Long Human Poems
Long Human Poems. Below are the most popular long Human by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Human poems by poem length and keyword.
"The Queen's Slippers - Part 2"
There goes my heart
with bags packed
no turning back
or final wave
seated hooded next to huntsman
innocent, gauche, temperamental
There will come a time
to save,
but save oneself
on this dark road,
one must -
There will come a time
to talk,
but walk the talk
on this dark road by oneself
‘tis the True Lesson,
to Win-Win,
one must.
A gold wedding ring
A delicate diamante crucifix
An open heart
Some words inscribed
Latin to remember
casually tossed aside
Sterling Silver
broken in seconds
That is the past
Life now beckons.
Lost. Much later. Lost.
A Soothsayer sees –
A Soothsayer knows.
A Soothsayer has walked
the same Road.
Bluebird's and Cuckoo's nests
glittery material things
carrots dangled by withered carrion minds;
True wealth are the hidden maps
buried in the Lost Forrest of Time.
There is an owl it perches
on my heart
digs it’s talons in like
nine inch nails piercing
it softly hoots, too diabolical
for screeching
The Owl slowly turns it’s eyes
towards the Reader
a silent voyeur trespassing on the kill,
it digs it’s talons in sharper
blood flows claret stained
drop by drop
into the Poison Chalice, again,
blood flows warm and free
it’s pumping with life yet, see?
Soon, too soon it will come
tomorrows are never guaranteed.
Above it’s right talon a sterling silver anklet
it holds life in balance, still,
Warm with life
Cold with death
The fine line drawn between
Imperious over lifeblood’s flow
Inscribed, in font Gothic,
The Owl’s name is POE
Gently, the writer places the hood over POE’s eyes and kisses the top of his head. Our writer, dear reader, brings out her Queen’s Slippers. Hearts are in her mind, she’s playing “NO TRUMPS”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
1. In Australia, the Joker in the Queen's Slipper brand of playing cards depicts a Kookaburra, a bird native to Australia with a call that famously resembles human laughter. In Australian games of 500, the Joker is often referred to colloquially as "The Bird"
2. "Do You Love Me", Nick Cave
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZGPB4463mM
3. "The Day the World Went Away", NIN
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YtmI6j3R-Y0
If a “friend” cancels you like a stamp, they never were you
friend in the first place!
Friends give people space to be themslves! They welcomed you,
and trusted you in their heart’s space,
Moreover, not one of us wants a friend, that thinks they are a god.
A Mr.or Mrs, stuffed shirt, an inelligensia of know it all?
A friend need not be a Ph,D to us, nor flash her or hishatred in our face.
That is an inhumane, arrogant disgrace!
Just someone who truly cares about us, who and honors us as we are!
With understanding, grace andd gentleness, of and compassion beyond par!
And always remembers.. we all part of the human race,
By God’s most kind and generous holy grace.
Hatred and genocide in any, a hideous and ugly face!
1/26/2025
In a realm where shadows dance, the world will be but a howl of pain and ecstasy,
Where the purest among men, in their quest for sanctuary,
Shall find themselves teetering on the brink of weariness,
Facing a choice that echoes with the agony of despair and its emptiness.
The skies painted with hues of sorrow, the earth a canvas of tears,
In this melancholic landscape, the heart battles its fears.
The whispers of the wind carry secrets from ancient legends,
Tales of souls who wandered, seeking something more.
Among the ruins of dreams, where hope once proudly stood,
The echoes of laughter now drowned in a somber flood.
Those with pure hearts, in their silent vigil, watch the world crumble,
Clinging to fragments of light, as dusk turns endlessly gray.
In the labyrinth of thoughts, where consciousness flows like rivers,
The mind wrestles with torment, the body shivers.
Metaphors dance in the twilight, weaving ancient tapestries,
Stories of agony and ecstasy, in whispers, they are told.
The choice of agony, an open path where shadows tread,
Where the soul's lament is a song of the dead.
