Long Held Poems
Long Held Poems. Below are the most popular long Held by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Held poems by poem length and keyword.
I want to break free
Of all the suppression.
Does anyone here
Have a thought or suggestion?
Why would one stop me
From speaking my mind?
Of course it sounds crazy
Most of the time.
I want to be free
To share my expression
Radiate thought
In every direction
Are people afraid
I will influence mothers?
Who will free their children
To influence others
Thoughts are energy
They need to be freed.
Suppression to me
Is no more than greed
I can't be proud
Of a life of suppression.
It would only mean
I live for oppression.
I simply can not
Live under the thumb
Do as i'm told
And be forced to play dumb.
I want to break free
Of all the suppression
Does anyone here
Have a thought or suggestion
I have the right
To refuse the meds.
Keep suppression
Outside my head
May i suggest
Let the children play.
Let them grow up
In a natural way.
I don't want to feel
I'm being held back.
I want to rejoice
And that's a fact.
I don't want to live
A life of suppression.
It will only lead
To dire depression.
Life is fantastic
I repeat to myself.
Knowledge is power
And a world of wealth.
If i break free
And get away.
I can cherish each moment
Of everyday.
I want to break free
Of all the suppression.
Does anyone here
Have a thought or suggestion
Ramesses rules with an iron hand
a god beneath a blistering sky
Hittite chaff fell, he took their land
beneath his chariots wheels they die.
Hundreds were herded slaves all
to serve at the pleasure of the King
man or beast he claimed by might
and for his pleasure they did brawl,
chained, and claimed, few surviving.
He build his cities beneath death's pall.
Worshiped was he in temples true
his semblance graces Abu Simbel
with eyes wide o'er a lake so blue
his gaze belays the infidels.
Beside him she, Queen Nefertari
laid claim to a sacred place
held above all others was his wife
most renowned for her beauty
a love to last through time and space
may all true hearts pay such tariff.
Here I am again, just waiting by the phone.
You said that you might call, ‘cause you hate to be alone.
So, here I will wait, until your voice is on the line,
And though you’re far from me, I’m with you all the time.
And your love lifts me
On the wings of an eagle,
And I soar, wild and free
When I am with you.
I think I hear the sound of your footsteps near the door.
You said that you might call, but I knew you wanted more.
Here, take my hand and I’ll kiss away your tears,
‘Cause we’ve walked a thousand miles
And held on all these years.
And your love lifts me
On the wings of an eagle,
And I soar, wild and free
When I am with you.
© Cherie 1998
I was feeling mighty low one day
Till wifey-poo came to the rescue
“Close your eyes, I've a big surprise!”
I was tempted to take a peek, wouldn't you
Held 'em shut tight and played the game
I could smell this aroma so sweet
Heaven had descended upon this poor soul
Smelled like that glorious treat
It's a smell that really can't be disguised
Described as the food of the gods
Chocolate oh glorious sweet sweet chocolate
It takes you where angels fear to trod
Finally she said, “Okay open your eyes!”
And there in all of its splendour
Lay a bowl of sweet chocolate pudding
I just knew I had to surrender
Adorned with a glob of fluffy whipped cream
And a yummy red cherry on top
My heart started pounding so fast and loud
Thought my ears were going to pop
When I had gluttoned myself like a piggy
I slumped back down in my chair
The air was filled with the sound of angels
Spent the rest of the day without care
I woke trembling on the threshold of dawn
as dappled sunlight through my window shone
Upon my primed canvas there had been drawn
a masculine image with finely chiseled cheekbones
What virile fantasy had I born while in flight
for my hand to have created such a dashing face
In stippled darkness of my dream-filled night,
a handsome fantasy did I dare fondly embrace
His eyes stared in wonder; tantamount to my own
No angle shielded me from their deep penetration
I held my breath, then released a soft guttural moan
as his strong hand guided mine without hesitation
Warm colors defined muscular features I painted
His dark eyes were flecked with dustings of gold
Flushed with desire, in a warm blush I was tainted
when he faintly whispered, "To have and to hold"
My palette was awash in shades of crimson. Soiled
with streaks of scarlet were my hands and gown
My brush strokes lingered on his full lips as I toiled
imagining passion's kiss, in whose depth I would drown
I could not bear the thought of tearing myself away
On and on I painted where his gentle hands led
until finally wearied from hunger, upon my bed I lay
Unsated was a craving within me, a desire to be fed
With eyes closed, I hoped to dream of him once more,
of this man who had completely captivated my heart
Come, handsome stranger. Find me as you did before
I cannot endure life if we must live it in dreams apart
Bonny orchid, yesterday I longed to see your face
It's radiance beamed out to me from some unspoken place
Outside on a cold, dark night
A million stars for candlelight
Then all at once a shooting star line-danced across the sky
Spelling out your name in cosmic ink, illuminescent dye
Once again inside a dream
My memory of it agleam
A quiet picnic dans un pré, music everywhere
A moment where I caught your eye through flowing windblown hair
You stood up and led me down
A cobbled path into a town
We dined on bread, raclette, and wine
You held my hand, yours lost in mine
The moment ceased to exist
When on your cheek I placed a kiss
Then you vanished into thin air
Now all alone and in despair
I called your name without fail
I searched for you to no avail
Then walked I back the the path alone
My tears fell on the cobbled stone
Sure you no more I would see
But there you were waiting for me
I ran towards you, my arms stretched wide
A warm embrace you then supplied
Not a word between us spoke
We disappeared then I awoke
I had another one of those moments this week,
Although I did not feel weak,
Or meek,
And certainly not a freak,
As the tears ran down my cheek.
