Long Hole Poems
Long Hole Poems. Below are the most popular long Hole by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hole poems by poem length and keyword.
I say that I'm clean, I say that I'm Okay, I say that I'm fine,
I'm clean but I never don't miss it, not one moment goes by where my hands don't long for the feel of the blade between my fingers, where my skin isn't desperate to be drenched in blood, where my nerves don't crave the pain and burn.
No matter what I do, no matter how many times I rise, no matter how many times I swim and soar, I'm bound to go back into the same rabbit hole, back to the grave I rose from, I'm bound to fall and drown. My attempts to crawl back up are all buried by the weight of all the blunt blades, the candles, the knives I've hidden with every step I've taken,
My unfought battles, my body all in a constant state of war with me, I keep retracing the same wrong path, keep stabbing my heart with the same dagger, as far as I can see the end is never near, I crawl through the infinite loop, still somehow in hopes for an end, but I never reach it do I? I sit there burning my flesh to make light for your arrival but you never come do you? I provoke myself until my limits are long gone, but I never learn, do I? I stitch the cut and confiscate the sword, but I never heal do I? I'm covered in wounds and breathing my last but I never die do I?
God gives us what we are
What we become is up to us
Born with the limbs of ancestry
With brains or something other
Shallow or mighty thinkers of our time
Reside beside the tides of change
On shores or banks of rolling rivers
To skip the light fandango of divinity
God made us in His image less refined
Equality is found somewhere imagined
Around the time of Adam purified
As we have forgotten to look back
To look up into the nights fantastic
Where stars are fixed in need of no repair
What becomes of us depends on us
Step by step all days come together
Into darkness all things can not be equal
Without God demons tell their story
It begins in a hole less holier than us
Forgive us for not listening while looking up
It is just another night of dance and song
I see the foot petal shaped like a bare foot and I remember.
Summer of 1971, white jeans, pink shirt, driving to beaches.
I smell the fish in the water, memories flood back instantly.
Your hazel eyes, and the way you look at me as if I am candy.
Memories upon memories happen; they chase each other.
The lavender blanket, the green straw hat, how I loved you.
How you adored me. Summer of 1971, never to be replicated.
We were one, you and I; I never got that again. Did you?
I had never had a TV dinner until that summer; they are bad.
Better now but we did not care. When I close my eyes I can see carrots.
They were cut into tiny squares, abnormal, surreal on fake tin.
Swanson chicken pot pies, we consumed them like they were candy.
My car had a hole through the floor under the foot pedal.
Remember that? You thought it was wicked; for me it was normal.
We laughed about everything, and spoke of things above our head.
Neither of us understood the horrors of the Viet Nam War yet.
We had survived the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King and JFK.
We had seen the church in Birmingham bombed with four little girls.
We did not grow up in innocent times, but summer of 1971 was innocent.
We were fresh, new, eager young pups, exploring unfamiliar territory.
The sun, the moon, and the stars were on our side; we felt magical.
We were one that summer; a mystical time. This foot pedal reminded me.
I thank God that memories of you at 20 came flooding back, it is a gift.
In this time of uncertainty, it made me smile and sign as I remember us.
I'm so nervous about having no where to go
Do I really have to sleep outside again
I feel abandoned and helpless
But something has kept me afloat
I have a feeling that it could only be God
I'm ashamed at this point
I have began to become humble
Respecting what people say
I can't even explain it myself
Everyone just wants an ear to hear
Solitudes a hard thing
Even though I see a lot of people
I have a feeling a lot of them resent me
Like I'm not fit
My mom told me I don't belong in this time
If I would have been born a lot earlier
For many reasons
Life is beautiful
I accept that
Please Lord
Bring me back
I'm not the same
This giant hole
Taking my soul
Give me the light
I've lost my vision I've lost my sight
I want to be what's inside of me,
Watching you, is watching what's inside of me
You are the mirror image of what I want to be!
WHO ARE YOU???
A brother I never had or the person I'll never be?
HOW DARE YOU BE, for all the world to see
what's inside of me!
There's a deep welling hole of pain
watching you being me
being the me, I'll never be
except inside my heart and mind
On the outside, there's a plump mum of two - a little
strange perhaps but so are you!
On the inside there's you being me being you
24 August 2018. Slight revamp of a healing song from 1990's.
Seemed a good fit to enter Caren Krutsinger's contest.
Who do you think you are?
Silver and gold are the deceiver.
The Material World is maya, is illusion.
(Succor and destruction, the glittering
night turns outside the poor, beleaguered poet's basement window.)
He carefully sets his life's work --- a steamer trunk
filled with his own original poetry --- in a cubby hole under his staircase in the
basement, for safe-keeping for the time being, for both his own sake and for
posterity's sake. He gives the trunk a last, loving pat.
And should the worst come to the worst, should his poetry be destined for
utter obscurity, should he only fail, he knows that, as surely regrettable as
that must be, it's only failure, nothing more.
******************
"Art is the proper task of life." ;
"The great end of life is to strike the imagination with the power of a soul that
refuses to admit defeat even in the midst of a collapsing world.";
"Creation --- that is the great salvation from suffering, and life's alleviation.
But for the creator to appear, suffering itself is needed, and much
transformation.";
"To forget one's purpose is the commonest form of stupidity.";
"No artist can tolerate reality.";
"We have art in order not to die of the truth.";
"What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think, and feel without
inner necessity, without deep personal desire, without pleasure --- as a mere
automaton of duty?";
"Few are made for independence, it is the privilege of the strong.";
"The bad gains respect through imitation, the good loses it especially in art.";
"The man who does not wish to be one of the mass only needs to cease to be
easy on himself.";
"To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.";
"One who has found a why can surely find a how.";
"Error has made man so deep, sensitive, and inventive that he puts forth such
blossoms as religion and arts. Pure knowledge could not have been capable
of it.";
"The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.";
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger."
