Long Hindsight Poems
Long Hindsight Poems. Below are the most popular long Hindsight by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hindsight poems by poem length and keyword.
When someone is murdered
Is it not someone’s……………….
Father or mother
Son or daughter
Aunt, uncle, cousin…………..
Husband or wife
Was it someone who was loved
In many different ways
By many different people
Taking one life
Destroys the very fabric of existence for many others
Did they deserve to die ?
And if they did
Was it your right to do it to them
When you murder someone, you are playing God
You have the power of life and death right in your hand
At your very fingertip
Just aim and squeeze
It’s just that easy
Someone somebody knows
Has just fallen
Because of our insane fascination with guns
The power over another existence
Bought, sold and paid for
Is any of this sinking in ?
I doubt it !
Eric (and sometimes not)
You must admit,
each of us has looked back in time
reminisced about the past and all its happenings that now unwind,
the ifs, ands, buts
of how we got here to today's cascadings
upon this stage of life's long paradings,
intent and close with smile or tears of the circumstances
bound in the cycles of seasons and years dancing;
this is the look back that brings us forward to this now
the would have, could have, should have of how.
Those who knew my story,
had sad faces and sorry expressions
after all, I was born unwanted with little doubt or question,
abandoned by both father and mother
what possible promises were left to be kept or discovered,
too old to be adopted,
foster care did not await
grandmother came to retrieve my heart
allowing body and soul to escape,
she would raise this child duty-bound but safe.
There seemed no other choice,
at four I had no voice
this would be the path taken
past possibilities forsaken
only grandmother's and child's heart would be
silent questioning and prayers in the weaving tapestry.
This was the secret of my existence and arrival
meant to be never spoken of, for survival,
but as I grew,
I always wondered why
the method of the madness in my life slides,
the anger and resentment
that I was unwanted
left my imaginings haunted
but as I learned, observed and listened,
the path was well-guided, wisely provided;
alternate realities of my teenage and future years
produced a life lived well with laughter and tears,
no regrets, just a look back at how it was,
quiet acceptance,
of how I got to here.
For Crystal Woods contest, Hindsight 20 20
in retrospect, looking back and looking forward - we are all who we were meant to be.
Taunting nightmares emerge in the night
Wiggling their way through the gray to appear
In sharp colored images of the acute hindsight
Shooed away from the light of reality’s sear
Torched to misty nothings in busy moments
Endlessly they wait for the dark they don’t fear
Damned is the path that flows with heart’s intent
Doubly damned in the wishful forgetting
Rousing demons that thrive on torments
Etching, they grind-scratch in a bloodletting
Amorphous artists that rearrange the real
Making sure there’s a sensed regretting
Zealously, they carve into the now surreal
(8/25/2020: ’96 Sea Ray 400; Bethel Is.)
Americans were shocked and stunned
‘Reason’ abandoned, injustice had won
On Sept. 8, 1974, when President Ford exited the stage
The Republican right was left in fistic rage
While the Democrat left was aghast, How could Ford do this
The scales of justice, now so sorely amiss
To pardon a President, guilty in every possible way
of undermining the law and his opponent just didn’t play
It cost Ford the next election, ‘cos Richard Nixon he’d pardoned
Voters’ adverse reaction over two years so hardened
They elected an unknown, a neophyte named Carter
next to whom the Ayatollah Khomeini looked smarter
Yet the country moved on, hindsight thanked Ford
~ That Biden pardon Trump ~ start petitioning the Lord
we're past the convenience of apathy
is it an act?
is it all fake?
easy for you to say it's a mistake
when my mind is dosed
with a thousand new questions
and i'll never know
'til we share this affliction
we've gone too far for trivialities
no going back
can't hit the brakes
not when your name's on every pill i take
when i'm diagnosed
with all the wrong conditions
i'm too predisposed
with no clear grasp of reason
it's just like counting seizures
we're dangerously unsure
while you tell me my green is all red
is it too hard to believe
i've accepted everything you said
you're a hemmorrhage in my left brain
slowly bleeding into my right eye
well there's no wonder i can't see straight
and no wonder why i can't think right
you're a cause and a cure for my strain
of insanity; but don't ask why
when we're caught in this drugged-up stalemate
and it's all asinine in hindsight
while i'm laughing the song in my head
is it too hard to believe
i'd rather be lost in you instead
when i'm caught in throes
of turbulent confusion
keep me ever close
a welcome dissolution
it's just like counting seizures
so desperate to be sure
with heartbeats in crescendo
i just don't know
i just don't know
toward thee spunky gal,
whose impregnation and debut appearance
way to brief a tale for Aesop
cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted),
out the birth canal aye did bop
analogously compared
to a mealy mouthed measly crop
a spindly tangle of arms and legs
radiated (starfish like)
dangled and would uselessly drop
like a raggedy ann male counterpart
(raggedy andy - how original)
with limbs that didst flop
and tis no small wonder, thyself as one
newborn baby body electric
easily confused with bony glop,
which skimpy weight
leant convenience as sigh grew older
to alternate jumping
(ala pogo stick mode) and hop
from one skinny spindle shank leg to another,
and manifold orbitz whip
sawing round the sun
bore witness to puny laughable specimen
of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight)
grew long straggly hair,
which NO ONE (except me) could touch,
nor most definitely NOT lop
off (this fetish) compensation
for very slight physique
in dewed time begot
pencil necked geek milksop,
now at an age prowl lix sing viz
dragging, crawling, battling...
