Long Heart broke Poems
Long Heart broke Poems. Below are the most popular long Heart broke by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heart broke poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was young under that Okie sun
My old man chased a wild Latina one
Name was Bonita — pure fire, pure sin
Burned the house down from the inside in
Mama’s heart broke, cried and she moaned
Loaded us up with Aunt Sammie in Chevy’s chrome
Chased his ass down like a one-woman war
Pistol on the seat, ain’t playin’ no more
Bonita’s shadow still crawls through my veins
Like a curse no prayer can wash away
Heart full of echoes from the dance he did
Father’s sins run deep — a river that never quits
Now I got a thing for crazy Latinas
He lit the match… and passed the torch to me
She’d hide in his truck under that quilt sewn for luck
Mama kicked the door, pistol locked and cocked
“Skank, you’re nothin’ but trouble,” she spat through her teeth
But the trouble already had its claws in deep
Ghost wouldn’t leave, just followed us home
Till the only thing left was sorrow and broken glass bones
Family tore open, blood on the floor
And that woman just smiled and walked out the door
Bonita’s shadow still crawls through my veins
Like a curse no prayer can wash away
Heart full of echoes from the dance he did
Father’s sins run deep — a river that never quits
Now I got a thing for crazy Latinas
He lit the match… and passed the torch to me
Years later I found out under moon or under sun
She had a boy named Cory — and I’m Coy, his twin
Folks down the road would whisper low
“That boy’s your mirror… just ain’t your blood though”
Same eyes, same hunger, same restless blood
Half-brother walking with the same damn lust
Bonita left more than a ghost in the night
She left her poison running through both our lives
Bonita’s shadow still crawls through my veins
Like a curse I was born to never escape
Heart full of echoes from the dance he did
Father’s sins run deep — a river that never quits
I got a thing for crazy Latinas
Bonita left her shadow… burned deep in me
I could murder a curry, Death mumbled under his voice
A Terry Pratchett icon in his fantastic discworld universe
Imagination…the inspiration of many
This legend awe inspiring…
Every book, every tale
Breathing new life into each
Even as his was failing
A small token of homage
For soo many hours spent
Ensconced in his world
All his characters my friends
Feeling familial traits even in luggage, the many legged suitcase
I explore tiffs world with her little blue men
And my heart broke with all, when granny Weatherwax saw her end
My favourite character to be sure, i cried and cried
I only lived that book once as it crushed me inside
So I re read the old tales where she’s living a new
All the while feeling that her character was you
I broke just as much, when I heard you were gone
The end of an era, new tales now anon
A tribute to my favourite author anew
We all drop our hats..
Terry Pratchett it’s you
A lonely little girl lost and frightened of the world,
I knew only of sorrow, tears and death;
I hid myself in the tangle of my hair and refused to talk;
Hugging my only friend and companion, a doll,
Then Grandma took me under her wings and changed my life.
In an attic room, I cried and cried . . .
We would sit in her sunny kitchen with the teapot,
From fine china cups we would sip and dunk;
She told me stories of the past, of people I did not know;
I watched her lips and her changing expressions,
And inside of me a seed was planted, a gift given.
She gave me a writing journal and my own pen,
Write me a story was her only request;
And in my sweet attic room, I wrote and wrote,
At the kitchen table she would read my stories,
Grandma saved my life, slowly I found my little voice.
She is my treasure and when she died my heart broke,
I will never forget the kindness and gifts given;
She took a broken child and gave her the skill of words;
A grandma, a muse, an angel that watches over me.
Now in a peaceful cemetery I read her stories that I write.
In an attic room, I cried and cried . . .
___________________
August 10, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Treasures Of Your Soul
Copyright Protected, ID 08-498-023-10
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
I was lounging around just thinking
About a girl I knew long ago
Caught up in a forgotten feeling
It's happened before, you know
Her face was a photograph
Pressed between so many pages
In a book about yesterday
It's a story passed down through the ages
Parked in her drive, the radio on
Her head on my shoulder, just before dawn
I can still hear the music, of our favorite song
Never a thought, how soon it'd be gone
I was lost in a memory
The smell of her soft shiny hair
Those innocent tender kisses
That chicken skin tingling rush
Now all, that's left, are the wishes
I felt them escape down my cheeks
A debt of tears, I began to pay
Then a sound from my now aching chest
As a piece of my heart broke away
Parked in her drive, the radio on
Her head on my shoulder, just before dawn
I can still hear the music, of our favorite song
Never a thought, how soon it'd be gone
The cost of a memory
an original poem/lyric by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
His sad heart broke into pieces,
Every time someone declared "no",
No one wished to marry a clown,
But they all enjoyed his joke show,
With sad eyes, he hid behind smiles,
Keeping his broken heart hidden,
For a clown is supposed to make
Them laugh, and tears are forbidden,
His life, he spent cheering up kids,
But he would have none of his own,
His feelings in tatters, he grinned
Outside, while he felt all alone,
Thus, he died of a shattered heart,
Closed his forlorn eyes forever,
Left behind a smiling bequest,
But true love he attained never.
