Long Hazily Poems
Long Hazily Poems. Below are the most popular long Hazily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hazily poems by poem length and keyword.
The Sex Obsession
He was in his middle years, a retired seafarer living far
from the oceans of his youth and dreams had drowned
in swells of a restless, life.
He lived a slow life, walking his dog in the forest when
not driving his bike, visiting forgotten villages, trying
to find a childhood hazily remembered; but what he drew
had been a happy one in a time of war.
One day he met a woman (not a beauty)
he was drawn into her sphere of sexuality; he was in love.
Intense, longing for her love, lost his life in her arms
in the swirling dance of pleasures, he had long forsaken.
There were times when out walking the dog, he paused
and asked, was there a prize to pay one day?
She came to his house, looking serious she was pregnant
He was jubilant; there was nothing more in the world he
wanted to be a father to complete his dreams.
No, she wanted money for an abortion. Killing His Child!
His world crashed, the truth, as they had nothing but sex
He walked in the woods when returning, she had gone.
It seems difficult to witness the last moments
Of your near and dear ones
But in reality I witnessed
The last calm heaves of my father
Without the slightest agony
My father
Lain on the hospital bed
Eyes half closed
With only the stare of death
Hazily glittering through the half ajar lids
Heaved once or twice
The monitor indifferently recording
The fast decreasing pulse rate
The incessant AC chilling the air
And then
It was all over
It was the perfect moment
I should have broken down on his still warm body
All the agony, pangs, tears abound
Following the impeccable script
But
I could not
I didn’t weep out
I just stepped out of the cabin
And felt dazed amidst the crowd
I even slept untroubled that night
The next morning
As I entered the lonely room of my father
And looked at the empty bed
With his specs waiting sullenly
His stick leaning on the wall
All his books pining silently
Perhaps they guessed their master’s absence
At that very moment
I felt something happening inside me
A benumbing cry rose from my heart
An uncontrollable one, it choked my throat
Tears, holy tears, bless me, enchant me
I really want to break myself free
From the deep, dark crevices of life
The tremolo of mourning jays vibrates
In bittersweet tracks when nightfall scans
An almost dim backdrop, gripped
By low warbles from birds' paean
Indistinct as dusty tunes--a whip, wallop
A whistle of drones becomes
dangerous and still;
Throaty on a lane of funeral's last rites:
The hazily drawn view turns ambient...
it is another blasted evening
Moistening wail of eyes with monotone lull
that I hide my face
from past autumnal romps
reminding me of chimes, soft cuddles
pressed in heavenly light...I whisper
to a young silhouette now cradled
By the starkest of blue stars...
Tunes stale,
while jays moan on the horizon, until...
Happy Days
Each is given breath,
above soil, toil and glory,
mouths expel a tirade,
behind a masquerade.
Each born pure in heart,
soon shattered; broken
jagged pieces maybe scattered.
Each feels the beats hidden deep inside.
It struggles to love, but rages!
against tears cried, each supplied
with both organs, and need,
exhausted moment, emitting seed.
Each with eyes, unable to detect lies,
a tongue its whip sting, able to chastise,
each is not supplied in rubies and gold,
a fool realises, in late life now is to olde.
Each foot step trudge,
to the hole in soil;
hazily remembers the glory,
not the toil. Happy days indeed !
Curling crests cassessing coastlines
backwash bumping beach breakers.
screeching Seagulls squark and scream
mocking maritime merrymakers.
Burning boogers brave blisterd backs
scorched surfers seek shoreline shade,
urbane under umpteen umberellas,
peacocks posed in a parasol parade.
Drifting dunes delight deserted
lovers, languorously lounging, lazily
craving comfort, coveting cool currents.
Hellishly humid, heat hovers hazily.
Spirited siblings, spades spanking
bucket bottoms, bulid
carefully carved chimerical castles,
infantile fantasies fulfilled.
Exposing exiled exoskeletons
turning tide tickles toes,
sun sinks slowly seaward
disclosing dusk's descending doze.
