Long Hardly Poems
Long Hardly Poems. Below are the most popular long Hardly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hardly poems by poem length and keyword.
The sky is red, the sun is black, im riding a roller coaster, but my mind is off track. Theres lots of ups and downs, smiles and frowns, even kings placing crowns on the heads of clowns. But I really don’t care, life isn’t fair, but gods given me a life I can hardly bear, every day I ask him, why cant you share? My life is going, I just don’t know where, because a life like mine is kind of rare. What do I do, while theres love in the air? Other people kiss while I just sit and stare, I look to my left, and theres nobody there, I look to my right, and theres a pair. The clouds are red, the rain is black, I may have left, but ill never be back, but what I can say is, theres nothing I lack. I look at the trees, I look at the sky, but what is the point when I just want to die? Why? Why do I try? When every time I fail, all I do is cry. And how can I be calm when im jealous of every guy? My heart is grounded, while my mind wants to fly, you can guess by what I write, that im also kind of shy, why do I need them? All they do is lie. I try to be nice, but they just punch me in the eye, and when im upset, all they do is pry. The clouds are blue, the sky is white, my mind is racing faster than the speed of light, my life just gets worse, but I still have to fight, why am I like this? Its just not right. Life is taller than me, im not its hight, I fly through the sky, gut still held to the ground, just like a kite, and why are people scared when they know I don’t bite? You can tell my whole life, just by what I write, I sleep during the day, and fly through the night, and im pushing a boulder with all my might. But im getting nowhere, my hands are bare, I love the dark, so give me a scare, I lost my mind and my soul, they were a pair. Sometimes I just sit, sit and think, think that I cant end up in the brink, my mind is empty and cold, like a skating rink, I don’t care if people say I stink, because I already know that im their main link, I have a cup, but nothing to drink, my mind wants to grow while my heart wants to shrink. The water is black, the sun is red, you cant kill something that’s already dead. I jump off the bridge, I take the dive, you cant kill something that was never alive. Im steering my life, but I don’t know how to drive…everything gets quiet when I arrive. I live in a shack, I peek through the crack, and when I look outside, all I see is black…
Bridgett Faerie leapt from the flames with a pop and a fizzle
Delighting her elemental dad, Hellfire, wielder of the flame
Her mother gave her the power to make leaves dance
Her purpose not apparent yet, but she was magnificent.
Hair in shades of copper we did not know had been invented.
She stood on the tallest log and stared us down, Then she flew.
New faeries can hardly ever fly. We gasped.
"Forty-one years since I saw a first day flyer,"
one of the elderly brownies whispered.
Bridgett landed next to her.
"Hi!" she said. The whole council laughed.
"She is precocious," one of the faeries said.
Bridgett turned.
I saw her face for the first time;
oval with laughing caramel eyes.
Her nose was a tiny ski slope, a tiny lift at the end. She wrinkled it.
"Where are the leaves?" she demanded. "I want to get started."
Even Hellfire was astounded; he had six daughters but not this one
Until today. She would be a force to be honored and revered.
Her snotty sisters began to make fun of her,
pretending non-jealousy.
Hellfire gave them a look and there was instant silence.
"Are those my SISTERS?" Bridgett shrieked with delight.
She flew over and hugged every one of them. Then she flew away.
How could someone with such tiny feet be so assertive?
No fairy had ever started working on their birthday before today.
Oak tree leaves began floating down into the fire.
The fire popped and crackled faster and faster.
"I love this job!" Bridgett yelled from a branch forty feet up.
Hellfire looked frightened for the first time.
He had never had a daughter who was more like his wife.
His wife flew past him to help her daughter.
That rarely happens on birthing day either.
"A mini-me-of-Enthusiasm Faerie!" someone said.
Others cheered. Someone clapped Hellfire on the back.
"Now there are two of them, he said."Good luck!"
Bridgett's twin sister Brewit popped out of the flames next.
"Surprise!" She yelled. "There are two of us Daddy!"
