Long Hesitate Poems
Long Hesitate Poems. Below are the most popular long Hesitate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hesitate poems by poem length and keyword.
The Monarch Who Thought He Was King
Once there was a butterfly
who fluttered by a gate.
The gate was closed, that’s when he said,
“O shucks, now I’ll be late!”
He danced and pranced and shouted
and did not hesitate,
“I demand,” he said with power,
“please, open up this gate!”
To his surprise before his eyes
the gate did open wide.
“A lovely thing; I am the king!
I’m surely qualified.
I had no choice so with my voice
the command I simplified:
‘Just open up this gate!
I need to get inside.’”
He told to all who’d hear him:
“I am the King,” he said.
While some bowed down and listened;
some would not turn their head.
They huffed and puffed and scoffed away,
“We’re sure that you misread.
To open up a gate is easy;
like falling out of bed!”
His shoulders drooped, his forehead sagged;
his eyes filled up with tears,
“You cannot make me less a king
with your scoffing and your sneers.
I am the king,” he fluffed with pride,
“the ruler of my peers.”
Then off he flew without a thought
of all their laughs and jeers.
He fluttered to a purple bush;
the hue fit for a king.
And there he sat to contemplate
and other kingly things.
“I’ll show them all; the small and tall,
and all the scoffs they bring.
A proclamation for my nation:
we’ll hold a royal fling.”
From low and high, from far and near
they gathered close to see
the monarch make his grand command
and show his identity.
A thousand monarch butterflies
watched with frivolity
with five or six ambassadors
from the queendom of the bees.
And there he came with pomp and pride
the self-made king to share
he was a monarch butterfly
and worthy of their care.
He preened his wings and listened for
the sound of his fanfare,
but all he heard was rustling wind
which threw him in the air.
He crashed and tumbled to the floor;
they could not believe their eyes.
The kingdom they had counted on
was built on fibs and lies.
The king was crumpled to the ground
ashamed in his demise.
He let the rain fall down on him
from clouds in the gray skies.
And then he woke up from his nap
and turned inside his bed.
He saw the flowers of his home
of purple, blue, and red.
Right then and there he promised
and to himself he said,
“I’ll be the best of butterflies,
than to be king instead.”
One thing I must know before we go any further than this
Words that must be sealed with a true kiss..
That when you leave and leave you must..
sorry-This is turning to more than lust:
I ask you to leave a whisper in my ear
An ending to this chapter,No sequel I fear.
You didn't know I was awake when you slipped away
I'm sorry you must leave
''don't go''''please stay''
No words of this nature may I say.
''Nor bring me any sense of senseless self''
They get to close and with this I can not permit
Memories of the faded face lingering
Thoughts I can not forget.....
I could feel her breath upon my neck as she left me a memory;
One that is fading tonight
This- just one reason that I must write.
Should have I pushed,pulled,fought for what I believed to be mine
or continue to 'sleep' pretending tomorrow would be just f.i.n.e.
This time wasn't like the others
that voice could be my muse's muse
I kept my silence silent,something I've begun to abuse.
- If you feel your soul screaming at you with advice
Do not hesitate,prolong,ponder-Never think twice-
For in that time,your moment may have left,just dew,mist,simply gone
Grasping for something tangible''hoping ear shall prolong''
Just leave a whisper so memories I will have to nourish a smile,it too needs help
to be seen every once in awhile.
Memory I do have,not of sight but sound.A beautiful whisper,
A reminder to make life a little more profound.
She was an Indian Barbie, long curly lash
And brown complexion. The hair was
Perfect, shiny black and she had on a small
Pink gown to cover her 36-24-36 body.
Last seen, she still had on her high heeled shoes.
Oh how my daughter cried, “Dolly, Dolly,
Where are you?” when she found out she left,
It on the basketball court’s grounds. She took
It along, against her mom’s frequent reminders,
When grandpa brought her with him for a walk.
She cried horribly, my wife mailed me. Tears
Rolling down her cheeks even as her mother
Scolds, tears not for the accusatory words
But for her Dolly who is gone. Gone away,
Lost and probably in another child’s hands.
My wife, with a guilt ridden grandpa’s idea,
Told her Dolly wasn’t lost after all. In fact
She was on her dolly way to dad now who
Works onboard a ship, sailing far, far away
So he can buy milk and nappies for small kids.
“Punta sya dun kasi lungkot si Daddy di ba?”
(She went there because Dad is lonely right?)
She asks in between sobs of her mom, who
Can only nod and kiss her on the forehead
And whisper a “Yes,” the whitest of white
Lies meant to comfort a grieving, sad child.
Fast forward to the time I talked to my child
On a long distance call, from a very public booth.