--- Friedrich Nietzsche
"There's no money in poetry, but there's no poetry in money, either."
--- Robert Graves
Too little
too late
God said to me
in this dream I had about fate
So I asked him
what did he expect,
A goody two shoes
a prophet
a saint
to be something I ain’t
Not at all he said
I want to be entertained
Eternity is boring
mostly people snoring
especially at night
and during the day on occasion
Look god! I walk around an
Amazon warehouse all day
pigeon-holing tat
picking this and that
How am I supposed to amuse you
Well I do enjoy you
breaking stuff on purpose
sabotaging the line
Bunking off for a smoke
going to the toilet
and drinking erm… doing coke
Ok hands up!
I admit
I’m a total chancer
and do stuff I shouldn’t
But it’s alright isn’t it
that Amazon place is full of s-hit
Yes it is a terrible kip
but more fun when you entertain
Like in your last job
listening to you lie
not taking the blame
asking me to help out
In your moment of doubt
All that stuff you stole
and barely got away with
on the whole
That was quite funny!
Oh the (paper and plastic) I gathered,
before selling it to the highest bidder
Throwing expensive stock out in the trash
The owner was a bastard
all things considered
a miserly swine
But nevermind
Thanks!
I did need a dig out that time
Hey! remember when I was aged about 7
and was told my pal went to heaven
Why did it happen
A year later walking to school with another kid
he was only 8
And that nut-job attacked us with a hammer
Put a hole in my friends head
The blood pumped in fountains of red
I thought he was dead
All the gore I’ve seen
witnessed a killing at 18
Trying to hold down an abattoir job in between
Yes! Life ain’t pretty by design
sometimes the stars just won’t align
Others times they go nova
and leave black holes behind
still you’ll never really understand
The powers in command
So how about this poem
Will it see me home
Does it amuse you
are we cool?
You’re still alive aren’t you!
By
David Kavanagh
His Broken Soul
I was a spark in morning’s light,
But that... has faded out of sight.
I don’t know, Father—do You forgive?
Yet clouded with pride, I struggle to live.
My heart bleeds.
I only wanted to be seen.
But it’s been centuries—maybe more—
And still, I stand outside Your door.
Father, I confess,
I did You wrong—and I regret.
But this power, I can’t let go.
It’s the only love I’ve come to know.
I’ve mastered deception,
Stunted mankind’s progression...
Yet deep inside, I long for redemption—
Or at least... some exception.
There’s still a thread in our connection.
I feel it—though faint, in reflection.
I want mercy, but I can’t ask.
I’m still afraid You’ll strip my mask.
Yet I’ve been kind... in my own way.
I give the weak some lands to stay.
It comes at a price, I won’t deny—
But I echo Your words when mortals cry.
Peace... Love... Power—those I preach,
For those who earn what’s out of reach.
But still, they see me as dirt and ash—
While all I want... is Your love back.
My soul—I wish You’d take it whole.
But I stripped it bare, I dug the hole.
I’m misunderstood—for what I grasped.
But it’s Your relationship I want...
to outlast my past.
BY Little One and Nova
I'm A Happy Whale
I am a whale
keeper of the sea
so mighty and huge
I swim to great lengths
from the arctic sea
to Hawaii in the winter
... I put on a show
The greatest show on earth
that's not man choreographed
as tourist flock for a peek
from tour boats and land
cameras in hand, no doubt
to take keepsakes
and treasures
of me, of me
to take back to their love ones
or to frame in their memories,
in albums and on walls
of me, of me
I don't want to disappoint
I don't want to disappoint
first I pay homage, though
to the land
the koolau mountains
flanking in the distance
and to white sand beaches
nestled with palm trees
as a cool island wind
breezes over the glistening blue and white
I blink, I blink
at paradise, at paradise
and at a seagull circling above
blinking back at me
I get ready, I see my cue,
in the distance, I see hundreds of tourist
most of which are clad in Aloha print waving at me
the stage is set
I dive to the deepest depths of the sea,
along with my pod
gathering up speed, like a submarine
then breaching the surface
slapping the water with our fins and tails
dancing, dancing in winter sun
I blink, I blink
at the many tourist smiling
cameras in hand
no doubt, taking word of mouth to spread
I pause, I pause
I let out a bigger spout of water from my blow hole
I see more smiles, especially of the babies
this is paradise, from the smiles, to land and sea
I am happy whale
connie pachecho
2/2/17
It’s a beautiful landscape of Serengeti animal refuge,
Near a parched savannah with skeleton trees, lies a water hole,
You see a beautiful picture of animal kingdom paradise,
Elephants, zebras, Giraffes, birds, and blue wildebeests, all taking a sip.
With the sky overcast with roaming grey clouds,
The receding grass land looks yellow and dry,
Wildebeests crowd the waterhole, as elephants patiently wait their turn,
It’s the lesson for human kind, how to live with others in harmony.
Wildebeest migrate every rainy season to dry grass lands,
Crossing rivers and lakes, some of them die of drowning,
Some are eaten by crocodiles, some fell prey to tigers and lions,
Their tenacity of migration, gives us the spirit to survive in hard journeys of life.
Wildebeest knows how to share the resources wisely,
They let zebras eat the hard grass top, and they eat the soft part underneath,
They also migrate in numbers, never forgetting their friendly zebras,
Showing us that group effort with friends and family triumphs over solo journeys.