Long Longer Poems
Long Longer Poems. Below are the most popular long Longer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Longer poems by poem length and keyword.
My son David died last year on my Grandson's 12th birthday
Now my HEART is broken tears are never far away
I cannot understand it when I am still alive
Why does God take my dear son at the age of 55
My son was handsome before he became ill
He was emaciated. a very bitter pill
I still saw the GREEN eyed handsome man with DARK HAIR
And his BEAUTIFUL soul and trusting stare
We often sat in SILENCE there was no need for more
Actions speak louder than words with someone you adore
David became BREATHLESS, gasping for breath
He and I did not need words we knew he was near death
I could not bear to lose him it was something to dread
He would no longer be attached to me by that umbilical THREAD
Just after Christmas, we had a call to say the inevitable had happened
My son had passed away
The pit I fell into was FATHOMLESS and deep
I could not find solace, comfort or sleep
I feel David's presence every second of each day
He has found peace, at last, I no longer hope and pray
I know the BIRDS will be singing when I meet my son again
We will be united in a place where we will remain
Amen
4 March 2020
You were the man that was once my dream,
But now with you all I want to do is scream.
Today, in the mail, yet again I received your letter.
You asked how I was and was I better?
You pleaded and begged for yet another chance.
You said you were a changed man and are tired of this dance.
When did you begin to see,
That your so called love was exacting its toll on me?
Was it the first night that your so called love
Hit me in the face like a boxing glove?
Was it the day you did not come home?
For the woods called your name and there you said you had to roam?
Was it the first time after taking yet another beating,
You forced yourself on me and said it was to prove I was not cheating?
You ask for forgiveness and want to still be my friend.
All I want is for this nightmare to end!!!
I now see that to you this is not love but an obsession,
To you I am not your wife but only your posession.
I no longer wish to receive your emotional and physical pain,
I want a normal life, I want to be sane.
I am putting an end to me being your wife.
I want out of our marriage, I want a new life.
Our friendship is gone and for that I do mourn,
But you I now see were never torn.
To you it is your God-given right
To take what you want with force and might.
Oh, I do believe that once you are free,
That you will change for a month or maybe three.
I no longer want your love or our marriage.
This relationship has become something that I truly disparage.
Forget I exist, please forget about me,
In the past it was easy for you to let me be.
I am so very tired of you doing me wrong,
For my self respect I will be strong.
I hope the divorce papers give you the clue,
That I no longer need nor am in love with you!
We tote the burdens of old of new
‘neath big-blue’s unabated leer
the pressures that build and brew
the world it bruises, its rain, a salty tear
Day by day the ocean washes with waves
the weight we bear we’ve lost at sea
The Earth Moon’s despair She braves
when endless seeds of courage we weave,
via lanterns, the pathway endless and vast
Still dusky are the sky clouds that grieve,
Earth's magnetic field's spin pulls us past
Lucky flames shone from within, lights
Upon duress Earth Angels’ spirits rise
and stars are the healers in broken nights
Angel breath sprinkles dreams God size
when the weight of the world feels like heat of embers
The Sunrays purify as does the ocean salt water
The Sunset a resting slumber in silent chambers
From wounds that whisper of lament we cauter
the weight of the world we’ll feel burden no longer
Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.
His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.
There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.
“The poem begins again”
Of all the poems of all the dreams
I breathe all of you back into me
And out again
Like standing on wet sand
With the salted sea
washing over and underneath
my bare mind, my bare feet
Trying to drag me out again
I watch the horizon
sunlight drowning
the winsome hope unseen
it's a contradiction
shimmering,
like the horizon
that straight hard line
It never sinks.
The poem begins again
Candide Diderot. ‘25
“You’re the window of the ocean
The breath of the wood
With no waste away and no yesterday
No bad and no good…”
Elysian Fields
“Do you know what a poem is, Esther?'
No, what?' I would say.
A piece of dust.'
Then, just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would say, 'So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you're curing. They're dust as dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together.'
And of course Buddy wouldn't have any answer to that, because what I said was true. People were made of nothing so much as dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing poems people would remember and repeat to themselves when they were unhappy or sick or couldn't sleep.”
Sylvia Plath,"The Bell Jar"
“I did not rush to be seen
Floating in mother’s warm
Dark Sea endlessly
My resistance wore down
On a Friday near noon
Piercing the light
Too soon, too soon …
I met the world slowly, slowly
Thought I was a stowaway
Caressed me into being
For nearly nothing
Thought I was a stowaway
Guess I was a stowaway…
mostly not visible but to the air
mostly not visible but to the air
mostly not visible but to the air
shadow of the living light”
Elysian Fields
"In trees, I see expression and soul."
Quote by _Vincent Van Gogh
The trees are whispering as I walk the forest path,
they are saying to each other- here she is again;
oh yes hello, nice to see you all dear friends,
how are you on this sunny warm beautiful May day !
Well, says an ancient maple tree my roots and branches ache,
you know I am 200 years old now so everything creaks;
it is the same with humans I say, in time we creak too,
but we do not live as long, so creak and groan maple tree !
The fir trees tell me that some of them are starting to lean,
no longer straight as in their prime but still enjoying life;
oh, we humans tend to lean in time too, old age comes to all,
I think you look majestic reaching up to the sky each day !
