Long Hallway Poems
Long Hallway Poems. Below are the most popular long Hallway by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hallway poems by poem length and keyword.
What was missing in my life?
You!
I lived many years without you,
not knowing what I was missing.
One day a surprise came to us
at an unexpected late- in- life date,
it was a baby boy.
He smiled at us with blue eyes
and bald little head,
and we were complete.
I treasured the cuddly feel of you,
fitting into my arms so well,
your weight seemed just right,
to pack you around every day,
even as you grew and grew.
You added an element to my life
that had been missing.
I now learned to slow down,
stop at playgrounds, push your swing
and sit in the one next to yours,
leaning back, looking up into
the crowns of swaying trees.
Taking walks, delighting in gathering fallen
red maple leaves, watching bugs
and birds.
Frogs and crawdads appeared in our bathtub,
I emptied your pockets while doing the wash
of rocks, seashells, dried katidid shells,
sticks and marbles.
I learned that stepping on jacks
at night while going to the bathroom hurts.
On your first fishing trip you accidently hooked a duck
and cried because you thought you hurt it.
I already knew of your compassionate heart.
You and I laughed and cried watching " Free Willy,"
"The fox and the hound" and "Alladin."
You brought joy to my life.
I learned that it is exciting to watch you play soccer,
I cheered and hooted and watched from the bleechers,
while you ran your little heart out,
I watched for signs of your asthma acting up,
but luckily you seem to outrun it.
On the first Halloween you were a little
smiling pumpkin that I pushed in the stroller,
but soon you were running with your buddies,
dragging a pillow case filled with candy,
and I had to scurry to keep up with you.
On your first day of school I was nervous,
I had to leave you with strangers.
Several of us Moms were hanging around the hallway
peeping into the door's little window,
until they made us leave.
Then came field trips, help with homework,
I was "room mother" to be near you and help,
and visited you in the cafeteria at lunchtime
on "Parent's day."
Suddenly, you are taller that me!
The braces came off, and you have a summer job,
and you are very good with it, I am proud of you.
You now have a Highschool Diploma and
are getting your driver's licence,
but you will always be my little boy,
and I will love you forever.
Love, Mom
Karen Windle roughly on par...
with being a miniature poodle size dogsend
Apartment B44 one bedroom unit
at Highland Manor low income facility
housing older folks convenient starting point,
to launch poem and invite reader(s)
reason(s) without rhyme
why yours truly (me)
chose to express heartfelt gratitude
toward resident Karen Windle,
which named individual most likely unknown
across world wide web
(hmm... maybe methinks perchance
possibly ye did sound her out courtesy radar,
especially if thee dutiful patrol officer
generously handing out -
not necessarily) winning lottery tickets
within vicinity encompassing
University of Delaware.
We (myself and zee missus) inhabit
aforementioned single bedroom abode,
allows, enables and provides
convenient reference point
upon exiting our dime a dozen quarters
(housing near penniless occupants)
verily orient toward left of hallway,
no need to access global positioning satellite
leisurely amble short distance
just count three doors down on the left,
thee will espy name tag printed
small letters Karen Windle
her acquaintanceship we did kindle,
now greater value when measured with corn,
wheat, or other commodities
approximately equal to three bushels,
but varying in different regions.
Explanation whereby appreciation
toward Karen (spry firecracker, energetic,
diminutive, albeit frail looking gal)
materialized when series of unfortunate events
rendered me and mine spouse
without ready immediate access to automobile
near necessity within quaint enclave
identified as Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
affords absolute zero public transit,
hence necessity for chauffeur de jure arose,
whereby availability to shuttle us
found monetary compensation declined,
thus stymied intent regarding how I could
communicate sincere thankfulness
relieved when she would accept
poetic endeavor incorporating
best college try (mine) to alleviate
imposition if/when opportunity exists
to scrape meager money
and expect to sink a fortune
maintaining, insuring, fueling vehicle,
significant portion of social security (disability)
allocated to sustain reliability of car
dollar figure greater than buzzfeeding
caretaking, duties linkedin to
mental, physical, and spiritual health
concerning this aging baby boomer,
plus his counterpart approximately
previous couple dozen years.
Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!
And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.
You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!
Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!
You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!
I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.
Yet I had left.
Why...?
One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.
Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.
Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.
The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.
You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.
I dreamed a dream of you.
I watch for her after midnight's twelve strokes,
often thinking how life likes to play cruel jokes.
Stilettos clicked on pavers as she walked
a nod on the stairs, but we'd never talked.
Eyes smudged with black liner, like bars on a cell,
She always returns looking like she's been through hell.