Yet, in the heart of darkness, where despair seems to reign,
There lies a flicker of hope, a respite from the pain.
For in weariness, there is a surrender, a silent plea,
To find solace in the void, where the spirit can be free.
The purest among men, with hearts heavy and worn,
Seek refuge in weariness, a sanctuary from the storm.
The howl of the world, a symphony of sadness and delight,
A paradox of existence, where day merges with night.
In this magical journey, where consciousness flows unbound,
The soul seeks meaning in the melancholic sound.
The choice of agony, a testament to human suffering,
Where weariness becomes a beacon, a guiding light.
For in the depths of despair, there lies a hidden grace,
A promise of redemption, in life's intricate maze.
The purest among men, in their silent contemplation,
Find strength in weariness, a profound revelation.
The howl of the world, a reminder of the fragility of being,
A call to embrace the pain, to find the true meaning.
In the heart of this melancholy, where shadows intertwine,
The soul discovers its essence, in the esoteric divine.
The choice of agony, a journey through the soul's night,
Where weariness reveals the path to the eternal light.
This story may or may not be true
My sister liked visiting graveyards at night,
I was invited but said count me out,
she laughed when I begged please take this light,
lanterns are handy when ghosts are about!
When she arrived at the sad cemetary,
(timed it quite right for the late midnight hour)
the wind it did woo a wierd commentary,
but nothing on earth could make sister cower.
She stepped on a stone and then heard it moan,
go away human, just leave me alone!
She never again asked to visit a graveyard at night,
and will always refuse to turn off the light!
For those avid crossword groupies of which I are one,
I'm offering free of charge vital data to add to your fun.
So you're stuck on 15-down for the name of a barren of mules!
Groups of creatures you can now name if you use this set of rules!
A group of apes is a shrewdness and a gang of asses is a pace.
Tigers are a streak and you'd better streak should they give chase!
Can you believe that skittish plovers are called a congregation?
(I wonder, perhaps Baptist, Lutheran, Catholic or other denomination?)
You might see a cackle of hyenas or a tower of giraffes at zoos,
Or if on a Kenyan safari a bloat of hippos or a fleet herd of gnus.
The name for a prickle of porcupines is an appropriate moniker for sure!
A sleek bunch of ferrets is called a business, and, why, I'm unsure.
Pesky squirrels are called a scurry and a warren is for rabbits.
(There are many warrens of rabbits due to their promiscuous habits!)
Badgers are grouped as a cete and leopards are known as a leap;
Moles are known as a labor and a herd or drove identifies sheep.
Parliaments of owls meet in trees and eagles in convocations.
Jellyfish waft about in smacks and peacocks strut in ostentations!
Screeching cormorants are a gulp which sounds mighty weird.
Steer clear of a crash of rhinos since they are to be feared!
Charming finches are called a charm and larks an exaltation,
Turkeys a rafter, frogs an army and starlings a murmuration.
Locusts are known as a plague and cockroaches an intrusion.
An unkindness of ravens and their raucous caws just causes confusion!
Groups of humans are known as Republicans, Democrats or Nazarenes,
Jerks and morons but this barely includes all human species by any means!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIxWCitIH-E&t=74s
The whole wide world is one giant clock a face of illuminate loveliness,
the dial is a shadow forever nonchalant, passing through each day
invisibly each night, the human race sleeps/discerns, tick tock, tick tock,
oh the pulse, oh the vibration, oh that spring coil of gravitation,
careful not to over wind it, as the celestial key turns, tick tock, tick tock
the whole wide world is one giant clock, a face of illuminate loveliness;
This wholesome world is a ball of fire , we are the salt of the earth
mile after mile we trudge towards existence though nothing can allay
the cravings of the soul better then life itself, tick tock, tick tock,
Providence takes us by the hand so there is no need to apprehend,
catch and release the wind its all about push n' pull, tick tock, tick tock
the entire world is one giant clock, illuminated by the handles of time.
