Long Lifeline Poems
Long Lifeline Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifeline by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifeline poems by poem length and keyword.
After much consideration
I have decided that, Time
is both longest and shortest
word in the dictionary...
so long, it can only be measured
in digestible fragments
so short, it takes only a careless moment
to end two lives –
My thoughts go back to your accident:
How a second can sever like a scalpel,
terminating the lifeline connecting two hearts
with one fatal slice...
(two lives with one stroke of the clock – Tick Tock)
(Time, the infinite multiplier of joy and grief)
I know – Suck it up! Breathe the loss in and out
like Brahma! We are spiritual beings at our core;
someday to meet again on a plane of restored
bliss – where Time and Space give way to
eternal contentment and happiness –
But, “Have Faith” at the moment, seems hopelessly
entangled with my hourglass of other cliches: Just in
time. Out of time. In the nick of time. Time – all pasts
and the future of all presents, to be managed by
many, like myself, through their recurring lapses into
heartfelt Limbo.
I wish I could write you a heartfelt song,
that would lift you up when you’re feeling down.
Your days have been overwhelming and long,
I want to see a big smile, not a frown.
My world is perfect because you exist,
we still have many memories to make.
Making you feel better, I couldn’t resist,
seeing you like this, just makes my heartache.
Let me be your joy ‘til you can have it,
and grab the lifeline that I’m handing you.
We are referred to as,unlikely fit;
but I will be there when you’re feeling blue.
So when your facing life’s storms, always know,
that you my love, are my constant rainbow.
2-13-2020
Alexis Y.
I am the silent witness that looks down from on high,
The silent witness who inhales carbon through cleansing veins,
The silent witness that exhales oxygen to give you air,
The lifeline for humanity
I am the silent sufferer of turmoil from the abyss to my roots,
Who breathes the torment of the culling of my brothers and sisters,
Where the haunting silent echoes fall on selective hearing,
The fragility of my realm,
Destruction by humanity
I am the seasonal encyclopaedia that holds the truth of what has passed,
I hold the truth of our histories within the depths of my trunk,
Certified by the dark circles etched within my core
I am the silent sage who has witnessed your ancestors,
And the silence of their reverence as their spirits brush past my leaves,
My silent testimony is cradled in the soft winds of the Groves,
Between us we whisper and “Tell it like it is”
But not in the tongue of humanity
Yet, though I whisper,
no human asks for pure testimony,
Shhh! But if you listen – “I will tell you like it is”
But you must open your ears and listen, please listen…..
30/11/22
'Tell it Like it is' competition
Sponser: Mystic Rose Rose
Listen up, 'cause I'm about to spit some truth
About a disease that's eating our society from the root
Corruption, the silent killer, the thief in the night
Stealing our future, our justice, our right
Bribes exchanging hands, backdoor deals in the dark
While the common folk struggle, just trying to make their mark
Services meant for all, now reserved for a few
Tell me, is this the society we ever knew?
Plato's spinning in his grave, his ideal state in shambles
As the guardians of our republic take part in corrupt gambles
Aristotle's golden mean? More like a rusty scale
Tipped in favour of the rich, leaving the poor to wail
John Rawls cries out from behind his veil of ignorance
"Where's the fairness? The justice? This ain't what I meant!"
The social contract in tatters, Rousseau's dream undone
When public service becomes a race that can't be won
Corruption kills! It kills our schools, our hospitals, our streets
It kills our faith in leaders, in the cop on the beat
It kills our children's future, their chance to rise and shine
It kills our very soul, crossing every moral line
Kant would ask, "Is this universal? Could all act this way?"
If everyone was corrupt, society would decay
But here we are, watching it crumble day by day
As the corrupt few steal everyone else's say
So what do we do? How do we break this chain?
How do we wash away this deep, pervasive stain?
It starts with us, with you, with me, with all
Standing up, speaking out, refusing to fall
For every bribe refused, every whistleblower brave
We claw back our future from corruption's grave
It's time to rise, to fight, to make things right
To bring our society back into the light
Because justice ain't just a word, it's our lifeline
Fairness ain't a luxury, it should be yours and mine
Well-being ain't for sale, it's our birthright
So stand up, speak out, and join the fight!
