Long Indoors Poems
Long Indoors Poems. Below are the most popular long Indoors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Indoors poems by poem length and keyword.
Lucky, the lattice of friendships thrown across time’s long curve—
shared laughter still ringing in the hollows we carved,
wild tales we hoard like pocketed stones, warm from the hand.
The first hello thins to a ghost now, faint as chalk on pavement after rain.
Two boys then, wide-eyed as new calves, blinking at the world’s glare.
I trace the years backward: from that pair to a ragged chorus of five,
each addition a door flung open, a shout across gardens.
We still miss the small, hesitant rap at the frame—
timid as a held breath, hopeful as first light.
There on the step, heart a trapped bird against ribs,
“Can he come out? Tell him the ball—” the plea half-swallowed,
then vanished indoors at the call of plates, the steam of stew,
gulped down fast, then out again, spilling into dusk like water from cupped hands.
Let us not surrender the feral children we carried inside us—
kings of cracked kerbs and sun-dappled alleys, our realm decreed
by nothing grander than speed and the next game.
It will not circle back. That knowledge settles like frost
on the morning the knock never answered,
and the door stayed shut, sealing the kingdom we lost.
Rise Above It
The world exists in constant flux,
a yin and yang affair;
at times, the sun shines warm and bright
and sometimes rain brings dark.
And like the weather comes and goes
in forms, some good some bad,
just like a yin and yang,
some people in our lives become
a plus or minus in our heart
with constant flux begun.
And we must rise above the bad
for sure, we will know that
our sun will show its face again
within a new-born dawn.
And as the rain may challenge us
to stay indoors, change plans
with book or task at hand,
we rise above it, fill our hours
with happy things that cheer us on;
always, our glass half-full.
Some turn from us, we know not why
which makes us wonder, guess...
But negativity removes
what positive spreads out.
So keep it wrapped 'round like a shawl
and dance in happiness...
and we can make it right.
Ignore those things that pull us down;
lift up our arms, and hum a tune.
Just smile, and rise above.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest Number 15
Sponsor: Skat A
Judged: 01/22/2018
~6th Place
Premiere Contest: Uplifting
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 08/30/2017
~5th Place~
Premiere Contest: Rise Above It
Sponsor: Becca Teagan
Judged: 06/17/2016
Back in the early '50s, my Dad believed in,
"Spare the rod, spoil a child," his lesson seeping in.
As a young growing kid, I longed for playtime's call,
Believing in the joy of games, both indoors and outdoors, I stood tall.
Mornings meant waking up to breakfast's warm delight,
Then off to the playing field, where dreams took flight.
Soccer games with friends, a ball dancing at our feet,
Laughter and competition merging, making life sweet.
Returning home, it was school's turn to take the stage,
Waiting for the bell to ring, releasing me from its cage.
Quickly escaping, my cricket team awaited outside,
Bound by the love of the game, with passion as our guide.
But my Dad had other plans, a tutor he'd employ,
Armed with a shining black ruler, ready to deploy.
Counting became a challenge, I faltered with each try,
And for every digit missed, the ruler would meet my thigh.
Alphabets came next, a daunting task to undertake,
I stumbled and missed many, inviting the ruler's wake.
With each whack, the shrieks pierced through the evening air,
Neighbors and Mom pleading, a cry for fairness to bear.
But my Dad remained unmoved, adamant in his belief,
That homework must be done, before granting any relief.
Yet one day, a lesson blossomed within my soul,
I rid myself of the tutor, and took my studies under control.
From that day forward, I delved into learning on my own,
No more ruler's sting, my independence fully grown.
I realized education could be a joy, not just a chore,
And with newfound freedom, I soared, wanting to explore.
The warmth no longer comes
it seems to only leave.
The furry ones, all
caught in hypnotic disbelief:
hardening ground's
taken root
where once
gardening grounds
(forsaken, mute)
were once and again
makin' fruit.
Each beast, shaking
like a leaf
(though, truth be told
I've only ever
seen 'em dance)
as if to compel
the sun to
sidle up
'n stay a bit.
The butterflies are all turned
to windblown, drying leaves.
The biting clouds of gnats
are now
the biting cold of early flakes.
All hatched and reared
(the secret thrush, the ungainly, splashtering loon,
the burly snakes)
as evening hurries home
to be home for the night.
It's so early, so late.
The fatted robin's gone
just as the field mice hid
from barn-now-lapcat.
This constellation of crows,
a raucous perch, tried
that hiding ploy: their clotted knotted
silhouetted faux-leaf blackening hide out
where the leaves’d lived but crows are not
meant to blot the low sun as they’d plotted...
And so it was as so its been since Oh, so ever since -
a bird of prey, answered their
plaintive caws with painted claws -
a fracturous startle from above
a crash! a cry! a scattering!
one down, one murder
still.
Nothing softens, nothing greens.
No flowering as Southern urges
force flocks into making V-lines.
Each nest left: all break routines.
Summer is souring, as frost emerges
and last-one-picked, the pines -
lefties left in left field;
icing soon, their needles their shield
and, the coach never intervenes...
The light more slow to show
more tugged and bent to slant.
The sunshafts seem to push
the cold ahead as snow by plows.
And for our part we too as well
well, we turn away, turn indoors.
We turn our dreams to
make-it-through this.
We turn our collars up,
and too, our eyes to floors.
We turn our (each seems to)
thoughts inside this shell
not towards Inner but
rather, of course, truly from-
far and away from the
Cold & Falling, closing crisp.
How unlike the Scholar's Cup!
