Long Hughes Poems
Long Hughes Poems. Below are the most popular long Hughes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hughes poems by poem length and keyword.
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John Keats - I continue to adore Keats's lush, sensuous language and his odes to beauty, nature, and love, which can deeply resonate with some of my own poetry's yearning and delicacy.
Emily Dickinson - Dickinson's quiet intensity and exploration of death, eternity, and inner life has appeal to my introspective side.
She and I share a fierce independence of spirit and a love for solitude.
Edna St. Vincent Millay - I admire Millay's bold, feminist voice and her exploration of desire and independence.
Millay's mastery of sonnet form and ability to capture the fleetingness of passion has after multiple readings come to resonate with me.
Pablo Neruda - Known for his passionate love poems and deep connection to nature, Neruda has come to enchant me with his visceral imagery and emotional honesty.
His poems about the natural world might feel like kin ship to me, my own.
Mary Oliver - I feel at home in Oliver's reflective, nature-based poetry.
I have come to love Oliver's reverence for the world, finding in it a continuation of her own themes of beauty and spiritual communion with nature.
Sylvia Plath - I would definitely appreciate Plath's courage in delving into the complexities of self, identity, and mental struggle.
While my tone of poetry has now through evolution grown more gentler, I feel a kinship in Plath's exploration of one's inner life.
Rainer Maria Rilke - With his mystical tone and contemplative exploration of love and solitude, Rilke would be a poet that I have come to admire.
His 'Letters to a Young Poet' would also resonate as advice one might give to aspiring poets.
Louise Glück - Known for her somber tone and introspective lyricism, Glück would fascinate me with her exploration of loss, longing, and family dynamics.
I admire Glück's precision and haunting imagery.
Langston Hughes - I would appreciate Hughes's musicality, social consciousness, and exploration of personal and collective identity.
His poems on love, hope, and perseverance would feel to me like hymns of survival and resilience.
Ada Limón - I would likely be drawn to Limón's modern voice and her intimate, conversational style that draws readers into an emotional landscape. Limón's poems of self-acceptance, connection to nature, and resilience would feel like a refreshing evolution of the lyricism that I have come to cherish.
My Interpretation: Glenn Hughes Lyric:
In the space of a short span Mother can you see
the exactitudes that human I've been tryin' to see you
measure can be achieved if Cuz the line is free
the powers that be partake Now they're tellin' me
within said time of the hour Stop shakin' like a feather
mind control of its recipient On the count of three
purposed by the War Dept.
Be a.k.a., War Machine that Back in '69
take all known from yonder We never learned our lesson
space of a short span, turn Down in Vietnam
to short spin of actual news I refuse to sign
It doesn't really matter
calls and worded letters an They don't give a damn
urgent warning a nation its
new emperor wears a new I don't care what you want
clothes "Hear ye vainglory." And I roll with the fear
What's here is NOT there, You don't hear nothin'
and I am grateful for that A sad waste of life
truth, but to spin it in any When we go to war
fashion as being anything Won't you hear somethin'
but...
NAM undeniably benumb Father you cry
death then permeates all When we go to war
the patty fields of grains What is it for?
of rice guised as desert
grains of sand. Death is Brother is that you?
bears out truly that our So get a little closer
New Emperor at home I can't feel your breath
is as naked as sin can We're the chosen few
ever be... Out there in the desert
There's a smell of death.
Family--Mom, Brother,
Dad, let me be some-
body and not a made
up nobody. I want to
be your Bro. again, I
I want to be your Son
again, I want to be
Glenn Hughes again,
plain Ole American.
'You are the music', the guitar strings of my favourite song.
Your lyrics 'touch my life,' as you are the twin to my soul.
What 'am I' without you, when all melodies sound so wrong.
I'll never question 'what is a woman's role' in rock and roll.
Your lyrics touch my life, as you are the twin to my soul.
My 'midnight flyer' your spirit glows like a 'seafull' of stars.
I'll never question what is a woman's role in rock and roll.
When life 'makes you wanna cry' we can create memoirs.
My midnight flyer your spirit glows like a seafull of stars.
When you 'send me no more letters,' I'll ignore the post.
When life makes you wanna cry we can create memoirs,
I'll follow your footsteps, roaming from 'coast to coast.'
When you send me no more letters, I'll ignore the post,
wondering 'will our love end,' before the ultimate vow.
I'll follow your footsteps, roaming from coast to coast,
until you serenade about 'feelin' so much better now.'
Wondering will our love end, before the ultimate vow,
'it's only a dream,' but you get 'nothin' for nothing,'
until you serenade about feelin' so much better now.