Against corruption, against the rot
For the society we want, not the one we've got
The philosophers of old, showed us the way
Now it's up to us to seize a better day!
Am I the only one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing?
Flimsy...frail...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
Yes, it can soar indeed,
so high, with the wind taking it places,
almost making it forget,
just enjoying the wind rushing through,
lighthearted
The wind drops,
then it gets snared
among tree branches maybe,
or perhaps stuck on a roof or elsewhere
with its string all tangled and knotted,
almost impossible to untangle
if made with paper,
it should be lucky to still be intact,
with nary a tear
more often than not,
it gets ditched in the trash,
the price to pay for
its momentary freedom
Sometimes, though
perhaps a rarity these days,
there is that boy who makes
that kite from scratch,
whittles the sticks himself,
painstakingly forming that frame,
creating that kite with love
So when it does get all tangled up,
that boy still tries so hard to fix it,
to make it new...
never minding the cuts
he gets in the process--
That string not meant to tie down
that kite,
but a lifeline to the boy
But like I said,
that must be a rare thing these days...
For I am one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing...
Flimsy...frail...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
** There are many of you who have helped me in my journey in writing, & my heartfelt smiley thanks to all of you but I'd also like to give thank you hugs and smiles to Chris D. Aechtner ^_^ I distinctly remember asking you about Sijo, wow when was that? 2 years ago? Back then, I knew I asked the right person--& from there, you've helped bring to light (& helped me appreciate) a lot of other writing forms, just talking about those forms was a blast, just you sharing some of what you've been learning along the way (& believe me, I've learned even a thing or two! can I just say this? I bet you'd make an awesomely cool teacher :D)-- from sijo, to limericks, to sonnets, to haiku and kimo, to than-bauk to that Grook! ook! Being mainly a free-verse writer, you've helped me diversify & that means a lot to me. So my heartfelt thank you for being there in my poetic journey, and for being my friend :D
oops. that wasn't a couple of lines?! lol
I'm tethered
as gravity ungathers
unspooling into time
inhalation is ~
other versions of self
tie me down
with these ragged lines
words thread
into fine yarn
stretching across the infinite
with them
construct a reality
& I'll give all that I am
into these reels
dedicate lifetime after lifetime
into the lifeline
that contains you
craft every art-form
into your likeness
I'm a marionette
feeling wanted
& wanting
always wanting
your hands
the only anchor
across my existence
to stop me
f
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a
t
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g
a
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Author Dana Redricks
July 2, 2024
Through many storms I have come, yet never alone, each tempest shaping me, in its thunderous tone. The trials have molded the person you see, in every fracture, God revealed His decree.
My brokenness, a tapestry in His grand design, crafting purpose from shards, a divine lifeline.
Unique and loving, this heart of mine beats, matching the grace in mercy streets.
Strength bestowed from heaven throne, a gift so pure, to face every challenge, to stand and endure. Embracing each moment, each joyful array, holding hope steadfastly through the darkest days.
For in every storm cloud, a rainbow in disguise, God's promise of love, reflected in my eyes. So I journey onward, in faith, with a song in my heart, for His strength is my armor, His love makes me strong.
Through the rhythmic sound of solitude I travel
The wrought iron door opens wide
To the voice of silence I listen
In search for answers, for truths all sealed inside.
I seek , I dig ... I dig hard and deep , in hope of finding who I am
At last, at last I catch a sight ,a blurry vision of myself.
In a crystal glass mirror , my hetroggyzite twin I see
I remain still ! But not my shadow
My shadow moves unexpectedly.
It moves, It follows patterns that satisfy perceptions
of a starving harvest world
A world of expectations in waiting to be fed.
There I stand, there I kneel, I shout, I scream
I scream with love and hate ,against the drying sweat of tears
against the path, against each lifeline of my faith.
Tears bleed , they bleed for all that's been perceived.
Motionless I lay , knowing I'm anybody 's ,everybody's
but my own . I'm hundred times deceived..
What have I done , What did they make of me ?
A stranger, an unrecognized past,
A new existence without remembrance
Who was I then, Who am I now When will it last ?.
Spring is still here ,but where is the music,Where is my song ?
Summer castles still built,But where are my fantasies,Where is the dream ?
