Long Further Poems
Long Further Poems. Below are the most popular long Further by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Further poems by poem length and keyword.
Take me to a time
When there was no water
Take me to a time
When innocence
Couldn’t describe your daughter
When the only path
Was a stairway to no where
When you only think strangers care
Only to find
No one even bothers to stare
Is that how it used to be?
The more you tell me
The further I see
Is that how it used to be?
Were you all alone?
With no where to roam
No place to call home
Did you make soup from stone?
And when you looked toward the mirror
Did you see only a skeleton of aging bones?
Do you miss the laughter?
Do you miss wanting to see
Who would remain there after?
Do you still chase a hopeless dream?
Do you still lead a life broken in scenes?
Is everything we stand for just a fading theme?
Do you still move as often as dust on a windy day?
Do you still wish for Decembers so cold
That you’d sell your only belongings
To see early days of May
Is that how it used to be?
Was that you, all alone, with no where to roam
No place to call home
Did you make soup from stone?
Lately have you only seen a skeleton of aging bones?
It seemed this was the February
of continual cold and snow,
many days stuck safely in the house
save for the morning expedition out,
to clear a path for the birds and my dog and I;
not too much
just enough of a path to walk.
Not sure which of us was more cautious
the birds, the dog, or I.
Today,
as February nears its end
and the sun has returned
we venture
just a little further out.
My dog realizes the possibility
of walking atop the unmelted snow
suddenly, we have all the yard to peruse
and steadily we go until
we slip and slide as if on frozen ice
and each of us
takes a slippery and chilly spill.
Back inside
bruised and cold
we both realize we don't like
walking on the snow.
Yours is my sacred non-zero soul
core center shared
within
Surrounded by your robust
fertile
masculine energy
Not to exploit
and yet not too shy
Not too retractive
nor extractive,
equipoised
Anticipating
our cooperative re-investing,
powerfully ebbing
and succulently flowing
further enculturating future.
So, I do not cheat without you
in my most polypathic
panentheistic imaged way,
Always knowing we must each
separately
and full-clothed return
to yet another Patriarchal
White Capitalist dominant
LeftBrain academically
monoculturally anthro-supremacist
Straight Day
Our monotheistic Way
on Earth
waiting for full
and edifying thrusts
of and from
multicultural indigenous EarthTribe trust
in octaved sensory
resolving light
and musical resounding sound
Imagining
engaging
co-empathic RightHemisphere senses heard
and felt
in nonzero whole-sum
resplendently glad non-choices
CoEmpowered both/and opportunities
CoInfested
hot and hasty
awaiting win/win economic
and political play.
Doing my wholesome
whole sums
holy nonzero full of life
so not so win/lose unwholesome
empty entropy
unbecoming
Is not here where Eden
promised my wounded child
GreenPeace
restorying panentheistic
omniscient
WholeSum Systemic
yang-yintegral
resilient health pay ways
Way to say
You are the egocenter
within my ecosystemic
copassions gay
Taurus full-octaved
yang yintegral octane
regenerative DNA
poetic display
noetic fray
In a land-linear
and a deep sea-full
of repercussive 1/0
co-binary fruitful
erotic
sacred organic
double-binding fun
In between EarthPowered yintegrity
and HeavenLighting yang sun
Solar systemic enlightened
by indigenously sun-powered EarthTribe
Healthy selfcare flowing fun...
Inside/Outside pun...
Ego/Eco systemic run...
PolyCultural languaged plum...
Yang/Yintegral polymathic
polynomially polypathic
polyvagal neurosystemic
nutrients of super-positive health
Balancing ecological green wealth
living
organic Whole Systemic
language voices
nonviolent win/win
optimizing trans-connecting choices
So, in a way
I could not win cheating on your loss
in our most polypathic
panentheistic win/win privileged way
polyculturally healthy
within this singularly wealthy
gay day.
In the ballroom of education, a waltz unfolds,
Teachers and principals, partners in this dance.
Teacher 1, a strict metronome:
"Peter, your steps are a puzzle, undefined.
Chart your path, let your footprints show,
How you twirled from start to crescendo."
Teacher 2, a gentle breeze:
"John, your pirouette, a burst of spring!
Let this blossom of creativity
Bloom further, paint the stage with glee."
Principal 1, a rigid conductor:
"Your orchestra's out of tune, I fear.
Tighten those strings, command the beat,
Let control be your symphony's feat."
Principal 2, a nurturing gardener:
"Your dedication, a mighty oak tree!
How can its branches reach even higher,
Sheltering young minds with leafy desire?"
The music shifts, the tempo changes,
As Gandhi's wisdom floats on air:
"Education's true rhythm," he whispers,
"Is the heartbeat of human potential there."
The dancers pause, caught in reflection,
Their steps, though different, seek the same:
To cultivate the best in others,
But the path to this is still unclear, and untamed.
Some lead with stern, unyielding grip,
Others with soft, encouraging hands.
Some see flaws to fix and mend,
Others have strengths to nurture and extend.
In this grand ballroom of learning,
The dance goes on, partners switching,
Each step a lesson, each turn a choice,
In the complex choreography of voice.
But as the music swells to its peak,
A question hangs in the air, unique:
How do we truly bring out the best?
In this dance, who passes the test?
For in this waltz of education,
The rhythm of growth remains elusive.
The dancers spin, some fast, some slow,
Seeking the beat that makes souls glow.
