Long Long ago Poems
Long Long ago Poems. Below are the most popular long Long ago by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Long ago poems by poem length and keyword.
Nowhere Man
I haven’t rode a motorcycle since 2011.
Riding through the trees was like heaven.
The last thing on earth that's freedom.
He doesn't need much.
Just a few bucks.
Ride on through with sunglasses.
Just ride until your heart's content.
Believe me, there's nothing like it.
Freedom on a bike.
A cool breeze outside.
My shadow rides beside me.
A lonely man on his bike is free.
Not many understand what it means.
On fire, the motor is always burning.
There is nothing like the open road.
Let all your thoughts go out the window.
Early morning ready to take flight.
Nothing else matters in sight.
Burnt tire tracks on the asphalt.
A beautiful day to ride in the fall.
So many memories so long ago.
Ride freely along the winding road.
Trees hover above as I ride below.
It’s like flying through a tunnel.
Just lean against your bike and grab a smoke.
Just Cruze right into tomorrow.
They linger deep within my fragile soul
unpurged sad memories from long ago.
I wonder when again I will be whole,
and free this dreadful mental vertigo.
Mistakes of shattered youth,
my life lived so uncouth,
but knowing now the truth…
I was at fault…
I could not halt
my life’s exalt.
Today the whisper of a common troll
to make me ever blue and feel so low;
so now I soothe, with gin and dry vermouth,
my mind’s assault.
May 26, 2018
Contest: The Puzzle of My Rhyme
Sponsor: Broken Wings
When I saw it in the store a few years ago…“What a cool hat!” I thought…
and since it was the only one in the store…I bought it on the spot.
I loved the colors when I purchased it…but could never have imagined that…
I’d get so many wonderful reactions every time I wear my hat.
Usually it makes people smile…it might cause them to stop and chat…
and I’ve long ago lost count of all those who say…”I love your hat”.
Occasionally when I’m wearing my rainbow colored hat upon my head…
It will remind people, usually older people, of the Grateful Dead.
The other day in a store…I was standing by this old man…
certainly older than me…
when I noticed out of the corner of my eye…he was staring at me.
Of course it was my hat not me that he was looking at….
and when I smiled at him he said…:
“Your hat reminds me of a time when I was younger
and me and a friend went up and down the east coast following the Grateful Dead.”
He said they made what little money they needed to live on every day
by selling Dead Head ’T’ shirts…every stop along the way.
A smile lit up his face…and as he walked out the store’s front door
and In that moment he looked a little younger than he had a moment before.
There is a little magic in this hat…when bought it I did not see…
And if that magic makes people smile or remember…it’s good enough for me.
In this world that has turned angrier…I am so delighted that
so many can find a little happiness in my rainbow tie-dyed hat.
That day
So long ago
Everything broke
Nothing worked anymore
It was like being thrown back
Back to before anything new how to learn
Having to revisit every learned thing
Like it was new
That day
Long ago
The sky shattered like a disheveled mind
Nothing left but shards of light
Broken knowledge
Lost time
Everything lost
Like there was nothing there to start
That day
Yesterday
It all fell apart
Nothing left to hold the world together
Everything falling out of place
There isn't a fix
There isn't a remedy
The next day
There was something strange
A spark of joy
A small thing
A color that's new
A memory not filled with pain
The day after that
The world was broken still
But something changed
The pieces knitting together
Over and over
Till at the very least
A small island had formed
It wasn't much
It might not be for very long
But while it lasts
Enjoy every second
Like it just might be your last.
Note to self: In observation where there seems to be nothing there, there is
always air. Even without matter there is something for instance light waves.
The spirit of the Divine in me seeks the Ataraxian mode of living
Although I long for air in my lungs I keep bumping into tables and chairs,
like an old ghost who has forgotten the use of her legs and arms.
The elemental carbon of my living structure is no more matter than
the air I breathe. Through diffusive meditative qualm, I can almost
touch its ether, "my being"
He poured his Numen Spirit long ago inside my stillborn body
where once I was clear sky, today just brain on forceps.
Its when I place my breath in the womb of God that my skeptic nature, ?
to be continued ?
By ?
With swirling colours all around, bright hues of yellow gold
A picture painted russet red, a story to be told.
