Long Lengths Poems
Long Lengths Poems. Below are the most popular long Lengths by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lengths poems by poem length and keyword.
The fact is - two lengths of any sort -
Travel by foot to the north
And buried there you'll find it still
The answer buried just for you
The sinking sun will solace you
As clouds come down to batter you
The earth it slinks, withheld, unsure
And sandy beaches windy winds
Do not move but do not amend
Buried there beneath fists of flesh
Forgotten till it became fresh
Hosting shuffling waiting for you
Is a breath of a message, written by you
The message crumpled iron sore
The earth had held within its core
Carries message not untrue
But oh so lost it doesn’t heal
The message clinks and chimes its truth
Its clockwork heart was made by you
But no time moves only stills
The edges burn but rust with truth
Angry eyes look at you own
You do not know where they belong
It’s wick hard shine
Reflect those eyes
They brood, regret and forget themselves
But still, they stand at the edge of truth
Your ears which held blood and earth,
Listened to what you research
But this time though they listen close
They listen hard with flesh and blood
The wind it’s screams start to shift
The earth and light it does so with
They still and hold their very core
Your hair, you breath, your heart your soul
You lips entwine with endless breath
And mutter words you lived to forget
Words you carried hard and sure
A thank you to your very soul.
Having a family bond that is blessed with love
cannot be bought and may come from above
`cos if you multiply all the stars in the sky
and add `em to the grains of sand thats why
The love reaches further `cos it can`t be counted
but with a swift moment of madness,can be dismounted
as our family been down that road many a time
and take things to lengths like a petty crime
But a lesson has been learned,and i`m the first to say
that at the end of it all there`s a more loving way
that has a platform to make things more strong
and deal with this differantly if things do go wrong
OF CRUCIFYING PAIN AND HEALING GRACE
The thing about crucifying pain is that it can drive you insane;
And though we’ve all experienced it, for each it’s not the same:-
Yet, we all seem to overlook, imagining the pain of
Christ, hanging on that cross in healing faith:-
Likewise, we tend not to be aware of the pain of helplessness of those
Praying for God to come, and heal your pain, and give you a break:-
Be faithful in bearing your health-bearing, painful crucifixion;
Knowing that such nailing pain will lose to healing ascension.
Know that what medicines may take lengths of time to heal;
Ask God immediately to heal you spiritually; enduring how you feel.
Yes…yes…yes, vicious pain can come and brutally slap you down,
But God’s healing grace can come–and for a while–keep you around:-
Looking at people who are damaged in different ways,
As a mirror that is dropped, broken never the same though a few try.
Broken the pieces that are all there, never can fit as once before.
Impulsive though we are directed by some into the wall knowing
The wall to them is not there.
There are problems in a child's home that you are to blind to see,
Hungry, dirty unkept, ignored by the people like you.
Feral we some at a young age have become, being autistic you never
Knew until I came out and told you.
Being good with numbers at a young age I never was interested in being
An accountant.
So the State covers their ass and tries to deny that you ever existed.
Even though at a much older age, they still tell you lies and seeing right
through
Them, then they get angry and try to use your disability to make you mad
So they can then threaten you with going to jail or even worse some filthy
Mental hospital.
We whom have survived the terrible thing's that have taken the lives of all of
The others,
Makes the few who went to school to become emeshed in the lives of the few
Left alive to cause one more harm then lable you as a wandering mind detached
from
Reality and cull through the few left alive.
Shattered we hide and go to great lengths to remain hidden with out a voice
Or the money to buy one.
We who are the few whom are still alive end up using the pieces from a
different
Broken mirror trying in vain to fix our own unseen by you trying our best not
to give up.
As Emily has said to live without hope trying to fix the wing of a bird that
one holds in
Thier hand that has long since died and shattered though I am I cannot see.
The first time I got married, it was a church affair.
And as all good grooms, I wanted it to go off with a certain flair.
Everything was ready that I could think of
Now all that remained was to share and profess our love.
The ceremony was beautiful and went off without a glitch
But I never expected my "Best Man's" prankish hitch.
It was at the reception when began my harassment
I would not know the why, but everyone had a comment.
"Don't worry", "It'll be okay", or "You won't need any" people would say
And I didn't understand, why some looked at me in such a strange way.
With a quizzical look on my face I was only perplexed
I didn't know just what comment, next to expect.
Finally, I asked one of my groomsmen being rather shy
If he knew what people meant, and perhaps the reason why.
"It's not you, you dummy, you just never knew...
The lengths to which we'd go, to embarass you."
I couldn't stand it anymore, these comments of chide
I excused myself politely, and looked for a corner to hide.
So off to a quiet place alone, my sore feet and I did go
I took my shoes off to rub them and finally did I know.
It seems that in my haste and hurry, my love to prove
I never even looked, at the bottom of my shoes.
There on the soles, which could only be seen in church when I knelt,
Were two letters on each painted in white...left shoe 'HE'...right shoe...'LP' .
I don’t think I have ever written another poem of such emotional intensity! I was bedridden for almost four months. It was at such a desperate moment that I thought of scribbling down my feelings of despair and I found words coming out like a sudden spurt! It was a new awakening! I wrote nearly 34 poems in a period of nearly two and a half months, all in bed which I included in my first collection entitled BEATS. I still believe it was something providential...! Never had I written a single poem before!!
Left alone in a dull and dreary mood,
With none to lean on and look for,
I tethered my soul to sordid gloom,
And chained my fancy, never letting it soar.
Dull were the days and sore were the nights,
Time slouched on in mechanical beats.
