know that the devils deal would lead to abnegation
Of her rightful role as a helpmate, swquaw and poets wife
To rule as co-creators, in innocence, with her husband – Adam – and without strife
Although the invitation to new knowledge might have raised her curiosity peaked
‘Perhaps’, she thought, ‘only to have this new experience’ would raise her from meek
Humility. And give her new insight into helping her man: new insight new skills
How was she to know that the tree of good and evil would not fulfill
Any decent role in sustaining the garden, or giving of strength
Had she known that she would be banned from paradise, and removed a full length
From the easeof leisure, the peac of pleasure, which passes all understanding
What a tragedy then, when she engaged the devil without comprehending
The consequence of taking that fatal action, to partake
In the fruit and lust of the wicked tree: when after she began to fake
The full collapse of her station to assist the 1st Man, her original matrimony
She had, perhaps unwittingly disrupted her union with man, and sundered its harmony
With the role of Adam as a spokesman and poet was now broken
The life from before, when he merelyspoke and observed had become a token
Memory. Speech itself a vestige of what life had been when it was perfect
For Eve had introduced vast new knowledge through her dalliance when the devil depicted
A fuller knowledge of all the trees of the garden once fecund
Now all that once gave life in full, a mere second
To Eves infinite question; to probe the everlasting and to question
From what source, and what deep came the gall of God’s order not to mention
The mercurial things that she had seen in Eden, the sweet lull and whisper
And perhaps her fall, the devils gambit settled the mist-in-her
I can’t believe the words your written
What makes you think your smart
How dare you judge this life of mine
Was straight right from the start
I never was to meet you
What is it that you think
This is just my chat line
I’m not desperate as you think
If you think you’ve got me figured
I’ll tell you that your wrong
You need to walk a mile as me
Before you sing my song
Don’t tell me about the 90%
Don’t judge me by your rules
I will be me, and always me
Not someone else’s fool.
You think you know about me
I wish I knew the same
You’ve never even met me
You only know my name.
You’ve hurt me with your judgment
With your “think about it” tone
I thought I had a chat mate
But I’m wrong, I stand alone.
We flirted and we had some fun
And lots of time we passed
With jokes and stories
And things gone wrong
And travels in the past
But now I want to sit right back
And close those lines again
Those tentative lines that I let out
To reach the land of song
I just feel so let down again
By judgment from your kind
You seem to think my world is free
I tell you I need time
My being is a big dark place
Too sensitive I may be
I struggle with my very life
To feel my soul be free
I used to trust the whole wide world
All roses I did see
But I’ve learnt it’s full a big sharp thorns
That rip the flesh off me
I’m going now, for what its worth
I did enjoy our chats
Got things to do and places to go
And find out were I’m at.
Why can't I run(Sarina Is Her Name)
by kierra boyd
Why can't I run away from this dream that I am living.
Why can't I cut away the pain?
The blood that spills from the wounds of darkness.
Are the tears that full a fire that forms a ocean of sadness?
A hole that is deep in my soul.
Why can't I wash the dirt away.
Its like my soul can't be washed clean.
My heart have been breaken taken away in the nightmares I live.
It's a hole that has been put into my chest.Where the nights are lonely and cold.
Where sceams grow louder each and every min,of every hour,of every second,of everyday.
A song that has been written I can no longer sing along,my voice has been beaten and sold
to the evil that has taken over my soul.
My mind is wounded and the pain has come to never leave.
As I see the souls that have been losted I have become empty with no one.
Til I saw the light with her smile,her joy,and her words.
A bond has been formed.God as send her to lead me out the darken place I've have called
home.
Her hands shines like gold and I see the light in me once again.
She has made me come alive again.I can no longer see the pain that I once knew.
She's the angel that God has send me from above,and I shall not be mad or depressed.
She has saved me dear god.
I will never ask why can't I run again.Sarina is her name and she saved me from myself and
the darkness.
