Long Journey Poems
Long Journey Poems. Below are the most popular long Journey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Journey poems by poem length and keyword.
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
I like the stories I tell myself about myself.
As cliche’ as it sounds,
They are the story of my life,
But yet, not the actual life.
They are instead the mythology of a life
Of actual moments
Woven from birth by family, friends, and self.
Firstly as a warm, soft, comforting blanket
Then as a home secure and sound
Finally as a world vibrant and vast
Giving us everything we need,
A psycho-spiritual whole to contain
And explain it all.
At some point though we reach the limit
Of our story, our hopes and fears,
As vast as they may eventually grow to be,
And the crack in our cosmic egg
Reveals something completely different
Beyond us, beyond our world and story.
Of course we just add this to our story
But it will never really be the same.
Once the truth is seen
The lie can never fully be unseen.
But lie is a harsh term
For the comforting half truths a child needs
As it prepares to know Life
Outside a blanket, or home, or even world,
A life that weaves and leaves stories in its wake,
Of Self as friend, lover and mate
Or trickster, seducer, adversary and foe,
But as the creator
Always something more.
(12/4/25)
~Facing A New Day With You~
( Rhyme )
Side by side this journey we both walk
And of our mutual feelings we try to talk.
With love we face every brand-new dawn
And true love for us keeps growing strong.
We go far beyond our way not to let a thing
Come ever between us and ruin anything.
We both worked so long and so hard
To accomplish all this, we need always to guard.
Our whole relationship is based in love and trust
It's far more than just a mere fantasy and lust.
Our love is wide opened for us here to share
We promised that love would always for us be there.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright2014
December,28,2014
The Fog of Forgetting and the Foreign Soul
Among the stars and the expanse of time unfolding endlessly,
a foreign soul awakened without trace of origin without memory,
it arrived without memory without purpose engraved in it only the fog of forgetting,
which wraps its thoughts like dead birds in living flight.
It walked in an unknown world searching for the hidden meaning always,
behind the veil of eternity without mission without direction it continued,
seeking lessons hidden in every corner of the world that doesn't recognize it,
what to do it wondered in the foreign land where it's only a temporary visitor.
It learned about love about loss about the joys and pains,
that accompany life slowly the soul's consciousness began to unfold,
recognizing that each moment is a precious lesson that repeats always,
it realized that it's not just a visitor but part of a greater story.
A journey where each encounter each parting is part of the process,
the process of understanding itself and as the fog of forgetting,
begins to lift the foreign soul found its purpose its mission in the world,
among the stars and time without origin with the fog wrapping living thoughts.
Walking in the unknown world behind the veil of eternity without direction,
it learned that each moment is a precious lesson it's not just a visitor,
but part of the greater story where encounters and partings define it,
the fog of forgetting lifts slowly discovering the hidden purpose in the world's corners.
The foreign soul arrived without memory among the stars and the expanse of time,
it learned about love and loss about joys and pains that accompany,
its consciousness unfolded recognizing that it's part of the eternal journey,
where the fog of forgetting lifting reveals the hidden mission in every corner.
Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,
Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,
We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -
J.A.B.
The waves of the wake will shower
when daughters of the sea, shall arise
they meet the storm with important delivery
- the mermaid's egg
This birth is unique
The mermaids daughters of the Millennium
Soft under white foam and seaweed
among the many occurrences of the place
In melted silver and sparkling moon dust
- a safe universe for the newborn
A journey in waves,
that comes and goes,
like the ebb and flow
As the sea lifts a grain of sand, we salute
Love that gives new life
La luna asoma * - in the cradle of the sea
06.08.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Devotion to Ocean Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
* "La luna asoma" - When the Moon Rises
2nd place in the contest
Once I wished to become older,
Now I have become an adult.
The days I once loved have faded,
And turned into hardworking days.
The days I dreamed of enjoying
Have changed — now I greet my customers by saying, “Hi.”
The poor want to become rich,
The rich seek privacy.
Everyone is running like a blind horse for a reason.
We may all reach our destination,
But no one notices that we lost our peace along the way.
Once, people went on vacation to their parents’ home,
Now those vacations have become bonus days.
Blossoming flowers protect their buds from being plucked.
In the same way, our parents continue working for us
Even after we grow up.
As a child, I thought everyone was happy and good.
Now I see the same innocence in my son’s eyes.
Life is not only about being happy;
It is also about how we make others happy.
Everyone loves their destination,
But fails to enjoy the journey.
When the moonless nights are opaque,
and the days of shrouded sun are dark,
to walk on life’s tortuous pathway isn’t easy.
When the flowers of the garden wither,
and the grass of the meadow turns auburn,
my hopes try to be afloat in the sea of distress.