I'm, I'm kinda lost and wondering, mind wandering
Thinking out in, then I'm along just everywhere
I'm staring, my eyes confused with where I am
Blinded by tomorrow, lost in my own silence
Then I'm atop a Black Grey bridge awaiting
Head spinning, mind pining, nowhere grinning
Sirens firing, voices throwing, confusion abounding
Waters flowing, coldness growing, I'm slowing
I'm, I'm in and around where I used to be
Touching, scraping, leaving a little of me
Silence, confusion, voices abounding, firing throwing
I'm now even deeper to not knowing where I'm going
In fright balance lost, to my cost, I'm falling, falling
I'm in coldness I'm, as brittle little control has soon lost
Immersed in darkness apart the Black Grey bridge lights
Now further distanced I am, they're now a distant sight
I'm
How do we get past this?
Do we even have a choice?
I know it can’t go further,
But it seems I’ve lost my voice.
Already with another,
I can’t claim you as my own.
Am I wasting moments?
While I sit and wait alone.
I don’t know how to stop this,
Not even sure I could,
Enjoying time together,
They way I knew we would.
Pursuing lost potential,
Ideals that will not pass.
How much should be invested,
When I know it will not last.
Do you want a lover?
Uncomplicated fun?
Will you take advantage?
Should I stay or should I run?
Running leaves me tired,
It doesn’t change a thing.
Time will still have passed us,
And the pain of it will sting.
Almost something special,
Do I stop and take a stance?
Years ago, long ago…
I would have stood a chance.
I feel I’ve known you always,
That it’s right when it is wrong.
Someone else who loves you,
So I stay and yet I long…
Do you think it easy?
What of the effects?
Do you think I’m coping?
Or is this just a test?
I know you think me hardy,
That I’m fine the way we are.
Don’t presume to know me,
Or how I feel at heart.
Time will show our ending,
A start of something new?
If that is not the answer,
Then the start of leaving you…
Form:
I ask for your help
I have never been too proud to beg
Beg your pardon
Beg for a morsel of your time
Time to write a different script
Time undertakes my logic
Logic has never been my strongest point
Logic lacks what I need
Need bounces off my equilibrium
Need feeds off yesterday's mistakes
Mistakes I repeat
Mistakes you never seemed to make
Make like a bird and fly away
Make your waves on a different ocean
Ocean line yourself out of here
Ocean spray your inconsistancies
Inconsistancies with a capital C
Inconsistancies I can't see
See me walk
See me run
Run past forward
Run further away
Away from the thing I was
Away from your simple
Simple pleasures
Simple mind
Mind playing tricks on me
Mind over your matter
Matter of facts I didn't understand
Matter converted to energy
Energy that cost too much
Energy we both wasted
Wasted on yesterday
Wasted on nothing
Nothing ever really lasts
Nothing is nothing but a whisper
Whisper insanity in my ear
Whisper until my mind erases you
You have consumed me for too long
You who drip from your empty
Empty cup
Empty promises
Promises I hung my hat on
Promises you never meant to keep
Keep away from me
Keep what I can't have
Have my dreams
Have a cup of my broken
Broken
Dreams
I read Debbie Guzzi's poem and thought I would give the form a try.
SEASON OF MYTHS
Inspired, but unlike all the rest
Driven, with a burning fervour
So determined to begin a quest
Not as a dispassionate observer
Assumed the mantle of a sleuth
With research and detective skills
Discover kernels of hidden truth
Once the source of worldly ills
Buried deep in a lost prehistory
A heady mixture of fact and fable
Decoding and revealing mystery
From artefacts laid on the table
Led further into darker reaches
Where surprises live in gloom
What every wise man teaches
Stay focused and in the room
The false trails and obfuscation
Exposing challenges to ability
Even to maintaining motivation
Carrying a heavy responsibility
My key discoveries made at last
As more evidence is analysed
Slowly teased out from the past
Academics will be so surprised
Through the eye of the needle
Not to the left or the right
Dodging both on the comets tail
I streak into the light
My last wish out in front
As words melt in a fiery contrail
And with only one question
To weaken my heart
With only one thing to know
The seasons entwine
All beanstalks are felled
With the exit signs all aglow
I crash through the doubt
Releasing new hope
My affirmation now to reign
And look ever further
Beyond my scope
As my senses become untrained
I feel the loose pieces
Start to come off
A new lightness now abounds
The last burden has lifted
Burning bright in my wake
Crossing over—turned around
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
The weekly bus that carries
the old ones from the village
to do their weekly shop
fills with shaken umbrellas
and eager tales of morbidity.
You know those water tablets
that Jane’s been taking for her blood?
Well they’ve affected her kidneys now,
and she’s got oedema.
You should see her ankles:
like balloons, they are.
The rain has stopped, the sun
dazzles the seats around me,
warming the air and our faces;
beads glisten down the windows;
the driver hums a tune;
the journey smiles.
Janet found a growth –
it turned out benign but
she fell and broke her wrist.
I’m doing her shopping.
And as for Billy’s verruca . . . Well!
The sun has failed to shun
the cloudy conversation,
gives up, ushers back the rain.
Rain is happy here: cheer is so obviously
no substitute for this bus-time babble.
Sickness over health is preferred.
I push my earphones further in,
crank up the volume and enjoy
that radio hospital drama
I downloaded yesterday.