Long Journal entry Poems
Long Journal entry Poems. Below are the most popular long Journal entry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Journal entry poems by poem length and keyword.
As eventide drew its curtains
around us,
there was nothing tame about it
when I went into
the woods with him,
for even though the moon beamed
pearlescent in its inky sky,
the wind was howling through the trees.
And though the weather -
for the bluster of the wind -
was inclement,
I could not deny my growing ardor.
As if in tune with the wind,
we pressed ourselves
like feral creatues of the shadows
against each other.
We fell beneath an oak
whose constant rustle of leaves
became a metronome that measured
our two hearts’ steady thrum.
Stronger and then stronger still,
the oak’s leaves fluttered
as I rolled with him in ecstacy
on the forest’s floor.
It was as if he had the ability
to plumb the very depths of my desire.
I look back on that night remembering
the every passionately delicious detail
and how even the next day,
the tang of his lips on mine
remained.
Decades later, I reminisce about
– like the worn pages
of an intensely romantic journal entry
that have many times been
unfolded and then refolded -
the memory of that night
which he crimped within my mind.
April 4, 2021
for John Hamilton's
Eight Word Bardenesque Challenge Poetry Contest
she might have been beautiful
I'll never know
she might have been the best mother ever
Again, I'll probably never know
no bruises, no witnesses
did she lurch out in screams
as you handed her the grief of your business
how slanted you stood
tell me was it brief or was she another victim
sunday, bloody sunday
how unworthy you are to see monday
if life were a sitcom
i'd been abortioned
smiles, tears, divorce
a portion of a potion
if i make it to next year
i'll be twenty-five
and well alive
I wish i could say the same for you
Do you remember the twenty-first day
of that ninth month
she held on to this pain for you
i was born for this
bred from a diseased quilt
a testament of mans filth
a glass of wine
a past confined
perhaps we were nickel and dime'd to death
sometimes life resembles a fine line of stress
like a satin pillow
with burgundy stains
I worried you sane
"was it not lovely when i wrote away your misery
through my eyes i'll show you the world
it was a beautiful place"
i have no intentions to care what you think
or how you blink when your nightmares sink you
days have forwarded past you
i can only hope to out last you
i'd rather wear a mask then resemble a fraction of you
there was a time life was as simple as green pastures
slaves would cling to masters
women would sing of asterisks
of all the perfect worlds is this the one you designed
i'm feeling quite refined
over the years we've worshiped war
so many have died
you see the tears of porcelain stars
yet you learn nothing
nothing means anything
until you lose something
"If you lost your life for every mistake you made
you wouldn't make mistakes."
the black hitler's journal, entry II
Ever since my 1st love
I had nothing but females waste my time
and all I kept finding
was unhappily married women
who I was wishing that could've been mine
but its like I'm running outta time or running outta patience
or maybe I need to slow down
wit love because I swear I been chasing it.
Patience is a virtue. Love is like
a unfaithful woman she's bound to hurt you
question is what do you do to find the right woman?
you couldn't to stay so true to you
do I castr my net on the other side of the lake
or do I chill for a minute
put it in cruise control and hit the freeway.
Maybe I need a woman who's been threw something
because it seems like I was
fallin in love all for nothing
I can fall in & outta love wit a girl at any given moment
but since I'm a grown man
I accept it any mistakes I make
like a man should
but if I could take all this back God knows I would
(April 25, 2018, Repost)
Of time Past-
I cannot discard you (memory)
no matter how far I push you away
you come c r e e p i n g like a wild vine
deep in the corridors of my mind you grow . . .
I wish you would depart
but NO- I am viewing you in technicolor
like a movie well played . . .
It is the death of my mother-
her time has run out
"call your family" said the doctor
and I did- I called each one
one who did not come- my nephew
my sister said- "he is afraid of death"
(who isn't) . . .
he was a grown man not a child
mother died -
a sweet beloved bird f l u t t e r e d away
quietly- just as she had lived her short life
(I have held my thoughts to me . . .)
When he was a small baby
my mother purchased for HIM
all his diapers, formula, food, toys and clothes
she paid for the rent of an apartment
she was the prime babysitter for years and years
but HE could not come on the day of her D E A T H
a grown man could not pay his respect
I have never forgotten- never forgiven
(maybe I should . . . )
and I can only talk about it in my journal
n e v e r to my family-
so I keep it inside of me to come creeping
to make me angry again and again and again
Outside birds are chirping and a gentle breeze blows
perhaps a walk will make this memory
depart or at least f a d e - (why am I weeping ?)
__________________________________
April 25, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/''April 25, 2018'' Journal Entry
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1295-585-25
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Submitted to Old Poems, Free Verse (003)
sponsor, The Poet Destroyer
Sixth Place
April 25, 2018
Of time Past-
I cannot discard you (memory)
no matter how far I push you away
you come c r e e p i n g like a wild vine
deep in the corridors of my mind you grow . . .
I wish you would depart
but NO- I am viewing you in technicolor
like a movie well played . . .
It is the death of my mother-
her time has run out
"call your family" said the doctor
and I did- I called each one
one who did not come- my nephew
my sister said- "he is afraid of death"
(who isn't) . . .
he was a grown man not a child
mother died -
a sweet beloved bird f l u t t e r e d away
quietly- just as she had lived her short life
(I have held my thoughts to me . . .)