Tick tock, tick tock, don't blow this time. xo xo
Written by: Harry J Horsman & Mystic Rose
"A special thanks goes to Harry for this precious collaboration"
/5/2020
By Phan Tan Hai
There was a time I suddenly took form—
from a speck of dust blown off a snowy peak,
carried by a small wind
into a body of five gentle aggregates, breathing;
I too learned to walk, to speak, to laugh like humankind,
and tried writing poems, my hands still cold with sky-clouds.
There was a time I also took form
as a little boy dozing off at noon,
dreaming I was a river searching for the sea waiting ahead,
while Mother taught me letters, taught me sounds,
from sacred pages she said I must study with care.
There was a time my breath became lines of script
falling like rain from ten thousand Dhammapada verses,
so that all my life I would be tender with each written word;
for when the hand stops, poetry turns into fire,
burning the pages of stories from a thousand past lives.
There was a time I felt myself a forest of leaves,
echoing the whispers of the Blessed One’s ancient teachings;
then leaves fell into rivers, dissolving into earth,
and the Tibetan sutras suddenly turned into written words—
my eyes wet upon meeting this strange human realm again.
Then the ink carried questions from former lives,
bearing the hardships of this world through its quiet weeping;
waking at midnight, remembering the Dragon Girl’s question:
has anyone seen the footsteps toward a peaceful path,
stringing pearls across the pages I offer to humankind.
In one life I was the bell on Yên T? Mountain;
in one life I was the chanting of sutras on Tibetan hills;
in one life I was a wooden statue pondering the wordless Dharma;
in one life I was a tear upon a Sanskrit scripture.
One day I will stop the stream of words,
smile and greet the fading sunlight,
listen to the rain at the old riverbank—
with nowhere to go, nowhere to return.
Fade Out
Of course an actor must create a role,
but in a sense, the role will shape the actor.
How do we, then, identify the factors
which forge a human being's spiritual pole?
A work of art their only outward goal,
a group of people sought the open range.
So, did they undergo subliminal change,
or were they damaged goods before? The whole
ordeal of desert filming may, in fact,
have served to force the cracks apart, but cracked
they were, already. As with Howard Hughes,
perhaps the artifice and real life fused,
though life was bleeding out as Miller typed.
A swirl of desert dust serves as a "wipe".
Lining up for mediocre service
At the counter for the human zoo
Waiting around like stagnant Zombies
With nothing left to chew
The lifeless agent behind the bulletproof glass
Bellows out the next number in her que
Only 82 more calls and my numbers up
Setting in place my angered mood
Finally 4 gruelling hours later
I see im next in line
Then she bellows again to my dismay
Its 5 minutes to closing time
Im called up before they lock the door
She says sir theres more info you must provide
You will have to return tomorrow
Come early and get in line.
I rendered her my best pissed off smile
And said i live 2 hours away
I had to take a day off work
And lose my needed hard earned pay.
She picked up her lunch and left her booth
Disregarding every word that I conveyed
And left me reeling like a psycho killer
With my melting point swiftly on its way.
But i left without causing bodily harm
Or going Postal to satisfy my rage.
But now i understand fully how people lose control
Once you provoke them from their cage.
The wheel of the year has turned again.
New growth is on its way.
WE sow seed and watch it grow ,what we say and do is the seed of life.
There is one Earth,one human race with variations .
Our bodies replenish the Earth , our sould travel on to where we desire .
This whole world is connected ,little fish feed bigger fish, krill ,so tiny, replenish giant
whales.
One chain of life which feeds off one another, the Darwinian theory isnt evolution but
survival and the ability to adapt.
All creatures great and small adapt to their surroundings.
Only the Human Race finds this difficult to understand we kill for pleasure ,for the thrill,
for excitement for some who have closed minds.
Wearrive here naked , we leavr here naked that is an irrefutable fact even for billionairs
and kings and rulers.
So the wheel turns again in its never ending circle of life, nothing changes except some
numbers the cycle of the world stays the same in an never ending story.