Mind devoid of all buoyant thoughts,
Senses shut to every cheery throb of life,
I lay awake, staring on the ceiling above,
My eyes, so lost in a fixed stare,
Never a smile lighted up my stony face,
Nor a gleam of hope brightened up my brain.
Inertia crept over from head to foot.
I had long lost my zest for life,
With life saps drained out like an empty well,
I felt nothing but the heat of scorching drought.
Nothing could move my grief laden soul,
None could lift the weight off my back,
Embers of fire sparked from the anvil of my heart,
Heaves of sighs escaped from parched mouth,
I wriggled and writhed in unspeakable pain,
My spirits sank deeper into a slithery marsh,
I saw around only a thick pall of gloom,
Or was it a projection of my own self?
Anguish gnawed my nerves and sinews,
Flames of pain danced within my spine,
I felt my head so heavy and beginning to reel,
And the heavy weight of lead all around my neck.
I felt being pushed down to abysmal depths,
And the octopus tightening its tentacles all around
Who on earth will set me free?
What on earth can lift me up?
With thundering force, the question shook my weary self.
I sprang to my feet and broke loose my chains,
I found I was but in self – exile,
A captive entrapped within boundless space.
I saw the door opening to infinite lengths,
And the arched horizon looming larger than life,
I spread my wings and propelled up,
And darted through the clouds to distant shores,
Never to come down, where I thought I could dwell forever.
I’m a simple sinner
Saved by God’s grace
I’m not always a winner
In the righteousness race
I’m a simple sinner
Who reaches toward the light
More like a beginner
Than one who is in a fight
I’m a simple sinner
Filled with love from above
God’s living quiver
Who knows more about love
I’m a simple sinner
One who knows I’m wrong
I don’t let it make me bitter
But pray it makes me strong
I’m a simple sinner
Alive with the living word
I’m definitely no quitter
From the Savior, I’ve heard
I’m a simple sinner
Willing to go to any lengths
In order to be a true giver
Of all that God grants me in strengths
I’m a simple sinner
Who welcomes God’s inspiration
From others I may differ
In my love for God’s creation
Dear Mr. Change.
It is not my intention to over-vent or appear unduly angry or upset.
It's just that I had to express to you my feelings about the whole
world being in a massive reset. I'm not one who's stuck in time, not
wanting things to change but stay the same. Nevertheless, I do think
that too much change brought on too suddenly can drive a man insane.
So, my dear sir, Mr. Change. Please allow me a few words with you.
To reach your goals, what heights and lengths must you go?
At what rate and velocity must your rivers flow?
Whose interests are most served by you?
Do YOU even approve of the things you do?
What are the rhymes and reasons you use to justify?
Why does it appear that you never want to simplify?
You are often strangely resolute, most absolute, and
seemingly giving little thought about the things you uproot.
I like you Mr. Change, but sometimes, I must say, you go too far.
It's as if you have allusions of grandeur or of being a superstar.
Anyway, it hurts at times to see things so unlike yesterday.
Well, Mr. Change, whether or not you listen, I've had my say.
081722PSCtest, A Brian Strand Premier Contest, Brian Strand
Fueled by alcoholic self-will run riot,
Thoughts full of blame and defiance,
Resentment, self-pity, lies and shame,
Relief demands psychic change.
Twelve steps suggested be taken,
Acute withdrawal and body shaking.
Admitting powerlessness is no disgrace
For transformation by God’s grace.
Change is painful and not easy,
Many meetings and even therapy.
Process of cleansing and renewal,
Thinking change appears doable
Mind slowly less chaotic and loud.
Worry and excuses not allowed.
Memories hold less pain and torture.
Rarely overwhelm or cause disorder.
Things yet to come, what might have been,
Faith stops them from wandering back in.
Restless, discontented, irritable feelings,
Less annoying with prayer and healing.
Moral inventories of character defects
Lead to actions that bring self-respect.
Good intentions never meant to be,
All are replaced with honesty.
Seeing certain people cause feelings intense,
past relationships that never stood a chance.
Everywhere possible - still making amends,
cleaning up the past to the best one can
Praying each day for willingness and strength
to do what needs to be and go to any lengths.
Living life guided by these basic principles,
changes thinking and that is a miracle.
Written 12-17-2015
Let the top runners run a way ahead of me,
Let them hold their coveted trophies high,
Just to finish, my modest version feels happy;
True beauty this of long-distance running, feel I.
Every runner carries a story with him:
Some have faced a bitter breakup or a lost job,
Some confront middle age and fight low self-esteem,
Weary victims of dull days all, all blending with the mob.
As the heavy kilometers are getting killed,
The old gulf in my confidence begins to yield,
Anxieties and deep hurts get quietly healed
As empty space before the finish line is filled.
My lungs burn with a clean, honest fire--
A welcome distraction from the weight on my chest,
This pain, a fair reward for my old ire,
Sweat washing clean the scars of my quiet conquest.
It all begins with a few tentative steps
Driven by the most benign motives of the crowd,
To make friends with strangers, to earn their claps,
Slowly forming a habit that makes a person proud.
Life is not won by a wooden podium’s call
If only we have the patience to wait,
A long-distance journey awaits us all,
Whether or not a few medals await their fate.
__________________________________
Reflections | 04.08.2026 | analogy, ambition, competition, goal, prize, race, Quatrain
Note: This piece reflects on competing with the self with an aim to improve rather than winning a medal, taking an illustration of long-distance running. The lines of the quatrain with varying lengths follow a relaxed rhyming rhythm.