Form:
OLD BOB
Tell ya bout old Bob
Long bout O-One he lost his job
Twernt much ova job I fear
Hadn’t been fer many a year
Standin out front a this here super store
Welcoming folk in kind of a real dang bore
Best thing though bout old smiling Bob
Didn’t mind goin ta work
Kinda liked his job
Standin out front through weather foul or fair
Helping even the infirm with lovin care
Ya might say that there super store was Bob’s true home
Cause after hours Bob sat and sat quite alone
Sat in this one-room pad above a whiskey dive
Listenin ta noise all night all kindsa rock and jive
And as nature will Bob got much older then ill
Standin in front a that there store weak-kneed full a
pain
One day old Bob collapsed couldn’t come back again
He lay on his back atop that whiskey dive
Nary a soul knew old Bob was alive
Ya’d think after years front a that super mart never glum
He’d a wandered round inside found him a chum
“If some help had come he’d have survived” Doc said
This a course too late when they found old Bob dead
Well these things happen in this runaway world
Everybody caught up in their own little whirl
Old Bob it seems uz jist one of the thousands come to a
sorry end
Done his best made mistakes society don’t bend
Old Bob died fer want of a friend
sometimes i wonder ,wonder of the small things of this world like the storys never told or the songs never sung i wonder what the world would be like without the fancys things i wonder why lovers dont love each other no more its jusst hate betweeen the two and the bums on the street truned like that some of them were scholars,basketball players,CEOS ,honor students how is this possible? i wonder is just somebodys imagination or just some myth cause this life not real some people take this life for granted and treat it like a price tag this world suppose to be equal but its divided i wonder why the youth so deadly? this world dont care about the youth just other news headline to full a pay check so the youth gets crazy and non-stop drama why was this put together? everything comes and gos in this world nothing ever stays in this society and only socially impaired sometimes (I wonder)of the smallest little things and more but it will always be an issue in my heart sometimes i wonder theres money for wars but not the poors crazy right? is this life good for the heart? wish there wasa cure for all broken hearted hearts what is this cause this world isnt what its suppose to be
FOR PHYLLIS & LAWRENCE.
A heart can never be more full, a
smile never more real.
When love finds it's place in the
space between two people,
nothing in the universe shines
brighter,
everything in existence feels lighter.
We never know how long it will be in
front of us,
though it doesn't really matter
because when the love is true,
it lives on inside.
It's everywhere. In your heart, in
your mind, in your soul,
eternal, transcending all space &
time.
If you look around and can't seem
to find it,
then you need not look further.
LOVE IS FOREVER
It's yours to keep.
From the lowest valley,
to the highest peak, Love is the in
between,
Love is the only truth we ever really
speak.
It's over here, over there,
under, around & often upside down.
In your heart. In your mind. In your
soul.
eternal. For all space and time.
Doesn't matter where it is, it's
always your guide...
no matter where you live, always
you it will find.
LOVE IS FOREVER
& not a second less in time.
S.L.D
The doors are big.' The room has benches.. people hussle
Around, some in suits and a few wear gowns; robes grim
Faces and keen looks, at times the benches are full at
Others less than a quarter full, a room of judgement of
Examination accusation and pleading cases, of drama dry
Of drama moistening eyes; there is fear' also a sense of
Retribution! And power.' There is another room there are
Rows of benches, in the distance a platforn and above the
Curtains where scenes are played, by good or bad or
Average actors, this is a place of people in suits and robes
Gowns with capes, and swords there are teary scenes shouts
And screams, grim faces moist eyes overacting reaction rage
You name it.'
There is another room..In another house normally on a hill.'
There are rows of seats, a raised chair like a court, there are
People in suits with darting eyes some are dressed in gowns
And robes.' There is drama here examination speeches and
Indignation, moist eyes; tears fear cheers' and reputations to
Earn or burn, this place is the seat of government..Does it in
Anyway? Remind you of other places I have written about.?
.my damaged heart this imperfect heart
Beats, beats, beats, beats my weak heart still beats
this beating arrhythmic heart this heart heart heart heart
defective heart beat heart defective heart heart heart
damaged heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart
diseased heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart
heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart
heart with a hole and a tumor effects one's active life immensely with death knocking at one's door, fatigue, irregular heartbeat, stress of death impending but life goes on and one adjusts living a full a life as possible under the circumstances God is good, uplifting, encouraging me in each day and every moment
life goes on and each day is a blessing to enjoy with family
moments of spiritual highs with God's presence so close
reaching out and touching the hem of His garment
feeling life giving healing taking place
nothing can compare to this
God is so good
He is so
Good to
Me