Long Hurrying Poems
Long Hurrying Poems. Below are the most popular long Hurrying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hurrying poems by poem length and keyword.
This grim February, away from Africa,
where this beauty offends no one,
where no preference for safety,
Far away from Love,
I heard the echoes of war,
unfriendly torrents rippling the air,
ambition suspended,
in the middle of nowhere,
mundane things now ephemeral
was there money in the Bank?
The vicissitudes of life,
I joined the speedy flight for safety,
amidst countless confused faces
hurrying to the Polish pole,
Wearied through the wintry nights
hungered, frightened and pale.
seeking kindness in the gloom
At the Border, fleeing to safety from war,
They Pierce me without a sword,
they cut so deep through the pains of bygone years.
“You are not welcome here.”
My Offence,
I am African.
Just another holiday coming round in the season
as the weather changes warm to cold.
A chill upon the body cooling the spirits
to tepid memories long passed.
Thanksgiving full of laughter
gatherings of family and old friends
at the table in prayer and gratitude.
Grateful to be here, saddened at the absence
who once filled our lives and chairs.
Christmas just around the bend
with lists down to the floor
not filled with need, just wanting more.
A multitude of lights, blinking and still
colors dancing on the wires galore
decorative memories well stored.
Here it comes once again the lighting of the trees
wrappings and endless tags present unseen.
Magic in the air, carols played continuously everywhere
hustle, bustle crowds everywhere hurrying with care.
Children good and well behaved, dreaming of all they crave
waiting less patient in untempered anticipation of the day.
Just another holiday, no, not quite
this one filled with wild-eyed delight.
So, happy holidays, good wishes to all
may it set your spirits free on Hanukah, Kwanza or Christmas
whatever day that encourages you to believe
may it bring you the love and peace God sends you on this day.
It’s over, It’s over
I hate it when it’s like this
But it’s over, It’s over
I hate it that it’s like this
But it’s over
My success is stress
Whether I see forth fit
My chance to exhibit a new exhibition
Pivoting a broken tradition
My pen and pad
The only utensils to accompany me on this expedition
Put my life in words, day by day
Now in the verdict, you can feel my pain
Gave you tragedy after tragedy
Disaster after triumph, conceal my shame
I’m rushing this book, cause I’ve been sitting here
Coping and pasting material to paper
Scratching my head, when thoughts vanish like vapor
To withstand my span with writing
I put it together like thunder and lightning
Worrying faces, plea bargain hurrying cases
Walking down Forsyth
Got me desperate for that life “Like”
Lost tears as they bury your peers
Another freeway accident
Times like those
We see our seat belts and attempt to fasten it
Shed the possibility
Of becoming dead by not accepting reality
I hate it when it’s like this
But it’s over, it’s over
I hate it when it’s like this
But it’s over, it’s over
As we wave goodbye to august
the last picnic the last nature hike
before the hustle and bustle of
school starting summers ending
moms hurrying children to get
immunisation holding records
transcript’s school bus schedule
finally the packet filled with papers
to sign for field trip forms picture
pamphlet permission slips emergency
contact form medication list
allergies finally the physical forms
attached with sports application
football soccer volleyball basketball
cheerleading karate after school
programs orchestra band theatre
connected with the boys and girls
club and the ymca changing the
calendar September is in view
the principal smiles as all the teachers
clean and stock their new classroom
awaiting the meet and greet pleasant
school staff I collect the fall festival
tickets start up the kettle corn machine
new assistant principal says to me
you’re an angel indeed die hard PTA
making my rounds helping to keep
my focus on this coming school year
parents raising their hands asking
questions where’s the bus schedule
my child gets motion sickness he has
peanut allergies I introduce her to the
nurse calming her fears instantly
what day and time is early release
let us wave goodbye to august and
have a wonderful safe school year
It happens
as if stirred by some
deep prompting rising up
out of a common soul,
a voice in search of a language
to write its existence
across the pages
of a passing mind.
