Long Live Poems
Long Live Poems. Below are the most popular long Live by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Live poems by poem length and keyword.
Not by itself is life complicated,
Let me not push world to ways of my head.
If I try and forgive but can’t forget,
Worse than a spell in hell my life may get.
What makes things look dark clouds is memory,
So, let me drain off all its history,
And everything in life’s jigsaw would fit,
Suddenly, lo, life’s so simple and sweet!
Good that I cannot my past lives recall,
One life’s memories take enough of toll.
And yet, few foster can that fortitude
To live alone in desert’s solitude,
Wonder, mind can fit a handy hard-disk
That picks and prunes memories at no risk!
________________________________________
Sonnet in couplets |05.08.2022|
Poet’s note: Reflecting on life, an old couple (old, what else? Youth has just no time to waste on reflections) exchanges views on the ways of world. The husband initiates the discussion and contributes the octave of this sonnet, and wife, the concluding sestet (yes, she always has the last word).
The long life
The knowledge of living forever is already here
all one has to do is renew the old cells for new ones
once a year starting when forty or thereabout when
a person is self-sufficient.
It is also possible to renew cells so often on regress
to infancy and looked after by your son who is unable
to grasp he is changing his father’s nappy.
Longevity has its own risk of how to live you can alight
from the Garston, bus nr 9 and be knocked down
by a car, the autopsy will show the person was not forty
But 110.
The best way to get old is to kill someone in Oklahoma
get 200 years in a padded cell be fed by a slot in the wall
and when the conviction comes to an end
refuse to leave the prison, your home on earth.
Light is fading
It’s cold, abrasive
Facing longer nights
Green leaves mellow
Brown and yellow
Autumn has arrived
Misty mornings
Clock alarming
Body sense awry
Feel so jaded
Last night’s raving
Flashing through your mind
Drink hot coffee
Rush to catch the
Seven thirty-five
On the treadmill
Routine, thankful
Work keeps hope alive
Simply crazy when, every now and then
You want to bash your head against the wall
No longer feeling worth it all
Like you always thought you would
You live the life you choose
Or are you being used?
Now faking it, doesn’t raise a hit
You forfeit all or run with it
Lucky to be paid
And maybe later, dream of getting laid
Light is fading
It’s cold, abrasive
Facing longer nights
Green leaves mellow
Brown and yellow
Autumn has arrived
Before we knew to find you,
I had a life well lived. But-
My soul and me were heartless,
We craved a touch or kiss.
We could travel through this broken world,
And marvel at its steps.
Beauty does not elude us,
We could live without regret.
And yet with all its splendor,
Its secrets and its depths.
Its utmost hidden treasure,
Lay deep within your chest.
When we came upon you,
When first we saw your face,
My soul and me delighted,
To find what we misplaced.
My heart which never mattered,
Which never had a role,
Which never lain inside me,
Now beat for you alone.
What once I saw as dull and grey,
You turned to pastel light.
You made me want to praise your name,
My soul bent down and tried.
We stayed their in our graceful bow,
To worship at your feet.
You freed me of my demons,
And set lose my age old grief.
You replaced the empty chasm,
Were we sat in cold wrought chains.
You exchanged the old stiff metal,
With one forged of silken reins.
We followed in your foot steps,
With sure and steady strides,
No longer did we feel unsafe,
No longer did we cry.
Form:
Let me tell you my story about my behind bars blues
For doing something I shouldn't, now too much to lose
It all happened quite a few years ago when I was a boy sixteen
Living on the Dublin estates, where you had to be part of the scene
Gangs became part of the culture, live here you'll see what I mean
Generation after generation, it appears to be in our genes
I close my eyes to recall, whilst a shiver runs down my spine
As I follow my steps that night, still scared of what I'll find
We, me and my gang, readily terrorised our streets
Frightened of no one we were, no matter whom we'd meet
Then came that Friday night down at the local bar and grill
A Rock Band played in the corner, Thin Lizzy, their guitars spill
Next thing all hell breaks loose, a rival gang enters en masse
No prisoners were taken, no creed, colour or class
Amidst the chaotic scenes you could hear the flick of a blade
Into flesh that was previously perfect, a member makes his grade
Scattered echoes resonate, shouting and cursing extends
Screams of fading life bellows, as another knife internally bends
Broken glass now glistens in pools of crimson red
Dishevelled clothed creatures, lie punctured close to dead
Sirens out of nowwhere wail, flashing blues descend
Another Friday night downtown, societies current trend
I stand in frenzied stare, a redded steel gripped in my hand
Me becoming one of many, that a parent had never planned
At sixteen years old I have been taken, but I see another day
There were three on that fateful night, who never came back to play
Liberty was never a word, that ever entered our thoughts
Or even the others we inflicked, whom we brought to nought
The day I stood in the dock, knowing behind bars blues were near
At sixteen years old going inside, it's now my turn to fear
* For Miranda's "Behind Bars Blues" contest *
Grandpa said you work hard all day
to do to yourself some good....
So, what you think as priory in your pay,
is a well deserved dish of good food!
For the less fortunate; one square meal.
And for the well off; another day's feast!
In diet classes, I say it’s not a big deal
to decline your favorites to have fat decreased!
At home, I sit with a well garnished pizza “extra cheese”.
a large chunk of ‘Black Forest cake’ to follow
and a glass of wine, selected and chilled, please.
I can't help, my stomach is an ever growing hollow!
So, do what I say but don't do what I do.
Rational on duty but mad for a ‘biryani”, spicy and hot!
Strong to my audience, but weak with a pint of home brew.
Excuse me, friends, I can’t resist much my cooking pot!