As morning's veil did lift its gentle hand
On my first call to ingratiate with the land
I fathered that night to dawn's early stand
And hit the roadway, where my journey's plan
Did unfold like a map, with twists and turns so grand
If I remember well, Kachikau did wave his hand
H hazily, with a wry grin, a gesture so bland
I paused for a moment, twiddling thumbs of my hand
Chaffed by the wind, my heart did take its stand
I looked at this dehydrated home village of mine
Eyes bursting with pathos, a tale so divine
In some odd sense, that distorted moment did shine
A light enough to fool the mind, a beacon so fine
I felt my heart beat increase with the intensity of light
Like selenium, a spark that ignited the night
I looked again at this parched home village of mine
Even raddled grass blades, a beauty so divine
The sun did rise, a fiery ball of gold
As I walked on, my footsteps did unfold
A story of longing, of dreams yet untold
Of a heart that beats, with a spirit so bold
The wind did whisper secrets, of a world so wide
As I walked on, my soul did start to glide
Through fields of green, where wildflowers did sway
And the scent of blooming lavender did fill the day
I felt the warmth of the sun, on my skin so fair
As I walked on, without a care
The world did seem so vast, so full of wonder and might
As I walked on, into the light of day and night
The stars did twinkle, like diamonds in the sky
As I walked on, with a heart that did not deny
The beauty of the world, the wonder of the sight
As I walked on, into the darkness of the night
The moon did glow, a silver crescent shape
As I walked on, with a heart that did not escape
The magic of the world, the mystery of the night
As I walked on, into the light of day and night
Form:
Puttin’ on the Ritz
She went to London where the gold-paved streets
glittered not in rainy foggy mornings.
In vain she knocked on doors in search of fame.
Uttered from beyond thick lighted cigars,
idle promises drifted hazily,
like suffocating smoke that filled the air.
Her talents never stood an acting chance,
but offers came dependant on her looks,
the long toned legs, attractive sex appeal.
Clinging to hope, she bit at proffered bait,
she gave her all, and acted at his will,
away from the bright lights of screen or stage.
She played the part of mistress to her man;
she lacked for nothing and lived like a queen,
but in the process she gave up her dreams.
She had the jewellery and choice of clothes
most fashionable and extravagant,
while hobnobbing with high society.
Sadly, she lived a life that was not hers,
following a dull script of make-belief.
Her heart was torn, her soul deceived and worn.
The pain within became too much to bear.
She knew no joy; had only grief to share.
Her life she took – a victim of despair.
------------------------------------------------------
Paul Callus ~ 6th September, 2015
Contest: Puttin’ on the Ritz
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Placed 1st
Happy Days
Each is given breath, above soil, toil and glory;
mouths expel a tirade,behind a masquerade.
Each born pure in heart, soon shattered;
broken jagged pieces maybe scattered.
Each feels the beats hidden deep inside;
It struggles to love, but rages! against tears cried.
Each supplied with both organs, and need;
at the exhausted moment, emitting seed.
Each with eyes, unable to detect lies;
a tongue its whip sting, able to chastise.
Each is not supplied in rubies and gold;
a fool realises, in late life now is to olde.
Each foot step trudge, to the hole in soil;
hazily remembers the glory, not the toil.
Happy days indeed !
Where have all the words gone?
It has been more than ten days,
since my last write of a one-liner poem.
Here I am lost, searching, searching
for words for nothing comes to mind.
My spirit is lost in a never ending
staircase, running, stopping, searching
for a door, an entry way or the final step
to find the words to pen, scribble, write.
Where have all the words gone?
I could not find any, every time I tried
to write a tribute to my brother,
who left so suddenly, unexpectedly.
Neither could I write a eulogy for him.
The time came a few days ago to bid
our “goodbyes” and I came empty.
No words came at hand, except
bits and pieces of our childhood.
The memory of the two us watching
and listening to Bruce Springsteen’s
Born in the USA tour, years and years ago.
With no other words in utterance,
I read one of the old poems I wrote
“Tell Them You Love Them Now”.
Where have all the words gone?
Yesterday, I listened to a premiere
of a piano piece, a Sonata in minor.
Sad songs are played in minor keys.
I felt so lost searching for words.
Words that could let go the sadness,
the sorrow of not seeing my brother
alive to tell I love and appreciate him.
Nobody was allowed to see him
and he died all alone in the hospital
without any love ones surrounding him.
So heart breaking, leaving a hole
or tearing all our hearts in our family.
All of a sudden, I am finding the way.
Or reaching the end of the stairway.
The words welcoming me back covertly
and now coming to mind, like the sun
penetrating the thick clouds, gleaming hazily.
3/8/21 All Yours (Mar 9) Poetry
Brian Strand