I doubt the validity of anyone who watched the Indian production,
Of the 1897 battle of Saragarhi,
And never got a little weepy.
I had to look up to see if the events were true,
Before I could relate to you,
How an outpost manned by so few,
Held out so long until death was their due,
So, the people in nearby forts, were rescued on cue.
21 brave Sikh,
Who fought in bare feet,
Achieving an impossible feat.
Honoured by the British under whose flag they fought,
Their homeland their only motivating thought,
As for long hours they kept the enemy out,
Even after their ammunition ran out.
It is a celebrated military event,
Even after more than a century people still lament,
While honouring what such bravery meant.
I will now always remember the 12th of September,
And my heart will feel tender,
Because of the event and the movie that brought tears to such an extent.
I HIDE YOU TO KEEP YOU
I wish I could love you out loud — not in stolen moments,
not with lowered eyes like stone flowers drowning in a storm —
but out there where everything you are to me stands unafraid,
yet my hands are bound by a code I never wrote or chose.
You never chained me — never you — it was everything around us,
walls that aren't mine have settled in my chest like a second skeleton,
unchosen laws breathe cold and quiet centuries-long against my throat —
and still I obey them, while my heart breaks every rule it has for you.
Do you know what it feels like to hold someone like the entire sky in your palms
and have no right to show the world that sky is breathing, beating, alive?
I love you in silence, in fragments, in chains that carry the scent of you,
like an ocean held inside a bottle — vast and yet captive, and still so gentle.
My love is not small — it burns the size of a star no one has ever named,
but it lives behind bars, filtered down, reduced, tamed against its own nature,
and the darkest thought I carry is that if I ever set it free from its golden cell
I might lose everything — and maybe even you, the very last thing left.
I hide you inside me like a treasure buried within my own bones,
I carry you like a lit candle tucked into the pocket of a dead dream —
my love is free and captive at once, in the same breath, the same place,
and I hide you just to keep you — and that is the thing that quietly destroys me.
Come on! He urged Cameron. I’m your friend, aren’t I?
Cameron’s fear was showing. He did not want to die.
It’s my dad’s favorite thing, much more valuable than me.
But it was Ferris Beuller and he had intimidation velocity.
So they took the red Ferrari off the pedestal of his Dad.
And they drove it a few miles through Chicago big and bad.
They stopped at school to pick up Sloane, Ferris’s fine queen.
They had a day in the windy city such as Cameron had never seen.
His fear held him hostage, finally sent him into paralyzed mode.
This did not stop his best friend Ferris whose ideas were pure gold.
He and Slone had some near misses, but kept Principal Rooney away.
Actually Rooney ended up being chased by a sister and dog that fine day.
John Hughes, the wonder writer of the eighties, created this movie.
He wrote and directed, and walked on for a small part, not as a juvie.
It brought in seventy million in ’86, not bad for a teen film that day.
Ferris Beuller’s Day off will at the top of my favorite list always stay.
It was a dark and stormy knight
who entered the castle unbidden.
Questing to rescue the purloined grail
in the dungeon's depths still hidden.
He met no resistance, no guard or dragoon,
his way clearly lighted by blinding full moon.
His trail of tan breadcrumbs was quickly dispatched
by hordes of blind rodents, their tails unattached.
Creeping slowly in search of the missing chalice,
his intent was to cause no mayhem or malice.
A creak of a step in the bowels of the bastion
gave pause to the steps of good knight Sebastian.
At dank passage’s ending a bright light shone
on the golden vessel being held by a crone.
Her gap-toothed smile and greenish exterior
made the quester’s heart feel ultra-inferior.
Witchy cackles grated, “This sacred grail is mine,
I dare you to take it if you have any spine.”
Gathering his wits, which had fallen to the floor,
Seb brandished his sword with a howl and a roar.
“Hand it over or experience your own Last Supper,”
he growled as he lunged out and full-force struck her.
The wizened crone dodged the sharp oncoming blade,
in a sinister move with Seb muttering, “Well played.”
In a flash, the witch turned the knight into stone,
then calmly drank tea from the grail with a scone.
A lightning strike plunged the night into dark,
the castle dissolved in swirly mist and a spark.
Echoing throughout the eerie blackness of night,
the crone gleefully croaked, “Good night, not-so-good knight.”