Our husks indoors,
our thoughts follow
but burrow deeper still.
Don't blame the light
for not keeping company
so deep where hides
a fearful, frigid 'you.'
It's Autumn
all turns on
one point.
It's Autumn
Fall burns on.
It's Autumn
sun burns on
one point
(of light.)
I have never felled so alive
as now.
I had gone through much heartbreak,
that I had become numb.
I couldn't feel anything at all and
I took a break…..
On myself and my upkeep,
I stayed indoors.
I became a hermit.
I didn't eat.
I didn't clean.
I drank water occasionally,
I barricaded myself within.
No one could reach me.
I didn't want to be found,
I was detached from myself and others.
I took a break……
On life and everything in it,
I just gave up.
The hiatus on life came,
to a screeching halt
when I got off my bed
and slumber. I was tired
of the darkness, so I
opened my blinds and
let the sunlight shine
through utter darkness.
Contest: Hiatus
Date Judged: February 23, 2021
01/27/2021
Somewhere on the hardwood
Play grounders said you were good
Talent agent brought you indoors
They were really fir sure
In between the flashing lights
Gleaming and bright
Loud noises
Drowning out sociable voices
You were able to score
More and More
Traveling to different cites on a promotional sporting exhibition tour
Whether it was taking trains, planes or automobiles
You avoided the defensive steals
Moving a team from the land known for lakes
Franchise success deemed the spectacle not a fake
It was a city nicknamed angels
Fame and fortune façade had no danger
Ad mist the wild fiery glow
“It’s like you know”
A place where shaking ground could make one honestly state ‘it’s time to go’
Two or three points defined the scoring way
Navigating through the polluted gray
All done for contractual pay
For plastic
Making all these baskets
Or was the glamour true
Better than representing the red white and blue
Wearing 76er colors gold medal cool
Freedom has been under the microscopic test
Maybe it was our attitude touting ‘we are the best’
Everybody now sinks field goals in a bubble
Due to health care trouble
Staying six feet apart
Following rules from the CDC chart
Making issue not wearing face masks visiting the mini mart
Taking away life’s trusting fun
Infecting the idea ‘going out and getting sun’
Reported many are resting in peace
Not much word if there are markers acknowledging all the deceased
Many times celebrities were welcomed nice gestures
Acts could be putting on pressure
In the same fashion as an artistic academic coach professor
Remember when getting the open clear lane
During this civil game
Where not bouncing a ball is a walk
Penalized turnover people whisper and talk
Four others work together performing in the show
Passing around this round rock
Skills learned respectfully in friendly competition on the block
Swishing into the nets
Nightly one hundred a team is supposed to get
Sending people home entertained not upset
While flying in the air
Doesn’t matter who taunted the dare
It is what it is
Athletic show biz
The Catering life
It is sunny and warm on the terrace.
I sit with my face facing the sun. It is supposed to be healthy
vitamin D, and so on.
I`m not so sure, I have had skin cancer twice.
Once, I was a chef at a restaurant, and it was in the days when food was a simple affair,
a set menu and so on.
The restaurant on the first floor of the building (Pandemic closed)
they sell solid Portuguese food, not expensive, and suitable for the Fado
I like this place as it has big tables.
We don’t make food anymore. We ring and get it delivered
from a small café run by a Palestine couple, they also serve vegetarian food.
I tried it once but preferred meat with vegetables.
I sit indoors and think that all cooks are ghostly pale because
they are indoors and slave over steaming pots and pans.
I ended my career as a cook. It was boring and hot and badly paid.
when silence speaks
there comes a time
the time when words
matters no more
this too comes
after too many
empty spoken words
there comes a time
the time when we
decide to be silent
for too long
we have been wallowing
in promise full of
empty spoken words
when silence speaks
there comes? a time
this time is a time
decision making
this time is not the
time to take nonsense
this time is am important time
there comes a time
this time is an
alarming time
this time is a time
to weak up
sit up
buckle up
in this time
empty words don't speak
when silence speaks
there comes a time
a time when we need
no more lies
a time when all
we need begin
a time of silence
in reverse
a time when old words
of emptiness can't
captivate us anymore
30th of may
the people of Biafra
choose silence
we choose indoors
we choose to rise
in this time we harm
no one but those
that don't need
we be free
in this time we got
no other way but
to let
silence speak.
Stubbing a toe hurts like hell
Count to ten or curse and yell
Never to learn, walking in bare feet
When suddenly brick pillar my foot did meet.
Limping, near crying I hobble indoors
My stupidity again put me in the wars
Elevating my foot hoping pain quickly ease
Controlling each breath as I slowly deep breathe.
Scrapes of skin and beginning to bruise
My little toe, shades of red and blue hues
Swollen, still swelling and when I think back
I'm sure I did hear the sound of a crack.
Pain killers inside me, indoors I did stay
The bruising and toe was bigger next day
My tiny toe like a mini fat sausage
Shoes always wear - my imprinted self message.
12.08.21
Sunlight's touch only by its flaming torchlight through majesty
Cornflower blue sky, drawn steadfastly upon my face, amid scarlet marigolds,
Orange and pink dahlias, snapdragons, and pungent garden green.
Our bright colors and strong fragrances attracting captivating,
Winged pollinators for our tasteful nectar.
She walks through the garden and lingers.
Well-seen she's lost to my large orange and brown freckles beauty.
She bends and removes me from my place.
Brings me up to her nose, breathe in my sweet scent.
All the others in jealousy, for I'll be a part of a bouquet for the indoors.
3/10/2024