Long Go out Poems
Long Go out Poems. Below are the most popular long Go out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Go out poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was young
When I was young... life was so carefree
my only worry was how to climb that tree
When I was young... I had so much energy
now I'm only half the man that I used to be.
When I was young... I never had any worries
and I actually looked forward to snow flurries
When I was young... love to me was just a game
a pretty face, romantic place, and forgot her name.
When I was young... foolishness was just plain fun
now I'm paying for my foolishness, and then some
When I was young... I had wings to fly
now I don't go out much don't ask why.
When I was young... I had visions of prosperity
money doesn't go that far today, my harsh reality
When I was young... I thought all things are possible
now I know how the system works and it's incorrigible.
When I was young... I thought I was superman
now I feel weak, but I do the best I can
When I was young...everything left me breathless
now each breath is less and less, and I'm close to death
When I was young...I was so struck with wonder
After living a full life I'm left alone to wonder
When I was young...I couldn't wait to get old
now please close the window the draft is cold.
When I was young...I thought love was forever
innocence was great, love's memories I treasure
When I was young...the future was so bright
now I wear dark shades my eyes can't take the light.
When I was young...I thought I had many friends
but when tragedy strikes many friendships end
When I was young, money flowed just like water
now everything depends on my son and daughter.
When I was young...I lived with no regret
now I do everything twice I always forget
When I was young...I looked forward to each new day
now I wish my days would end, for this I pray.
When I was young...there was nothing I would not try
now I sit here waiting patiently, for my day to die.
John Derek Hamilton
March 30,2016
Lord in answer of prayer
Child of mine. I must admit I don’t hear from you very often,
Your brother though is quite devout, to him your heart should soften.
He say’s he works hard to me - but that you will blame him.
For anything you don’t do, and you will try to shame him.
Your brother, put in a plea for you, and not for a new bike.
You had better try harder, boy before I give you what you like.
I even hear from your teacher, he’s his own wits end,
He prayed for the cane to come back, so your ways you better mend.
Your mother tries so very hard it’s not her cooking at fault,
Its you and your picky ways, so they had better halt.
Your mother works hard and has little time to bake you pumpkin pie,
You're lucky boy to have gravy, never mind the turkey dry.
Your granddad needs a rest, don’t be a pest, he’s getting on you know.
As for grandma she puts up with all of you, so let the wines flow.
Your big sister, her father has already requested the boyfriends’ disappearance.
I’m working on that and everything else, so just give me a chance.
The neighbour’s - well they have not said, anything about you.
They just prayed that your family would go out, and then come back without you.
So listen boy the lord has spoken, and you better hear me well.
Cos come next thanksgiving year, You may hear from him below.
Don’t, and I’ll say it again, don’t do this
I mean make a bucket list
Then go out and try to fulfil it, especially if you pissed.
Here’s my list when I was pissed
Bungee jump from the back yard tree
Parachute from the house roof while having a pee
Roller skate on a three wheel ski
The list goes on but they nearly killed me
Well I used a rope instead of a bungee band
The snap I heard was when I hit the ground and broke my hand
Then with a double bed sheet I jump off the roof having a pee
You guessed it, crunch went my knee
Back from hospital, hand and knee in casts, I decide to go for a ski
With a crutch in one hand I push off Weeeeeeeee!
Crash a car hits me
Well I stopped and bucket list number 3
So, I’m in traction, pen in my left nostril writing this poem
Hopefully in the next six months I can go home
Oh if you wondering about the ski with the wheels, i bolted them on
I'm a cowboy some call me redneck, I'm a lover and a fighter, I try not to do no one wrong, I treat women like ladies, I drink whiskey and I get crazy, I still cry to sad country songs,
I'm a sucker for the highway, all roads go my way, my mom she's probably wondering where I'm off thunderin to now, me and my old beatup truck, with a small piece of luck, I can show you what it means to be free, sometimes it gets so damn lonely, the emptiness it turns into fear, I'll find a lady tonight, to hold me tight, and tell me everything will turn out just fine.
I don't care much for big cities, although women there sure are pretty, they've got Honky Tonks far and wide, give me small town city limits, where people know each other's business, I've got nothing to hide. my mom she's always preaching I need a wife in the kitchen, with kids running in and out of the door, I know I'm not ready for one woman steady, I'd leave her crying to go out with the boys, I don't know what it is inside me, that keeps me to drifting around. I've said time and again, I'm glad there's places I've never been, might be the reason I keep moving on.