28/06/16
Honorable mention for contest I love food by Lewis Raynes (29/06/16)
It seems like yesterday that the air in our house was thick,
so thick I could choke on it before breakfast.
My father’s voice
sharp as broken glass,
louder than any thunder I’d ever heard.
He didn’t just speak.
He carved.
He carved his anger into walls,
into skin,
into silence.
It seems like yesterday I was small enough to hide, but never small enough to escape.
I pressed myself into corners,
made myself paper-thin,
thinking maybe if I was quiet enough,
still enough,
he’d forget I was there.
But monsters don’t forget.
They feed.
It seems like yesterday
your hands, Mother,
were shaking over a sink of dishes,
eyes glazed,
voice swallowed whole.
I didn’t understand it then, how survival can look like surrender,
how sometimes staying feels safer than running.
I thought your silence meant I wasn’t worth saving.
But now I see,
you were trapped too.
You were breaking too.
And in your own way,
you were teaching me to live through it.
It seems like yesterday I blamed myself.
For his rage.
For your tears.
For the nights that stretched like an ocean
with no shore in sight.
Children always think it’s their fault.
Always think if they just smile harder,
cry softer,
breathe quieter,
that they can turn a monster into a man.
But no smile,
no silence,
no shrinking could save me.
I know that now.
It seems like yesterday that I carried shame like a second skin,
Like a secret tattoo only I could see.
But scars aren’t shame,
they’re survival stories,
they’re proof I lived through the fire and didn’t let it burn me down.
It seems like yesterday,
but yesterday is gone.
And me?
I’m still here.
I’m still standing.
Every breath I take is rebellion,
every heartbeat is proof,
that his shadow didn’t win.
It seems like yesterday that I was a child in the dark.
It seems like today that I am the light.
It seems like tomorrow that I will build a home where love doesn’t hurt,
where silence doesn’t stain,
where children sleep without fear and wake without scars.
It seems like yesterday that I was broken.
It seems like today that I am whole.
It seems like tomorrow that I will rise again,
and again,
and again.
"It is to be..." A bold statement!
Demonstrative for it's not preceded with "If."
That would leave room for a way of escapement.
More of a command as if delivered by the Word of God,
or the promise of a lesser being... I am merely mortal.
Que sera sera... what will be, will be? Not a chance.
That seems much too uncaring a stance to take.
A life, left in the hands of fate could easily be led astray,
but that's not the way I choose to live.
Forgive me if I dance around what I'm trying to say.
It's just that I want to follow through with whatever it is to be.
To know when a friend carries sorrow in a wounded heart
so that somehow I might find a way to chase it off.
Don't scoff. I know being human has its limitations,
but friendships are in need of aspirations. They are to me.
I'm not interested in being disappointed in others.
I've thwarted and dismayed many, even my own soul.
It is to be that I need to prove to myself
that I confess having been foolish on occasions
but I still dare to dream for my heart's desire
without the least hint of gentle persuasion...
even when I put myself in the line of fire.
It is to be, as written in 'My Creed' by Edgar Guest,
"To take what comes of good or ill
and cling to faith and honor still.
To live undaunted, unafraid
of any step that I have made."
It will do no good to recall my strife or what I've lost.
I don't want to live on the waves of a storm-tossed sea.
I choose to drink from the cup that's half full
and inhale the fragrance of ecstasy when it comes my way.
I cannot alter what was but will accept whatever "it is to be."
#The_void
You don't know how I feel right now, you might as well take the gun and start shooting at me, tip toeing, tale chasing ain't my thing, I'm just in void, I stuck in this absence, your absence from me
everything around me reminds me of you, everything I touch, I look at, I just see you here and there, your presence is everywhere and in everything I do and say, found myself calling your name and realised you are not here to answer, but this void
Pinch me and tell me this ain't a dream, a nightmare I say, found myself back chatting, scolding myself for being here when you are that away from here, say I'm losing my mind, If not myself in this void
Please get here before I lose what I can't afford to lose , maybe you will find a shell of me, dried up and hopeless to resuscitate, nothing left of me, to find
My crime was, falling, falling with my whole and now I'm losing a piece of me daily, with every day you are not here by my side, get back here before this void grows gigantic and becomes impossible to contain further
I need you here, right now, to pull me out of my longing, thought I could sustain my endurance of waiting but it seems I'm cheating myself coz I'm literally, if not constantly and blatantly failing
Rescue me from myself, for you made me realize my deepest fear, fact that I can't live without you, this void keeps taking and taking away from me, If not me holistically, my courage my firmness and quickly swifting off from fingers, the person I thought I was
Maybe I'm becoming weak, my deepest fear, you being my weakness, rush here before I lose my worst, the ability to stand my ground, this void is taking a toll on me, please fill this void
#Poetic_ink
A short Prelude to Baya Bird
The Poem is inspired by a photo of Baya Bird placed on face book. The beautiful picture of Baya bird can be seen on following URL:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=456119468060086&set=gm.1021617874633531&type=3&theater
A short Prelude to Baya Bird
.
What an unparalleled charisma of Nature
A small tiny bird has made this wonderful
Piece of Nature's pleasing unique wonder. 01
.
How do you get all these straws by your efforts
Then you weave them like a skilled weaver
These are not nest but they are the
Art monuments of Nature. 02
.
After watching such beautiful nest I wish
How wonderful it would be, if I could live
For few days with you, O bird
To see how beautiful is your world. 03
.
Alas ! If all the little children could have lived near you for some time
Will the new generation would save you from diminishing, O' sweet bird
This thought comes to mind, whenever I see you O' bird Baya. 04
Ravindra K Kapoor
11th Jan. 2017