Long poem by
Shane Cogan | Details
Too many lost orange sunsets by Shane Cogan
Oh why do I care
Oh why do I still cry
So many years I have lost crying over you
So many lost words
So many lost crimes
Now a million times
I keep thinking back to that last kiss
Oh so long
too many tears
Why did you leave?
Why did I never see it coming?
Time after time, yet another one
Cloud after cloud, I wept over you
Tear after tear
you crept back into my mind
This has to stop, she said
Why, oh why, can't I just not let go?
Why, oh why must I not let it go?
It just keeps coming back
Again and again, brighter each time
More orange, always on track
I cant take it any longer
I don’t want to see its image
Too many years
I have lost time over you
Too many people
Too many fallen stars
Too many false hopes
Too many lost tears
Too many broken dreams
Too many lost friends
Why, oh why, can't I just not let go?
Why, oh why must I not let it go?
Here it comes again, the long lost orange sunset over the horizon
I don’t want to see it
I don’t want it in my head
I just want to be that crazy-filled-happy-dizzy-weird person again
Oh, just for one day
Oh, just for one day not to see that image
Leave my head
let me live in peace
Instead I return to bed
I wish I could press release
Instead here you come again
A flash reminder, please go away
Feels like a grinder, please go away
Lost so many close ones
Came so close to new ones
Back you came, the hurt
Back you came, the regrets
This has to stop
This has to end
This cannot go on
For ten years, year after year
every new year, my lost years
Why, oh why, can't I just not let go?
Why, oh why must I not let it go?
Finally a new crazed one
maybe a chance
family pressure
friends measure
I need to surrender
I need to ease this pain
I need to pretend
instead I transcend
Instead there it is again, oh no, oh no
I continue to see the long lost orange sunset disappear for too many years
Time after time, yet another one
Cloud after cloud, I wept over you
Tear after tear
you crept back into my mind
This has to stop, she said
How much more can I take?
Even a drug does not last this long
Some find the cure, others a substitute
A decade long chain
A decade long stain
A falling grey rain
A new name
A lost game
A book of strain
A flawed brain
I need to regain
I need to refrain
And then it comes, my journey floats me away
upwards, upwards, upwards...
towards, towards, towards...
upwards...
and it all starts
again and again.
Copyright © Shane Cogan | Year Posted 2014
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Long poem by
curtis johnson | Details
There once was a popular car commercial that stated, "This is not your father's oldsmobile". The manufacurer was proud to have built a better car. I don't know if it was better, but after 107 years, it was discontinued in 2004.
The ad often spoke to me about the future of our father's America,
a future I'm praying will be better than that of the oldsmobile.
I find the similarities rather stricking.
I ask: What have you done with my father's oldsmobile?
It's like I was awakened from a dream and found you to be too extreme. What's not to like about the Cutlass Supreme? Have you laid all the Oldsmobiles to rest? It out-performed lots of others in many a test. Did you forget that it competed with the best? Were you forced to put it out to pasture? to mystify it until you finally put it out of its misery? to demoralized it until you completely demolished it? to commercialized it? to culturize and globalize it?
It was my father's Oldsmobile, and I even bought a Cutlass for my son. It was like a highlighted city on 4 wheels situated on the top of a hill. It brought lots of thrills, but you kept giving it the wrong pills. You tried to make it better, but it became like a bird without a feather.
My father's Oldsmobile reminds me of a country I once knew. I say 'once knew' because it appears to be changing as rapidly as the morning dew. It seems to have forgotten its own unique design, splendid quality, and its great reliability. Me thinks it became intimidated by jealousy and envy. Me thinks it's quickly becoming like all the rest.
O America, please do not forget who you were purposed to be. O America, you still mean so much to the world and to me. God still sheds His Grace on thee. Don't ever relinguish your sweet liberty.
Nay and forever nay; the dismantling of our father's Oldsmobile shall not be a prophetic symbol of America's demise. America's ability to complete its God-given purpose can be expressed in the words of the signers of The Declaration of Independence.
The last sentence in that document: "And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we muturally pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
7317;91617Contest, Ground Edges, J. Lawless
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017
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Long poem by
kanzazy hutchins | Details
On the day of July nine
In the year of ninety and six.
Her heart was so pure and so fine
But too weak for the surgeon to fix.
