Long Introspectionold Poems
Long Introspectionold Poems. Below are the most popular long Introspectionold by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Introspectionold poems by poem length and keyword.
We've passed it by........so many times
Along this twisted........ asphalt highway
A sign that's nailed,....... so crudely fashioned
To peeling bark.......upon the yoke of gnarled, old cottonwood tree.
It marks a fork of the ....backwood road
Where gravel branches....bends and sways
And meanders through......the glade >>.....???
Where lies a ...... dry creek bed >...
And poison oak thrives ......and secrets hide >...
Home for an old battered mailbox.......lonely and bereft >...
So many times,.......so many other days in passing by >...
Catching glimpse of........peeling painted evidence >...
Of something which lies....... beyond our view >...
Have I wondered......... pondered, what lies beyond... >...
What course if .........we followed.... >...
If just this once ........we turned and broke away >....
.......... ......................................>.....>
.......... ...................................>......
Changed our course....... followed the unknown.
Where the creek ......... runs dry,
And banks are rife........
With chokecherry....... and willow scrub
The leaves layered....... with chalk white dust
........
Will we ever know .............
......... What lies beyond the fork in the road?
......... Will we ever know?.....
DREAMTIME: STATE FAIR OF MIND
the barren vendor
sold wishes
to those
hoping
to
forget
at the back of the room
wizened old men
sat together on a bench
across from old fur hats
tricornes and hamburgs
bowlers and fedoras
high hats, admiral hats
and others
too rare
for my knowledge
or experience
all positioned firmly
on
head stretchers
covered in dust
a reminder
linking the past
now
the old Black man
who governed this booth
sold large
round chocolate bars
handmade
of finest quality
he offered my friend one
but
strangely
ignored me
everyone
gathered in the field
as wagons passed by
on parade
the
atmosphere
was quite gay
carnival like
friends
waving to each other
no
one
recognized
me
When others sleep
I lie awake
Waiting
For night
To become day.
Rubbing
The sun
From my eyes
Everything I
Tried to forget
Comes back
Like an angry wave.
Hearing about the hurricane
And the neglect
I went to New Orleans
Barely knew the place
Only what I heard
Creoles and Mardi Gras
The Big Easy and
Good times
A distant city singing
Its own sad song
From the South.
Long days and
Months later
A fever came round
From damp nights and bad food
A public health doctor
Looked at me
With an innocence
And worry
I haven’t seen
Since childhood.
Restless
One night
I set out
Towards the outskirts
Of the city.
Fires burned everywhere
Violence
Lay waiting
In gaping holes
Of empty houses
And abandoned cars
The spider web of
Death
Hovered above
Waiting for its next victim
I thought I saw the worst
But I hadn’t.
On a garbage strewn road
Was an old woman
Patiently
Stirring some sort of gumbo
In a beat up tin pot
I approached her
In the darkness
We were
Two solitary
Figures on a dirt road
The space between us
No more than a foot
From the fire
The veins on the back of her hands
Stood out
Her face hidden in the flickering shadows
“I’m noticing you
You’re a stranger
You don’t belong here.”
Looking past me
She asked,
“Tell me mister
If they put a man on the moon
Can't they rescue people in a flood?’
I had no answer
Tapping the spoon
Against the side of the pot
She spoke to no one in particular,
“Must be
We got to be people
On the moon
Before anyone can help us”.
Behind us
Shadows moved
Heavy voices were heard.
A sudden downpour came
The rain turning
The dirt road to mud
The old woman shrugged and left
I walked back to camp
Leaving as lost
As I came.
The night
Became a faint memory
I slept forever
Exhausted
I opened my eyes
To see wet clothes
And muddy boots
In the corner
Of my room
Then I knew
The night
Hadn’t been
A dream after all.
Old barns, old folks and old wine - an unlikely trio upon which to muse,
But the analogies will become manifest as upon each I proffer my views.
Though the vicissitudes of life have taken their toll on each (that is very clear),
They tend to become more beautiful and majestic with each passing year!
Old barns once sported crimson paint and were so handsome in their day,
But o'er the years the scorching sun turned their boards to a silvery gray.
A fragile framework of hand-hewn oak and wooden pegs holds them together.
They lean precariously but despite the howling gales, they resisted raging weather!
Like old barns, old folks may wear a few scars and wrinkles here and there,
And lean upon a cane to steady themselves and wear crowns of silver hair,
But 'tis the inner beauty of their very souls that shines in all they do,
Having overcome the storms of life and the seasons they've struggled through!
Alas, old barns and old folks lose their sap as their years steadily decline,
But they gracefully mellow as they age like a splendid vintage wine!
They've both maintained their dignity through many trials untold,
But each of them must ruefully face the fact that they are growing old!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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