Long Looking Poems
Long Looking Poems. Below are the most popular long Looking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Looking poems by poem length and keyword.
Brooding, unlit and unkempt
A house that is daylight exempt
Sits three doors down from the park
Its doors and its windows are dark
Weekly a grocer arrives
Drops off a bag of supplies
The door opens not very wide
A hand pulls the shopping inside
Neighbours still say tongue in cheek
That’s the highlight of the week
It’s what happens once every year
That fills local children with fear
It shuffles out onto the street
With Wellington boots on its feet
A wizened old thing with a stoop
Its head doesn’t raise from a droop
It makes an incongruous sight
As it strolls looking not left nor right
In clothes dirty brown, who would think
It would tote a small coat that is pink
And just as the street lamps alight
Portending the coming of night
’tis said that he walks in the dark
To grab a young kid in the park
*
And then at the lake his step doesn't break
He simply walks into the water
And as it gets colder the coat on his shoulder
He wraps ’round his long missing daughter
*
A brief but chilled wind whispers, ‘Daisy’
The lake’s surface mist rises hazy
The breeze hums along to a young girl’s song
But the old man and young girl are gone
Emerging from behind a hedge
Kids hurry up to the edge
The bravest one reaches to take
A little pink coat from the lake
***
It’s what happens once every year
That fills local children with fear
It shuffles out onto the street
With Wellington boots on its feet
_____
[Wellington boots = Rubber boots]
If you're looking for a great adventure honey.
Lookin' for the things you need.
If you're lookin' for times of passion baby.
Someone you can meet.
I suggest the local tavern honey.
I suggest a real good time.
You should try to throw a party baby.
Buy the bar a round.
Try to keep this party going till morning.
Bring along a crowd.
I suggest we go to your apartment baby.
Turn the music loud.
Turn the music way up loud now.
Turn the music loud.
Turn the music way up loud now.
Turn the music loud..
We can keep this party movin' honey.
If we turn the music loud.
Turn the music way up loud now.
Turn the music loud.
We can really crank it up now.
Just turn the music loud.
Turn the music way up loud now.
Turn the music loud.
Turn the music loud...
Rock Lyrics By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1984,2015..ALL rights reserved..
Dear Father Abraham,
I Know that Too Much Time has Past, Events Taken, and Choices Made that Forever Changed the Course of History.
I am a Son Not by Birth, but by Adoption, You See I Follow the Teachings of Your Son Yeshua.
A Man Who Came Long Ago, Was Crucified on a Tree between Two Criminals, and was Raised the Third Day, Which Made My Acceptance Possible.
Father I Only ask Now, for without You, I would be destined for an Eternity Separated from God.
The Old Writings State that On That Day You Had Three Visitors, One Whom Resembled The Son of Man, or God Himself.
They Brought Good News that Sarah who had been Barren Till Now Would One Day Have A Son, and You An Heir to Carry On Your Family Name.
Time Passed, and You Both Growing Older with No Fulfillment of the Promise in Sight.
A Choice Was Made to use Hagar as the Possible Vessel for its Fulfillment.
The Result a Beautiful Baby Boy Named Ishmael, Who Grew to be a Wise and Strong Young Man.
All Was Well Till The Fulfillment of Time had Come, and God’s Promise To You and Sarah resulted in a Child also, Who Would be Called Isaac.
Now there exists Two Sons of Abraham, One of Hagar, and the Other Of Sarah, but Both Are Your Seed.
Father Abraham thousands of Years have Passed Now, Since Those Moments In Time, And Much Blood Spilt Pondering the Question Which One is The Rightful Heir?
For Two Great Multitude of People(s) Resulted from Those Choices Made. The Sons Of Ishmael Became the Muslim Race, and the Sons of Isaac Would Become The Israeli or Hebrew.
I Know that as a Gentile I Have No Right to ask, but It was on My Mind.
Looking Back at the Wars Fought, Blood Spilt, Lives Lost, and Time Spent, Between the Descendants of Your Two Sons.
If You Could Go Back, and make Different Choices, Would You?
Is there Any Way To Bridge the Divide?
There are No Easy Answers, Only More Questions.
I Don’t Know if it is Even My Place To Attempt to ask the Question at a Possible Way Forward?
