Long Miles Poems
Long Miles Poems. Below are the most popular long Miles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Miles poems by poem length and keyword.
Yesterday, I stroked a horse:
I ran my hand along his back
And watched his every muscle twitch,
So sensitive—what a proud and
Ceremonious beast. He held his head
Lightly—comfortable, with no fear—
And his ears tipped gently forward,
Relaxed. They flicked around at every
Sound, but the horse was not tense.
He rested his weight equally along
All four of his strong yet delicate legs—
So slender you thought you could snap them
Like a twig. But this tall and respected creature
Could run at thirty miles-per-hour on
These legs of his. His kick could kill,
If it had that desired intention. But this horse,
So powerful in all its creation, stood
By my side—unflinching; unmoving:
It made its choice to allow my presence—
To allow my every touch of his body.
I rubbed his nose, and his dark eyes locked
With mine. They told a story, certainly:
He could remember his whole life.
Perhaps, even, he could see mine, but
It looked as though he could see even further
Than just the past and the present.
She is just like Jericho
Walls of stone so hard and cold.
Protecting her from all that might have been.
And all the things she won’t show,
Sights so wondrous to behold,
Are buried somewhere deep beneath her skin.
She has built her garden walls
A thousand miles wide and tall
And there is no way over or around.
So, I stand here, looking small
To sing my song beside her wall
And hope that she might somehow hear the sound.
I have tried to catch her eye
To see all that she would deny
Beyond the lies she says that she believes.
There are hints that would imply
The tears she’d never ever cry,
She’s too afraid of foreigners and thieves.
Someday I may find the key
To repeat ancient history
But until then I wander ‘round her town.
She may look, she may see,
That tiny voice belongs to me,
A hopeful man who stands here on the ground.
How I long to find the song
To heal her hurts, to right the wrongs.
How I wish to free the love she’s bound.
I dream that I could make my voice
A trumpet blast, a heav’nly noise.
That I could make the walls come tumbling down.
Fluted hands angle on knees as glimpses
sort the knitted threads of a late afternoon
where gathering of blooms abide.
Almost friendless, a man inhabits his space
ready to inhale the waft of new dusk,
of how a world in his inner terrain mirrors
the ceremonials of a mindful passage
upon grasses and half-lit windows
outside the self.
And through a prayerful instance,
he connects with a god hushing the tempo
of sighs mixed with incense blowing, as if
to twirl in an air of breaths cleansing
the scabs of trespasses. Miles of babel words
turn into a different language: quite unknown
and understood only by him who finds
contentment in being unbound ,of gliding
above a haloed sky that reflects the movement
inside his awakened essence.
For the atonement of all misgivings,
he releases his pride in layers
of deep confession to pay for his karmic debt;
that in a warm communion with humility
he makes amends for life's consequences
as stillness becomes his friend.
Anthony Slausen's Karma
Withered meadows of yesteryears ache, recalling memories forlorn,
As discords of then mourn, assailing vibes of now, emotions torn;
Yet I believe, love would have still vouched~ together we belong,
If only you knew, how to strum, sensuous rhythms of our love-song.
Gracing my embrace, lovingly you caress, my jilted sleepless night,
And on every dawning horizon, you still are, the halo of my delight;
As I believe, episode of love, would always write a lovesome theme,
If only you knew, you have long been, epitome of my romantic dream.
You bedazzle my memory, beaming grin of an enamored glance,
Being my Cinderella, avowing to rekindle fairy-tale of romance;
As I believe, you would still be the music, pulses-cadent impart,
If only you knew, you are the seductress, plucking strings of my heart.
In realms of desires, chasing bliss of your love, my passions call-out,
When you are in amorous cuddle, hypnotized by grip of fervent clout;
As earnestly I believe, you would love me still, even from miles afar,
If only you knew, you have been my aura, my fulgent northern-star.
Birds that always sung for you, serenade you, lauding your name,
Spurred by fond recollections, applauding memoirs of love’s acclaim;
And I believe, words unsaid would not be uttering, a sigh of regret,
If only you knew, love we shared, pledges eternal shall never forget.
In a coastal haven, a small beach town unfolds,
Where names are known, in warmth and tales retold.
Away from city's roar, tranquility is found,
Love and serenity, a comforting surround.
Upon the shore, devoid of sunbathers' claim,
Fishermen prepare, their boats in silent aim.
Seated on the sand, hear waves weave rhythmic lore,
My castle dreams, footprint-less on the shore.
Miles on the beach, where tides play their game,
In the evening, hues shift, a vibrant flame.
Sea's treasures glisten, shells on sandy reach,
Under the night, stars and Moon gently teach.
Drowsing 'neath skies, dark and infinite,
Roosters croon, melodies sweet and exquisite.
Dawn unfurls, sun's rays a morning grace,
Simple breakfast, coconut water's embrace.
Afternoon by the pond, cows and people wade,
Lotus and lilies, a visual serenade,
In my dreamland, a sanctuary grand,
I yearn for the haven, my feet in the sand.
She's a triathlete, dialed into a lifestyle of dedication and clean living.
Logging lonely miles down isolated trails.
Where grizzlies and perverts like to dwell.
She bikes upon the veins of a big city.
Cars filled with smartphone addicts and assorted crazies.
Buzzing within inches of her lean ambitions...
(She has much more faith than me).
She dips into the salty black sea at dawn.