When he was a small baby
my mother purchased for HIM
all his diapers, formula, food, toys and clothes
she paid for the rent of an apartment
she was the prime babysitter for years and years
but HE could not come on the day of her D E A T H
a grown man could not pay his respect
I have never forgotten- never forgiven
(maybe I should . . . )
and I can only talk about it in my journal
n e v e r to my family-
so I keep it inside of me to come creeping
to make me angry again and again and again
Outside birds are chirping and a gentle breeze blows
perhaps a walk will make this memory
depart or at least f a d e - (why am I weeping ?)
__________________________
April 25, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Journal Entry, April 25, 2018
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1016-823-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Entered in the contest Best Free Verse in April 2018
(not for a contest) sponsor, Laura Loo
Second Place
I went to the cemetery today to visit my beloved dead,
followed the tree lined road to the big grey rock;
and the weeping maple tree and turned on a small path,
that in time led me to my family grave site.
It dwells in the middle of the old cemetery in the shade,
of many trees and towering faded monuments;
I stood there looking at the names engraved in stone,
and my heart was heavy and I was soon weeping.
In order, is my sister Suzanne, who died in childhood,
I remember that day still like a well played movie;
like slow motion she slips under the wheels of a truck,
and my mother is screaming as she holds my hand.
Next, is my baby boy, born perfect but dead,
my heart was ripped out of my chest that day;
I thought, I would never, ever recover, but somehow I did,
still I never forget the day we buried him- I sang a lullaby.
My husband is not buried here, his family wanted him,
with them, I can understand that, but its a long journey.
next, my dad left me, quiet, I never had a chance to say bye,
and then mom, her years of pain over at last.
Not far, my grandparents are buried side by side,
and my favorite uncle who died way too young;
I know the sadness will stay with me for days and days,
I guess loving is also grieving, and so I do and do and do.
___________________
April 23, 2017
Verse/Journal Entry, April 23, 2017
Copyright Protected, ID 894906
Submitted to the contest, Poem Written in April
(Not For A Contest)
Sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
Dawn comes again with sunny smile,
Seek cheery strains where music styles.
A gift of time to take a trip,
Work beat and rhyme as passion grips.
Bright moments here speak sublime truth,
Intent streams cheer in wonder's proof.
Words that I cite spur fond refrain,
Seize then fine writes to anchor plain.
The gist of thoughts move feeling bright,
See simple plots that sculpts fine sights.
Feel the normal ebb and flow here,
Heed the aural sounds that come near.
Montage sparks clear the happy moods,
Purge then the fear and live fond good.
Leon Enriquez
02 May 2016
Singapore
AHA HAIKU 14
Old friend calls
How are you?
Song of long ago
~~~~~~~~~
Old condo ambience
Familiar faces converge;
Robot moods
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese tea
Aids digestion;
Sip fond brew
~~~~~~~~~
Cute boys charm
Innocence wakes up;
Naughty sparkles
~~~~~~~~~
Last journal entry
Some time ago;
Death punctuates
~~~~~~~~~
Illiterate old lady
Well-educated son;
Lovely finesse
~~~~~~~~~
In your eyes
Love tells;
Affair complete
~~~~~~~~~
Age comes clashing
Old bones brittle;
Mental meltdown
~~~~~~~~~
Cold morning wind
Wet warning sign;
Dark clouds cluster
~~~~~~~~~
In your fond smile
Love lingers long;
Sad farewell binds
~~~~~~~~~
Airport tarmac
Big birds fly;
Distant destinations
~~~~~~~~~
Blurry awareness
Early wake-up call;
Consciously sleepy
~~~~~~~~~
Poise of choice
Waiting game here;
Late arrival
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
06 June 2016
Singapore
Morning drizzle
Drops of rainbow;
Colours dazzle
~~~~~~~~~
Weather contrast
Hot and dehydrating;
Sticky humidity
~~~~~~~~~
Lonely songbird
Dawn epiphany;
Lost lover's lament
~~~~~~~~~
New journal entry
Ring-bound folio;
Ink stain memory
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy distractions
Lazy Saturday weather;
Bakery fragrance
~~~~~~~~~
Towering monolith
War memorial site;
Our glorious dead
~~~~~~~~~
Relics of war here
Public cenotaph;
Never ever forget
~~~~~~~~~
City lights twinkle
Festive air prevails;
May Day holiday
~~~~~~~~~
Valedictory speech
Gratitude meets promise;
Ambitious plans
~~~~~~~~~
Squirrel zigzags
Sideways on huge trunk;
Midday amusements
~~~~~~~~~
Old friend visits
Home spun stories;
Catch-up laughter
~~~~~~~~~
Pretty lovely child
Charming glowing smile;
Curious ways attest
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
10 May 2016
Singapore
I have been doing a lot of thinking
'cause to the past I am clinging
and pondering who exactly I am
am I warrior or a lamb . . .
one thing quite positive is my inking
yet, I must get with the program
have a tranquility some do not get
but past sorrows hard to forget
I push sadness away to stay present
accepting that my soul is bent . . .
I believe that I can change my mindset
yes, will work to end the torment
___________________________
May 31, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/journal entry - may 31
Copyright Protected, ID 20- 1257-150-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to Contest No 780
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention