Long Lays Poems
Long Lays Poems. Below are the most popular long Lays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lays poems by poem length and keyword.
"I am the light of the world. He who follows Me
shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.
John 8:12 _ Bible
My Journey Into I Am That I Am
I have been a lucky girl in this life,
have been taught morals and coping ability:
even though I have felt life's knife,
I have no greed, envy, malice- only civility;
and control anger and fear with tranquility.
It takes years but I can now transcend,
from my outer self into my inner self that hides:
and as a tree in the mighty wind I bend,
releasing a character flaw as a leaf that glides;
and in enlightenment there are many guides.
My journey to I am has been long,
and I work each day at letting go of the past:
knowing sorrow made me strong,
I want the now and not- what has long passed;
because there is beauty everywhere so vast.
So, I put the pictures of the dead,
within a chest to rest where I can often go:
and love lays in this memory bed,
and then, I close the lid on all my former woe;
and to people and new moments I now say hello !
________________
April 30, 2023
Poetry/Quintain (English)/Refining Consciousness
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1543-813-30
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Redefining Consciousness
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 05/04/2023
First Place (Trophy)
when I go to the cemetery to visit the tombs of the dead
and I leave the world by stepping through the ornate gate
that leads me on a winding road into the stillness
of scampering squirrels and chipmunks and hidden bird songs
I first arrive at the tomb of grandpa . .
.
oh, he was a wonderful man, I can still hear his laugh
I loved his farm and all the animals and his joy of life
but he died too young . . .
beside him lays grandma, she is the reason I am a writer
she said write it and I never stopped, she thought a cup of
tea would cure anything, a broken heart or whatever, one day
grandma we will be drinking tea up above, she died at ninety-four
I have to take another winding path now, deeper into the quiet
and I come to the tomb and place of tears quietly serene
fitting it is shaded by a weeping willow . . . .
this is where my sister is in repose since she was a child
I will never forget our play and her smiling, happy face always
I have asked God why a thousand times . . . .
Dad, the day you died I was shattered, my whole life crumbled
I never wanted to let go of your cold hand, but I had to let you go,
I came home and wrote a poem about you and that was the beginning,
a poet was born that day . . . .
Mom, there is not a day that I do not think of you, at dawn and when I
seek rest, you are with me always, you were my best friend, when you left
I became a balloon floating in the sky with no anchor to hold me in place
I have things to tell you mom . . . .
and the newest engraving in stone, my baby boy, who never saw the sky
who never took a breath of life, people say God needed another angel,
did he have to take mine, each time the dagger plunges deeper into my
heart, and each visit leaves my heart broken again . . .
my life is ravaged with death, the garden of my life weather-stained
but I am a survivor and as I step through the ornate gate, I re-enter
my reality mourning death but determined to go on . . .
_________________________
November 4, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/six above
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1300-223-04
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Standard Contest, Six Relatives
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger, Judged 11/30/20
Third Place
A Distant Shore
Beached upon a distant shore I wondered about my life
Beseeched by solitude all I could pour out was sadness & strife
I reached for something in the distance that looked like it was a knife
It taught me to be indifferent as I knew my thoughts were running rife
Extending out with a notion leading my mind toward the dawn
Pretending that without devotion things are soon to be forewarned
Defending all of the commotion as my spirit lays there torn
Upending my torrents of emotion as I pray to be reborn
Pertinent proclivities that can’t hold onto prevention
Militant sensibilities that keep you a candidate for detention
Indeterminate absurdities that seek creativity for invention
Recalcitrant eligibility’s that defy the next mass organised convention
Incantations of a prophecy that came true far too soon
Lamentation of Sophocles by the light of the full moon
Emanations of soliloquies that are about espoused around high noon
Invitations of proclivity that contrive while I turn up the latest tune
Observations of vibrant conversations while I go without vocalisation
Sensations of reserved consternations bring about the elevation
Emulations of salivation over something close to revelation
Colourations of computations that lead me toward general devastation
The End Elizabeth Moroz copyright
No thought too dark for the monster
the beast will bare its teeth.
The innocent taste of false hopes and dreams
and the Angel of Mercy is torn limb from limb.
No point of contention.
Who am I to decide
if love is just another word for weakness?
Guilt demands punishment and violence leads to violence.
The retribution must fit the crime.
Guilt demands punishment
violence leads to violence
when a creeping burden yearns to devour the heart
through vivid memories that tell of a dark history.
Fearfully repressed,
regretfully denied.
A monster lays dormant below the mind.
Rise to the surface,
there's no place left to hide.
How much more hate within me will I find...?