slight abdominal bulge
unlike widower octogenarian biological pop
whose once strapping superman
like build atrophying (sad sight)
since grim reaper put objectionable stop
upon head of harriet harris,
whereat two and a half score years
her longevity did top.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
now, comb may tooth how zen,
sans eight plus ten
'twill be thirteen yars
when me late mum agonizingly relinquished
an indomitable loo ving life,
which strong fighting spirit
(spittle and vinegar) yen
reached a juncture,
(sans metastasized ovarian cancer)
forewent heroic measures, which ken
not avail bottled anger within this sole son
telling thee, he didst love ye
never communicating NOR often!
When I was in high school,
I had a fall,
It was from a cycle,
but changed my all;
I had ligament tear
in my right foot,
Could not go to school, got
typhoid to boot;
Weak in my body and
stressed in my mind,
When I did go back, I
fell way behind;
I lost my life's purpose,
Despair set in,
I failed in my exam
to my chagrin;
Had a nervous breakdown,
Redid one year,
Mind full of sad questions,
Heart lost all cheer;
Today, when I look back,
I wonder why
such a thing was allowed
by God on high;
To teach me a lesson
about setbacks,
To increase my small faith,
In God relax;
I learnt to lean on Him,
when troubles come,
He taught me to stand strong,
not to succumb;
All things happened for good,
This I know now,
Eighteen years have gone by,
I've grown and how;
That phase transformed my life,
It was a test,
In hindsight, I perceive
God knows what's best.
Tomorrow will come today
As I look behind to see past my second sight
Tomorrow is now as yesterday is future tense
I linger in this unknown moment as the universe
Tilts on its axis as my mind fumbles in the dark
The planets aline along the horizon’s edge
A blade sharp across desolate dreams
As today is tomorrow in hindsight, now
A future is here to the next, a world away
Tomorrow is now and forever at play
The present is the next day and beyond
I linger in the moments between time
As the planets are a line in the universe, divine
Creation in its apogee, I’m in my mystery
Tomorrow is today as futures are passing away…
No rocket surgeon,
nor brain scientist called upon
but only Rudolf the red nose reindeer
solicited as psychological mentor
yes...undoubtedly countless
decades removed since *****
(not very gay at all!)
bodily changing phenomena
from thine angst riddled
biological metamorphosis allows me to peer
with greater theft of mine precious youth stolen,
via piercing overbear
ring mailer daemons,
when mine tender age did near
cusp whence onset of puberty
clapped development tight as if by
a doppelganger mutineer
warp and weft of mine lifetime tapestry
mine acute perception doth lear
as threads got tightly woven
into mine casual knitwear
though pubescent phase
wrought with oppressive foresight
interwoven with jeer
ring bullying hmm...maybe thine ability
to distill self actualization
extant among interlinear
teenage stage viewable
during my youthful days, but clouded over asper
mine more vivid perspective here
from this present moment
ha...amusing insight from present perch
devoid of adolescent glare
sire re: brill grade
do lobes gleam freer,
now with insight aye ear
rate at such pitch 'ere
perfect hindsight aye declare,
yet as a much younger self
when I hapt to be a boy, acuity seemed oblivious
to perceive via sight and sound
what social cues visceral, (visual,
and audiological) seems crystal clear
revisiting non verbal
awkward teenage mutant
ninja turtle memories, that now deafeningly blare
at the threshold of ear
splitting decibels, how hard of hearing human
(nada so) subtle in retrospect, I am aware
interpersonal nuances clear as the tune
Doris Day Que será, será
did voice, a catchy air.
Pecking its way out of the golden light
Songbirds arise non-feathered when they hatch
Feathered wings lift them high in upward flight
Crested larks lay colourful eggs that match
Aeronautical flying birds in love
In the air, romancing like Valentines
Returning to where they were quite beloved
Where their hearts weren't always undermined
I know you do verily love the uplift
Even when your spirit flies to the bayside
Where imagination soars adrift
While I'm trekking on with my mighty hindsight
Bright light flies from the summits each morning
A reddish glow adorns those summits, recording:
Alpenglow!