When the meandering road to travel is long,
and the wheel of time turns on the last lap,
the focused vision of insight gets clouded.
When the surge of sorrow floods the pathway,
and incises within mind a course for its flow,
I sail sanguine to the destined destination.
I don’t then measure the span of space and time,
take the ordained route designed for me
through the revolving spells of nights and days.
I don’t ask the purpose of the journey,
for I won’t ever know, but I’m sure someday
someone will take me to the valley of bliss.
I don’t let my dreams crumble in the abyss of despair,
but travel content and confident with them
on the new walkway I pave in the present landscape,
kindle in my mind the beacon of introspection
to illumine the convivial sanctum of the soul,
where in its precinct I see the doors of serenity open.
__________________
July 24, 2021
Contest : Doors
Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco
Drifting...
Into my fantasies
And daydreams
Where you reside
And eagerly wait for me;
I'm wandering, not lost.
Smiling...
As I excavate
Long-buried memories
In the meadow of my mind
Oh, the halcyon days of my youth!
I'm wandering, not lost.
Plunging...
Immeasurably deep
Into your captivating eyes;
Entranced,
Held captive.
I'm wandering, not lost.
Searching...
Vast barren deserts of earth
Days without end
For xanadu
For the meaning of life
I'm wandering, not lost.
Date written: 12/16/2021
Derek runs 26 mile marathons,
With his nerve-damaged right arm
Anchored in a sling: solid sounds,
‘Cos a truck did cause him harm.
The accident changed his life,
But he can’t remember it, recall,
It ended his life as a joiner, Fife,
And now he sells used cars, all.
Recently he has much improved,
So now he’s 7 long minutes faster,
In the London marathon hooved,
‘Tho his left hand he’s had to master.
He represented Britain two times,
At the Worlds in Doha, the year 2015,
And at the IPC World Cup, dimes:
He ran PB’s of 2:40 and 2:37, endive.
He only took up football to get fit,
And for strength and agility he ran,
But this sideline so his inside lit,
That he concentrated on it’s pan.
He says to all of us “To believe that
anything is possible. To get there,
it is about mindset, [what you’re at].
Don’t ever let anyone tell you, [bare],
that something can’t be achieved,
it can. Also to appreciate the good
people around you, [they’ve weaved,
to] help you on your journey, [would]
and will help you reach your goals.
Despite running seeming like
an individual sport, it’s not. [Coals].
Appreciate the team, [your pike].”
Richard Brickley trains Derek,
And gives him medical time off,
He enlisted a coach, a shrek,
Prof Ron Morrison, a techy buff.
Prof Ron Morrison is quite a don,
He’s a professor of lovely computing,
At St Andrews Uni, but that along,
He’s a Para ref, does hammer throwing.
He’s on the Board of Directors,
Of the Scottish Athletics Committee,
And has a deep love with proctors,
Of cross country running agility.
I don’t know, he may have in my past,
Interviewed me for St Andrews Uni,
For computing, I kind of, aghast,
Recognise him: he was kind, and chatty.
Derek made Rio and runs a T45/46,
He’s a member of the athletics club
Anster Haddies. He has his sticks,
In Kirkcaldy, was born in 1985, a hub.
In the depths of silence, a solemn refrain,
Where shadows gather, and whispers wane,
I'll paint a verse upon a canvas of breath,
To explore the depths where life meets death.
Death, a mysterious and inevitable fate,
A journey embarked through an ethereal gate,
With every heartbeat, it draws ever near,
A reminder of our mortality, crystal clear.
In the embrace of darkness, we find release,
A final slumber, a gentle peace,
For death is but a transition, a change of form,
A passage to realms where spirits are born.
Oh, death, you herald the end of our days,
Yet your presence gives life a poignant gaze,
Like autumn's kiss upon the trees' last leaves,
You teach us to cherish what time perceives.
In your solemn arms, we bid farewell,
To those who've journeyed beyond life's spell,
Their essence lingers, a whispered breath,
In memories cherished, they conquer death.
But let us not fear the inevitable flight,
For death, though somber, unveils its insight,
It teaches us to live with purpose and grace,
To embrace each moment, in its transient embrace.
For in the face of mortality's decree,
We find the courage to truly be free,
To savor the beauty that life bestows,
Before we, too, join death's gentle repose.
So let us honor death as a part of the whole,
A companion on the journey of our soul,
With each passing day, let us strive to find,
Meaning and love, leaving no regrets behind.
For death, my friend, is a reminder profound,
To live fully, to let our spirits resound,
To dance with passion, till our final breath,
For in embracing life, we triumph over death.