'Your love is allright' when your muse is soft and loving.
It's only a dream, but you get nothin' for nothing.
It hurts 'way back to the bone' when you leave me alone.
Your love is allright when your muse is soft and loving.
'Black clouds' fade to white when I hear your sweet tone.
It hurts way back to the bone when you leave me alone.
I feel like a 'loser' playing solo to a 'jury' of 'back street love.'
Black clouds fade to white when I hear your sweet tone.
I ain't 'keepin' time,' but it's just 'another day' of grey skies above.
I feel like a 'loser' playing solo to a 'jury' of 'back street love.'
What 'am I' without you, when all melodies sound so wrong.
I ain't 'keepin' time.' but it's just 'another day' of grey skies above.
'You are the music', the guitar strings of my favourite song.
21 songs from Glenn Hughes with Trapeze:
What is a woman's role
You are the music
Touch my life
Am i
Seafull
Midnight flyer
Makes you wanna cry
Coast to coast
Send me no more letters
Feelin so much better now
Will our love end
Nothin' for nothing
It's only a dream
Your love is allright
Way back to the bone
Black cloud
Jury
Loser
Back street love
Keepin' time
Another day
“Life is for the living.
Death is for the dead.
Let life be like music.
And death a note unsaid.”
Langston Hughes, The Collected Poems
Sorrow whispers through the silence
Creating feelings of sadness and grief
Light caresses from broken dreams
Of the moments spent sharing time
With reflections of hope, faith and love
Inspired by the God who gives us all
A promise of grace which heals the hurt
Mourning comes like a gentle rain
Splashing through the broken regrets
Filling the thoughts with melancholy
Desolation that touches the spirit
With dejection and misery that stills
The voice of happiness with a gloomy
Touch of despair that knows to weep
Lamenting the path that led to passing
Sealing feelings of anguish in glass like
Fear, wondering and wishing, remembering
All the laughter and love, the lasting light
Flowing through the darkness of night
Into the spirit of those who knew this life
Filled with so much joy, insight and courage
Wisdom will tell you to let the past go
Remember the good and forget the woe
But the soul who listens to the silent ache
Knows that this mystery of a heart breaking
Leaves no way to dissuade the memories
Memorials to one who gave so much love
From a heart that was filled with vision
Bereavement does more than break the weary heart
It deafens the voice of reason that tells you
To give into the joy that comes from above
Bringing down recollections of all that was
A part of this beautiful life – this light and love
The wonder of this life who gave so much
And will be missed by all who knew them best
Death destroys even the silent kindness
Gripping the spirit with a desperation that
Fills the thoughts with angst and anxiety
Feelings so pure they rake across crimson veins
Pricking the frail arteries of disillusionment
Discouraging the face that prays for relief
From this sorrow that we all call grief
Mortality embraces the spirit with a black coat
Of gloomy dread, unfolding the hopelessness
That lives within the foreboding of dismay
Which comes from the one who listens to
That evil onslaught of discouragement
Sprinkled across the mind of one who is afraid
This inconsolable heart will never feel joy again
Open Poetry 1 Contest
Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot
January 23, 2021
"The Spite Syllabub"
The daughter
is not
The mother
Sylvia’s bees were
left milk, bread and butter
Plath by name
but not
the daughter’s path
in evolving nature
not the mother
nor the father
Love for art’s sake
Art not for Love’s sake
Amy G. Dala
a spoonful of honey
taken with the medicine
This is Love
The tincture labelled:
The Spite Syllabub
three measures
the mother, the father, the son
take
swallow slowly
survive
daughter is the legacy
daughter learns to run
a lesson in love
Love for art’s sake
Art not for Love’s sake
Done.
(Ladylabyrinth / 2020)
"Moonlight" / FOALS
https://youtu.be/s9DMDulMIz4
1.
"The Grief Equation" /Frieda Hughes, Plath's daughter
https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-27377434?SThisFB&fbclid=IwAR0-rAuEMLovUMiMndUcme2Sic3A-OoDiJkHd857ulBwxlk4KXY3cAxHb9Q
2. "Poetry and Co-dependency" / Plath & Hughes
https://youtu.be/hmArLszft3w
3. "Sylvia Plath" (1 of 6)
https://youtu.be/V1QA985lhSQ
(2 of 6)
https://youtu.be/k1ecb6bRfk0
(3 of 6)
https://youtu.be/uDq0trKqyj8
(4 of 6) Bees
https://youtu.be/7lJPFA2JXnk
(5 of 6)
https://youtu.be/Ef5Zypngx6o
(6 of 6)
https://youtu.be/iK6b39hoeGM
4. Hughes & Assia Wevill (Mistress)
https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/1999/apr/23/features11.g21
5. Frieda Hughes (daughter)
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/may/28/frieda-hughes-i-felt-my-parents-were-stolen
"Frieda Hughes, daughter of poets Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, is the author of Stonepicker and the Book of Mirrors (Harper Collins, 2009), Forty-Five (Harper Collins, 2006), Waxworks (Harper Collins, 2002), and Wooroloo (Harper Flamingo, 1998). She lives in Wales."