I knew her name was Lucy. I heard him yell at her last night.
She trembled past me in the hallway, teary eyes full of fright.
Midnight lady, short skirts, and pouting ruby lips,
street corners for an office as she swings her hips.
I saw her in the morning light when she walked out the door.
Fresh face, pink cheeks scrubbed clean, and nothing more.
In jeans and baggy t-shirt, she looked like an innocent child,
not the kind of woman who got paid to drive men wild.
Lucy - if I tried to rescue you what would you think of that?
Would you have to worry about the guy who wears the fancy hat?
No one can own another, so I'd like to make an offer to you.
I'll buy you a ticket to anywhere if you tell me you're through.
I'm just a stranger, but I know who and what you are...
too young and beautiful to live a life that's so bizarre.
I've never gotten over how guilty it made me feel
for living that life while pretending nothing was real.
I'm offering you the way to get out the mess you're in,
a life of danger, a tangled web of emotional sin.
Dear Lucy,
I'm leaving this note and money under your door
because I don't wanna see you around here anymore.
I wish someone had given me the chance to be free
then maybe I could forgive myself for what I used to be.
You don't know who I am, and it really doesn't matter.
My name once was Lucy, before I was bruised and battered.
Long ago I had a daughter that I was forced to give away.
I'll regret the choice I made until my breath fades away.
Signed: Someone who cares
Someone who dares
I prayed this Lucy was not the daughter I had born.
In her faded jeans and baggy t-shirt she had worn,
I watched her walk away with all she owned flung over her shoulder.
I knew she'd have a better life than I had by the time she was older.
As a tree, my limbs are broken and brittle. My life not worth a dime.
But if she is my fallen apple, out of the gutter I must help her climb.
Have you ever had something happened to you that scared you out of your wits? I have. It
all began on my birthday last year. (This is not a true story, by the way.)
April 1st, 2009. 8:00PM
My mom threw a huge birthday party for me, everyone in the family was there. A few hours
after the party, my mom was invited to dinner with her new boyfriend. She was going to say
no because she didnt want to leave me alone for my birthday, but I love her too much to
have her give it up. An hour later, my mom and Ray were heading out for dinner. When they
left, I went up to my room, laid flat on my bed, and fell asleep.
10:00PM
Two hours later, I heard a crash coming from downstairs. It woke me up with a jolt going
down my spine. I grabbed my flashlight which was on my dresser, and headed down the
stairs. I checked out the living room, nothing was wrong. I checked out the hallway, nothing
was wrong. Then I walked into the kitchen. Everything seemed to be in place. Just as I
started turning out the door, I noticed somethig odd in the corner of my eye. In the knife
rack, a knife was missing. I searched around the kitchen but could not find the knife. I
ignored it and went back upstairs, back to sleep.
11:00PM
My mom came back from dinner. She screamed up to me saying, "I'm back from dinner. I'm
gonna get some sleep. Good night, and happy birthday."
12:30AM
Later that night, I heard the crash again. It sounded like it was coming from the basement.
So I grabbed my flashlight, raced downstairs. I first ran into my mom's room to make sure
she was alright. She was perfectly fine. Then I ran to the basement and looked around. A
lightbulb had fallen from the ceiling and broke on the ground. I swept it up with a broom, and
put it in the garbage can. I started to climb the stairwell once again, and there I saw it. There
was the kife sitting on the middle of the floor in a pool of blood with red footprints walking to
the closet. I picked up the knife, slowly walked to the closet. The closet was inches away
from me. I could hear a gasp of breath coming from inside. I closed my eyes, swung open
the door and stabbed away. I could feel the blade penetrating something, but what? I opened
my eyes, and realized what I had just done. Apparently, my mother was back from dinner,
and here lies her dates.
Our drive started out like any typical summer trip into Philadelphia. Both buses rolling down the highway loaded with screaming teens, eager to reach their destination in a hurry. Rush-hour traffic was heavy, the white lines hidden beneath watery mirages that lifted only briefly beneath underpasses. The skyscrapers were barely visible through the thick haze of summer's heat. The skyline had the appearance of night and day clashing off in the distance. You could smell the rain approaching.
along city streets
slight breeze carries aroma
food and wet pavement
Once the children were safely inside, the buses continued to 30th street station, the only place the city allows buses to park free. The windows were all still down and the roof hatches open as the skyline grew darker. A light show was off in the distance and approaching quickly. The homeless people were now entering the train station in hopes to stay dry and earn a meal or some quick cash.
