Long Head(a) Poems
Long Head(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Head(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Head(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
The Seal.
It has been a long time since I was in a bay somewhere on the Algarve.
The road to get there was narrow and dusty, and
I got annoyed with my girlfriend at the time for dragging me.
away from the safety of my house and the communal
Swimming pool. It was a secluded beach where women.
could swim without the great hindrance of a bra, and to
Think she had dragged me here to get her **** sunburned.
She could have done that in my backyard.
I went for a swim, and the water enveloped me like blue silk.
And I floated with the lightness of a sea lion, it was then.
I saw here, just her head, a mermaid, and her head was
Bobbing gently up and down, she was the sea.
The home of all beginnings....
So they did exist, and not an illusion, a tale told by the lonely.
Sailors, and how typical that wondrous women are seen
by those who long for female company, but a voice
from the shore called me, the one who was tanning her ****,
was getting restless, wanted something to eat, fried chicken
Salad and a half bottle of chilled white wine.
Only in this space
do I exist,
spilling into nothingness
beyond these borders
that hold me here.
I am no more than
a faint echo clinging
to the silence inside
your head, a voice
seeking form to make
this shadowy existence
of mine move in a memory
or to inflame something
left long ago in a sad corner
of your life.
I have no breath,
only these words with which
to live for a moment
in your mind,
not as a person
put together with what
can be seen, but a mere
whisper spoken in a dream,
something small, imprisoned
in the centre of who you are,
an enigma that remains
just out of reach
of being known,
the ephemeral
in search of a home.
They want me to be what they want me to be,
I want to be me and I'm a problem you see,
and mum says do what makes them pleased
she wants me to be what she wants me to be,
they want me to be a servant to their needs,
and they disrespect, ignore, and neglect me,
they call me a liar who attention seeks,
they joke openly, and tell everybody,
who don't know me, but suddenly believe,
they know me as needy, that's how they treat me,
my unnoticed grief added to unnoticedly,
as my reality is not real it's just make believe,
as I should be silent and what they want me to be,
a servant beneath who they compete with and beat,
oh I didn't say, in their head a need to better me,
I don't compete yet still they keep repeating,
and now I'm gone forever they say it's a mystery,
saying it's all random made up untrue history,
and that they think my head is gone mentally,
while mum interacts with them and never me,
fuelling their view, their make believe reality,
thinking I'm the problem causing the misery,
she's dead, they're gone and everyone's pissed at me,
she talks her side, they talk their side, I'm not believed,
no one even knows because no one listens to me,
manipulators have a motivation and I simply cease,
anyone they manipulate is someone I don't need,
I'm better off now I've left behind this mental disease,
the people are the disease and their believers are sheep.
They want me to be what they want me to be,
a mental disease who attention seeks,
who admits make believe so the blame is on me,
whilst they're in the free selflessly seen helping me.
Shallow dreams (they tried to get me sectioned)
desperate deeds, because I did reject them,
CONTROL I CEASED.
Lesson Learned
Onyx black no diamond twinkling stars doth fill the sky, just the silver light from a winter’s moon shines down upon emerald coloured grass both dark and bright, under melting snow from the northern tempest, which to pastures new hath it moved.
Ensconced snugly under covers of double down, like a hibernating creature hiding from the cold a single heart beats, arms empty of the love from another.
The hand of the clock moves slowly round, tick-tock sounds the beat down the hall of this empty home. A crooked frown looks back from a mirror above a water filled sink, and eyes once filled with joy now contend with questions of why it went wrong?
Plans made for a life of which together both grow old, sit under a warm sun in foreign lands. Laugh and cry with children we would have, now tossed away, for twas all a lie.
Now the memories of those happy times lay far behind and itch at the base of a confused mind, one entered no secrets unsaid, the other’s devilish plans oh so well were they hid. But time moves on and what’s done in the dark, always will come to light.
A smirk turns the frown upside down, as realisation rears its pretty head, a lesson learned as it all came to an end, they tried to keep you down, but a new life lays straight ahead.
Chapter closed pages turned to thoughts anew, and things once stopped because of them, now begin once again. To their tune once you danced, now skipping on feather light feet, a laugh erupts they taught you well, for that you are grateful, but hence forth now happy days abound.
By
Patrick D
Condemned to die, beaten and torn.
Upon His head a crown made of thorns.
Upon His back they placed a purple cloak
Treating all this as just a joke.
And what they said in mockery,
We repeat in all sincerity,
Hail to our King!
Crowned with glory!
Hail to our King!
Robed in majesty!
Hail to our King!
Fall down upon your knee!
Hail to our King!
They stripped Him bare, His wounds all could see.
Then knelt before Him in mockery.
A crown of thorns and a royal purple cloak.
To these men it was just a joke.
And what they said in mockery,
We repeat in all sincerity,
Hail to our King!
Crowned with glory!
Hail to our King!
Robed in majesty!
Hail to our King!
Fall down upon your knee!
Hail to our King!
Midday sometimes in class instead of learning algebra
While she should be calculating and figuring a formula
Her mind wanders aboard a moonlit gondola
Serenaded by a musician and his viola
She follows the enticing aroma of hot lasagna
Zigs instead of zags, could be seen as a faux-pas
She glides around a peninsula soon in terra incognita
Traversing a nebula not a care in the world, she’s in Utopia
Atop her head a diamond studded tiara
Below a ball gown of the finest taffeta
As she gracefully waves and cheers at the orchestra
Who is playing al dente a capella for an al fresco opera
Such fleeting moments garnered as bouquets of ephemera
She weaves in and out of daydream during algebra
AP: 1st place 2021, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 8, 2018 for JUNE 2018 STANDARD CONTEST sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Just some scribbles of thoughts - the mentally ill, the elderly, children, homeless pets, and even we can be - sometimes even in a crowd...