Her eyes still shown bright as day
But her frail body had wasted away
Her smile as warm as the love
That she gave through Jesus above
She knew she would not pull through
But not one moment of sadness or blue
Did she cast to her loved ones there
Who waited and prayed for her care
The Day was the twelfth of July
The hours ticked endlessly by
Many friends and family too
People I never knew
Came to say their farewells
To a sister who with Jesus now sails
On a peaceful and gentle tide
To ever abide at his side
As the service came to a close
And the time was as everyone knows
To cover her body with earth
Though her spirit had now a new birth
From out of the crowd stepped a child
Who's heart like her grandmother's was mild
She picked up a shovel and prayed
As everyone stood there dismayed
Some tried to keep her from her task
She looked to her Grandpa with eyes that ask
He said to those who had tried
To stop this child at the side
Of her grandmother's still open grave
With shovel in hand and heart so brave
Let her be was his reply
She's strong enough I won't deny
She then began her chosen task
Permitted to do what her heart had ask
Shovel by shovel and tear by tear
Her respect paid true to a lady so dear
At the tender young age of only ten
This little girl whose life has been
Directed and sculpted by the events of that day
And by the grandmother who taught her to pray
Just ten precious years she shared with her here
But forever in her heart her grandmother is near
I am the mother of this brave little child
And never has any heart been so mild
The day was the twelfth of July
And to my Mother I said good bye
A new strength was shown to me that day
In the child I had birthed and taught to play
Grandmother's shoes are not easy to fill
But with a heart of gold and the strength and will
She to this day has been my best friend
In absence of Mother my rock to the end
Now twelve years later a woman full grown
No longer here with me, elsewhere on her own
No matter the distance in miles or in time
She still fills the shoes of that Mother so fine
And knowing her task will never be done
She looks to the Heaven's, The Father, The Son
But also she looks for a glimpse now and then
From the Grandmother she knows will hold her again
Copyright © kanzazy hutchins | Year Posted 2009
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Long poem by
Craig S Bury | Details
Happy 60th Birthday Dad
It’s time to reflect on the great life you’ve had
A reflection on your times of yore
And the years to follow which will be many more
You were born July the 3rd 1947
Today we celebrate your 60th on July the 3rd 2007
You came from a family of nine
Amongst family is where you truly shine
You have given loved ones so much joy
It makes me so proud that I am your boy
You’ve been happily married for more than half your life
You have been a supporting husband to your wife
You have worked so hard to give your family what they need
Always clothed, always homed and an abundance of feed
Us kids have never gone without
You have always given willingly without a single pout
You have always shown a passion for sport
So much so you were once the president of a club in the Port
You were at all our games cheering from the side
And along with mum always gave us a ride
You showed me how to kick and catch a ball
And taught me the importance of standing tall
You taught me to always give my best
Especially when there’s a challenge or a test
I here you were quite the sportsman as a young man
But injuries got the better of you and that pleasure you had to can
A handy spin bowler on the cricket field
A hard at the ball footballer that could have done with a shield
You taught me the value of earning an honest dollar
And that it doesn’t matter if it’s not in a shirt and collar
You are such a proud and positive man
For you there’s no cannot only I won’t or I can
You have shown belief in yourself when others would be depressed
It’s a credit how you handle pressure while others get stressed
You are the rock when others crumble
You manage to stand tall while others stumble
You accept that no one is infallible or perfect
And that the best compliment you can receive is respect
As your son I am honoured to carry on your surname
I hope my actions will one day lead to its deserving fame
You have worked so hard and long you deserve a great retirement
When the time comes I hope it is filled with so much excitement
Travelling overseas and relaxing with your wife
There couldn’t be a better way to spend the later years of life
A better father you could not be
We are all so proud of you, especially me
I hope celebrating your birthday brings you lots of joy
From one man to another who will always be your boy
Here’s to many more years of bliss like the ones you’ve had
Happy 60th birthday Dad
Copyright © Craig S Bury | Year Posted 2007
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Long poem by
Joe Flach | Details
I was born on July 20, 1958.
Being one of seven children and having a mid-summer birthday, even as a young boy, it was
not uncommon for my birthdays to come and go without much fanfare.
In the winter of my Fifth Grade year at school, we had an assignment to write a short-story.
I was already in love with writing way back then. My short story was on a topic that was
very much in the news at that time and a very interesting and exciting theme for a young
boy. I wrote a short story about me being the youngest astronaut in the space program and
being selected to be the first astronaut to walk on the moon. I was aware at the time, that
the US and USSR were in a Cold War race to be the first country to achieve that lofty goal
and I knew it was bound to happen soon. To make my story even more special, I wrote that
this wonderful event would take place over the coming summer, on my birthday!
Well, lo and behold, as the winter turned to spring and spring turned into summer the Apollo
11 space mission launched from Cape Canaveral carrying three astronauts, two of whom
were targeted to walk on the moon.
As my 11th birthday approached, without any notice from anyone else, I watched in awe as
the Apollo 11 made its way to the moon. On July 20th, 1969, the lunar landing module,
Eagle, set down on the moon! I remember expectantly waiting for the astronauts to be given
permission to exit the Eagle and step foot on the moon’s surface as the hours of my birthday
ticked down.