Where the bulls and tigers abound.
Splashing about like a wounded fish.
She's the bravest person I've ever met.
So focused -so oblivious.
It's a miracle she made it to the starting line.
Let alone the finish.
popsicles made of kool aid
swing sets man made to last historically
salads and pies made from the goodness of a garden and a tree
i thought i left it all a long time ago, but i always come back because it made me
a television without a remote control
black and white vibe with no complaints
all cars owned by me with grown ups handling all car notes
i thought i left it all a long time ago, but i always come back because it made me
trees enjoying life doing nothing but expressing their beautification
fields that seem to go on for miles to nothing but amazing discoveries
inquisitive nature forming captivating concepts in the mind
i thought i left it a long time ago, but i always come back because it made me
candy apple freedom and cotton candy bliss
snow angle green grass blast and family owned waterslide haven
station wagon adventures and chevy nova excursions
i thought i left it all a long time ago, but i always come back because it made me
i embrace all feelings of my past because without me knowing, it is the actual foundation of the permanence of my future
yes, i can change it, paint it, redesign it, remodel it, gut it, and upgrade it
however i cannot rewrite the rooted symbolism for it was created by God....oh how we can forget....
True add verse situation,
whereat me mission
trans send dint state didst ache
after yours truly nearly
did nearly break
chassis 'pon took drastic
over corrective measure,
not quite August,
nor jejune piece of cake,
while rounding raised
curbed contra corner
suddenly felt wrath of wife quake,
viz passenger rear tire
gone flat as a pancake
impresario found myself
hearing Thus Spake,
Zarathustra, when in truth...
twas ma constricted trach.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some weeks back
acting so cool and chic - bank
king all bravado, machismo
self importance, and frank
lee babbling like a cripple creek
off by a black key with Hank
Williams tune imagining
myself swaggering like a lank
key trump petting Don
(feigning faw being "Beefy") plank
walking lampoon able
laughingstock Freaky, thank
less as a lapsed worn eraser head
pencil necked Geek yank
key doodle dandy hood be
forced to do penance as cap
pit dull leotarded asinine
arthouse flop, where nary any words
(worth their weight in gold)
described my benign
behavior, NOT even
smattering of unflattering deign
nig grating hammock colorful expletives,
that would find an ensign
sailor to blush at my inept
shameless travesty over the line
utter in apropos totally tubularly
moronic juvenile mine
ness zero car raze zee antics,
didst drive my doppelganger nine
tee bajillion miles away in search
of another auto body – pine
ning for newer model
then a 2009 Hyundai Sonata sign
ning off contract with this
stunt driver wannabe
unimpressively try'n
to act the blithe dare devil,
while thee spouse didst wine
and scream more'n bloody Mary
as the gunned axle nearly broke
trying my damn nest to
"FAKE" dagger a type cloak
his husband resembled a fool,
where angels fear to tread didst evoke
unsuccessful, unstinting, and unsparing
unstrung epithets of colorful expletives
unsuitable for poetic folk
boot urgent prayer went out
to incredible Hulk
Hogan, and/or even the ghost
of Andre The Giant, this haint no joke!
Quicksand works efficiently in the jungle
No need to give applause for nothing new
The vanishing act begins when you step in
Give Birthday boy a hand for being 30
There is no rope, no vines, no hope for miles
Another fragile family member disappears
The lineage broken like a branch by sinking
As quickly as the quicksand works its magic
Who knows when something goes so wrong
Jungles certainly don't understand or care
Mysteries abound above the canopy tops
So beautiful and out of touch this time of year
Invisibility is a way of life up in the wild
Below the feet things go missing frequently
It was not the kind of party birthday boy imagined
He was promised pretty girls and helium balloons
He wished for something better, something different
A walk in nature for example would be nice
Let the search party begin and watch your step
The ground is wet. Quickly now. It's getting dark
Loosing (lou sing) the damn rumors...
Torpedo style full speed ahead
keeping me in suspense,
what salacious gossip
gets browned, buttered, rolled
down the alley and bred
into unsavory tidbits,
these souffled ears dread
to hear hard boiled morsels
poached, scrambled, whipped
donning barren falsehoods
zeitgeist spouting dunderhead
trumpeting hex pence heave
signature border wall
inside this weatherbeaten egghead
sponge bobbing squarepants,
whereby passers by some with fathead
steer clear avoiding your truly
wobbly, and zany fountainhead
even atlas shrugged his shoulders
in repugnance at mine R.E.M. bored
heavy slimy algal filled
legally tendered greenhead
thank dog - me noggin
rock solid hardhead
able to withstand falsehoods
pitting this uber capital one
tindered linkedin lyfted loggerhead
with silent springing
black barbs snubbed from lunkhead
argh, those cruel verbal slings
fired weapons courtesy
mass destruction multiwarhead
lobbed, rocket propelled, tear gassed
glancing off cratered moon faced pate
said vicious unfounded nailhead
sharp hearsay twittering
with wingspan outspread
pterodactyl by bajillion miles exceeded
size of Sheepshead
Bay, I knew best to tread
softly, and carry big stick
admonished by Teddy Roosevelt
in conjunction with unifying thread
primarily on issues
in mathematics and logic
advanced by Alfred North Whitehead,
hence we must find another
place to escape widespread
senior citizens acting juvenile,
maybe a place gravely wrested
or willingly conceded
from grateful dead.