Of new beginnings, tiny seeds were planted long ago
By loving hands so carefully that placed them in a row.
And so, with time their little shoots all sprung up from the ground
Survived the seasons early years, their roots are now earth bound.
Each year they’ve grown until at last, their canopy embrace
With branches strong, all reaching out, each other they do face.
Soon scattered all around are leaves of russet red and gold
As carpet beds lie on the ground their beauty to behold.
This wondrous spectrum now is seen, as Autumn’s breath is close
An artist’s brush cannot compete with nature's simple prose.
Like Autum leave these words come down and scatter on the page
But wither not, these words survive and with this poem age.
Transition time of seasons bring, this change and will not care
But Autumns beauty brings delight, no other can compare
The Silence
We were on that school bus,
a big yellow one with black letters on its sides,
spelling out Whittier Union, and you and I sat next to each other
talking, arguing and giggling, you not caring if someone told your boyfriend
about our larks aboard that bus, long ago in 1970,
while on a field trip with our psychology class to Pomona State Hospital,
aboard that big yellow bus filled with white kids from Whittier,
except you weren’t white, you were Mexican,
and a beautiful one at that, with high cheek bones and
brown eyes complimenting your mischievous smile.
We had just met Ray, a microcephalic, inside the hospital
and his miniature head made us wonder how such things happen to people.
You were wearing your usual school dress that day,
and your brown smooth legs were crossed
as the bus careened down Highway 10 exceeding the speed limit,
past burgeoning towns with cars passing by at seventy five miles per hour.
And the young voices on the bus increased in loudness like a storm rising,
and you flirted with me like there was a chance we could get back together,
but, “what about your boyfriend?”
“Take me away from him,” you pleaded.
Then a silence erupted like a firecracker of impossibility,
and you just sat looking out the window all the way back.
You shifted your legs only once.
Slowly making its way from behind
The shadows of the trees,
I see a ray of light, a beam of hope
To fulfil our needs.
The light of a blessing that was spoken so long ago
A light that had laid dormant all for all these years why
I do not know.
Locked in the hopes and dreams of all of us who can recall,
Remembering those who answered the call.
The call to band together and to carry on,
Only sadly one day that light was gone.
The idea, the belief, the reason long gone.
That spark of light never seemed to come back again,
And we mourn for it as one mourns a long lost friend.
And now I wonder as I see this tiny beam of hope work its way through
The trees,
Is this the one we have been waiting for
Is this the one who will lead?
Will he bring back the passion and the ideals we have kept deep within?
Or will we just continue to stumble
Lost and alone again.
When I first saw her.
I thought i have seen a blue bird from Kakum forest.
Her face was sparkled like a sunrise.
Her eyes were that of a Engels.
My face can be seen through her eyes.
Her breast was pointed at me like Gambaga escarpment
Suddenly my heart escaped to cloud nine.
I asked myself will this be my final destination in the journey of love?
I was a magma in beneath when she first called me darling.
I suddenly buried my teeth because not long ago a storm swallowed my love.
I am a product of my past and keeps record of wrongs.
My greatest fear is unfavorable attitudes and actions in love.
When the storm over took me once again.
Because the love was so deep, i fought and conquered.
But the devil stole my touch light.
The darkness was so thick that only my legs can be recognized.
My eyes has lost it bearings.
I was like a sand in Sahara desert picked by wind to form star dunes without my consent.
The clouds were so thick and even the moon and the stars have lost control over their homes.
My whole body has surrendered to the clouds but only my feet is feel attached the ground.
Desert crickets who accompanied me some days ago with their sweet sound can not be found.
My heart started pumping like a turbo engine.
My face drop like deflating balloon.
My ribs lay outside like locust.
Even my soul has escaped to seek asylum in unknown land.
Will my dreams and visions in love becomes fertile ground where plant will grow?
Form:
I chose the life that had been chosen for me
so long ago by the powers that be
I was aware I was different from others
they only saw what they wanted to see
First, there was fear that the world would ignore me
I’d better hide so that love lets me in
Then as I grew and I learned love’s true meaning
I knew that lying’s not how to begin
So I accepted the life that was given
and I decided to find my own way
I chose the life that had been chosen for me
I chose myself and have been to this day