He was always dancing, no matter the time,
a smile and a bow to whoever walked by,
then a skip and a hop and a diddly bop -
a spin, a grin, then another bow.
I watched him once when no one was around;
he just looked at the ground and stared.
Whenever we drove by the lady down the lane;
she always had a polite wave if she noticed us passing.
One day on a walk, I stopped to talk -
she cheerfully beamed about her garden
and the beautiful day, but then she paused and said,
"Sorry, I must go and see my love...
who doesn't know me anymore...
but I still know him".
In the summer, a boy walked by every day,
tossing a ball into his glove
on the way to the park; shortly after
he would come back down the street,
his head a little lower.
I asked, "Aren't you gonna play?"
"They already got a game" was always his answer,
but one day he said, "Wanna play some catch?"
I knew right where my old glove was -
everyone needs a friend, even me.
Dave was a sad old coot, over in the corner,
barely glancing as I walked through the shelter.
I couldn't leave without him,
so Dave came home with me that day.
My friends thought Dave was a strange name for a dog
but after four years they thought Dave
was a better name for a dog than a person -
they all went with me when we said goodbye.
When everyone went home that night
the house was very empty...
In English classes my skull would be reelin' with a myriad of perplexities,
Strugglin' to cope with English Composition with its multitudinous complexities!
I could never comprehend (and never will) the mysteries of verbs and pronouns,
Or danglin' participles, prepositions, conjunctions and irregular nouns!
"Your future will be mighty bleak", my patient teachers hinted indirectly,
"If you don't learn the intricacies of the English lingo now and correctly!"
The long-sufferin' teachers considered me a dunce and their hopeless bane!
I wanted to be a pilot! How was this folderol gonna help me fly a plane?
Incomprehensible to me were past, present and future perfect tenses!
Invariably, I bungled those terms in trying to compose any of my sentences!
Fiddle faddle! Why, I mused from my naïve and youthful perspective,
Would I ever have any use for a comparative or superlative adjective?
My favorite classes were glee club, art and gymn, each in which I did excel,
But adverb clauses, proper and predicate nouns to my mind just didn't gel!
The use of consonants, vowels and indefinite articles left my head a-spinnin',
I couldn't understand the use of predicates or proper titles from the beginnin'!
Thankfully, after the vicissitudes of high school and bewildering frustration
I somehow managed to accumulate enough English credits for graduation!
Well, I reckon I ain't never gonna be no good at parsin' a sentence no how!
(Wouldn't my teachers be proud of that line - or would me they disavow!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Into the snow white castle only tepid feet bound
Head mirror of quilted bed reflects a glimmering compound
Satin blanket spreads over each frozen mound
A blinding glare from the silted bed doth rebound
With each heavy step mist arises from fluffed goose down
Arching o'er head a crystalline canopy doth crown
The hooded frames as glowing sentinels ballast ground
The woody rails in their icy coat of arms surround
As tempest blows, crackling arms in groaning chorus resound
From portholes beaming, frozen pellets wayfarers confound
Alighting from pillowy perches, Red-shouldered hawks with wings unwound
Strafe the bystanders; with their prickly dander doth hound
A fibrous parapet of occluded, twining roots shields ground
Each truant sole straying from the beaten path will impound
Buried stumps as pulpy landmines on periphery abound
The errant, plodding heel with shocking pain to redound
Pace must quicken in the late afternoon stound
Dusk's chilling tides o'er snowy copse leaves laggards spellbound
As the last rays of light funnel into
the background
Enchanting visions of woodland nymphs mind's eye doth astound
Passion play
An old man’s Dream – Journey
Luck walks him from the hands of the Grim Reaper,
beyond the pearly gates of St. Peter,
across the desert sands,
into a carnival, the arms of a winged Angel’s, hands.
Two freaks on the stage, of the world’s side show
Within each, the other know.
A lost soul, trumpet silenced by very bad choices.
In his head – a con, a schemer – he hears inner voices.
Take this Beauty, wing it into survival, into a living.
Only himself, not to others, giving.
Another lost soul, in a glass cage, her wings clipped.
In a carnival side show, freaks, the audience is gipped.
He knows the price she will have to pay.
To save him and the game he will have to play.
Captivated by her ethereal beauty, love making evolves into love.
Beyond his greed for life, love’s conscience raises him above
the slim of his scheme, to do all he can to protect his dream.
The light of his love, surly – that moment - did beam.
His plan jeopardizes, places her into the hands of hell.
This winged Angel’s love, in her eyes it doth tell.
She accepts her living hell in order to save him.
The old man now tries to save her, prospects grim.
He falls, a plan of the man who owned this winged girl.
The plan failed, the old man’s life did not unfurl
His heart opened and did strive, repent the wrongs meant
as his soul looked out and upon, in sacrament.
One more time, he picks up his trumpet.
Sweet sounds come forth, beauty he let.
She glided, walking on by, again he met
his dream, there, before his eyes.
He runs with her, jumps from on high, she flies,
saving him with the strength and courage he gave to her.
Upon angelic wings, into heavenly bliss, together.
B. J. “A” 2
November 1st 2012