The soft morning light
pooling beneath hurrying feet,
the cypress trees
along the foreshore time frozen
in their wind bent posture,
the motion of waves
withering into a slow soak
up the beach -
all seem to have something
to say.
I have felt a pen press
upon my mind, struggle
to find a space free
from the cramp of my own self
on which to record
the shape and sounds
of a joy or give form
to a longing freed
from the grip of shadow.
I have felt the cry
of things trapped
in the hollows of words
like empty sea shells held
to the ear and tried faithfully
to transcribe what was said.
In my solitude I have
called out hoping
for a reply only to hear
the sound of my own pulse
punctuate a terrible silence
Words fail
Meaning blurry;
Nothing rhymes
~~~~~~~~~
Upstairs apartment
Renovation works;
Pneumatic floor blast
~~~~~~~~~
Idle talk punctuates
Not much meaning;
Bizarre thoughts
~~~~~~~~~
Sonic headache
Disturbing pounding;
Head time-bomb ticking
~~~~~~~~~
Constipated movie
Suspicious assumptions;
Character flaws
~~~~~~~~~
Dragonfly pond
Lotus flowers bloom;
Mud bed ascend
~~~~~~~~~
Brief excursion
Exploration;
Abrupt exfoliation
~~~~~~~~~
Beauty delights
Ample assets;
Tipsy tryst
~~~~~~~~~
Orange butterflies
Dazzling flights;
Breezy patterns
~~~~~~~~~
Wavy handwriting
Cursive scripts swirl;
Verse outburst
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy somnolence
Mid afternoon fare;
Lazy disposition
~~~~~~~~~
Word tiles
Pattern styles;
Thought textures
~~~~~~~~~
Black bird trio
Choral message;
Lightning crackle
~~~~~~~~~
Sound tact
Sure act;
Solid fact
~~~~~~~~~
Busy bee
Blooming finds;
Flower power
~~~~~~~~~
Day ascends
Midday sun strokes;
Positive feedback
~~~~~~~~~
Monday stirrings
Weekday routines call;
Noisy hurrying
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 June 2015
Singapore
There is a river nearby
A black green mystery of water
That standing at one end
One can hardly see the dim
Outline of trees on the other side.
The river is deep
And in the stillness
Of early morning
A mist comes
Off it
So thick and impervious
That you literally can't
See your hand
In front of your face.
We frequented the place
My father and I
On Sunday mornings
After the sun burned the mist away
I, as usual, hurrying up
To keep up with him.
Years later when I left home
My father shook my hand
A formality I was
Unaccustomed to
And one that left me puzzled.
Awkwardly, we said goodbye
Then he walked away
His broad back
Slowly fading
Into the caverns of Grand Central
Until he disappeared
In the noise and smoke of
The station.
When the train whistle blew
My heart jumped
I felt a thrill
Of adventure
My life had a purpose
Finally, I was on my own!
Events tell a story
I made mistakes
Stumbling from impossible dreams
To vague ideas
And found that loneliness
Was all intimidating
Painfully, I realized
All I had to offer life
Was my own confusion.
Not every life has a storybook ending
And mine was no different
I retuned home
After one year.
Restless one night
I stood on the river's edge
Listening to a solitary boat crossing the river
Plying its cargo up and down the coast
In the darkness a buoy gave up its warning
A deep clanging sound in the mist
Turning to see where the sound came from
I stood motionless
And listened
There was nothing but silence
And the soft lapping of waves on the shore
As it was since the beginning of time.
In the quiet
I remembered the early morning walks with my father
A familiar Sunday morning ritual
I now missed.
Overhead a moon shone
Casting a pale light on everyone and everything
And I stood still
Knowing that I had lost my way
Knowing that the river was calling from the night
Knowing that I was a solitary figure
Lost in America.
Acts 14:17 (KJV) “Nevertheless he left not himself without witness, in that he did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.”