I Only know From the Outside Looking in, that They Are Both Your Sons, and I a Gentile, don’t Know all the issues, or May Never Completely Understand them, or Have Any Possible Answers.
Father I Wonder What Do You Think?
Sincerely,
A Confused Gentile
Author Paul Cumberbatch (July 30, 2020)
Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning split the grey sky,
As the little boat rocked with the rolling waves;
Salt water and icy rain soaked him,
Washing the puke stains from his clinging clothes.
As he prayed, the bitter taste of vomit and a strange stench,
Like rotting flesh and fish, made him retch again.
Then, his heart almost stopped as he spotted the sea serpent,
when it reared up, its neck as tall as a lighthouse
and its gaping mouth like a vast cavern full of stalactites and stalagmites.
Face-to-face with the prehistoric-looking predator,
He wondered who would believe he’d seen such a creature…
And then he screamed in agony as jagged teeth ripped at his flesh…
For Andrea’s Picture Perfect contest
IN MY MIND FOREVER
Looking at the perennially full river,
Its water not stopping to flow ever
I remembered the age-old saying,
A truth, the true friends are forever.
Ages ago on the summer dusk we had met
On the river front, the sun was sinking to set,
I saw trust flow in colors in your intense eyes,
Knew, its lasting hues our friendship would get.
Way out of distress in dark times I didn’t find,
I found you like my second shadow right behind,
Your supporting hands strongly clasping mine,
Guided me to light, I followed you like a blind.
The sky fell, I was buried in the ruins of sorrow,
How to rise from debris of destiny I didn’t know.
You came to my wreck floating like a butterfly,
I learned to fly on the wings I could then grow.
The full moon made the water molten silver,
I saw the joy of life flow with it in the river,
We swam together till dawn under starry sky.
You’d be by my side, in my mind forever.
April 27, 2018.
Her body lies in state before us now
Her last breath taken after a vow
As remarkable as any ever heard
Magnanimous in message; brief in word
As we gather to bid her farewell
Our broken hearts yet manage to swell
With pride at what she hath bequeathed
A gift for the ages, her conscience unsheathed
Looking on in awe as she, gathering her strength
Raising up on her pillow, pausing at length
Then straining her voice, sweet as a nightingale's
Pouring forth this prayer, ascending Lady Justice's scales
Dear Lord, please take me back to your garden
But first assure me that you will pardon
All the sins of those now gathered before me
For if you will not honor this, my fervent plea
~ I take upon myself all future suffering
Of these, my friends and family
And with that, she lay her head back on death's comforting pillow
As we stood silent, arms extended, touched by her soul -- weeping willows
June 23, 2019
Funeral, Eulogy, or Memorial Service Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Team Poetry Soup
BLING IS THE THING!
A gold looking briefcase that glitters
And glows,
A shimmery sequin diary that likes to
Know that it shows,
Crayons of every, and any colour that
one may desire,
Small yet things that indicate that of life
I will never tire!
Adult colouring books and cartoons that
I sketch,
Continually inspire and evolve and
Fantasies fetch.
Bright coloured cushions that contrast
Yet match,
I am now in a world of daydreams,
My very own safety valve patch!
Fond memories, imagination, wishes and
Illusion,
This is the only way of keeping away
Lingering delusion,
African ornaments and trinkets I collect,
And a big bright blue evil eye to protect,
Myself and my family from evil or envy
Even a stuffed monkey wearing the colours
Of the rainbow carelessly hangs on my mothers
Coat rack, she gave it to me, it reminds
Me of her as tears roll down my face,
For this is my sanctuary, my own poetry space!
This is where I find my inspiration,
As fond memories I recall with vivid imagination!
This life may only be afforded to some
They are the ones that collect every bit of life,
Every crumb,
This is the glitz
Of life which brings out the blitz
And bling, which may sound to some, absurd,
To live life in such a colourful, imaginative world,
Almost like Peter Pan or Alice in wonderland,
These people have retained a lot of the heart
Of the child in them – My husband loves me even
More for this,
As he enters my poetry space I give him a big
Hug and kiss.
I believe what I do and how I do it, has de stressed,
My body, mind and soul,
Making sure I take in my stride stressed times, when
They call, and that threaten to take their toll!