almost homeless
young girl wears a sign
on the corner
Inside the train station a young family sits on a bench awaiting the arrival of a family member. The benches line the hallway with vendors tucked in the center isle. We sit across from the young family, facing them as an elderly gentleman approaches them. In his arms he carries a sketchpad and a piece of charcoal. The little boy, probably about 10 years old, has grown tired of sitting by now, and his teenage sitters seem agitated by his silly games, the mother in frustration hands him money for a sketch.
with quick hands
he carefully sketches
to perfection
The oldest sister now amazed asks for her's as well. The man sketches her picture to a beautiful black and white replica. The mother refuses to spend another dime and sends him away without paying. Behind us sits another elderly man. He seems to be carrying on a very intelligent conversation with himself. This amazes the children for their final hour and fills them with much knowledge as they slide in to listen.
an old man speaks
as he looks to his right
just his cane sits
The last train has now entered the station and the crowds of people are disappearing outside. The storm has now passed and the sky left a permanent black with the coming of night. We headed outside to the buses to begun our return trip home.
on the street
two yellow buses
filled with rain
Sally Sue Has A Bad Day
Little Sally Sue awoke one day feeling quite blue.
Her mom asked "Why, whats wrong with you?"
Sally replied, "If i only knew."
She looked in her closet and hated her clothes.
She looked in the mirror and hated her nose.
She looked all around hating everything she had.
She glanced out the window, even the neighborhood's bad.
She slumped down the stairs to get ready for school.
And scoffed at her breakfast (A bowl full of gruel)
In walked her dad asking "Why you look sad? My dear do you need to talk?"
I could drive you to school in a minuet or two."
"No thanks dad i'd rather walk.
So she headed down the block tripping over a rock, her books flying everywhere.
She said in a huff as she picked up her stuff.
"This day's becoming a nightmare!"
When she got to school things did not get better
(Caught her arm on a nail and ruined her sweater)
Sally screamed in frustration as she examined her sleeve.
"That's it! Now i'm really peeved!"
"I'm sick of my life and i'm sick of theis day! I wish the whole world would just go away!"
There was a hush in the hallway, the whole room sighed.
Sally lost control and she started to cry.
A teacher came up and took Sally aside.
She sat Sally down and said, "There now, don't cry."
"What is the trouble dear? Why all the strife? Why do you scream that you hate your life?"
Sally wiped her face trying to erase, how stupid she felt for crying.
She put on a frown and stared at the ground,
"Nothing" she said obviously lying.
"I believe you" teacher said "Though your words aren't quite true."
"Something is wrong-though it seems "nothing" to you."
"Though your problems seem small, they can add up quite fast"
"And become overwhelming, seeming forever to last."
"Just do your best to take each problem one by one. Understanding as you do, life's not always that fun."
"There will be bad days and responsibility too."
"It's that way for everyone, not only you Sue."
Now what would you do if you were Sally Sue?
Would you run and hide knowing life can be hard?
Because Sally did not, Sally was much too smart.
She went on with her day with her head held high, remembering not to give up and always to try.
And her day DID get better as she took things one at a time.
And when they did not work out,
Sally Sue didn't mine.
Scene I: When It Began
It is a soft-lit evening, my luscious lips ready, blood…sweat… red,
As I wonder just what can excite this insanely wacko head
Much blissful scenes, sounds and songs entertain these curling toes
Smeared makeup, made up again, green mess of hair that flows
When I hear from the other room, a sound quite like a groan,
A deep voice full of chocolate wonder, like a dog…I follow the bone…
Meandering through the hallway, the sounds become ah- thunderous
Till I reach the slightly open door, my eyes search in wanderlust…
And there he is, sitting upright, like a bloom resisting the wilt of winter,
His eyes glued on sumptuous words of worlds I could only dream to enter
A hood over his sexy head, his voice rises like crazed incense,
Then I realize why this winter cannot dare to stop such resistance
He is gazing upon wondrous words, his eyes in tears, lit with glee
I beg for him to look my way…give some of this stimulation to me...
Slowly….inevitably…I make my way to his side
Gazing where his eyes are glued, anxious to be part of the ride
And what I see changes my life forever…verses for longing touch
The oak tree grows, I’m blooming…I’m salivating so much
I take a seat beside him as he utters sweet ecstasy
Swelling ever more tightly, I grow more desperate at his mercy
He guides me into this realm I have never known as long as I have breathed
Now as I wallow in these words… they moisten and arouse each sense deceived
My imagination heightens, my provoked senses he discovers,
I’m anxious to explore this realm with him which now he uncovers
Guided swiftly to his masterful breaths and intentioned exhalations
I forget all past endeavors, all pleasure-based revelations
This is all I need now…. I have exactly what I desire
Just let me rise into the skies and take my place dear sire
What is this happiness I do feel, my growth is all but beginning
Enlightening…enlivening…. Writing in painful pleasure…winning
Don’t stop those eyes from meeting with her word
Don’t let the others in with this- who cares if we’re absurd
We are flying like cocks, winning pride from growing wings
Rising voices…raising flocks… never stopping for simple things
We’re beyond happy baby… for that I am certain…
I am ready on the stage….
