Long Nothing Poems
Long Nothing Poems. Below are the most popular long Nothing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nothing poems by poem length and keyword.
grandma was not of this time
old fashioned, hard working
it brings tears to my eyes
a mean ole lady with a switch in her hand
and i was a bad little boy
bent on devilment
"confound yo tail!" grandma would scream
while i was running from the whippen
i never got away from
i did everything from stealing candy
to looking underdresses
you name it, i took all dares and challenges
and what ever it was or turned out to be
grandma had a whippen waiting for me
out of a thousand times
only one time she was wrong
i had lied so much
my truth did not matter
a little bit older we spent summers on their farm
doing chores like feeding chickens
and picking fruit and vegetables
it was hard work
but grand ma always cooked a big breakfast
and a big dinner
i never been skinny in my life
when ever we went to town
she would always get her special snack
a huge candy cane, some cheese and crackers
and there was nothing better than those three together.
grandma was the one thing that never changed
allways the round little lady
she was already old
she did'nt give advice, she lived it
the last time she threaghtened me
was with a broom stick and tears in her eyes
at fifteen, i still was'nt to big for a whippen
in these words you may think that i was abused
as a child. no, it was how i was brought up
everybody got whippens i just got the most
there are no failures in the children grandma raised
i'm still one of the baddest but i'm doing ok
BLUE STONES
In the madness nothing but sadness
Whose gonna change the world
Whose gonna take these blue stones
That cover my home, my heart
Make these blue stones...
take them and make them gold
'EARLY APRIL 2018 PREMIERE CONTEST, ANY FORM OR NONE,
ANY THEME, UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines' Contest Info
Sponsor: Brian Strand
04/01/18
©2018
Part 1 Diagnosis
I. Surgery
Surgery—
Today cuts yesterday—
the calendar blade.
You carve the year's new initials.
The beech—scarred—
keeps its reverie-venant
in smooth wood.
========
II. The Future, Uninvited
The future isn't knocking—
inside already, thumbnail
at the doorframe's paint.
Wood smoke. Bergamot—ash.
That cologne of Occurrence—
you still holding
the empty shot glass.
==========
III. No Reset
The heart does not reset at midnight—
the liver does not forgive.
Neurons fire their exhausted patterns:
flinching—craving—glass
in hand again—shuddering like the heat-pump
kicking on as you almost—
almost—
sleep.
Your face in the mirror—
steady—
waiting to see
if you'll
disappoint it.
==========
IV. Rings
Rings on the counter—
like your mother's plant
left years on the sill:
Live Evidence—
no one bothered to move.
The kitchen smells of nothing yet—
that early sadness of resolutions
you haven't—
not yet—
betrayed.
=========
V. What Continues
The self does not reset—
continues—
playing song in an empty room.
We drag it all:
rage swallowed at the feast,
the lover whose face we can't recall
the Ledger—
left blank
the moment we said fine—
Meaning—so far—from Fine—
I’ve forgotten—what Fine—looked like.
===========
VI. Threshold
Fear crosses the threshold—
checking your phone at every red light
eating over the sink
so it doesn't count as hunger
chewing your cheek until it tastes of copper
the way you say sorry
before you've even spoken—
all of it followed.
That stray you fed once—
you woke up one morning
and it had become you.
Or you had become it.
Now when you look in the mirror
you can't tell
if you're wearing its face
or it's wearing yours.
Either way, you've stopped
asking which one got fed.
Good dog.
even though the world has changed
the center of my jolly is still present
nothing has been rearranged
the vibe of the joy is still effervescent
even though the mask is required
the intention of my greeting is still vibrant and sincere
the gleam of your smile is the aim of that is desired
the release of your stresses is the hope i bring in clear
even though expressionism has been the way of the march
the balance and the sway of my merry sleigh is still even
the wear and tear of my many movements may have caused me a slight arch
yet and still my footsteps' purpose is still strongly breathin'
even though my skin on my hand are a bit flaky from sanitizing
i sing a song gleefully with a bashful passion
the repetitive monotony from certain officials may seem tranquilizing
i pray that the rhythmic picture is absolutely smashin'
oh how i wish for days of old
oh how i miss the inspiring scent of silver and gold
oh how i miss her smile and the happiness it brung
oh how i miss the Christmas tree corner and the shelf above the toybox where the stockings hung
the bodies of water where i take my selfies are all the tears cried for missing her
i would give my left hand for a clear vision of even a blur
however i do have her memories to keep the files safe and warm
the embodiment of her treasured yuletide inspiration will not be moved because of some pandemic swarm
even though the tradition and the love within has become oddly estranged with time
i am still forever etched in the immovable influence of The True Unwind
for God will AllWays be the Imminent Concluding Factor
His End Result is Straight, No Chaser.....never portrayable by any actor
A white lily sunrise
brings the malaise,
humid dreams shimmer
off the blackening tar
Red dust girates an axis
dark matter is overcome,
lethargy drags the body
into a blazing bright sun
Work, a joke on labouring men
each day drains into the next,
without a dropping of heaven
without a wisp of air, no respite
The incessant heat hoards air,
the smell of rain on a breeze,
nothing but a cruel memory
as the earth bakes golden
These summer days long
for the circles to turn,
for cooler winds braced
with a stinging cold nose
For nights clothed in linen
their warmth, a comfort,
not these deadly months
this end of the world
Gaping fissures score
the face of the outback,
spinifex gathers along
a rabbit proof fence
Farmers no longer see
a blue horizon beckoning,
the life they bestowed, now,
lost in bankrupt despair
The year's turning decades
and the green paddocks,
never more will checker
our rolling countrysides
each day another species dies
each day another million lives
become nothing but a eulogy
on a yellowed classified page
Still we do nothing, much,
still the child cries unheard,
and the world will end, not,
with a bang or a shout
But on a whistling breeze
only heard by the gods
11/10/10
How can people think of children
as a commodity that they can buy or sell.