She asked me if Dolly was with me, forewarned,
I can only sigh a cheerful aye. “Talaga? tignan ko nga!”
(Oh yeah? Let me see her then!)
Of course she must have meant to talk to her.
I didn’t hesitate, all so suddenly I knew what to do,
Then and there I belted a falsetto, uncaring
Of the Island people around me, for in that one
Sparkling moment, I was talking to my child not as
A father but as a long lost friend who misses her.
“HAH! Helloooo Dolly, andyan ka sa barko ni Daddy?”
(Hello Dolly, are you there on Daddy’s ship?)
She asks me after my high pitched hello, asking
with such gasped longing, with such breathless relief,
with such childlike delight and innocence. Even as
Eavesdroppers wonder what harm befell my balls!
The rest of that dreamy conversation is lost to me now.
The wonder of her tone, her concern, her yearning for
Her doll is all that remains, of the father and daughter
Transcending bounds of love, blasting colors and
Rainbows to a gray span of reality, even for a while.
---Part 2 on my poem list please read too long to post
You never cease to amaze me with your powerful, awesome poetry
It fades away my depression and anxiety as my fretfulness and fears dissipate
You never please evilness and malice in your words of peaceful liberty
You throw shades at negativity and uplift with your positivity with your words of shameless love and no hate
Your state of mind is extremely, purely surreal and beautiful
You’re a poetess of plenty of wise words from high above
You never hesitate to shine bright, straight from your precious soul
You’re a progress marked with unconditional love
These teardrops are meant to fall, but all and all,
They fall away just like my disarray and dismay this shimmering May
The moment I saw your words, I stand oh so tall
Your unique forgiveness is a shimmering sea in my mind’s eye today
These torn-up teardrops were meant to fall
The moment my silly, foolish heart fell almost apart
But, sorrow from within faded away after all
You restored grace and hope to my verses from the start
I weep rivers of radiance, rolling around in the deep
The afternoons and nights spent with me, reading your lines of poetic passion
I cry away the tears of hopelessness that I do reap
The tunes of heaven’s heights couldn’t get higher the moments I witness your compassion
These teardrops were meant to fall, I’m meant to stand tall and all
And rise up like the sun-drenched sunrise minutes after dawn
You turned my grief into happiness and made me tread the hopeful hall
And I will climb mountains and roam forests to move on
You never fail to amaze me with your play with words so clever and sweet
You never make me feel disappointed and deceived by your poetry’s pensive, positively provident beat
This is my delightful dedication to your poems of peace that diminishes the chaotic dread
This is my inspirational, motivational words for you to be hopeful and happy for what lies ahead
Thank you for all you do by sharing your genuine, genius grace
It’s awe-inspiring, jubilant people like you that make this life’s race
Worth running for, worth keeping my steady, yet swift pace
I can’t help but adore this everlasting joy in my heart and it’s like a much-needed, family-fervent embrace!
- this poem is dedicated to my awesome poetess friend on Facebook, Lora Lee, who writes wondrous words in poetic form. I wrote this poem at work today.
Never-ending aftershocks of yesterday’s tomorrow has settled in my mind’s eye…there’s so much out there to look forward to…I’d rather not die, but indeed, I must live to see the light of day take wing from on high! Cleanse me with your hope, oh Lord of Accord and you are so perfectly imperfect to me…and you shine bright like a diamond in the cave and you mirror my pain with healing, crystal-clear rain! I’m out of my mind in the past, present and future…what’s my fate? What is there in store for me? Why do I hestitate? I hesitate for the sake of Your honor-packed jubilance, not his blasphemed envy! Good news (It’s intriguing! Very!) – I’m suriving and still standing tall; bad news (nothing brand-new or exciting really): I failed the test with a F- for failure to the extreme…your sub-zero eyes see right through me and I can feel the coals heating up in my heart! I’m mad to begin with and I’m sick of breaking apart! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! Deal with the cards, roll the dice. Feel my words – you’re my livin’ sacrifice! We need a happily ever after after all! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! You kill’d me inside and out and I won’t pout like a child, running about! You killed me with your lonesome song and I have no slight doubt about that, if you know what I am speaking of no doubt! Are you damaged by your suicidal depression? Do you have any clue what I’ve been through? Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! I am a money saver, but a worthless beggar or an ungrateful waster OR a real big spender ~ I don’t mean to offend a single soul or drive anyone insane in any way, shape or form…I am just telling you the truth straight out of my brain while I lay down and type this verse up in my solitary, yet unique, wild and stunning-blue dorm…avoiding a bee swarm like escaping a windstorm with stingers flying all around me every direction I turn! Every angle I watch, there is danger looking at me straight in the eyes…replicating the death stare of the Lord of the Flies…my hope and faith withers and dries like a weed, left in the sun…pulled up from the ground by the gardener himself…rotting away…today…
In quiet, space breaks down into insight.