There in a town that's called What If
That now lays right between your ears
Where faith and fear now will sift
In life to see which way you'll steer
It now lays right between your ears
Where fear and faith invade your mind
In life to see which way you'll steer
With thoughts that may be cruel or kind
Where fear and faith invade your mind
There is a battle of wills you see
With thoughts that may be cruel or kind
You'll decide which outcome will be
There is a battle of wills you see
Now fear and faith came not alone
You'll decide which outcome will be
With decisions that should be honed
Now fear and faith came not alone
They are just who leads each team
With decisions that should be honed
As each will try to shape a dream
They are just who leads each team
Now fears first mate is farmer doubt
As each will try to shape a dream
He plants some seeds he hopes will sprout
Now fears first mate is farmer doubt
Who tries to say in life you can't
He plants some seeds he hopes will sprout
This weed I think is all doubt plants
Who tries to say in life you can't
But faith brings hope to get you through
This weed I think is all doubt plants
Where hope will guide your plans so true
But faith brings hope to get you through
Though fear and friends aren't done quite yet
Where hope and faith can guide you through
As long as unbelief does not beset
Though fear and friends aren't done quite yet
Faith has one more team mate too
As long as unbelief does not beset
You'll find that love will help renew
Faith has one more team mate too
Where faith and fear will now sift
You'll find that love will help renew
There in a town that's called What If
before going to bed it is to be checked thoroughly
if there lays any carbon-paper under the bed-cover
now-a-days some upstart pelicans become so
disobedient it can not be assured if they come
to know the whereabouts of the blood easily
from the copy of the heart
then they distribute the delirium of the high-heel moon
by writing cash-memos at the gate of the locked-out plant
the hundreds of thousands of white clouds
also drink the whirl-water of love
they touch to feel the freshness of the habitat
they touch to feel the can full of smiles
after the explosion they touch to feel
the bier of the deodar-birds
covered with tamarisk plants
It's the same old song
of love and the world gone wrong
that endless need and want
that walks in the shadows of democracies haunt.
Is it a dream, some wild restless interlude
of sleepless nights and dreams that exude
the love of self more than your neighbor
and in God's eye, who gains the favor?
Give me your tired and your poor
just don't let them knock on my door
and who is the refugee you see
in the generations before our own ancestry?
Were it not for the passage of time
where would be this familiar family line
of streaming lives in search of the dream
held back by rhetorical bureaucratic screams?
Voices speak and shout yet remain unheard
trying to hold freedoms spurned by false words
content to keep those in charge in political char
when the people's choices remain barred.
This major-minority is too easily swayed by thrills
outspoken and angry at the use of guns and pills
but we are challenged at every turn along
to sing the same old song.
The future lays waiting round the bend
and what wisdom does America send?
Generations still to come
will look back at the foolishness we have done.
How she rests on grasses from a jungle
Tulips and pines of forest 'round her shed;
A hand exploring time's precious compass
With graced arms afloat, never way ahead.
Her bay cradles shelled rock that lazes by
This pure moment holding an endless sea…
Above, the jiggled sound of breakers glide
When thrushes arrange music endlessly.
Oh, to pause along slant of herb and moss
Where marquee of colors glints like a flame...
The purple sash of hay twirling softly
With crests unhurried on waters, quite tame.
A power of here, now, lays on calm navel;
Gently assured, relishing dew and heat
Unique is her time, never repeated…
Eos , dawn goddess, holds that rare flash, sweet!
Cliché Contest, Silent One
3/31/2016
" There Is No Time Like The Present"
Wrap me in dreams, like a canvas of stars draped over my soul,
When the rain weaves its silver silk on windows like a veil of silence,
The cold gathers us like birds under the same sky, caressed by memories,
The sun, a weary painter, lays slanting rays on the terraces of our dreams.
Let dreams carry me through the labyrinth of deep velvet night,
Where shadows hide untold stories in the whispers of the wandering wind,
The wind, a messenger of lost desires, whispers forgotten secrets to me,
Fears and hopes intertwine in a breath like a dance of the stars.
Wrap me in dreams when the night stretches its mysterious velvet cloak,
I, a sailor on the seas of time, seek the lighthouse of your heart in the distance,
The ray of hope hides beyond the horizon like a morning dream,
Cherries ripen like unspoken promises, in your absence, like a vow.
Autumn comes like an old friend, bearing leaves of longing and nostalgia,
The news that our paths will meet again under the starry sky,
Wrap me in dreams, and let me float gently on their luminous wings,
A butterfly of light in the garden of memories, where every flower is a secret.
The deep silence of the night becomes a bridge of stars linking our hearts,
In the labyrinth of eternity, under the sky of an autumn morning, the magic of love,
Is reality, and dreams become paths of light that unite us forever,
Like a secret song of souls meeting in the eternity of shared moments.
Put Your Best Poe Forward Contest
Sponsor: Tommy Boy
Upon the night came the rustling branches, I knew I could not take anymore chances,
I flipped and turned and sat entrancing, just to see you once more.
I slipped into a strange dream, and there I saw you, soft explored, your soul agleam,
Oh, how I bled from your tortured thorn.
To see the clouds I stretched and stumbled, then the lightening roared and rumbled,
Soaked up from my lonely trouble, all alone within your storm.
Believable lies all extorted and jumbled, eyes so wet seeing double,
While my lifeless body lays cold and torn.
Desiring second chances, inquiring in your rustling branches, I lay broken and forlorn.
Oh, how I bled from your tortured thorn.
So tired I fell asleep, waking up in your tragic dream, I wish I could explore your scheme. Your soul agleam so wide expansive, please sew on my lonely patches,
Earned you inside my obsolete, oh how I feel so incomplete, and all these years it's been you I adore. I'm left penniless and poor, for your wages I can not afford.
Oh, how I bled from your tortured thorn.
You so free, me left unseen, you healthy from my clean vaccine, and I am dying,
Wondering if you'll even mourn. You so cold, and me so warm, tell me how to be your queen once more, high esteem with no remorse, you labeled me so low, of course.
I want to shout and I want to scream, wake me from your tragic dream, let me ride your horse by the ravine, once more...
Oh...how I bled from your tortured thorn.
~Inspired By "The Raven"~
~Written: November 30, 2015~
~Laura Urbaniak~