Hellfire's mouth dropped open. He had felt outnumbered before.
But never suffered anything like this. Brewit gave him a big hug.
Then she flew up with to join her mother and her sister.
A wonderful day in the woods, one we have never forgotten
Although that was twenty-seven years ago.
The story has been told thousands of times.
And put into the imaginations of many. Their purpose: Joy.
It was the Halloween Ball
In the season of the fall
A mysterious bachelor called
To the attention of us all
The biggest mansion party
The cooks food is hearty
The host is definitely tardy
For most of his own party
The musicians play the last dance
The men try to romance
But don't stand a chance
For the host is here! They glance
To a man dressed in black wear
In Old Spanish attire bare
The women began to stare
For he was a young stallion, a Mare
From a top the stairs he walks
The ladies gather to stalk
The man who doesn't talk
Like birds they came in flocks
He wore black clothes and a red sash
White trim and a black mask
To find a dancer is his task
But who will he ask?
The only girl not drawn to attention
Is sitting alone no words to mention
He takes her hand There is no tention
Soft as a doves wings a cool sensation
The proceed to the middle of the floor
She doesn't know what's in store
A lot of musicians come in..there is more!
Some of them rich, some are poor
He takes his tunic off then starts
The music is written from the heart
The stand at attention far apart
Then the solo with the silver harp
The drum beat starts going
They come together emotions flowing
His risque' dance he is showing
To her mind he is boasting
They move and dance like magic
For five minutes the song's romantic
The crowd watching in motionless static
The songs end was very tragic
The last beats were hard to miss
They drew close and started to kiss
For her it was a mystical bliss
His every movement caressed her lips
The awkward silence he starts to leave
The young lady can hardly breathe
She starts to faint...she can't see
The wings appeare and she falls asleep
The girl awakes in her bed it seems
In her school clothes it was only a dream
The sound of water foils the scene
Her eyes still blurry it's hard to see
She wanted this for real
Her heart is sealed
Then fate will have to deal
Her new loves appeal
She notices something on the ground
It's the wings and mask she found
And a CD blank is bound
She puts it in and the sound...
Is the unforgettable song
It was to her so long
But there was something wrong
Where did this come from?
In the CD case is an Old Engligh letter
It said "Undoubtedly for the better
I am gone with the weather
Your kiss I will always remember forever and ever
Form:
PART I
The Joy of a birth, his own shine penetrating his eyes,
The new out born fruit of a long spend love,
Her hands rubbing against her red shiny chin,
Her legs crossed, the beauty that sings till the last breath.
Her thumb in her mouth, blowing, saliva flowing all over,
Her tiny grassy hairs and a sensational smile!
His mind throbbing with a pleasant paternal pain,
Oh, the enduring love!
He curls her onto his lips, the roses of affection,
Fell on her bright cheeks and a spurt of emotions,
Through his blood, that glowed the heavens between
And his two round globes filled by a sea of passion.
“Come to me, my baby, my love, my little daughter….
My sweet little doll,
I will love you till my death…
And I will carve a heavenly doll,
For you to sleep with….My angel…”
The man thus became a father and a true paternal love
Flew through his heart, into the unknown worlds.
PART II
The enthusiasm of the youth, and desire for the taste of love,
Her tiny grassy hairs grown long,
The soft fabulous filaments of keratin hanging by her curves,
The dream of a girl, for a handsome prince haunting her nights,
And eventually flourishing into a full blossom shiny daffodil,
Her lips wet, her legs crossed, her red cheeks burning
And the sweats flowing through the blankets.
Oh, the youthful pleasure!
The ghostly love takes her into the world of souls
From there the memories of her father,
Pulling her back, into the past world.
The affection fought heavily with the gods, but, only in vain.
And the gods decided to keep in their beds, the beauty of hers.
Unknown of these realities, he opens the door
And finds his love fallen prey to the love of an unknown.