Opposing the edge amidst deceit and blight.
Imperceptible resonation is reflected back.
On a hunch, or at the stroke of night track.
A lethal tree is still close in the woodlands.
The spirit was trailing on the kist of the tree.
At first, kids looked to chip with their hands.
Seep into the night in a ruddy shrunken spree.
I wake up early to the Greek myth of Zeus.
A vessel drifting on the Dal Lake in Udaipur.
The sound of a woman sobbing in sadness.
Over calm green oceans, echoes in Jupiter.
She was performing in a velvety baritone.
Pain in the midst of the tranquility of dawn.
Endeavoring to perform the icy top in June.
Mountains that frame the Kilimanjaro awn.
Ghastly calamities smash and deeply devastate.
I rightly fear that wide-open harm didn't recover.
You can expect the best, yet I will never hesitate.
My dear life depends on your choice; kindly usher.
I regularly defied to bid someone to criticize.
The one-sided truth was dazzling blindness.
My space was thwarted in the related size.
I felt as if somebody led a ruin process.
Sacredness to which humankind might relate,
With the moon sitting on edge of the world.
Mountains meet to uncover the ornate.
Smiling and radiating, from high observed.
There are times when I can feel the crests fly.
I'm being held down as my blood is drained.
Brain scars result from ruined sight and sway.
When I perish, a chasm arises in my mind.
A lean, edge-on which rests one's optimism.
Please be cautious of steps you split wide open.
In fate, a walk on shells will be optimum.
Shift much fatal shooting and be woken.
I minded my name being said in a whisper.
I was adducible of a hand tapping my forearm.
When I swung around to direct a look closer,
I found myself alone and aching for smarm.
How might a heart that dorsum and delicate,
Have the sway to bear a vast part desolate.
But we're apt despite our humble eyesight.
To discover the earth and the vast infinite.
The monstrosity of the encompassing world.
Encompassed by both the sight and the sound.
Emotions energize the heart within the darkness.
Eyes that can consistently scan such elegance.
1st Place Contest Winner.
Written: June 01, 2022
This Or That, Vol 12 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Aurora stood at the gravesite close to Robert’s casket on the bier
“Look at her, why I’ve yet to see a tear”
The lady whispered to the other so Aurora could hear
“Her dress is disrespectful; it’s a heartless thing to wear
“My heart bleeds for her husband lying there”
This was Robert’s favorite dress and he always used to say
“Aurora, wear it for me when I ‘go away’
If you care and I know you do you’ll dare!
Aurora, promise me please no tears
We’ve known this moment was coming for almost two years.”
Aurora saw a man appear under the oak tree on the knoll
It was Robert walking in an unhurried stroll!
He used the “royal wave” he liked to imitate
Aurora repeated it in reverse, she didn’t even hesitate
She saw and felt him there emotionally reacting
Intellectually realizing “this can’t be happening!”
Staring at each other across the expanse of lawn
Sharing a last loving communication not as two but one
Robert blew her a kiss and walked out of sight
Trembling wildly, Aurora fought to stay upright.
A solitary tear fell from Aurora’s eye, she felt it descending
In slow passage down her cheek carving a groove blistering
Stories abound about this unique and mysterious solitary tear
Report it happens infrequently, only every several years
How or why the tear finds its mourner cannot be explained
The tear’s origin and source has yet to be discovered or named.
It’s said that a person’s intensity of inexpressible feelings
Make the tear appear by their profound grieving.
Aurora, like others, is disorganized and unfocused following Robert’s death
Making endless adjustments, trying to catch a breath
One day she touches the scar on her cheek made by that solitary tear
Her mind clears and it becomes an amazing day without confusion or fear
Salvation and comfort take many forms if you pray
Especially if you believe what God imparts in His way
She finally understands that Robert’s soul and spirit were not lost to her
And that living isn’t meant to be a meaningless blur
Robert rejoiced in living and in his love for her taught her to feel the same
They had priceless moments together more than she could count or name
And she starts recalling all the memories they made while husband and wife
Who’s to say what or whom finally brought Aurora back
And gifted her with a tender and loving renewal of her life.
-Look into your heart. What is its most ardent desire?
-I don’t know. I haven’t thought lately.
-You have neglected me. You have neglected your desires. You don’t know your heart…
-No, no I do better than any human does it know.
-I don’t believe I hear those words.
-Then, look into your heart. Through window that’s as clear as glass.
-Look and don’t hesitate.
-What is it that I see?
-Beasts, ghosts, and a faint glow that shines and dies.
-What is the glow?
-That’s not for me to tell you.
