Long Hour Poems
Long Hour Poems. Below are the most popular long Hour by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hour poems by poem length and keyword.
It is three a.m.
The witching hour.
Trixie, my muse wants to play, do I want to sleep?
It does not matter.
My muse has me by the shortest nerves.
She is not letting me go either.
She loves to look up new words.
To sit with a Thesaurus in my lap.
To flip through and write down our favorite words.
To check and see if you can add an "ly" to this word and that word.
Trixie controls my mind.
They both want to play.
We work tomorrow.one of the under-bosses of my mind whispers.
We have to get up in two and a half hours.
Do we want to sleep?
It matters not.
Trixie rules me, especially at the witching hour.
I reach for the Thesaurus.
This is where the story ends
A young man fallen in his own mischief
Times I shouldn’t have
But I really adored my friends
Forty days, is forty or more sins
This is where my story ends
Not a whole lot of spiteful
Spiteful, unused energy
A headache is simply adding integers
Past chances is blown wind
Reassure my friends
That this is where the story ends
Cole street
No gravel below my feet
Fifty silverware a person
The next hour of continuous cursing
Pregnant hostess
With an infant that needs nursing
Waiter/slash/server
She spoke
But I never once heard her
Chips and salsa
That mistake is going to cost you
IOU’s with bronze coins to spend
I wish this was where the story ends
Do you miss me
I’d kiss you
But for twenty minutes now
I’ve been observing you
Through a glass lenses
Nineteen years
I’ve fallen before broken amends
When I held tears above my chin
Sadly this is where my story ends
I send you strength
In its finest form, resilience in nature, wisdom of sight , forgiveness of self and sleep in the night
Delivered with patience
To release what hexes
A guide to your truth
with pure intent .
This moves with haste
With no consequence
To any of a kind those I hold in my mind , myself included protected by the now of time
I banish what grips me
And darkens my sight
I now walk in my truth, and my truth is in light
I release what binds me to unfulfilling pleasure
I summon my truth,
bring onto me my true treasures
I call it by name for it is not my own
I burn it in flame … ashes upon ashes …
Set to the wind I release its hold
I shout to the masses
I choose light over darkness love over fear.. no more will you whisper in my ear
These are my words, and my words are my power
My strength my resolve grows hour by hour times this by three
so I stated so it shall be
I honour as always my true deity
One frosty winter's eve
In the silence of the night
Under the glow of the moon
In glittery delight
There's sounds of shuffling tiny feet
In the blades of green that crinkle
And captured in a sea of black pearls
Are joyous reflections of celestial twinkle.
A special dance commences
In the Field Mouse Winter Ball.
Squeaky songs and scratchy steps...
An entertaining eve for all.
As per their tradition,
Before the occasion has ended,
They surround the patch of frozen puddles
With all whom they've befriended.
They pair up and take their turn
To grace themselves on ice.
Then they vote amongst themselves
The winning winter field mice.
An hour or two before first light
They bid fur well and goodbye.
Then scurry home to their safe place
Before hungry predators swirl the sky.
When they feel they cannot venture
Their sorrow they relieve
By reminiscing about the fun they had
On one frosty winter's eve.
Before I take my meds.
There’s an hour or so,
Or so, or so.
When everything is fuzzy.
I would take a sip of water but the water tastes like the essence of sandpaper.
Then it would stop hurting.
Or so I thought.
Before I take my meds.
I would walk around my room.
As if I’m going to measure the dimensions of the bed.
I like to walk aimlessly.
Or so they say.
Before I take my meds.
There is something.
In between.
Fuzzy.
All around.
A waterfall.
Sprouting.
Before I take my meds.
She hands me a glass of water.
Pills can be different shapes and sizes.
I wish I could be different.
- Sunrise
Nature's artwork painted with authentic brushes
the palette hanging on a nail at the door
The painted areas melt completely with the paper,
and become one with it
Purple: a color of prestige, nobility and majesty
A little simplified you can say
By opening yourself for the image
you get an opportunity to get in touch
with a different dimension
... and Sunset
Everything from heaven and paradise to love, sunset and ocean dunes
The hour from day to night creates a very special atmosphere
Some find it melancholy at the fall of the sun
The beautiful light fades away the day, a bitter taste
Over a carafe of sangria, enjoy the silence
The longing for love, with eyes closed everything is easy
Tomorrow, tomorrow a whole new day
Beautiful is God's heaven, a gleaming link which is held by angels
14.02.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Sunrise and sunset contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
- 1st place in the contest -
Father, My Father the hour is come,
My weary heart feels the brewing storm,
Rome's Calvary to Me they hasten,
In Thy presence I kneel chastened.