All his dreams to carve her a heavenly doll to sleep,
Perished only in the mightiest darks of the underworlds.
The life in his soul had gone and the bird shall sing no more…
“Not yet, my love, not yet ….
I haven’t died …my love ….I haven’t”
He fells on his knees and takes her into his arms,
Her head hanging down by his flexed elbow,
Her breast pressing hardly into his heart,
His face bends, lips on her forehead,
And his teethes hurting her pale feathery skin,
Tears of unfinished love dribbling from his spheres, her face wet,
He cries loud with no breath in-between.
THE END©Anees Rahman
I just wanted to thank Poetry Soup for, well, for being, for existing as a format for poets to share their hearts and souls. I can hardly believe it's been 6 years (gulp!) since I first posted a poem here--it was about that time that I started writing poetry again after a 30 plus year hiatus since I stopped writing anything in my early 30's. Why I stopped or why I began again, I don't know: Who can explain creativity? But somehow I found Soup and well, a community. So may I thank, on behalf of that community, all you unsung heroes who maintain the 'Soup'.
And as to all those who add their 'ingredients' into the Soup, let me commend ALL of you. In those same 6 years I have not read a single poem that was pretentious, egotistical, idiosyncratic to the point of being so obscure as to seem meaningless--in other words, so called 'modern' contemporary poetry as favored by a depressing number of lit mags today. I've learned at last to stop wasting my time submitting to such [and certainly not if they demand a reading fee] as I-- fool that I am-- continually strive to find meaning in both what I write and what I read. One editor even warned not to send anything that 'conveyed' a meaning, and in no uncertain terms did he want did he want to hear anything about the soul or the heart or-God forbid!- God.
I suspect this is why so many people are turned off by modern poetry today-- and who can blame them? Wasting time reading a bunch of big/obscure/erudite words strung together, only to scratch your head wondering what the hell did that all mean? The best poems are often very simple: 'to be or not to be', 'death kindly stopped for me', 'the Lord is my shephard' -- but they always take you SOMEWHERE [though it may not be a place you immediately recognize]. The best poems, I believe, increase awareness, not leaving you feeling confused, perplexed, frustrated ['what the hell did that mean?' ] This does not mean they give you answers --but they may suggest some. And as modern society becomes increasingly at odds with itself, at risk quite literally of fragmenting, some insight would seem as valuable as it is rare.
The contests are fun at Soup and many demonstrate how clever and knowledgeable Soupers are about the myriad poetical forms. I have to say, though, I wish there were more thematic contests--open to any form that served to enlighten the proposed theme.
you call me when its good for you
which is hardly ever
its like I'm a convient friend
one who wont sever.
keeping me in mind
you say to yourself
"oh i call her later"
you stick me on the shelf.
You take me down
when there is none left
one doll friend of many
my heart is going deaf.
what is it with you
and your "I'm sorry"s
if you took the time
you wouldn't have to make up stories.
Am i that convient?
am i your chore?
what keeps you around?
Our friendship is on the floor.
you have tons of people
you talk to each day
i guess i should understand how easy it is
to throw your best friend away.
"I love you so much Ravin
your the best of a friend to me"
your words fall upon deaf ears anymore
what ever happened to WE?
" you will always be the one i come to"
" you are my bestest friend"
you say these thing so carefully
in hopes it never ends.
"I'll call you later"
"no not today"
" I'm at the bar"
" cant find a way"
when i call you are so occupied
you haven't listened to a word i have said
" hold on" 8 or 9 times
the "call you back" lies you fed
you know i am here
and i love you so much
i come to you about everything
its my heart that is crushed
I thought i was good enough
for you to come to anytime or day
why is it you put me on this back burner
and leave me here to decay.
you'll see one day
there is none like me
your TRUE friend is still here
but yet you choose not to see
you seem not to care
as much as i thought you did
why should i still be here?
because i am a REAL friend.
you have crushed me a few times
only to see me come back
you use me when there is no one else
you talk to me to pick up slack.
so here i sit a paper wait
waiting to be used again
will you ever realize
I'm your number one fan?
i keep all this dust hidden
on that shelf you put me on
waiting for a call from you
why am i not gone?
so i sit here today
writing aloud
spilling my heart to you
hoping you hear my sound.
keep from that shelf
keep me close to you
don't use me when I'm convient
I have better things to do
I love you with all my heart
Is it impossible to see?
