Long Late Poems
Long Late Poems. Below are the most popular long Late by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Late poems by poem length and keyword.
I love you more than coffee
For while coffee may be there for you first thing in the morning…
While coffee may pick you up and make your heart race,
Or warm your hands on a cold day…
Coffee will never be able to hold you close late at night when you cannot sleep,
And whisper “I love you” to serenade you off to dreamland.
I love you more than chocolate
For while chocolate may be sweet as it melts on your tongue…
While chocolate may bring a brief smile to your lips,
Or a short rush of endorphins to help you through a tough day…
Chocolate will not stay near when you are in a rotten mood
And continue to love you back as you move through life.
I love you more than snazzy shoes
For while snazzy shoes make you feel taller and fashionable,
While snazzy shoes might make other women give a jealous glance,
Or a short compliment, a small bit of attention,
Snazzy shoes are completely unable to rub the tension from your neck and back
That wearing those snazzy shoes can cause.
I love you more!
Like late eve of a slowly dying year,
Yellowing leaves await when falling down,
Soon to get trodden when dried to dull brown,
A few still hanging on, life lived in fear,
I too, on late life's tentative twilight—
The age awaiting the sunset of life
With forebodings of a long prowling night,
I too dream of no path sun’s bright-light rife,
But much rather that I see the amber
Of glowing fire that flickers in my heart,
See past the Fall followed by November,
All through till chilly weathers fully part…
If you, my love, can wait till Spring and more,
Let winter do her worse upon my door.
______________________
Sonnet |13.11.2008, revised March 2025| life, love, winter, old age
Note: Eve of a dying year alludes to autumn or fall of the year, its parallel being old age. Northern Path: According to Hindu belief the soul leaves mortal remains and proceeds on to Northern/Southern Path. North is the path of no-return (Liberation), and south for returning to earth. Of course this depends on karma.
The shadows come to rest behind me
To trust them is to die as well
Where I stand they come upon me
Pointing me unto their Hell
Am I just a worthless liar?
Am I just an imbecile?
Would you trust to fall back on me?
Trust me not to fall as well?
For I am just a worthless fighter
A shell of one who once was whole
Take skeletons from their graves and
Bend the dry bones to my will
Where I stand is what I call
Hell on a place I've only
Known because I've been held back
By those who called themselves my friends
Take my hand and you will know why
Trusting me is so unwise
I act upon my nervous impulse
And regret it when the passion dies
Why I am is not a question
Of who or what I have become
Nor a question of who I've killed
To become what I've become
Jesus, won't you smile on me?
Show me the path to my fate?
Jesus, won't you smile on me?
Show me before it's too late
Why can't I just erase what
I've faced and my scars and my
Life that I have left behind and
Walk towards a brighter future?
Wake up O Inhabitants of this Earth
Wake up before it is too late
Wake up before the misdeeds with Nature
Takes away with them, the best
And the most beautifully nourished and preserved
Our priceless and most precious wealth
The ice from Mountains, Glaciers and poles,
Water from the Rivers, Ponds and Lakes
Trees from Mountains, Oxygen from Air
Fishes and Dolphins, Blue Seals and Whales
Deer’s from fields and Tigers from Jungle
Birds from sky and animals from herds
Fragrance from flowers, fruits from trees
Koyal* and Nightingale to sing their melody
And above every thing, all the Seasons from Earth
Which inspires us to sing in joy
And thrill us to write poetry or to make love
Wake up O beautiful children of Nature
Before it is too late
Do not make plans to make roads up to Mount Everest peaks
Let us Make plans how to save the snow peaks
And our ever best friend plants and trees
The Rivers and Ponds, Glaciers and Jheels*
And above all let us also
Try to save our greatest wealth the seven Seas
And its innocent inhabitants
Who has given us foods and pleasures
Adventures, joys and thrills
With the ever precious gift of Rains
Which fills our Mother Earth with Water, Milk and grains
Wake up O beautiful children of Nature, before it is too late
Save our Rain forests, beautiful Glaciers and above all our climate
Before the Nature itself starts the process of changing
Without giving us the warning of its fury
Which can destroy our very existence from
This and this only place The Earth.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 9th December 2009
*Jheels ( A Hindi word means Lakes)
*A singing bird of India like Nightingale
CLOSER THAN A BLOOD...
I have learnt something of late...
When troubles of life weighs heavily on you Families are the last to give you succour.
They sometimes compound to your troubles...
And even glory in your misery!
