Long Lodging Poems
Long Lodging Poems. Below are the most popular long Lodging by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lodging poems by poem length and keyword.
The sea ghosts
The first time I went to sea as a mess-boy, it was on an old ship.
It took two days to find my seaman's legs and take a look at my surrounding.
The crew didn´t look real like they were shadows caught up in a war
that was not of their choosing.
When ships were torpedoed and the sea was afire.
Drowning seamen slowly sinking in a circle like a macabre dance of death.
There was something of the night about them I could not fathom.
The war lasted for many years when peace came, the seamen had lost all contact with families and friends.
When this voyage was over, they would get paid, find lodging near the harbour drink beer at ease with tarts and thieves until the money ran out.
Then a new job, one voyage at a time.
I wanted to but could not be one of them; life interests me.
The sailors had found something I could not emulate, their peace of mind
was shrouded in the mist a yearning for Saragossa.
He's Bragging
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______ By:C.Encontriamo A. Creta &
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Translated it still startled me
a fully defined phrase. The
allowances were contracted
a chain of Hotels and Restaurants
found it profitable to allow certain
peop0le to afford there programs.
Per Diem contracts are one of those
lucrative businesses that stood the
test of time. A company could use
coupons to support the travel, lodging
meals and incidentals. My new position
would have me examine the rates of
competitors who supported "by the day'
workers. It was Carnival time where I
had wished to be: and it was Festival
season were I was. My vacation would either
be spent hiding out here avoiding people
I know or going somewhere were I knew
know one. I chose to vacate where Carnival was.
,and travel straight to my new assignment.
I was in the audience the night that
Bruh Beezelle won the contest. The crowd
was crazy loud. There were so many women:
I mean really beautiful women.. It was the kinda
night that made loneliness even harder to deal with.
I got lucky a women needed help with her luggage
she invited me to her room for a drink if I carried her
bags to her room.I said soda please and she said deal.
I told her I was a reporter: she found it interesting,
she was on vacation too. What a night, two pastrami
sandwiches and fries had me full. She told me I could stay
with her if I wanted to and believe me :I really wanted to.
10 days at Carnival, we were together everynight
and everyday. When I reached my new assignment
I was just waiting to get the call. Day 20 the phone rang
I knew it was her, she said human chorionic gonadotropin
has revealed she was pregnant. She knew we had to get
together and talk. I would finish early here and would meet
her somewhere, who cares I was really happy. No strings
attached I had scored a winner!
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From "The Cat Doesn't Like Me"
By; C.E.A. Creta/a.k.a./Strutturatore Dee Brani
Sporadically, language falls short of the lasting mark
To instantly share awe-inspiring testimonies and remark
Appalling atrocities of war and unfathomed sorrow
Millions of people are on the hunt for a wheel-barrow
This loaded backpack was previously packed for a trip
It is, however, currently being utilized as an escape tip
Their humble lodging is becoming increasingly narrow
We pray they will be clung to unite like a bow and arrow
They're laboriously dragging their burden along the street
It is extremely beneficial to deliver water and buckwheat
For their active life, they will keep an eye on the sparrow
And won't utterly work behind the plow and harrow
Written: March 22, 2022
“The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always asked to do things and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down.”
T. S. Eliot
He travelled miles to see the house in which he was born.
The journey and what he found, had made him most forlorn.
The laughter that would echo down the halls,
The grandeur of the auditorium used for parties and balls,
The lovely old home with its stately gables,
The hired helps lodging, connected to the stables,
It all stood derelict, dilapidated and neglected.
Not at all what his old memories recollected.
His mind was full of promising joy as he looked back,
And here before him was a tumbled down shack.
No hope of restoration as he moseyed through the rubble,
Maybe it was decided long ago that it was too much trouble.
A sullen feeling came over the old man, trying to understand,
What caused this to be the fate of a home once so grand?
He didn’t sleep that night and pondered this til morning.
Tired and dejected, he now realised this was a warning.
Not to let himself get run down or dejected.
Make sure his fitness and well-being never be neglected.
As the old home is now ramshackle and entirely dismembered,
Decrepit, certainly isn’t the way he wants to be remembered.
Somehow, the deluge of cloudburst
unwraps my flesh pallid, as if to spill
holy water--maybe thickened dew—just
to give a name to lapses of my unheard cries,
while an insolent breeze fails to listen
as I howl in utter despair of life's requiem:
The thistle of wet soil chains my feet
anchored unto the swell of memories' bend;
remaining distant in an unknown,
vacant cemetery nourishing a loneliness
only vagrants like me could bear:
A scream of rain compels a thirst
to feed on abrasions of ghastly pang...alone,
isolated from new moonlight's lodging
my solitude, my invisible frame starts to sigh
behind the roughest of rain's marbled stone---
How can fresh mornings be so darn bleak?
As the wind flagellates heavily,
I catch the scent of cigarette smoke,
a familiar plunge—
greased lightning before my nostrils,
whirling memories of laughter,
of twilight conversations,
in the heart of old Kazungula.