I try to be the best i can be to you
but what about me?
"its a best friend thing"
is what we used to say
you seem so distant now
what made you go away?
leaving you with this
please know i am here
just give it some thought
and keep me near.
Form:
Life carried on brushing up pain
Each day I could hardly remain
Darkness seemed to be my only course
As I falter and enter ultimate remorse
I could not see what's going on before me
As life seemed dim I could hardly see
There only seemed to be one way out
Only one that I have known about
Sleeping pills were taken extremely
All at once, I was feeling sleepy
In a last minute impulse I called emergency
They swiftly came as I was quickly
Fading fast from this course of reality
I was nodding off to sleep completely
They kept me barely awake to the hospital
Where I was contorted to spill all
I was gagged forcefully as darkness came
Awakened again to find more pills taken
My throat agonized with pain within
From the horrible gagging motion
Pill after pill flowed out of my mouth
As I neared closer to oblivion, further south
Finally I was allowed to sleep
My dreams now were mine to keep
When I awoke people surrounded me
Looking very worried, disappointed really
I had survived the attempt on my life
A fear I will always remember, the strife
Now the world is back into my life again
The pain is seemingly always pounding within
Worry is written all over my family
Fear escapes my mother’s eyes completely
They do many tests to see if I’m stable
Then the diagnosis is depression, certifiable
Therapists become a part of my new life
All present and accounted for, no new strife
Things weren’t anywhere near like they were
When everything was dark, fearful for sure
I hated life, it was lifeless, demure
Then it seemed I had the perfect cure
But life chose me, and I survived
Now things work simply and I thrived
I had the presence to make the best
Of what life brings, to take in the rest
I hold dear now all things that this life brings
A warm feeling comes when fear is fleeting
A perfect happiness comes from simplicity
Bringing complexity down to earth sincerely
Love came swiftly with joy in the heart
Never felt more pure, never to be torn apart
Now that I had survived the brush of death
I now take pleasure in each and every breath
This is what happens sometimes when death knocks
And life gets switched around, time tick-tocks
Now since the terror has come and gone
Joy and pleasure have arrived as one
The future now looks a lot greater
Now that death will be a lot later
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Richard Tarr's "suicide survivor" contest
11/12/2012
Oh, fear! The sinister finger of a tornado!
Twisting, spinning, spiraling in turbulent
toroidal twirls of angry winds and high
pressures, few forces - natural or nay -
are as destructive or as frightening or
as beautiful! Yes, I am myself afraid
of those weaving beasts of spinning
horror, for there are few things as
certain to bring unavoidable death
and destruction, but I have also
always been drawn so to their
violent beauty and power, and
their affect on atmosphere and
light. There is little anyone can
do to avoid their wrath if they
find you, and that assured ill
anger of nature is why they
are so reviled ... buildings,
cars, animals, trees, bits,
pieces, farms, insects,
trucks, people, pets,
houses, things that
grow, move, stand
still, fixed, loose,
secured - there
is hardly any-
thing that is
outside the
mix of the
horror, but
if you are
a broad,
strong,
long,
flat,
....,,,,~>>~,,,,....
- Smooth, deep, thick, hard, layer of the finest concrete, then you are SOLID! -
Submitted on November 22, 2020
To the "SHAPE UP" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor
~ 1st Place ~ in the "The Shape Of My Art" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
I woke up at the break of dawn,
with the feeling that all hope is gone,
I was not sure where to begin,
but I was determined to win.
No dazzling stars,
no visible moonlight,
no chirping birds,
to tease my empty words.