Take Thy goblet from Me I pray,
Veer me away from the devil's way,
Hide Me within Thy towering pavilions,
Away from Caesar's bloodthirsty minions.
But not My will but Thine be done,
I stand obedient to Thee a Son,
Weary but willing to stand the test,
If that assures salvation for the rest.
So let Thine angel give Me strength,
For though My bloody sweat fall at length,
I'll drink this chalice of suffering still,
Knowing I harken to My Father's will.
To You then My breath I give,
Let death be for Me a brief reprieve,
And eternal life for the rest of human race,
Who'll sing forever Your Amazing Grace.
Form:
Fragility of Wealth
by Odin Roark
He had known riches,
This man wandering desolate landscapes,
Once so generous of harvest.
But now…
He had seen it coming,
It was but a matter of which dawn,
Which sundown
Which star-filled night
Would be the last.
Acceptance was hard.
Most everything was gone,
Leaving behind a barrenness,
Likely past any will to start over.
Nature was tired.
And…
He too was wearing down.
So much.
So fast.
It was only yesterday
That he lingered there,
Peering inside the darkened diner,
A favorite he so often visited.
The lingering image of its pink and green neon,
Now but broken glass,
Its always bright surroundings
Just another dark remnant of what once was.
Only the ghost of his friendly waitress remained.
Enamored with her focus, he used to tell her
As he read her philosophical scribbles
Just below her “Thank You” part of the breakfast check,
“You’re an idealist in a funeral parlor.”
But he looked forward to the always provocative thought
To help another twenty-four hour stretch of fear,
The ever-present rich man’s curse.
“Happy people are the only people, the rest are only human.” Fullmer
“The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved.” Hugo
And then there was the quote that brought him to where he was today.
“Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste
That they hurry past it.” Kierkegaard
He’d lost track of the miles covered,
But glancing down, incongruity stared back at him.
Why here?
Why this place?
Why a star fish?
This once deep-water testimony to life,
Reduced to a still life intransigence of purpose,
Insisted the man consider his own evolution.
So…
Why had man been made to challenge
The many storms and waves Nature had in store?
Had civilization just plain f**ked up?
Yeah…
Well…
He too would soon be dead,
With only his dapper suit
And plastic boutonniere
To die with.
Perplexed, he gazed down at the once alive creature.
How does such beautiful simplicity
Retain so much of its treasure?
The fox keeps the keys
to the old henhouse.
The hour after 12 midnight
is called zero, until 1 AM.
The door marked EXIT
often opens both ways.
We fill the glass,
to toast our farewells.
A moth circles the lamp
knowing it has no
off-ramp.
A hand waving "Goodbye"
looks much the same
as the one saying "Hi".
Every disc has
a flip-side
to one-hand
clapping.
"The End" lies on
the last page,
but it's not the only
thing written there.
Going back is done
by doing a "U" turn,
not by backing up
in reverse.
The fisherman's last cast
always lands where
his others did.
Lips that frown
smile
when upside down.
The gambler knows he's done,
but bets 'all-in',
anyways.
The road to tomorrow
is crowded
with people
taking their last look
at yesterdays.
never again
just this once
one more time
just the one,
one last time!
one last time!
When you attend a wedding,
You’d expect, one would assume,
That the planning would be geared for friends
Of both the bride and groom.
So it’s always a surprise, that as
The bride or groom’s mom’s friend,
There’d be oh, so many aspects
Of the wedding to commend.
Yes, my close friend’s daughter tied the knot,
The venue a delight,
The ceremony held outdoors,
The chuppah decked in white.
The food was all delicious
And the cocktail hour rocked,
With my favorite deli meats on rye –
Pastrami! I was shocked!
The ceremony was a blend
Of two religions, yet
Both traditions were included
In a magical duet.
The bride and groom were glowing
And the crowd could not help smile
When they joined the band to play the drums
With joy, pizzazz and style.
But the best part was the music,
Which made dancing not a choice,
For the pick of songs got everyone
To boogie and rejoice.
What was really most amazing
Was that all the dance tunes sung
Had familiar lyrics we all knew
From back when we were young.
Yet they spanned the generations
So the friends of groom and bride,
Plus their parents’ friends all hit the floor
With zeal they couldn’t hide.
Even grandkids danced a storm up
And their energy amazed!
Just watching them go on and on
Left some onlookers dazed.
Man, I haven’t had that kind of fun
In ages, which just proves
That the perfect setting helps us all
To bust out all our moves.