Autumnal leaves fall ,But where are the colours,Where is my fire ?
Winter , Another Winter follows, snowflakes melt once more,
But where is the Christmas tree,Where is the child
Where is the fairy stardust, once glistenening in her eyes ?
Where is my youth , Where is the echo of my laughter ?
Where am I , Who am I ? Where did they take me ?
Vultures, that's who they are . Parastites , that suck on my thought,
Demanding change in a soul that isn't theirs.
Through the rhythmic sound of solitude I travel,
The wrought iron door opens wide
To the voice of silence I listen,
From their ardous inheritance , I hide.
At last , at last I walk unchained ,At last, at last I recall my name
I dance in each season, I run without reason ,
I run free , I run wild , I smile like a child once again .
I believe in synchronicity and the wonders therein contained…
I believe in angels and miracles and the mystery of the unexplained.
Chrissy was a friend of our daughter…growing up their friendship was like glue…
I remember in high school they dyed their hair school colors…Ali orange…and Chrissy blue.
I remember one summer she came with us to North Carolina…that’s what good friends do…and in moments when we stop to think about her…Chrissy was our friend too.
It’s been a number of years since she left us shocked and mystified…since our good friend Chrissy…committed suicide.
Her life was filled with sadness…so much agony and strife…and, one day, when no one was looking…she ended her short life.
Chrissy was young and funny and beautiful…at least on the outside for all to see…she was thoughtful and creative…she even wrote poetry.
But inside Chrissy was a troubled soul who lived in darkness and couldn’t always see the light…this morning I was thinking about how I miss her smile and all those poems she’ll never write.
How we all wish Chrissy had understood…she had friends and family nearby…
who were willing to do anything to help…who weren’t ready to say goodbye.
On my walk I wondered how she’s doing…hoping she is happy and feeling fine…and I appealed to the Other Side saying, “Chrissy, if you’re happy…please…give me a sign.”
Just something to let me know you’re not sad and lonely anymore…
and then I saw it…a five dollar bill on the ground in front of my bookstore!
I picked it up, said “Thank you, Chrissy. I’m glade you’re well, my friend…and in my pocket I placed the five dollar bill…I never intend to spend.
Was finding that five dollars just a coincidence…or was it as synchronistic as it seems?
Was it a way for Chrissy to tell me she is safe and no longer hounded by her dreams?
Was it just a random five dollar bill dropped from someone’s pocket…or a sign sent from Chrissy down to me? You can draw your own conclusions…but I vote for synchronicity.
And I implore anyone who is depressed today…to remember you have friends and family near by…willing to help in any way they can…who are not ready to say goodbye.
988…IS THE SUICIDE AND CRISIS LIFELINE: HELP IS AVAILABLE
Written: April 18, 2025, for Contest Sponsored by Brian Strand
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. . . here comes the m o o n
taking shape as a girl
her golden skin, aglow
peering through the door
and slipping into the room
I grasp her across
the crowded space
cerulean hair cascading
as a waterfall over rounded
c r e a m y shoulders
her eyes glinting as twin stars
are framed by a curving smile
that splits her shell-pink lips
as our gazes lock,
such a gentle breeze
that tease spring buds
her laughter carries
a sweet scent of honeysuckle
beckoning me to step closer
here comes warmth
a candle soft flicker
and amber flames dance silently
around the silhouette of her curves
shadowed with f e r vo r
winding through a maze of people
I find her waiting
beneath the half-moon
her hands outstretched
like a lifeline
pulling me from dark waters
our fingers intertwine—
her skin is smooth
like sateen sheets
I twist myself into
the folds of her body
as her silken velvet voice
melts between teeth like
sumptuous chocolate mousse
our parched mouths meet
kisses crash like thundering waves
drinking in the tart berry sweetness
and savoring every flavor of her
here comes desire
a flash of your eyes
a kaleidoscope of storms
reflected in the blue—
caught within the blue
swirling like northern lights
on a cold winter night
I lay dazed and amused
drawn to your smile
here comes a kiss
upon our warm, starlit lips
and I inhale your scent
a sweet, rare perfume aura
under sheets of rolling hills
caressed by moonlight
the river whispers
“drown in my f l o w.”