Poetry, books / Frieda Hughes
https://www.friedahughes.com/books.html
"45" / Frieda Hughes
https://www.popmatters.com/forty-five-poems-by-frieda-hughes-2496154001.html
"Moonlight" / FOALS, Lyrics:
https://genius.com/Foals-moonlight-lyrics
Suicide Prevention / Global Hotlines
http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines
An Unwelcome Surprise at the Family Reunion
By Elton Camp
“We certainly do hope that all his descendents will choose
To attend the reunion of the family of Grandfather Hughes.”
The newspaper announced the gathering’s time & location
To recall and praise a man so distinguished, with admiration
Grandfather has been a prominent and wealthy physician
Who had all that was expected of a man in his position
He and Grandmother resided in a most imposing estate
They were tended by maids, butlers and servants galore
For an honored ancestor they couldn’t really ask for more
But I must admit that most relatives looked down their nose
At those who didn’t have, as a noble ancestor, one of those
For snobs to say, “Of course you know that I am a Hughes”
Was a request for deference that very few would dare refuse
The family gathering began in the ballroom of the finest hotel
Men with tuxes and women in long dresses, looking so swell
All, their professions, wealth and accomplishments did mention
To inspire jealously with pretentiousness was their intention
At that moment, a family of blacks walked through the door
Their very presence the Hughes family did quite openly abhor
“It is obvious that you people made a mistake in coming here.
The service entrance for menial hotel workers is in the rear.”
“You mean this here ain’t the Hughes family’s big meeting?
I thought it was high time that my relatives I was greeting.”
Through the room gasps and expressions of outrage spread
Two fine ladies fainted away almost as if they were dead
The oldest Hughes came over and quietly grasped his arm
“Let me show you out so that the reunion you don’t alarm.
Your mistake is natural and it’s not any cause for blame.
Many unrelated people actually will share the same name.”
“No, no this is the place I meant to come I definitely know.”
The black man then extended his hand and called him “bro”
“You are mistaken man, for it is clear that you are a spade.”
“Only partly, bro. My father was from Mr. Hughes’ maid.”
Because of that, the reunion was never held any more
The Hughes clan felt it couldn’t be as it had been before
Bigotry was proved stronger than family ties that way
At least that is what all others in town did laugh and say
There is no denying this feeling,
Butterflies fluttering with dread inside.
The melancholy sound of the blind man cries,
Echoes like sorrows in the corners of pain,
Lamenting like a melody so full of angst,
The devil smiling triumphantly, perched on his shoulder.
Sorrows so deep,
Keeping me up at nights,
Searching desperately for an inkling of light,
Listening to Glenn Hughes to help me through the night.
Darkness envelops me in all its might.
When a blind man cries, you know without a doubt
It’s a cry of agony felt from the very depth of his soul.
The one that promised forever is now playing a different tune;
A new lover’s lips are being explored,
Sweet nothings prose-penned to expose
The deep emotions evoked with a certain look—
That’s all it took, no need for goodbyes.
Sorrows so deep,
Keeping me up at nights,
Searching desperately for an inkling of light,
Listening to Glenn Hughes to help me through the night.
Falling on my knees, begging for mercy,
Calling all angels to wipe these tears away,
Promising my earthly life and all that I have
For the return of your embrace.
Not caring, the blood escapes and trickles,
Cutting all ties as I cry along to “When a Blind Man Cries.”
Clutching my chest as the scream is muffled,
Enveloped in darkness, a sorrow so great—
No light within and no light without sight,
A distorted picture of a man in plight.
The danger is so real as he curls up broken.
Sorrows so deep,
Keeping me up at nights,
Searching desperately for an inkling of light,
Listening to Glenn Hughes to help me through the night.
Pulling him from the pit of misery,
His ears straining and feeling a flutter of hope,
As the record player is playing the last hurrah.
A blind man’s eyes still weep,
A blind man’s heart still feels.
He crawls over and gingerly drops another beat.
Sorrows so deep,
Keeping me up at nights,
Searching desperately for an inkling of light,
Listening to Glenn Hughes to help me through the night.
