Long Neared Poems
Long Neared Poems. Below are the most popular long Neared by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Neared poems by poem length and keyword.
One dark and dreary night many, many moons ago
myself and a friend coming home from the local disco
no names mentioned smiling . . .
and in the far distance we could see and hear three girls
laughing and giggling and having fun
This was Halloween Night or All Hallows' Eve . . .
and so we climbed up the nearest evergreen
barely breathing, holding our breaths . . .
so they would not hear us and sense our presence
the one directly in the middle as they neared us
in passing a quick clip at the back of the head said
do you want to hear the screams roaring out of
them away hammer and tongs up the road
We could hear them shouting and carrying on . . .
I'm sure that place is haunted
to this day they tell their story claiming it to be real
well better still was to come for both of us
laughing our hearts out giggling like madmen
I felt like a gruesome hand of ice just touched me . . .
the tremors ran down my spine
jolting me in a most terrible way
almost felt like a gripping sensation on my shoulder
almost falling of the tree with a roar
My good friend starting screaming making it worse . . .
saying somebody must of touched us the same time
we looked at each other and made a race to get home
just got really spooked and ran the whole 3 miles home
in a record time ever saying my holy prayers every stroll of the way . . .
a most hideous and macabre thought -- a ghost touched me
as the cold ran right through me chilling me to the bone
never was I as glad to see holy water in the house
I bless myself for being lucky
never ever have I pulled such a prank
from that night to this . . .
It backfired on us so we chose never to say
a word about it ever again!!
And now we can only say: BOO!! BOO!! BOO!!
And Happy Halloween!!
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Free Verse Collaboration (October 13, 2014)
(Contest Entry for Halloween Co-Writes, 5 Nov 14, Diane Locksley - Sponsor)
Twas the night before Christmas at Muscatine Mall.
There to see Santa, Sis was in a thrall.
At only age six, she still believed that
our Christmas gifts came from a guy old and fat:
A man in a red hat with beard long and white
who gave many kids their gifts in one night
by driving a sleigh way up in the sky
and sliding down chimneys. How spry IS that guy?
Mom kept the lie going, but was that wrong?
My sister was glad, so I just went along.
How lame the logic of children so young.
To not spoil her fun, I just held my tongue.
The mall’s Santa would in a while be gone,
but Sis still wanted his lap to sit on.
At last twas her turn. So eager was she
she chatted away as she sat on his knee.
She asked her dear Santa for a cell phone.
Bet he was dying to be left alone!
With a Ho Ho Ho, he bid us farewell.
I took sister’s hand, and we left pell-mell.
Last-minute shoppers we both hurried through,
I looked at them thinking: What’s wrong with you?
You’ll be up all night with things you bought late.
A whole lot of wrapping you’ve got on your plate!
Baby sister felt glad. Once in the car,
I looked at the sky and saw a bright star,
reminding me of when there had appeared
a new star when a special birth had neared.
While driving along, I looked up again,
thinking of Jesus and young shepherd men
who’d looked to the sky and heard angels sing
their praises to One who who was born the new King.
Sis started singing the song “Silent Night.”
I sang along. Then what came into sight?
My sister and I will swear to this day
twelve reindeer above flew guiding a sleigh.
I met this rabbit on my morning walk…two months ago…near as I recollect…
He was sitting in the center of where two roads intersect.
I said, “Good morning, little rabbit. Isn’t it a pretty morning? How are you?”
Little rabbit did not answer…but then…rabbits seldom do.
But neither did he hop away…he just watched me walk on by…
I remember thinking…that was odd…and pausing to wonder why.
The next day…the same scenario….if my memory is correct…
the two of us met up again where the two roads intersect.
This became our normal routine…I’d greet him…walk by…he wouldn’t’ flee…
until…one day…without notice…he began to hop along with me.
Sometimes he’d hop beside me on the street…sometimes on people’s lawns instead…but, realizing I walked too slow…he often hopped ahead.
We’d walk and hop together to the end of the street and I don’t know the reason why…
it was here he’d stop…look up at me…as if to say goodbye.
The other morning, as had become our routine, I saw him up ahead…but much to my surprise…as I neared the spot we’d meet…little rabbit faded from my eyes.
Were the street lights and shadows playing tricks on me…bewildering my eyes…
or was that the ghost of little rabbit stopping by to say goodbye?
All I know is from that moment…I remember exactly where and when…
Little rabbit’s not been back to hop with me again.
I take this as a reminder to cherish our friendships every minute of every day…
because we never know in this ever-changing world when they may fade away.
And though I know ours was a short friendship…
I still miss him…
and in retrospect…
I shall always cherish a friendship made…
where two roads intersect.
As Passover neared, in the camp* grew a fear *Nazi WW2 death camp
that this might be the very first year
for Jews of every stripe and denomination
they'd not have matzo to eat, an abomination
To the Lord Above Who'd taken them out
of Egypt with signs and wonders and shouts
and Who'd decreed long ago that Passover night
--Matzo they'd eat as their feet took flight
From the House of Bondage toward the Promised Land
to exchange rank servitude for the Holy Sand
of Beersheba, Jerusalem, the Judean Hills
to build His Temple, to do His Will
When a humble Jewish baker to the rescue came
promising to bake for each Jewish prisoner the same
number of matzos -- two -- not three and not four
He would risk his life by cooking more...
To the task he lowered his worn, tired shoulder
with a defiant courage, many times bolder
than the greatest heroes of history, his proposition
--But just then, the Rabbi's son stated his position
His father told him he required four
matzos, not one less, not one more...