It was about 10:00 pm eastern time when my parents finally sent us all to bed on the news
that Mission Control made the decision to wait until the next day to send Neil Armstrong out
of the lunar module. With tears in my eyes, I went to bed thinking that I missed my chance
to share my birthday with history and to have had my short story prognostication come true.
At a few minutes before 11:00 my parents woke all of us up to come watch as Neil
Armstrong could wait no longer and talked Mission Control into letting him walk on the moon
without further delay.
So, at about 11:00 pm, on my 11th birthday, the men from Apollo 11 walked on the moon for
the first time in history. One small step for man and one giant link to history for one small
boy in Charleston, West Virginia.
And, that is when 11 became my favorite number.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010
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Long poem by
Davin Payne | Details
felt like i did before thats how i know i missed ya
if i could then i woulda grabbed ya hugged and kissed ya
bachelor for eternity missing the bigger picture
you i barely knew, appearing on every vista
i appreciate the support, but what i need is love
tho truth may hurt, better than all of the above
i trusted you cause you represent something ive never done,
who knew that two can prove to be better than one or
first in a place, never won a sum,
bygones gone and a couple of puns
we let the honey run till sweet enough touch
beat around the bush, no rush
it got hotter but the wetaher didnt change
not a cloud in the sky or a drop of blame
no need for a why whenw e had an x
we gotta where we wanted then decided what next
no matter where i go
over land and sea
id rather have you cause one is lonely
keep me company
three not necessary
feels real comfy
has since february
february march april may june july august in a day
the longer we go the more we grow
feeling better each step of the way
if theres a problem we can talk and double check
nothing we cant solve with an embrace and kiss to the face or neck
i love you more than ode and penelope. maria odb
or lil kim and biggie
thank the gods we aint in a greek tragedy
or sometime before 19 sixty
for what is feminin
sent me to my questionin
i quickly collected evidence, respect
exactly what i expected, experiencing the extension
my seconds, perspective as my lessons
i remember when im stressing
to fit into my senses, lower my defenses
soothing if theres tenseness, leaving room for suggestion
did i mention that youre precious
a gift of personal appreciation, when we regard eachother
in highest celebration shared by lovers, so more than any i thank you
for willing to get as close as you do
i hope for you the complimentary is true
im sure if it wasnt we can talk it through its coo
right there is reason why i call you boo
no matter where i go
over land and sea
id rather have you cause one is lonely
keep me company
three not necessary
feels real comfy
has since february
february march april may june july august in a day
the longer we go the more we grow
feeling beter each step of the way
Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2012
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Long poem by
Kassie Buttrey | Details
She sits on the floor arms wrapped around her ankles.
By a thread of hope, she dangles.
Tears run from her eyes endlessly.
Nobody can stop her from breaking.
Her breathing gets ragged and troubled.
No matter what her problems are doubled.
Rocking herself, comfort eases over her mind.
Her meds are kicking in and peace she finally finds.
Butterflies fly around her head.
When she tries to catch them, they fall dead.
She lays her head down to sleep.
How long can, sanity, she keep?
Later when she wakes up, she feels so empty.
How else should she feel when she may have given up a baby?
3 days after rape and abortion pills.
She's fifteen and not sure how she feels.
She goes to the bathroom mirror.
The image is anything but clear.
Her sister laughs at her anxiety.
Her sister tells her she has never had and never will have a reason to worry,
Because the girl has it so easy.
She thinks yeah that's why he raped me.
She begins to cry again.
And her sister yells at her then.
The sister cusses her and pushes her around.
Her self-esteem dives right into the ground.
She walks out and goes out on the back porch step and sits.
Wondering what she has done to be treated like this.
Her dad is outside smoking when she begins to have trouble breathing.
He calls out her name, he starts getting worried.
She barely hears him even though, he is right beside her, screaming.
She finally catches her breath and says sorry.
And her dad walks away angrily.
She goes in and looks at the girl in the mirror.
The vision she is seeing is getting clearer.
You wouldn’t believe,
That the girl I have been talking about is me.
I am telling you a story that happens to be true.
Well, it used to.
I found out at seventeen…
That my sister had betrayed me.
People ask, “What is a soul’s worth in money?”
Nothing, I tell you. Nothing!
She sold me out for eleven dollars.
I swear I want to hurt her.
I want to hurt her worse than she did me.
But I do not have the heart for such cruelty.
Copyright © Kassie Buttrey | Year Posted 2013
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Long poem by
Joyce Johnson | Details
Independence Day, July 4th, had long been one of my favorite holidays.
Coming just three days before my birthday, I claimed it as part of
my personal celebration,
This particular July 4th started out in the usual happy tradition.
Our children were old enough to have their own exciting plans
and my husband Cliff and I were going to have a three day vacation
by ourselves.
