Long Lossday Poems
Long Lossday Poems. Below are the most popular long Lossday by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lossday poems by poem length and keyword.
Freedom to write
Is our true might
A way for pain
To begin to wane
My fingers are light
They are only too willing
To release the thoughts
Which my mind finds so filling
With me truth has been said
To be most often my stead
I will put none other before it
Until the day that I wed
Confusing to some, although this poem may be
More so, inspiration to others that I may see
A day shall pass, a day close by
That I may bear witness and testify
While we live a life of ease
Surrounded by many unfortunate, who die of disease
Oblivious is our utopia, in final sum
Pity us all, for we have made it our outcome.......
Every day my thoughts are spinning
Have I really lost or could I be winning
Not a lot has come to a change
Except life's adventure she can't arrange
So she throws out stories she believes are true
I go along telling her how great it was and something again we must do
In front of her I won't shed a tear
I'll only make sure she knows that I am here
She eats very little but full her plate we kept
There when she wakes and while she's slept
Some day she has no idea who I may be
I take care of her is all she can see
People ask how I can drop my every day routine
To those people all I say is " That is what Love really means"
Put on your big boy pants and for awhile forget about fun
Believe each moment you have could be the last one
Her pain I just can not sooth and she hurts every time I help her more.
She has been huge part of this life I am in
She was there before it even would first begin
Easier this wouldn't ever get
She slowly dieing and all I can do is sit
Tear in my eyes and falling apart
No matter what she's got a big place in my heart
I wonder if I will make this through
While second guessing all that I do
When she passes who should I blame
Do I express myself or call it God's claim
Some say I am doing nothing more then baby sitting
But the work this all takes they just aren't getting
For 3 days I've helped her as I cried
I ask God, To Take her , how could you decide
Believe this has Humbled me more then just a little bit
This is the part of life I wasn't prepared to hit
Mean , tough and heartless many times I have been Described
That whole side of me is now filled with helping and pride
As I sit back help, shed tears as to handle this all I try
But God why pick me to show " How I Lie"
On her last day who can really blame
Or do I thank God,"For taking her and ending her pain ?"
I do feel that I've done my part
That doesn't make it easier for my broken heart
There is something I really don't get
Good people die while on this earth the rotten one's still sit!
I know God does things in his very own way
but I am beginning to wonder," Does he hear me when I pray!
An Uncle Charlie Original
An Uncle Charlie Original
Form:
the Oak Tree
You were always someone special
In the midnight hours in my dream
I could really feel the tension
A tree, a limb, a friend
No matter how hard life came at me
There you stood perfectly
Letting me lean up against your stand
I will never forget the day you swayed the first hi
I talked as if you were hearing
A tree, a piece of wood in my path
A punching bag
My Oak Tree you will always be
One day in my sorrowed life
I stopped by just to reminisce
Your beauty, I find so divine
Your leaves took me backwards
I fell in love with your soul all over again
With a beauty, I find so divine
Hope you will always be there my friend
Indulging the felling you transcend
A cold spot never found in you
Re-breathing your surround, no need to make a sound
The power you have when you make my heart mend
My Oak Tree you will always be my friend
In the lowest day of my life
I went on a secret walk to look for comfort
The beauty of you is no longer there
Walking around with an extra deep pain of hurt
Not sure how one could bare such a loss
Dropping myself to my Knees upon the dirt
An empty spot is the only thing there
My friend I thought you would always be there
How can they take you away from this world?
A lonely field
No root, no seed
Loneliness no one to lean up against
You will no longer be there
How could they cut down, my friend?
My friend the Oak Tree.
Where are your seeds?
By;PD
If I had just one day left to live
Wisdom I'd share to my children I'd give
Just for a while we would sit down and talk
A last sitting for us all, before my soul walks
We would talk of our past remembering all the times we have shared
Look to your future for my last day I'm prepared
For a couple of hours my favourite films I would watch
The Shawshank and Private Ryan, with a Jack Daniels no Scotch
With the hours, minutes and seconds ticking by
My eyes will soon close and I'll say my goodbye's
I'll miss all of nature and the warmth of the sun
But most of all my children, my daughter and three sons
The evening now draws as I look back on my years
What little light I see goes, now the blackness appears
L.A ‘62. English professor George (Colin Firth) is mourning the loss of his gay partner. He's
spent the day reliving memories, but that night meets his student Kenny (Nicholas Hoult),
who secretly admires him, in a bar. The two end up at George’s house after a spontaneous
ocean swim. Kenny has just emerged from the shower,wrapped in a towel. George is making
a fire. When Kenny goes to get a beer, he discovers a nude photo of George’s dead lover in
a drawer. His suspicions about his teacher are confirmed. A beautiful score of stringed
music, nostalgic and tender draws me in to every nuance of Colin's performance.
George, feeling foolish and seeming a bit flushed with anticipation (yet restraining himself
from improper conduct), sits on a chair across from the young man when the boy returns to
the living room. A conversation ensues in which George asks Kenny questions, trying to
discern the young man’s reasons for being there that night. The boy, too, is trying to learn
things about George, but keeps hedging with his responses to George‘s questions, and
nothing completely “telling” is ever said. Meanwhile, their eyes linger on each other. The
young man’s eyes are an enchanting almost gleaming blue; I find it hard myself to look away
from his sweet face. My eyes are also riveted every second to George’s face and to its many
subtle changes of expression.. Finally, the boy asks George something and at that moment,
George’s face blurs. My curiosity is very aroused when suddenly the scene has switched to
George awaking at about 3 a.m. from his bed.. The young man, however, is not in the bed
(as I had hoped he would not be). He is asleep on the sofa, and he clutches in his hands the
gun which George had planned to shoot himself with. Had George revealed his plan to end
his life that day to his student? Was that what happened in those missing hours? Had the
boyish Kenny (while George was sleeping off his drunkenness) found the gun in the same
way he had discovered the picture of George’s partner and now was holding it to prevent
George from carrying out his suicide? I know I am soon going to learn George’s fate. . .