These are the people that should rot in hell.
There are women who get pregnant to make a living
They feel they have nothing in their lives worth giving.
Then here come the marketers-that with
Others their information they’ll share.
They find out from buyers what they want
In a child, and if they want it quick
Or can they wait a while.
If they want any child they can
Supply on on the spot.
Any particulars will take a little longer
And the price becomes harder and the
Search becomes stronger.
These marketeers have an underground
World Wide Web- supply and demand
Stays in their head.
These children are just figures on a tally sheet
The money they make, just can’t be beat.
Some children may find a good home
And possibly a good life- but the majority
Of them become sacrificed.
Put into slavery and prostitution at a very young age
Some are even locked up like animals in a cage.
No love, no schooling and very little to eat
A found dirty candy bar, is a fantastic treat.
Now starts another vicious cycle of this unending chain
Older kids preying upon younger children- just to survive.
This is the truth my friend- this is no lie.
Will any of these children be saved?
I don’t know ! But we’ll take it day by day
His eyes
His amber brown eyes, brighter than the sunlight they shine; Falling for him was an inevitable crime when those eyes looked into mine.
Those sparkling jewels expressing feelings unspoken;
Lost in their beauty I stand there frozen.
I felt the warmth of his gaze under my skin;
I couldn't resist my smile as my heart did a spin.
His eyes are prettier than those starlit skies;
"He is not in love with you" I convinced myself with pretty lies
Then I was answered by my heart "Love never dies even if it's only from your side".
It's not necessary for him to be mine;
As long as I am his, my heart would never whine.
They say "True love demands nothing"
It's all about giving everything.
And expecting nothing in return;
Oh,amber brown eyes, yellow like the sun's rays at noon falling into mine
Forever in my heart they will burn.
In those eyes with flickering flames I saw my reflection;
His eyes captured me with affection,
Never felt prettier enough in front of the mirror but when my reflection was captured in those sparkly jewels I found myself looking like perfection.
Between us is there an ineffable connection?
Though I say, I love you,
I mean so much more.
I don’t know how I was happy,
how I went on living before.
You sparked something in me
when I looked into those ocean eyes.
Your soul so sweet
filled my world with colours
like a sunset in the sky.
Your gentle hands
make my spinning world slow down.
I feel a sense of peace
like I found home
when you’re around.
Your voice is like smooth jazz,
a melodic harmony to my soul.
Ever since I’ve met you,
my life just seems more full.
I could get cliché
and say I love you to the moon,
but my dear that distance is nothing
compared to the love I have for you.
Not even 1000 glistening stars
Could surpass your beauty and charm.
Oh that feeling I get
when I’m safe within your arms.
The way your eyes glisten and sparkle
when you talk about what you love.
Your heaven sent,
you can only come
from my father above.
I have 1000 yellow butterflies
when you say I’m beautiful.
I never thought I could meet
such a kind, compassionate, endearing soul.
Though I try and try
to put my love into words,
I fear it’s impossible
because it always comes out blurred.
I could carry on for 1000 years,
you know it’s true.
But instead, I always just say
“I love you.”
DELUSION
Affirmation without discipline is the beginning of delusion
But at first glance, any deeper meaning is not easy to see
I assume such a saying should never lead to any confusion
What is the connection here that seems to be escaping me
Perhaps It is just a vague concept, a jumble of fancy words
Yet it’s allegedly a famous saying, so what really can it be
One surely starts by a separation of whey from the curds
Exposing a deeper resonant truth, or maybe nothing at all
The validation of such ideas like this, may be for the birds
It sounds as if one should now wake up and heed the call
But for me, it is more like a fading echo in an empty hall
All space aliens are Scarlett Johansson
With pitch black hair and consuming eyes
Looking pretty in their new found skin
The clue is they hate dark chocolate cake
Served at restaurants when dining out from outer space
Extraterrestrials leave home for Scotland
And only speak to strangers with accents
They keep men in storage in thick liquid
Aliens take long walks on isolated beaches
Along bogs, in fog and damp green forests
Where raindrops fall hard and wet and cold
There is nothing strange about that
The UK gets a lot of aliens this time of year
People who speak a language fluid in English
And end up in a mystery just as thick
Authors Note: This poem was inspired by the movie “Under The Skin”
starring Scarlett Johansson. Yum!