With a beer in hand,
the world softens,
a passive embrace
wrapped in the night’s gentle arms—
the aroma of hand-rolled cigarettes,
a neighborhood chorus,
whispers of stories,
smoke curling like dreams.
The sun softly petering out,
its golden fingers retreating,
the black sky latches on,
a cloak for the stars,
while I linger on the veranda,
fondling a bottle of antiquated Scottish wine—
complimentary, yes,
but aged like the tales it cradles.
You see, wine improves with age,
yet I find myself improving with each sip,
the world around me blurring,
softening the edges of reality.
And then, as if summoned,
the dewdrops fall,
a disbanded symphony,
hailing from the gods of this land,
I rush to the window,
open it wide,
and let my head spill out into the night.
Oh, it’s glorious!
This moment—
where the wind carries whispers,
the smoke swirls like memories,
and I am caught in the embrace
of a night that wraps around me,
every heartbeat a celebration
of existence,
of solitude shared
with the universe,
and the intoxicating sweetness of life.
Form:
When I was born I forgot the plasma cradle,
forgot the in-keepers daughter
who had suckled lips with pints of brewed chyme,
forgot the liquid yoke of the now unknown.
When I was born
the light was in other people’s eyes.
My father was faceless,
my mother the only tree in the forest.
Her warm lodging hands lifting to coddle
spills of milky thirsts into mew-shaped narrows.
When only a dim cask of sight
I began to wink the world into shapes
I buzzed and gurgled like bee in a drain.
I howled inside a germinal brain.
Skintight I bloomed around a query of flesh.
Early things showed up to crowd my eyes,
back-lit beings leaned over a bar of sound,
spoke in suds and froth.
Later --- who can tell
when ‘later’ becomes a thing?
I saw through a bat-winged door
daylight from night,
colors stampeded in to beg a drink.
Early things,
the green of leaf and lawn,
red and yellow plastic shakers
mouthed to sooth raw and runty wonders.
Incomprehensible snow on a wet nose.
Then that light-box of undeveloped things
fell apart only to come together.
I saw the faceless changing,
and where a garb of perception
fell to a fitting room floor
there I was
an early thing blinking and being.
Intimate cushion of your embrace
Eyes open and cocoon was just a farce
Elapsed moment a dream
Present abode like any other place
Absent mortal impression on sheets unwrinkled
Madeup lodging, your absence more pellucid
Arrogance, an escort to rising phoenix
To other's sensitivities, response less jumbled
Swamped in syrup of shattered illusion
Alas, intelligence in shade of celestial govern
Sequences escalate, wisdom unsanctioned
Streamlines quill in a marathon sea of expression
Awaiting the echo of love
One's choice worthy despite your defiance
For even though seems like eons
Still young, vehemence of one's emotions
A taste of air, par horizon
I have been searching all my life for heaven in paradise but I just could not find it until my innate spirit reveals it. I searched from country to country over hills and valleys, mountain and plains; I walked until my feet were inflamed. But I could not find what my spirit reveals and what my heart feels.
I was carrying something with me, that was stronger than the energy that radiate in the sun and I had to find it before the day was done. It wasn’t within my reach, or I would have touched it, it wasn’t on the tree or my eyes would have behold it, but it was wrapped around my soul and destiny could not untangle it.You have to find a special code and make a hole in the mountain so that everyone can see what is waiting for thee.
Morning of the sun come and join me, if you have some time to spare, the army is going to march along the square. I have waited for this day to come, when I can go somewhere with someone special like you. I can feel your heart searching for me and when we find each other, we shall be free. I see you everyday but on weekend you go away and I cannot tell where you go and my soul keep searching for something I don’t know, it keep searching for something that I cannot see and this burden won’t go away from me so please make haste to come and rescue me.
Who can tell what is at the end of the road, who can tell
When the sun will come out and when the wretched courage of faith confronts you face to face on your first date, take a good look towards the hill and command your spirit to be still. I believe that the search will not be long, because my heart has indicted a wonderful song and when the time is right I will have right you by my side.
I knew there was something out there for me but I couldn’t tell if it was lodging at the bottom of sea and so I search for a diver to find it for me, and when I cast my lot, I almost fell off the rock, but the pebble fell into the ocean bed at the very spot where they wed and all of the sudden the cranes gather around to salute the crown. Height and might cannot break your will but courage and faith will break through the Iron Gate.
When words upset you, you lose your childhood
It's dreadful to grasp that life is idyllic nearby
The youth have drawn, and no path forward
Grey hair has arisen, where is my getaway?
Eagerly flee what's in your nakedness
Spot your own hidden vices and weep
Also, cognize your sins before the final count
What you willfully did must be called to keep
The gatekeeper points are futile if ignored
Now we agnize that whiles aren't deceiving
Undeniably, the soul within is mysterious
You will sway it despite its advancing
You yearn for the moral hubris of your stance
Its fading thrill is its final track lodging
Written: March 14, 2022