When a blind man cries,
He hears No Stranger to Love,
Released by Glenn Hughes in 1986.
No longer in darkness, the eyes now see.
Music and the legend behind the lyrics
Will always be there when the blind man cries.
The Menacing Stranger At ShopCo-'Tar-zhay' - A Narrative Poem
One day at a dress shop,
I met a man selling shoes,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some hushes.
A fence, also known as a receiver,
A mover, this an individual who knowingly buys stolen goods.
Now secretly selling now to later resell them for profit
So dishonest?
"Got any shoes?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No hughes here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely dresses,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some guesses."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally beautiful,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call dutiful,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit tall.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty cool.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the dress shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearten,
"I can help you I believe."
"Shoes, hughes, you shall find.
Lulus JACQUELINE CHAMPAGNE FLORA dresses,
guesses, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to ShopCo 'Tar-zhay' .
So to ShopCo Tar-zhay I decided to go,
In search of the hughes I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling rings,
Barbies doll in many shades.
There were even stalls selling wings
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather tall
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all cool.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some hughes!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some dresses and shoes.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the hughes she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
Lulus JACQUELINE CHAMPAGNE FLORA dresses,
guesses, you can't get at ShopCo-'Tar-zhay'
Ha! Ha! Ha! the man laughs
4/5/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Inspired by song "Mystery Of The Heart"
of Hughes Turner Project (Album 1)
In the flushing garden path
we walked entranced,
the scarlet sun with the spectrum of dawn
held us within the sequined mist
of the sparkling sky.
You saw my heart contoured
by the crimson curves of mystique cloud,
but not for very long,
for the rainstorm dissolved the sky,
you disappeared beyond the rainbow arch.
Over the waves of the desert dunes,
we trudged with rhythmic excitement,
until on reaching the verdant oasis
you melted away like mirage,
swept away by the desert storm of yearning,
stowed in opaque oblivion.
On the silver sands of the deserted dunes
we traced the entwined fervent footprints.
The rolling sand waves adorned
the pearly lattice on your ivory feet.
As the tide of time erased my trail,
you now walk with poignant impulse
through the miasma of cascading moonbeam
that has enveloped my love for you.
The dazzling dawn of my desire veneers
your heart’s horizon with halcyon hues,
spreads the sunburst tinges
of my timeless longing for you.
Your emotive spectrum of colour
painted a long time ago,
the panorama of the golden garden
in my heart’s canvas,
blooming with the luster of love, now lost.
Flowing in the captivating current
of your magnetic attraction,
my possessed passion sails
to the moonlit bay of beguiled splendor,
where your elfin image embroiders
the constellation of stars in the sky
of my furtive heart,
where I preserve the stellar shine.
On the trail of sorrow I trudge my life through,
wander aimlessly in the wasteland
of waning memory of the time past.
The splinters of my mystique heart sigh silently,
searching for you in the ruins of crumbled dreams,
as the sparkle of your smile
still lingers lighting up the desolate garden path,
wrapped with the wilted leaves of winter.
Their rustle echoes your songs for me,
long lost beyond the still shore of silence.
When in the seraphic spring
you’re embraced by euphoric exuberance,
you will never know
the secrets of my pining furtive heart,
how much it misses your world,
where I want to be before I walk the last mile.
To you, Langston, I pay my dues
You paint my world in lovely hues
Your words a balm to troubled soul
Whose dreams like yours, remain on hold
Langston, I stand behind the wall
I stand here too, feeling so small
Please teach me how to get on through
Teach me, Langston, to be like you
A “Dream Keeper” you claim to be
Keep the “rough hands” away from me
Like me, you wrote of ending life
Sick of injustice and the strife
Though often like me, your soul torn,
Said, “But for livin' I was born”
Heartbroken, and about to cry
You wouldn't let her see you die
“Life is fine, fine like wine, life is fine”
Yes, Dear Mr Hughes, it is sublime
I wish you had not died, my dear
When I was born, same month and year
But know your words are yet alive
Your passion and thoughts make me thrive
Here’s looking at you, Mr. Hughes
You do help chase away my blues
“The night comes gently black like” you
I wish you knew, I love you true!!!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Dream Keeper
"Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world."
Langston Hughes
As I Grew Older
It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun-
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky-
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!
Langston Hughes
PS...I love this poet. I love his work. I love his spirit. If you get a chance, read his poem, Life is Fine...He was jilted by his girlfriend and tried to commit suicide but in the end, he decided that life was too good to waste! ;) I made a reference to this in my poem. Amazing....Also, read Dream Variations or Dreams....I love this man! :)