Well, the baker said, No, No, Never
He only gets two, no matter how clever
His plea or his Talmudic expertise
So then the son fell to his knees
Crying that he couldn't return without four
--Else his father's very life would be no more
The baker saw that the son would not be deterred
and decided that to his request he would have to defer
He gave him four matzos and told him to be quiet
if he valued his life and would prevent a riot
So the Rabbi got four matzos; the others received two
All was quiet; no one suspected or knew
'Till it was time to eat the matzos and the Rabbi appeared
at the barracks of the baker, eyes covered with tears
And said, 'Here are your two matzos, my friend so good and so dear
You provided for all the others but forgot yourself, as I'd feared'
--based on Rabbi Moshe Katz' prose story in "The Chicago Jewish Home,"
April, 2019 edition
Forgiveness of Sins / God's Love & Mercy
LK 15:11-32
Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.'
So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.
When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need.
Coming to his senses he thought, 'How many of my father's hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger.
I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.
I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers."'
So he got up and went back to his father.
While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion.
He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him; His son said to him,
'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.
But his father ordered his servants, 'Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet...
Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.' Then the celebration began.
Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him.
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours; but now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" (Taken from LK 15:11-14, 17-25, 28, 31-32)
Amidst the Garden of Gethsemane
to dissipate from the sorrow and pain
Looking up to the heavens in discourse
on bend knees in unspoken recourse
Archangel Chamuel from heaven appeared
giving Him strength and ease as challenge neared
A kiss upon the cheek to flatter Him
in friendship, but gravitate to breach whim
A suffering servant, scapegoat unfurled
meant to die for us, the sins of the world
Alienated ilk malignant growth
transitory moment for lifetime oath
His words are perspicuous, clear, towards
capricious, inurbane souls, not ignored
9/13/2016
How many owls can I hold? I wondered as they appeared.
They were perched on each limb as the night rider neared.
I cannot handle this volume, the night rider said in a mean way.
But we promised them you would, I said. My mood was gray.
You should have asked first, the night rider said in a snippy voice.
He is the cousin of a neighbor of my sour great great Aunt Joyce.
I cannot accommodate them I told him. I was just waiting for you.
He threw up his hands and stomped off, his words turned the air blue.
“We can stay here,” the head owl told me in a sweet way.
You have always been welcoming to us each and every day.
The night rider left empty handed, and pouted a bit.
I thought it was humorous when he had his little fit.
I saw a ghost, when I was small,
It had a shadow, upon the wall.
My mother left, to go to the shop,
And the house is where, I had to stop.
Me and Buster, my precious old dog,
Who sat on my lap, like a heavy log.
We watched TV, and played around,
But got disturbed, we heard a sound.
A loud bang was heard, Buster took a look,
Whilst I lay still, for I was quite shook.
His snout went up, towards the air,
And he fell into a long, and gazing stare.
He barked as he ran, towards the door,
But soon he stopped, and looked at the floor.
He ran back to me, whimpering and scared,
And I cradled him, as he watched and stared.
I creeped to the door, to a long narrow hall,
And saw a shadow, upon the wall.
I gasped in awe, I was petrified,
‘There’s something here, it’s come inside’.
A door half open, at the end of the hall,
Began to move, and creak, then stall.
My eyes did widen, cold entered inside,
‘What is there?’ In the room it would hide.
The door would move, once again,
It widened the crack, and suddenly then,
Buster did run, away from me,
There was somewhere else, he’d rather be.
He hid on the sofa, as I slowly looked back,
Down the hall, and towards the crack.
Then I saw, the ghost appeared,
The crack in which, it slowly neared.
The room was dark, but light enough to see,
A large dark figure, that was looking at me.
The dread I felt, on that faithful night,
Kept me awake, until morning light.
My mum came home, and I told her the story,
Of a dark floating figure, with feelings so gory.
We went to bed, and the following day,
Her face was white, she had something to say.
‘You know that thing, you saw last night?’
She said to me, with her face of fright,
‘I woke up this morning, around quarter to three,
And the figure you said, was stood next to me!’
A true story
'Twas the time of Summer solstice, they wed
Verdant leaves clung to trees; the month was June
Whispered troths of love, sacred vows were said
'fore fauna, rising sun and waning moon
Prince Largent was soon to be crowned as king
but Mekram, the wise, held grief in his eyes
He smiled with joy when Asha wore the ring
Though death neared, he feigned a joyous disguise
Bodies joined, celestial and human
Festive auguries 'pon the forest floor
Skies aflame, trees canopied with lumen
Their world glows today, and forevermore
'Twas said to be just an immortal tale
but in June, astral light gleams in the vale
For those of you whom say
I have to much hate in this heart
I don’t hate you with this guilty fever
But I don’t love you either
I don’t hate you with this guilty fever
But I don’t love you either
And yet they tell me things change
But when you look back on it
It all seems strange
Promised to return as one to the manger
Tiptoeing over cement splits
Trying to avoid danger
Reality just dealt you a stiff blow
When evil is near
Christians feel a drift in flow
This is the humor in life
Without stress being detrimental
There’s a little hate in the center of all of us
Being semi-sentimental
My life is portrayed on a conspicuous display
Go ahead and kiss if you may
Shooting for heaven
No way we can miss if we pray
Then again I’m likely to on this day
I was as peaceful and innocent as an old man
Stroking his beard
Just as his time neared