Long Lifewoman Poems
Long Lifewoman Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifewoman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifewoman poems by poem length and keyword.
I was alone
Travelling Interstate 80
Following the route of the early Western pioneers
2900 miles across the midsection of America
Stretching from the East Coast to California
In Utah home to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
The land becomes flat and straight
Large signs on the edge of the road
Warn drivers about fatigue and drowsiness
Tired and hungry
I drove on
Watching shadows move in the sunlight
Day turning into night
On an empty highway
Finally I stopped at a place off the road.
An old woman showed me around
Small talk
On a warm evening
Life is a delusion she said
Young man
There are terrible people out there
You ought to be careful
Cause you’re young you know.
The room was small
Fan cutting through the humid air
Telephone ringing in an empty room
Lights flickered
In the shadows
She pointed to a spot
Where an old man died
We kept the shabby couch she said
Too expensive to throw out
Out Here
We’re as practical
And frugal as the Mormons
So we kept it.
No sense in thinking about it any more
She whispered
The more you think
The more mixed up you get
Besides it’s wide
A bed for two and very comfortable.
I tried paying for the room
She looked in my face
Searching for something
Then down at the crumpled bills in my hand
Wetting her fingers she counted the money
I don’t know if you kids have everything
Or you have nothing
Time and experience will tell
I guess
Then she handed some of the money back to me
I don’t need that much
Beside it’s only money Son
That’s all it is
Life is short
You hold on to it
You’ll need it later
I looked puzzled
She smiled
We all have our secrets.
I was up early next morning
When the old woman appeared
I figured you’d be leaving soon she said
Heading West?
Yes I replied
Going to look for family out there?
No just myself
Afraid?
A little
Lightly touching my arm she said
Don’t be afraid. You’re young. There’s always been magic in a young heart
The roads are clear this time of morning.
Ride straight and you’ll do fine.
The engine revved up
I was moving at 60, then 70, then 80
Windows wide open
Wind pouring in
Not another car on the road
I was alive
I was free
The morning belonged to me.
Why should everything be about rules?
Why can’t we push the envelope a little and have some fun?
Why live in a space where rules
have the ability to decide our happiness...
What about the woman that touched the hem of his garment?
if she followed the rules she would still be ill.
What about the woman who took the oil and washed Jesus’ feet?
The disciples felt that what she was going, were against "the rules"
but in the end she blessed the Master in the best way she possibly could…
How many of us were disillusioned by sticking to the rules?
Life should sometimes be about having fun
not everything in life is plain and simple,
neither are the rules that we are
sometimes compelled to adhere to
sometimes rules are meant to be broken,
even if it is just to make someone's day...
I do not know her name
And would I want to know?
Is it what they call a game?
And should I simply let moments flow?
Naturally, I’m to watch her soon
A gesture to be looking out for
And sparkling becomes my eyes like the moon
To finally perhaps make a move to call
Yet… woman be woman
As man be man forever to be
Mind games are forever to burn
For man and woman are never to see
What exactly we be looking for?
Do we ourselves even know to begin?
Is it the other or ourselves we adore?
Have we the reason to maintain?
And my name did she want to know?
Will she remember in a future called tomorrow?
And of moments allowed to flow
Did I remember a game from humanities to borrow?
Younger men seem to admire a full bloomed flower,
A woman with experience, grace and power,
He is drawn to her domination,
She gives him inspiration,
Her potency is like aged wine,
most young woman are still buds, on the evergreen vine,
Her confidence allures him, her mystery intrigues,
Subconsciously, she fills a void or a need,
Whereas the woman feeds on his infancy,
It brings forth her youth and consistency,
She feels greater affection, adoration and attention,
Even if it is her, that has the comming pension,
His stamina and capacity,
Brings forth a refreshing elasticity,
Fulfilling her appetite,
As they dance into the twilight.
She becomes renewed,
Her countenance glows,
Letting others see,
what they may not know,
A voyage, exploration,
with mutual sensation,
This new type of love,
A doe and his dove.
By: Sabina