Just waiting for you…
To pull that curtain….
Creaky wood floors give me away as
I roam the hallways of this ramshackle fortress.
These old empty veins that used to carry life
Rusty nerves are dulled and mute
I walk a well worn path, softly.
Curtains always drawn
They shouldnt see
But, It’s Spring again
I bet that weeping cherry is blooming
Seems so empty now
And it’s aged so much
The many coats of peeling paint
Just like tree rings,
The feel like eons
Hallway walls are mostly mirrors now
It makes them seem more vast,
Nicotine stained outlines
of lovely things that once hung there.
Call to me
Poking from behind the mirrors
They Haunt me,
Tease me,
shoot daggers into my eyes
I don’t look in mirrors anymore.
Too likely to see my reflection
And there’s always a new one to avoid.
I cant remember what I look like.
I just remember scared red eyes
So, I look straight ahead,
And focus
focus
focus
I’ll follow a familiar path
Straight from their hallway
To the boiler room
That old heart
pumps it’s dust and mud
That loyal heart,
Keeps this place alive
That broken heart
feels like home
The gears start to rattle,
But I know how to soothe them
There’s threads to pull
And gauges must remain below tolerance.
I don’t dare leave them for long: focus.
At least there’s no windows or mirrors down there.
Straight back to my favorite hallway soon as it’s safe
I don’t look in their rooms anymore.
But I press my ear to the doors so I can hear them
The the worn echos of laughter where they used to play.
Like an old polaroid, that’s fading to white noise, or a record that’s been played too many times.
I convince myself I see their shadows moving under the doorway
But I feel them fading.
So I must not disturb what’s left
Tight grip: focus
Footsteps litter the hallways
I only step where I’ve stepped before,
so I don’t disturb what’s left of theirs
But they’re filling with dust like morning snow on yesterdays sled trail
They’re all mapped in my mind now.
Every detail
For a moment,
I clear my mind
I think of waves,
fresh paint,
Dirty feet
Sunrises
And special tear drops
But with a twist of the gears
I’m reminded there’s no time for nostalgia.
Maybe tomorrow
It’s time to go sit with that poor boiler
And watch the gauges
after one more quick listen for the lovely echos.
Body a box, box on wheels for this marble
marble of a mind
sphere of influence
influence on overdrive
slow down your mind
boxing your mind, closed wide
nice and close, closer than before to the undersatnding
of a new prpose, when midlife pointlessness, and automatic inner battles rage,
fighting with me, and whats real
inbetween where everything hurts,
ohnestly
does the pain ever fade
look at her doll house
look at her kitchen
we look like we're doin all right
the boys keep fighting
fighting
something getting the best of you
girls not consuming
consuming the substance of testotserone
making us mean
they have learned to be mothering
mothering and they will see the blind who lead
are the examples of those, are not decieving, but promises of gold
promises of gold
promise yourself
your promise land lies in body mind and soul
and from their your sphere of influence will be your own
the saints may come to save you
Medication wont fix me, the drugs just do the same thing,
lie to myself
i lie to myself to shelter myself, scared to do whatit might take, scared to do what i might
have to, desperate m,easures, arms away, desperate measures a foot away
desperate houswives
desperate mom and dads
desperate society o crooked towns the crookd hallway, in the crooked house, on my crooked
street, the crooked block it was on in a crooked town where the war was with drugs
unravelling the chase of the goose
you thionk your gonna get away poisoning our families
under rug swept
we are a team
we play this game against you
on the computer
trhis code we learn tell s the cia
where we say it go down and your liscence plate
i'll get my award on ebay
they have been planning this for years, its not a sattelite, the things they sing a puzzle to
figure out for your reward one day, if youd send fan mail, see it theuir way
Send away all of my fanmail and join the generation, try to figure out the next message
of what your saying, i think your trying to warn me
maybe, your trying to reward me, i think you all do, fit together, a game fo r all fools, but is
it safe to figure you out
am i allowed cause i dont think soo
\my instinmct tells me not to
but there needs to be a cover up
if i have to live with it
id rather have it under rug swept
if i have to
ill do it