The young trees just giggle as I touch their tender leaves,
they whisper in my ear, we are going to grow up big and strong;
I hope you do (but in my heart I fear for them) I hope you do,
the trees are my friends since I was a little girl and I love them !
I tell all the different species that they make me feel safe,
and I love them all and they tell me they love me too;
I have learnt that trees have feelings and emotions like us,
they feel sadness, pain, fear, love- and weep when cut down.
There is nothing more lovely than a tree swaying in the wind,
it is like a dance in the sky, a dance of many, I love their freedom;
so, I ask them if I can dance with them today, oh yes, they say,
so I dance among the forest trees letting go of all worries.
_________________
May 17, 2022
Poetry/Verse/Dancing With Trees
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1456-080-17
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Wisdom From Trees
sponsor, Anoucheka Gangabissoon, Judged 05/28/2022
First Place
____________________________
Submitted to the Premier contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 2
sponsor, Mark Toney, Judged 06/17/2022
Seventh Place
I have many times before,
Tried to walk away from this poetry of mine,
But as usual ended up in a state of deplore.
Alas, this life of abhor has grown into an addicted entwine.
My life as a poet is all cold sweat,
I guess is now my curse.
It is now trapped on a piece of paper like a laden fishing net,
My moments are trapped within its verse.
As I live my moments……`
My life is now but a dream,
And the dream is now my life.
I have no longer the need to scream,
these written words are a silent whisper akin a surgeon’s knife.
All my life I have had to be a fighter,
And my pen gave me my voice,
Now I know why I am a writer
who has won his fights without a noise.
My past is spiked and laced with mistakes,
I don’t have, any remorse or regret,
my mind and its temple have borne the bruises and aches,
Am smug about it and would like to relive it without being upset.
My devious past fuels my emotionally charged words and text,
And fires from within me the unchained rage,
Am never about it vexed or even perplexed,
As in this ink lies my sweat, blood & tears, stained & burnt but easy to gauge.
My verses are my memories of the bygone,
The paper on which I write on is my stage,
My tainted pen nib is my microphone,
And my life is perched on what was once a blank page.
For quite some time now this pen is my teacher,
And my mind controls these words I write,
These verses guide me out of darkness and make me richer,
And become the beacon, my guiding light.
I have spent so much time alone,
That I needed someone to say hi
My life was stuck in silence and blown,
I pick up this pen when feelings low have to glide by.
As I scribble my dreams,
The ink replaces my tears,
The verses consume my life with screams,
and I sculpt within them all my fears.
I have tried to walk away from this poetry,
But my life is snared up in a verse,
My life is trapped on a piece of paper,
My poetic life is now my curse.
Is it really my curse!!!!!!!!
Or a reflection of my thoughts to the happenings averse….
Into my poetry I must myself immerse
And sharpen my thoughts to make them diverse…….
And my life joyfully traverse
So now
I do not need to walk away from my poetry of mine
Align and live my life filled with mirth and sunshine.
The Earth weeps, not with rain, but with a silent grief.
She watches from the highest mountain,
her body now a canvas of wounds.
The rivers she sang to sleep are choked,
their voices hoarse with poison.
Her forests, once a thick green cloak,
are thinned to skeletal threads,
the songs of her creatures silenced.
The sky, once a blue, limitless promise,
is now a grey and gasping breath.
She sees her children,
the ones she shaped from clay and starlight,
so busy with their perfect lines and metal boxes,
that they no longer see the blood
that stains her gentle hands.
And what can she do,
but watch as they tear at her skin,
and wonder at the heart,
that learned to love, and then to kill.
To speak for those, who no longer have a voice,
were I to get it wrong, would they really have a choice?
No.., they didn't choose me as spokesperson, why would they?
I am not clairvoyant.
But they haunt my dreams still...cause me to rise, plead me to look back.
They won't let me alone, point in fact.
“I am waiting patiently. Goodbye my darlings"
Bill didn't have enough water to write much more than this.
Born on Valentine's day, with his heart set on Chubby,
eight days to dwell on a love that almost was, now missed.
Mia was a sad-eyed beauty, there's no denying that.,
she never got free the shadow cast, Ernie's early demise.
Though a mother's love, given and reciprocated,
found a fondness binding, throughout her short life.
Marty made the day special for friends and family,
never thinking of himself, a miracle and twin borne.
Forsaken in life's wishes, called only for justice seen,
lived life fitting of a brother they'll always mourn.
Save up the coins for the ferryman while you still can,
the days will bring swift recounting.
Leave lasting memory for love's empty hand,
and debts of the heart ever surmounting.
I stand on the edge of eternity
And peer at the void in front of me
It stretches out entrapped in haze
And will not let me view the days.
How many are there left to me
And what will be the quality?
Will I go strong into that space?
What future do I have to face?
No longer young, my days are short,
And time seems of a different sort.
Somehow, it’s faster than before,
And nearer now that distant shore.
The world around me sweeter still
Than in my youth - a bitter pill.
I’ve often let life pass me by
Without so much as a whispered sigh.
The days seemed long and endless then
I never gave a thought to when
I’d find the hourglass draining out
And have to make a turn-about.
I’ve always had a hand to give.
My faith I’ve mostly tried to live.
I’ve had happy times and those of strife
But all in all it’s been a wonderful life!
For I’ve had a family that I love
And help when needed from God above
I’ll be at peace when it’s time to go
And thankful for all these years, I know.