I have learnt something of late...
Whoever stand with you,
In the time of trouble
Whoever hold your hands
In the days of adversary...
Such is a brother, not necessary by blood
Such is a sister not necessary by womb.
Be good to people, show kindness to all,
Because I have learnt of late...
There is someone out there,
Who stick closer than a blood!
©Ayeni Oluwatosin
More of Ayeni Oluwatosin's poems on www.poetrysoup.com
I have a headache, my teeth hurt, and my stress level is high.
I have chills, and my hands are cold enough to ice a lemon pie.
My neck is stiff, and my enthusiasm is uncharacteristically low.
I cannot get away from this body, no matter how far I go.
I could take a pain pill, a sleeping pill, or something similar.
There are spots in front of my eyes, and I’m feeling pain in my right himilar.
Why did I say I would take her dogs, both house, and neither of them trained?
I wish I had said no, I wish I had kept my yes mouth a little more restrained.
Is it too late to let her know? She’s bringing them here today to leave forever.
They will fit along nicely with all the other things she has left in house’s quiver.
I have her flowered couch, two captain chairs with missing parts, and a pink setee.
Why do I let this niece take such advantage of me?
The death of love
Love is blocked, too many rights
I can’t touch. I can’t talk, say anything
Man has no law. I need another world
Must destroy the present one. We love
Human-made laws never control us
Adam is the law. God is the law
Modern laws killed the loves
That’s why in the crisis, humans. Humanity
Psychology is blocking the river of life
Psychology and law. Legalized crimes
Religion, God's instructions are life. Love
Never follow human-created laws. God is on
Wake up. Dead the love. I am the last one who called
Death of love’s smell is air. Don’t be too late
Follow God. Follow Eve and Adam
There was no psychology in their time
People were healthy
From God’s laws
Killed by the psycholgy
The Love
One of the easiest mistakes to make is having too much pride.
It is the sneakiest of snakes as it makes its home inside.
It only needs the teeniest tinyest of space til it inflates then trouble has arrived.
Then it's disobedience and ego that dictates to elevate as common sense is left behind.
Soon is too late as it just scrapes and breaks as heart and head collide.
You make the mistake that creates the hate because now they think you lied.
They can't relate or escape from what takes place as it begins to divide.
Those you love can only wait and speculate until you decide.
Feeling misplaced maybe erased as you chase this thing called pride.
Avoiding the girl-scouts
I hasten out of the store
trying hard not to see the people
huddled in their thin coats
as they wait for an infrequent bus.
This ice-chilled evening
with its stark revelations
is like the nag of an irregular heartbeat
sheathed like a thorn in my shoe.
Later, by a warm fire
sitting in an upholstered armchair,
a despondency chews at my breastbone,
it is a reaction hard to pin down,
to objectify,
a lingering presence.
My mind shifts through a symbolic iconography
effigies depicting:
a lost and hungry dog,
an ill-treated child,
a stranger I refuse to call brother,
places long deserted,
places found far too late.
A love unpicked from a now withering vine.
That same presence
sets a table and chair before me
that I may write, try to explain
this tumbleweed of unnamable sorrows,
a phantom, that even in happier times,
I recognize it as a coarse impression
akin to a grating scar
beneath a tender tongue.
Tomorrow may emerge as a frail old lady,
struggling with full shopping bags,
head bent to a cold uncaring wind.
Many might offer her a lift
but in my present brittle mood
I probably would frighten her,
so,
I don’t.
Was Earth created by God’s hand as told in holy writ,
when scientific findings seem to dash the thought of it?
Is it possible that all things formed the way they are by chance?
The odds against are infinite so, it causes second glance.
For no one thinks a tool exists without creator’s hand,
then how can it be possible that all we see - not planned?
So, what’s the truth? Which concept’s right?
Both theories seem quite odd, unless you change your view
and see it through the eyes of God.
If he created all, then for what reason was it done?
The scriptures say this is a place where he tests everyone.
If life’s a test, then what’s the topic where upon it’s based?
Well, if I read the scriptures right, the subject matter’s - faith.
The test would be quite meaningless if God uttered out his voice,
and made the Earth such that Creation was the only choice.
It stands to reason that he had to make the Earth, “As-Is”
so Evolution and Creation both have solid bids.
And so it is, all get the chance to search amongst the clues.
Eternity hangs in the balance, which one will you choose?
A lifetime you are given and it’s not too late to start,
but let me offer this - just trust the feelings of your heart.