Long Graves Poems
Long Graves Poems. Below are the most popular long Graves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Graves poems by poem length and keyword.
And you never knew—
how many times I stood on the edge of your name,
typing and erasing,
drafting words that felt too fragile to send.
I wrote the messages,
but never set them free.
My thumb hovered over "call"
like a ghost remembering how to hold the living.
Not because I didn't miss you—
God, I did.
But silence sometimes feels safer
than a voice that trembles.
Some words decay
the moment they're spoken,
like truth bruised by too much air,
like “I miss you” whispered into a hurricane.
Some doors, once closed,
start to feel like graves.
And maybe I was afraid
of finding you on the other side,
happy.
Healed.
Without me.
So I let the distance settle,
like dust on unsaid things.
And the questions—
the aching, bleeding questions—
I let them stay unanswered.
You moved on,
and I stayed—
not in the past,
but in the pause between knowing and letting go.
So no,
I never texted you again.
But that doesn't mean
I never held the phone
like it was your hand.
She smiled with eyes that burned like dawn,
Yet shadows lingered where light was drawn.
Not love, but power cloaked in grace—
A game of masks, a lover’s face.
Her lips spoke vows, her hands held tight,
But her heart was ruled by shifting night.
She said, “Forever,” but meant, “Until…”
Love was no bond—it bent to will.
Men, the builders, bleeding bone—
Give her the castle, die alone.
He forged the world with scarred hands bare,
She took the throne, but did not care.
Courts crowned queens in silent wars,
Where love dissolves in legal scars.
Eighty men fall for every vow,
Yet none knows why or questions how.
The ring, the rose, the wedding veil,
All set the man upon the scale.
His wealth, his name, his soul, his fight—
Traded for kisses that fade with night.
She calls it love, but love is choice,
Not the echo of a silenced voice.
If sex were gone, what would remain?
Would love still live—or end in pain?
History speaks in broken stone,
Of empires cracked by queens alone.
Rome fell not by sword or flame—
But by desire that lost its name.
A man who begs for love will crawl,
But she who sees him kneel feels tall.
True power walks in silent pride—
Not chasing skirts, but stars that guide.
Oh brother, rise from shallow graves,
Where passion ruled and made you slaves.
Turn lust to thought, and thought to flame,
And build a world beyond the game.
Don’t hate the woman—know the lie,
That sells you dreams and drains you dry.
Be not a pawn in Cupid’s plot—
Your soul’s worth more than what it’s not.
And if she loves, let her show,
Not through her words, but what she’ll sow.
For truth in love is sacrifice—
Not comfort's bed, or beauty's price.
Rumple Stein sat beneath the
crooked willow tree, his yellow
eyes gleaming at the huddled
children.
"Tonight," he whispered, a twisted
grin exposing his pointed teeth, "I
will tell you of Frankenstein's monster."
The children shivered, pulling their
blankets tight as the campfire hissed
and popped in the dark.
"A mad doctor stitched this beast
together using cold, gray body parts
from freshly dug graves," he cackled.
"He used heavy iron bolts,
thick jagged thread, and coursing
electricity to shock the corpse awake!"
"But the lightning left the beast
with a burning fury against children
who tell wicked lies and fibs."
"Because some kids tell lies,
the angry creature sworn to hunt
down every single dishonest child."
"It wanted to fry them alive
using the same high- voltage
electric currents that sparked
its dead heart!"
Rumble Stein leaned forward,
his long shadow stretching over
the grass like a reaching, clawed
hand.
"The giant broke free from its
heavy chains, stomping through
the foggy woods with heavy, thudding
steps."
"It searched the dark nights
for escaping children who refused
to go to sleep, and stop telling lies
and fibs.
He suddenly jumped to his
feet, throwing his hands high
as the wind howled through the
branches.
"And when it catches a liar,"
Rumple 6roared, "it shocks them
to a crisp and drags them away!"
Dance of Graves
The dance of graves occurs more than we are prompted to imagine. We prefer to keep matters of death fit into that realm of Afterlife, where the divine mysteries are kept far beyond our daily lives, which are too full with concerns about budgets, health, and childcare.
we tend the grown vines
ripe with this day’s poems
holy calls to harvest
From the wedding vows to love devoutly unto death, our greater spirits adopt God’s greatest gift — Love, which our hearts compassionately open to each other. The passing years deepen the enfolding love, but being far outside perfection, we will inevitably hurt, will in turns lash out, scarring the shell of our spouse’s heart or thoughts.
deep in the cold earth
gold runs in cloaked gleaming veins
sought by yearning hearts
The graveyard has spaced its sloping, green mounds to embrace
our beloved dead, who humbly uttered their vows with hopes of forever feeling the touch, the closeness, and the eternal presence of that endeared mate. But, as lives survive and pass on, marriages, too, will last and end. Th one who remains may, perhaps, go on in a new marriage…So very well does Heaven hold the last cries of those beloveed who’ve passed on.
three mounds side by side
dance their love story
the grasps of loving passed on
what is the true purpose of Memorial Day?