E is the beginning of EXPENSE, the acrostic series.......
Expensive…Imagination caught my eye…I couldn’t afford losing you badly,
even if you’re worth is worth a pair of decent-looking shoes, but what are
really made of in the inside? Slip your feet inside my shoes for one moment in
your life…for all my life, I was left with a mystery with absolutely no clues…do
I have to find my way out of my solitary dorm? The ghosts are jeering at me
and intimidating me again and again and again and again… scaring me out of
my boots! No one gives any hoots! Untangle me from the comforting shell of
fatality – a story let to tell! You’re only a phony fool, in other words, a
worthless, inadequate tool! I’m climbing the Mountain of Gracious Glory,
gaining back my alienated ambition – I know where the wicked wind flows –
it flows in the land of milk and honey…it sweeps something grand into my
brain and seeps inside of my wobbly body altogether…it marinates in my brain
signals and I receive thoughts of endless sensations and luminous notions!
Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees
out of their honey dens or hives! My noggin is runnin’ wild in circles and my
mind is whirling like a seething storm that’s body-quaking me…controlling me
like a steel-made robot…these particular pangs of regrets makes my guilty
conscience overflow with low self-esteem and anguish…lamentation has fallen
upon us all! We all must stand tall…remember to brave & hop over our
obstacles optimistically and assertively like a horse during his training for the
biggest race he has ever trampled into! Do you have any clue what I’ve been
through? My notions that are spinning around in my brain is like the
vegetables, water & the spices, mixing well & swell into a stew, restoring
peace to my verse…Is my life a gift or a curse? Deplorable Reality’s strategic
tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or
hives! I’m climbing the Mountain of Gracious Glory, gaining back my alienated
ambition – I know where the wicked wind flows – it flows in the land of milk
and honey…that’s where you and I will flee!
Light fractures, as it filters through Jasmine
a soft splayed light on the wrinkled skin
of an old man's hands
it brings warmth to his mornings
under the vines, wrapped and tangled overhead
Each day he shuffles to his hand made rocking chair
to consume time and the passing of his life
that is fading away, like a flickering candle
that's melting with his memory, of burying his wife
he spends hours in conversation with his loneliness
before taking a deep long breath
exhaling away his tears, in a quiet pause
with trembling hands, reaches for a pipe his wife gave him
and searches for tobacco he keeps in his overalls
she would complain each time he blew smoke
through the vines, as if connecting to something beyond
with an offering
she would say...stop that
he laughed in amusement, then do it again
looking over to see if he could catch a smile
during midday, he pulls weeds and tosses seeds to birds
they seem to understand when to show up
as they eat he'll clean the birdbath his wife loved so much
when she would watch them flap their wings
like a dance in the water
at sunset, he returns to his chair
to continue his conversation until dark
before he leaves he always looks back
and says...are you coming
8/17/17
An infamous thief
lived a restless life,
looking out for those
vigilant, shrewd cops;
his crafty hands pulling out
those tools out of the box,
to feed that ego so imprudent:
would he never be caught...
when his instincts coudn't predict?
Escorted to the court-room,
in hand-cuffs and chains,
he faces the harshest judge
of the In-God-We-Trust-Country...
a female judge who's fair but firm,
and yet so unsympathetically angry;
and she like a fearless preacher warns,
" Whoever thinks has a right
to steal, rob, kill or disturb the peace...
must be punished accordingly to the crime! "
All he wanted was an easy flow of money,
dirty money without a trace of sweat;
and he acted like the richest man of the county...
flashing it around and feeling great!
Did he ever foresee an end to that bliss,
how could he not be harmed by his own mischief?
In the coldest cell, he sits on the sheetless bed...
frowning upon an unsuccessful scheme:
if he were able to bend each bar with those hands,
unlock each door and sprint to freedom...
it would be the end of his loneliness and boredom;
but when reality sets in, he returns to being sad!
Years and many more years without a voice...
he will spend writing letters to his family,
missing out on holidays and birthdays...
repenting of his greedy and wicked ways
and allowing no other thought for escape;
pain, isolation and tolerance within those walls...
will teach the hardest lesson for his sake:
to make good choices and overcome his misery!!