Dew drenched mornings soften the spirit’s longings,
Drowning the night in impatient dreams,
Hungry for the hope of a morning who silences the night,
With all its dark shadows, gloomy and distant,
In colors of grief and woe, hurrying through parted seas
Sprays of loneliness and melancholy,
Bleeding impressions all through the twilight’s flames,
Fireflies risking all they have to simply say,
Life is more than merely shadows and pain,
There is wonder that stills a heart’s tears with summer rain,
Gently blessing the forests, the hills, the oaks
All the stories who return light to the morning desires,
As winds whistle through the skies, goosebumps,
Trembling on the edges of a prayer,
Sent to heaven on the wings of true love,
Who knows that this is the song of a sunlight muse,
Abiding in the rhythm of heartfelt truths,
Pouring down, showers of insight and beauty,
Graceful as the sigh who breaths out yesterday’s song,
Glowing quietly on the heart who believes
Through it all, summer’s rain nurtures and prolongs,
Bleeding hope through the dreary afternoon,
Bringing a chorus of richest splendor in streams of praise,
Drizzling over the moon and sun in faded devotion,
Alive, like the gentle in a grace,
Soothing the silence and making a way
For the gladness of summer’s acclaim,
Rushing into the thunder like souls bound by faith.
When it rains in summer, the joy is abundant,
Like the all-consuming way…
Sunlight releases the day and instructs the hills to pray,
For the rain to fall, to play, but then,
Turn and walk away – just walk away…
Raining in summer colors the heart in gray,
But promises the soul it will not betray…
Where the rain falls, the sunlight follows,
Restoring the music of each song the rain will sing,
Like a heart who is famished and finds food,
Summer’s rain restores the gentle with its flow.
Summer’s rain is the answer to nature’s yearning for hope to grow.
One Man’s Opinion
Miracle Man
4/16/2024
Fueled by illegals,
who invade our borders.
Are they seeking a chance,
or to become resource hoarders?
Their dogmas are hurrying,
Americas downtrend.
The American Dream,
is beginning to end.
Their goal is to see,
our country realigned.
So they cluster in areas,
and elect their own kind.
They elect Socialist progressives,
who oppose every move.
Without backbone and the wall,
our plight won’t improve.
Now, each place that we go,
we can no longer feel secure.
Take away the free stuff,
and America loses its allure.
We supply for all their needs,
on the day they arrive.
While our own poor struggle,
to make ends meet and survive
Each day as I await your safe return
For you my heart doth pine and yearn
The one I love so very true
Where inside my soul there is a place for you
I listen intently to the wind that gently blows
What does it say, only God Knows?
But I swear I can hear your gentle tones
Like water trickling over pebbles and stones
Carried to me across time and tide
Messages of love that cannot hide
From the swaying Trees that sweetly bow
Trying to convey your messages to me somehow
Only I can see and hear
This vision of the one I hold so dear
Your face I see in a passing cloud
Which, makes me desire, to shout out loud
The wind just whistles through the trees
Whilst my heart, metaphorically, is somewhere near my knees
Because I can hear and see you but you are not there
It is just a dream coming through the air
So much I love you, miss your touch
That is how it is, when you love someone, so very much
The Wind must have listened to my plea
And will send you hurrying home to me
So I can feel your tender kiss
And the smile I always miss
To have you in my arms again
The only way to ease my pain
So Wind that gently whispers out her name
Please grant my wishes all the same
To be so in love just hurts so much
I do so miss her magic touch
But for now I have you in my dreams
Even though my heart inside just screams
I love you I love you with all my heart
And it hurts so much to be apart
But solace is gained from my friend the gentle breeze
Whose voice I hear just like an Angels sneeze
And when raindrops fall it is like an Angels tears
Sent from heaven to wash away my fears
So as I walk slowly in my dreamlike trance
My heart sings and leads me a merry dance
On the wind you are always there for me
Because I love you so, and you love me
My friendly wind, never desert me, never leave
For without you my heart would grieve
As long as I have you my friend
My love will always be with me till the very end