why do we reflect on those whose lives that have paid
for us to have freedom from, freedom to and freedom for those who went to war and died so that we could endure
the freedom from oppression by those
who are now in military graves
the freedom to choose how we live
in the land of the brave
the freedom for everyone to have equal rights,
freedom for all to live in God's light
it's not enough to cast off chains
you also need to free all others
every man, every woman, every child,
all of our sisters and brothers
freedom from hate, freedom to love
freedom for all covered by the blood
freedom from godly sorrow
and the freedom for us to comprehend
that godly sorrow is how we respond
as godly women and men
so let your godly sorrow lead to repentance
allow remorse to set you right.
stay away from that "If road"
just walk by faith and not by sight
don't question God and how He moves about
trust His actions just remain faithful and most devout distinguish the cause of your godly sorrow
and understand where it came from
recognize the jealousy in your heart
allow the Holy Spirit to remove it and done
now thinking differently turning away from sin
moving on a godly plain, letting repentance now come in freedom to work it out fully
freedom to produce resolutions
freedom from fascism, freedom to equity
freedom to have a revolution
freedom from, freedom to
and freedom for us to live as a community
freedom from racism, freedom to equal justice
freedom for a perfect unity
so let us pay homage to those
who perished so that we can live free
as Memorial Day is about those who died
to give freedom to you and to me
this is darkness looks like, a void
filled with blackness; everything's coiled
a scene, winking yet not annoyed
taking a step into a
grey gates towards world of the
things that never meant to be seen
across the night of an obscene
moonlight, revealing all the sin
once out of the spotlight, but
only if you focus at
black holes looming over above
the outer space containing love
for dead, providing a vast cove
holding what's meant to be gone
give graves for those once human
now an inanimate object
to those which goal's refuse reject
turned to a shooting star, erect
out of tall desperation
you're set out for a mission
perhaps remind the pain, through a
crater over your chest; a bay,
now fade, where you once used to play
along the sands of regret
you let it melt with your sweat
thinking writing of something sweet.
Flowers are a pretty sight
They shine brightly in the light
Rainbow colors all around
Growing gorgeous in the ground
Some are sharp with thorny stems
Used for romance and love gems
Others are made to bouquets
On unique and special days
Pink, yellow and orange too
Red, green, purple, even blue
To help us smile when we see
This miraculous beauty
Small or big-- bright or sunny
Bees use them to gather honey
So we have a yummy treat
When our bellies want to eat
Corsages being placed on arms
To look pretty at the prom
Graves with a freshly made wreath
For missed loved ones underneath
Soft rose petals on a bed
Thoughts are filling up your head
A ring inside a glass of wine
Asking her will you be mine
Flowers are used every day
In actions and words we say
Smelling pretty-- looking sweet
These miracles can not be beat
Let me tell you a story not a fairytale
Runookoro the heart bit of rivers and stars
home of men with balls and steels,
rugged entities, Serena tested, men mount.
abobi and man In green in tete-a-tete,
tete-a-tete became volcano explosion
matters turn soar, street casted ,abobi fell like tree.
Abobi live like eagle flying without wings
on that day, the heart bleed,the sky turn dark, the earth flood blood like rivers
voices echoes like ocean 'dem don kill abobi '
the tales hurt the heart,onlookers asked in silence 'na who kill abobi?
men mount in pressure,tears in the sun that never dried,Runookoro bleed in fire.
civic riot, Nepal unrest learn in silence
officials in siren ,homes on fire, street floored with graves
men run like Squirrels to no directions
the memories of the guns still leaves
Runookoro don catch fire, na who kill abobi ?
ANIEMEKA NATHANIEL
THE GREAT POET
Here's some verse for Monika Smit, shes took the very worst
Faced every hit, got put in jail, on false covid charges'
She was paid out damages, though they lied their hardest!
Facist? communist.? Whats the worst they can make of it'
Slavery by any name' Victoria governs with it all the same..
The coppers followed dingos like..Sold their own grandmothers
(What are they like?) Strutting round like in the 1800s
The peoples enemy, yet with now dwindling numbers
They're covered by the judges cruel, who'll bend and alter
Any rule, the top is twisted, now the whole state knows
Which is spreading, like a bushfire how the country glows
The heat is on, where can they turn? Maybe they will feel
Some rope applied burns? Get dragged those thirty maybe
Forty yards? cause times a wearing, and they're down on
Their cards.' The tables are turning, wheels are now in motion
A nation is rising.' They're rejecting false notions, many sins
Are in blossom, and blood cries out, from the graves of
The victims, We hear the shouts' God is observant He is
Keeping a count ' their days are shortening there is no doubt!
The Echoes
Her voice echoes all the time!
Every single day, the wind blows softly
Echoes the cold rushes abruptly
Self-graves silently for a long ago
Moon asks for some vibrant belong
Nights and nights, weakness invites
Deadly tears cuddle the knives
Lips are shivering with fear of sights
Some haunted thoughts trace the fights
Gradually, the soft wind blows horribly
Beats beat more and more voluntarily
Blackness covers both eyes
Injects black injection of dreadful voice
Stops, the innocent cries fearfully
Sensitivity slices the whole time merely
Cuts that make the awe clip and collide
Sudden blink of an eye, the angel of eager delights
Hover sweetly, you are a ray of twilight
Murmur's innocence and carves for flight
Raising a mist of surprise to rise
Pouring powers, you then realize
You echo the dream with a sensor bind
Dark is dark, so the bright blinks to find
Magic often appears after the awe
Hold on, you must reckon the law.