-Oh! My faith! I am miserable, a tarnished soul that knows not what is Best for it.
-Listen to me, and you will understand.
-No! No secrets! I am miserable enough.
-You shall feel better once I will this tell you.
-Am I so weak to yield to anything you say? No, I am pretty stout! Go Away, I do not want to hear
you any longer.
-I am as stout, even more perhaps.
-Do, do yield now. The secret is important.
-All right, I’ll yield and listen.
-Your life will end today.
-That’s all, for God’s sake?
-Yes, but I long to warn you still. Do not wait till midnight. Flee, as soon As legs will let you.
-You said I shall feel better. I don’t feel blessed, but only more in pain.
Leave me now, if it’s God’s will, if I die today. I’m not a coward. One Cannot escape from fate.
-You have defeated purpose of hand that had crafted such an end.
-What does this mean? My heart is ready for death and peace.
-No, death is not your bliss. You are too strong for death to overcome you.
-I am pleased. Now leave, for God’s sake, leave. You puzzle me- first one Thing, then another.
-All right, you will not die, but will a swamp of doubts swallow.
-Lie, lie, I do not trust you any longer.
-I still suggest you, run, for death is fast. Don’t trust my words completely, For I am testing your
character steadfast. Yet, once the curtain will come Down past the middle, and you are not
gone still, then it is fate that fell You will.
-You are, it seems, ambition in me boiling. But, yet, I still shall undefeated Stay. Go away, to the
abyss of hell, oh wicked spirit! Don’t tempt me into Deeds that any human soul may fear. Do
mind, I am not to superstition Inclined, and only half believe what you are saying.
-You are a strong man. Your request shall be now granted. And prophecy,
Now trust, it is not for you taste of. Farewell then!
Form:
my lottery
gentlemen need loaves bread
others wishes to be civilized
i myself wishe ur deployed
the road you go
the chair you sit and the river you swim
disturb me and blame
the garment you wear
oinment you colour
the blinks the pigments they are
the love genarated the fire
i cannot resist shall i swear
at the begining of the the year people flock to Dv
in other ways i go to DSTV
infact of america is not as such concern for me and i am not sensitive
you are victorious i am your fugitive
defeating you is as far as PLUTO and complicative
madness i am
craziness i become
cool you are how to play your game
day and dawn i dream
i miss you at the morning getting harm
you do not understand this
how i become embarassed and my crisis
my pulse doubles
my words whispers
my breathing changes
my sickness relapses
people encouraged with money
sealers satisfies with their business
mine is not that my earnest is you
my happieness and my value
you are the solely you are my lottery
do not far from me i will get crazy
fee will knock to us if we become so happy
do not hesitate my lovely
we will be wealthy
come on my beautiful you are my lottery(2)
Dear Sprouting Rhymers,
To me, modern poetry could be most simply put as “everything”,
everything that you see, experience or feel put into words.
Everything written to evoke thought and feeling in others can be poetry.
A most basic example could be a tear, one lonely teardrop.
What is the journey of a tear, what feelings caused it to emerge?
What meaning does it convey? What does it say to you
and what do you want others to see or feel?
The possibilities are endless.
Should I be able to share anything of value to others would be
very gratifying from my humbled perspective, so I will
offer the following.
The best poems stem from truth, your truth.
When you are in the mood to write, do not hesitate. Times
will come when you wish you were inspired.
Ideas come at the oddest times, at concerts, at dinners,
at the grocery store, in dreams. Record them.
Write about what you see.
Let your passion guide you.
Don’t be afraid to take chances. Risks are worth it even
If you fail. Growth is sometimes painful.
Respect rules and learn from those you admire.
Study and attempt all forms of poetry. There is so much
more to poetry than rhyming
Do not be afraid to ask for help.
Have fun!
Having started writing later in life, I can only say that I wish I
had done so much earlier. I have enjoyed enormous satisfaction
in discovering that I could contribute something of beauty to the world.
I love to write about romance and summer and sunsets
and things that are silly.
Favorite reference sources are Poetrysoup and Wordhippo,
My favorites of the poems that I have written are:
My Blue Valentine
One can speak of Sunset
The Writes of Romance
If You Weren’t Such a Nut Meg
Confessions of a Renoir
Needles in the Snow
The Forgotten One
A Concrete Heart
Hot Summer Ecstasy
Golden Torture Looms
My literary background is purely that of an amateur. From
as far back as I can remember, I always liked to write and tell
stories. It wasn’t until I experienced a personal tragedy, a few years
ago, that I felt the need to put my feelings into writing as a way
of healing. Since then, I have not stopped and I write nearly every day.
A suggestion for title: There’s a Poet in Everyone
(A Guide for Beginners)
Good Luck!