I walked through the door with a subtle grin,
nursing bruises all over my skin.
I tried to escape yesterday’s punishment,
and saturate my mind with hope and fulfillment.
Walking down the dark empty street,
a cab stopped exactly at my feet,
I hired him to take me to the mountains,
to breath out the stagnant air
and repair my body’s wear and tear.
His grouchy voice thundered through my ears,
he spoke with a strange accent that I could hardly hear,
It passes through one ear, and suddenly disappears.
We journeyed through sleeping towns,
they stared at us without a sound,
steep hills and rocky path,
bending streets and winding roads
dumping my burdensome loads.
He made a sudden turn,
and I felt a sensational yearn
spilling over in my soul.
Mother nature bursts from the horizon
and filled my heart with glad tidings.
Layers of mountains blink at me,
taking me up and down the gigantic tree
guiding me to my unseen dreams,
while patches of green and sun burnt grass
prepare the city for the morning mass.
I saw her bursting through the thick grey clouds,
and I stopped the car and spoke to her aloud,
I climb on top of a nearby rock,
and reached towards her and interlock.
I was just in time for the meeting,
Oh how my soul yearns for this healing.
Mother nature looked at me with a grin
she shook my hand,
and said, “where shall we begin?”
I lamented the troubles of my piercing heart,
and requested for a balance start.
What took you so long?
I know that you have been hurting all along,
and I have been waiting for you to prove them wrong.
“Worry no more,
I am going to fulfill the desires of your burning soul,
look around and tell me what you see,
observe carefully and you will agree.
Let me ignite your body and soul,
and sooth the sorrows that you bore,
sleepless nights,
daily fights,
unfair treatment,
and treacherous lies.
The meeting came to an end,
and I felt free again,
the peshmerga drove up the steep hill
and greeted me with goodwill
Dawn fully broke out into broad day light,
and filled my soul with joy and delight.
©2013 Christine Phillips
For days now he had hungered.
His search took him along many an avenue,
where his pleas were so harshly ignored.
But his need was such he had to continue,
so to all that he met he implored.
Many turned him away with brusque impatience,
what had he to offer them they all sneered.
Still he searched with all true innocence,
of the way he was evidently feared.
Daringly he turned his gaze upon all,
all those who walked the same paths,
all those who he heard from over their wall,
where they tended their gardens with care,
ever hoping soon he might find that one,
that one person who would freely share.
His recent loss still burned in his heavy heart,
all the devotion he had given and received
had been beyond reproach from the very start.
She had been the one and now alone he grieved.
His thoughts turned to that day when he awoke,
to find his companion gone but yet still there...
No response came as usual to his gentle stroke,
still and cold, so very cold as he proffered care.
All that long day his hope lingered with them,
until night fell and hope slid away numbed,
tangibly wandering out into the dark and mean
moon shadows cast behind their wind rattled shed.
A sharp whistle seemed to bring him from his dream,
it turned his head and stopped him still in his tracks.
He shook his head twice hardly believing the scene,
then ran swiftly towards his mistress now back!
Joyous reunion after those last empty days
filled both as they then embraced so lovingly,
her hands no longer felt cold but her eyes,
her eyes did seem a little pale and misty.
The pair were soon jauntily walking back home
to their ramshackle old potting shed.
All the spiders would ask why did they roam,
neither would answer as they settled to bed.
Down the avenue none had noticed their sheer joy,
none had seen them walk by in such evident glee.
None had heard their footfalls or calls of good boy,
but minutes after one lad saw what didn't flee...
'Hey Mum' he called into the kitchen,
'Come and look at this old dog over here.'
'There's nowt you can do for it Marvin,
poor old thing - must have been a stray dear.'
Back in the shed Good Boy and Mistress rested,
peace was with them amidst peat and dead fern.
Neither ever pined or wept again in their bed,
the hunger was gone now, never more to return.
©Rhumour
June 12th 2009