3rd January 2023
"Tatters" contest
(Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose)
You act the World to Me
within the corners of
Comfort,
But You make it Difficult for
Me to survive within my conscious in the world.
This switch lies where
May I ask ,
When at one end you act
like `the safe place`
On next you critic my end
To the world .
I questioned myself as
You questioned Me time to time
I baffled my mind
thinking where was it
I didn’t go right?
`If the Emotions were poured too much
to your tiny cup of Me`,
I get amused to How
the Differ in expression is making us
altogether Differ to feel.
The old me is reviving through time,
Unlike then
The problem is I am
starting to feel better
Alone as I am;
The idea of not depending
seems to act right,
Let the world be a Stranger,
Let me act wise.
The thought of warmth
will remain a wish
I COULD FALL FOR ANYTIME,
But this time I shall
Remain calm to the cold I survive.
The heart broke
here with them;
when they could not answer
One right thing about me?
`As I looked straight to them
they never really Could see Me.`
I laughed to myself thinking
How cruel.
Did I forget to mention how difficult was it to
Keep my pieces together and
efforts soo Unreal?
This marks the end
From Myself to your world,
I will live by My vision
giving A fare chance to my soul.
If only one thing it is you should remember
the next time somebody takes my Name ;
I don't look back at people
who look down on my Pain.
"A hooligan cat homeless and tattered, hungry, and lurking on my porch battered; a bitten ear and one eye, so blue that it made me- sigh !
Brought him in and soon my home was shattered. "
Constance, the writer
~ Chapter One ~
Don't cry mommy ... I know its hard to say goodbye, the end has come for me, we knew it would someday; you always said I was a good cat for these twelve years, I wanted only your nice pat, your lap and a snack ! I recall our first meeting ... I was cold and scared, rejected by the world, shivering on your covered porch; but you did not chase me away ... you brought me food, at first I hissed a lot, so you named me Grumpy cat !
Imagine me in a beautiful garden lush and green, sunshine streams through the trees giving some shade; bird songs fill the air and a breeze is caressing my fur, this is my Heaven- do you know God hugged me today ! I heard your whisper, "till heaven unites us again Grumpy cat," and I felt your kisses.
It was morning when my cat Fluffy meowed a warning for on our porch was a stray cat his fur a tattered mat but his one blue eye spoke to me . . . and my heart broke oh, how he growled and hissed too late- for my very soul had been kissed and each day "Grumpy Cat" was on my porch waiting yet, I could not catch him and that was very frustrating !
to be continued ....
_____________________
September 15, 2022
Poetry/Narrative/Chapter 1, Grumpy Cat
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1487-471-15
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, Chapter 1
sponsor, Matt Caliri, Judged 10/31/2022
I play my part well, I am fine REALLY,
No one meeting me would guess the pain I keep;
I will deny it,
I am just fine.
But, I live in a world of long ago- the p a s t,
because that is where I was the happiest;
before the deaths, before my heart broke,
I linger in childhood.
I DENY the truth to myself,
they are not d e a d;
this is just a dream.
Soon, I will wake up from this bad dream,
and my husband will be smiling at me;
my baby boy will be in my arms,
mother and father . . . NOT names engraved.
I dwell in a foggy world under a forever umbrella,
in my eternal denial . . .
_______________________
July 26, 2016
Poetry/Verse/This Is Just A Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 16-811-840-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
A tumultuous time came unushered in my beleaguered life
that writhed in the crushing clutch of destructive agony.
My heart broke, bled with desperation in pining pain,
found no arms stretched to be embraced by solace.
At the edge of hope as the helpless mind sorely got
the unmistakable signal of the beginning of the end,
it surrendered to the benevolent power of the almighty,
prayed for the miraculous results of divine intervention.
In the darkness of opaque nights the tormented life found
in the wilderness the winding path illumined by His light.
My soul swam in the sea of infinite faith, the supreme savior,
to know that the creator’s grace protects what He creates.
As the servile senses perceived the ways of providence,
the feeling of getting assured protection in His benign shelter
invigorated the mental strength for the destined rejuvenation,
and the heart responded to the divine healing touch for revival.
"I have built my foundation with life's bricks;
I exist. I am me. And that has been enough. "
Quote by_ Constance
My character traits define who I am,
both inherited morals and life lessons taught;
translating me is like an anagram !
Best, I be good because ... I only get one shot;
but, will not pretend that my life is Camelot.
Trustworthy, honest, respectful and kind,
always polite, friendly, grateful, open-minded;
lover of nature ... animals inclined !
I am proud, brave, courageous and worldly-minded;
though calm, tranquil and peaceful, I am strong-minded.
I am a dependable loyal friend,
always reliable, encouraging, sincere;
never, ever will I lie or pretend !
But, I will not claim to have no flaws ... lets be clear;
and am not afraid to share them with a sad tear.
I wear my grief like a heavy dark cloak,
and get hurt easily ... often melancholy;
cruel life will often leave me heart broke !
Though sad emotions my colors are not palely
and I am soon back on life's fast moving trolley
___________________
May 10, 2023
Poetry/Quintain(English)/Who I Am
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-359-10
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France