He was up first as was usual and brought a cup of coffee to me in bed,
sitting beside me as we talked and finalized our plans. He teased me a bit
about the gift he was planning for my birthday.
It was month end reports at my office and I had a few to finalize
before I could feel free about taking time off. I would be gone just
a few hours and then the two of us would have a glorious three days by
ourselves. This was an uncommon and highly anticipated event.
I worked quickly and efficiently in the quiet of the office, until the
annoying ring of the telephone.
Ivan, Cliff’s friend was on the line.
“Cliff is in the hospital., come at once.”
“What happened?” I asked, knowing I didn’t want to know.
“Just get up here.” He sounded angry.
Randy, one of my fellow employees had stopped in at the office and hearing
my end of the conversation insisted he would drive me to the hospital.
Ivan met us at the front of the hospital and blurted out at my question, “He’s dead.”
Randy held me up as I started to fall. A doctor was at my side as I listened to the story.
Cliff had picked up Ivan at his home and they were driving down the street of our little
town, when without warning he dropped over in the seat. Luckily Ivan was able to
stop the car so there had been no accident.
My perfectly vital, never ill for a moment husband, had died from a massive heart attack.
The doctor gave me something to calm me as I called my children.
The rest of the day is vague but those first hours are engraved on my mind forever.
By: Joyce Johnson won an 8th
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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Long poem by
Carolyn Devonshire | Details
Big brothers, big sisters, many of whom
Had never heard the sound of children's laughter
Opening presents on Christmas morn
Planned a summer outing to a local theater
On July First, for children from ages six to thirteen
The curtain rose on a Midsummer Night's Dream
Pip, true to character, eyes shone with wonder
And nary a child's dream could be put asunder
As fairies danced astage like sugarplums through toddlers' heads
Especially the youngest, these children of single parents
Never exposed to Shakespearean delights in an enchanted forest
Like Santas we felt bestowing culture to a captivated audience
Hoping this Christmas in July would grant them a sense of permanence
All children deserve to feel such love and faith in visions magical
With love among forest sprites and poetry of dreams fantastical
Stopping for ice cream floats on the evening ride home
A nine year old with a fairy wand turned her friend into a gnome
And for a brief time these blessed children forgot their broken homes
The fathers or mothers who'd left them behind made no curtain calls
For children inspired by Shakespeare's fire could light up any hall
So they dashed away, pranced away, danced away all
As the bus ride came to a halt
The cultural presence that sprang from their hearts
Would outlive any gifts from Santa Clause
It was more than a deed done for a good cause
For one evening at least they had something more
Than children who lived in mansions
They'd shared beauty and grace
Gifts beyond most youngsters' comprehension
From strangers who did not through chimneys drop
Nor offer explanation
Great tidings of cheer that filled children's ears
Brought such jubilation
Big brothers and sisters needed no whiskers to beam with joy overcome
And yet as we disembarked and sent each sleepy child home
A familiar train, deer and sleigh, seemed to streak across the moon
The true spirit of Christmas on July First had made its presence known
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
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Long poem by
Galeo DS | Details
The sun shines so bright in a cerulean sky,
As Christmas spirit comes in great surprise;
People now in all walks of life,
Happily enjoy the moment once in a lifetime.
Go shopping here, go shopping there,
They all buy things needed to cheer;
Everyone joins the spectacular parade,
With big floats and motorcades.
It is still July but Christmas is magic,
It comes on time when we least expect it;
Day and night, people are rejoicing,
Helping one another in all undertakings.
Still skeptical on what is really happening,
But colorful lanterns and ornaments are now seen,
Christmas lights even sparks in shimmering splendor,
Hang in houses, on window sills and doors.
In open houses have some special gifts,
For anyone who would wish to drop by for a pick;
Some are simple wrapped items,
And some are sweets or delicacies on plates.
Everyone keeps busy but doesn’t go frantic,
Christmas in July is a real fantastic;
A special event which now lingers in the memory,
Because it is our Town’s First City Anniversary!
Note: Our town turned to a city.
Date: Aug. 8. 2012
7th Place Winner
Contest: My Favorite Poem Contest
Contest Judged: 9/7/12 12:00:00 AM
Poet Sponsor: Joyce Johnson
Note: This was my entry in the contest with a theme, Christmas In July Magic. I’m dedicating this poem to my town Candon City, although the anniversary is not really in July. I just kept the theme of the contest. Moreover, my dearest mother and favorite aunt who are both celebrating their b-days on this month had inspired me to write. The real Town City Hood and Foundation anniversary: The anniversary of Candon City Hood is every March 28. Candon became a city in March 28, 2001 thru Republic Act 9018. Candon City hood was authored by then Congresswoman Grace Singson during the 11th congress. Foundation Day is March 25. -more info were from Mr. Jun Balbin.
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012
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