I'm just a cowboy some call me redneck, I'm a lover and a fighter, I still cry to sad country songs.
have two personalities and both are me
the one I show to the outside world
is a happy girl, who smiles with her perfect teeth ... hair
confident, kind, gentle, tranquil and serene
have put the past way behind
but my secret self is in raw turmoil
and I wear a dark cloak of grief
dwelling in old memories for comfort
love the secret garden I have created
beyond the outside madness that makes me who I am
I tend my garden of flowers and plants
it is where writing poetry brings me great peace
oh, adore the deep still silence
and know that I can stay or go out
for long walks in nature with swaying trees
and my books murmur and whisper waiting
I need both sides of me to dwell with me
the beautiful girl and the forlorn girl
love each one for different reasons
I need both to balance my Zen and Heavenly devotion
the secret me loves all my junk
all those things, those treasures collected
the dishes, the photos, jewelry, the things
I touch my art supplies, paints, brushes with love
The air smell cloudy,
With a hint of rain.
Come all this way by trustin’
In a thin white cane.
If a wink is as good as a nod,
What’s a brotha ta do?
Should Jesus come again in glory,
Wouldn’t chance to see that, too.
Can’t read the street signs
When I’m walkin’ home.
Don’t never ask directions,
Gotta make it on my own.
Oh, the speck in thy neighbor’s eye…
Some be never so blind.
An honest man in Orleans Parish
Ain’t no easy thing to find.
It’s a game of countin’ footsteps
When I stroll down Rue Dupre
And the landmarks I rely on
Ain’t the kind the eye can see.
My woodstove crackle
When I burn the mail.
The magic wind of radio
Done fill my sail.
Gotta reach for the bulb to tell
If the table lamp on.
A moonless night and empty skyline,
All the brilliant stars are gone.
Sweet voice on FM
Bridges time and space.
You know I’d give the world
If I could touch her face
In a gentle and sensitive way
For to know how she feel.
Get to the pearl inside the oyster
At the bottom of the deal.
Sense desire in her fragrance,
Feel the fire in her skin
Taste the ocean’s salty wonder
When the levee’s giving in.
Don’t say no prayers for me, padre.
When the lights go out,
My soul can find its own way in the dark.
And pretty mama, when I git ya,
I'm gonna lick them ashes off.
To everyone's discombobulation,
anarchy and pain
were given free rein.
Liberty is losing its foundation:
while Ukraine fights back,
from Russia's attack.
And so many politicians are corrupt:
that deep-pocket lobbyists pay to disrupt.
Liberty is stumbling!
Global warming is touted as fake news:
though seas are rising.
It's not surprising:
though ecologists beg, the rich refuse.
Money is their king:
Nature's their plaything.
Big business stole a generation's dreams,
promising paradise, while polluting streams.
Liberty is stumbling!
The crazies are taking total control:
creating weird cults:
in which hate exults.
Without condemnation, we've sold our souls:
donning a blindfold
we do what we're told.
Republican fascists are fueling fears:
democracy holds no more value than tears.
White cops shoot black youths and then go out for beers.
Liberty is stumbling!
Its foundation: crumbling.
George suffered a traumatic left ankle injury,
When he was only two and a half years old,
But many a complex reconstructive surgery,
Meant that he could achieve his ambitions.
His parents are both competitive Ironmen,
And his brother represented Great Britain,
In both the triathlon and duathlon, no swim,
Also mum has run ten London marathons.
One of his aims in competing in Rio grand,
Was to inspire the crowd and mass public,
To “go out and do anything they want to do,”
Because drive is inbuilt thru his childhood.
He did his first triathlon in 2009, and at 17,
Won a bronze in 2013 at the London Worlds,
And in Rio, he finished seventh in his event,
PT4, proving a true sportsman for team GB.
As winter winds pass harshly by,
from chilled room the slate sky I see,
long for the time when I’ll be free.
I wish the dark days bid goodbye,
scent of spring in breeze starts to flow,
as the dawn sky begins to glow.
When silk clouds will spread wings to fly
on my meadow in sunrise glare,
I’ll know love is in rippling air.
On tapestry of dream I’ll lie,
floating on zephyr of delight,
won’t let you go out of my sight.
My ardent fervor will soar high,
tracing butterfly’s latticed trail,
to your blooming garden I’ll sail.
As winter winds pass harshly by,
I wish the dark days bid goodbye,
when silk clouds will spread wings to fly,
on tapestry of dream I’ll lie,
my ardent fervor will soar high.
July 28, 2020
Syllable count : 8 each line
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Rhyme checked on RhymeZone.com
Contest : Constanza-Old Or New Poems
Sponsor : Joseph May
Since I walked back home every day from school,
my mother had made for me the golden rule:
in the rainy season an umbrella in my bag
I must carry though it might make it sag.
It started to rain after school one day,
I was under my umbrella, and on my way
home, walking in the road, deserted and wet,
I saw Julie stride in the rain, drenched and upset.
Before she could go out of my reach very far,
in a fast pace I walked to catch up with her.
I gave her the umbrella to hold over us,
which she tried to do with no fuss.
One corner of the umbrella the wind tore,
one half of me was receiving the downpour.
Soaked to the bone, I was happy none-the-less,
for I was of some help to the little damsel in distress.