Long Nows Poems
Long Nows Poems. Below are the most popular long Nows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nows poems by poem length and keyword.
Weather changing - getting warm,
Nows the chance to leave the home,
And spend more time more time with Dora,
My French bull dog the ultimate Explorer,
She gets excited when I pick up the lead,
Then flips into madness it must be her breed,
From 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds,
Using her butt and head like lethal weapons,
Ramming the door and knocking over a vars,
No care in the world and no disregards,
After this madness we need a short rest,
What is her problem is she possessed,
Then out in the open blue skies up above,
This is her domain it's all the smells that she loves,
She then becomes stubborn and wants her own way,
Ignoring all I tell her sit down and just stay,
But I have a pocket it's filled with pure joy,
Treats are my answer it's my only ploy,
I know it's no Winner she's brainier than me,
If dogs went to Uni she'd have a degree,
A masters in human intelligence,
If there was such a thing,
I have her on a long lead ,
But I'm a puppet on a string.
I will do that—tomorrow.
I will change this—tomorrow.
I will fix that—tomorrow.
I will call them—tomorrow.
What a weight tomorrow carries—
the weight of uncertainty,
of all the things we leave undone,
of all the hope we ask it to hold.
It will be better—tomorrow.
It will be easier—tomorrow.
I will have the energy—tomorrow.
Motivation will come—tomorrow.
What a promise tomorrow remains,
despite all the painful nows,
all the broken todays,
all the forgotten yesterdays.
What will it be—tomorrow?
What will it bring—tomorrow?
What will change—tomorrow?
What will I become—tomorrow?
But what if tomorrow never comes
the way I keep asking it to?
What if I spend my whole life
waiting for the strength to live it?
Maybe the question was never
“What will tomorrow bring?”
Maybe it was always—
“What is the cost of waiting for it?”
My oak tree is budding
Early in the time of spring
And when those buds grow big
An acorn is what it brings
As an acorn, I hang high
Looking down upon the land below
At times I often wonder
Will I be an oak tree when I grow?
Or will I be the nourishment
To the those that live in the trees
Such as birds, possums, squirrels
And animals such as these
Or will I be a home for
a weevil larvae inside
Sleeping till I hit the ground
Waking up from this wild ride
One by one, I watch all of
my family members fall
Nows there's not many acorns
Not many left up here at all
And now for the very first time
ever since I the day was born
I have begun to wonder
Will I be the last acorn?
4/26/2020
If I could take it all back
Every wrong ever wrought
Every regrettable thing
Every broken wing
I'd lay it all to rest
In an unmarked plot
Over which I would plant
Quiet thyme
And no-leaf clovers
Lilies of denial
And forget-me-nows
There would be no memorial
No elegy, no eulogy
No monody, no dirge
Not even a calaverita
Unless one is desperate
Enough to count this poem
This nobituary, if you will
No lamentation
No regrets
No go-away birds
No mourning doves
Nor egrets to bear the pall
Only leave the dead featherless
Laid down without down
To comfort them
And the egrets
Stand stilted and white
As nothing
Melancholy
As marble statues
In the silk gray dusk
Like lilies on a grave.
I was a lost boy I wasn't talkin'
And I was so small I wasn't eatin'
So I went on my own, my demons I'm beatin'
Three years of silence, no walkin' no fightin'
Up to LA, that's where I'm goin'
Will I return, I can't say without knowin'
I'll go on a boat, and then by a plane,
and I'll get to the place where you live out your pain
And you who tried t'shoot me down
Where are you now?
I have removed my gloves
Nows the last time you scoff
In the dark depths of winter, I wasn't cryin'
But now we're in summer, I would be lyin'
And I stole to eat, and eat I will
And I shared it around, so we all had our fill
Keep heading north, that's where I'm goin'
I hope I return but there's no way of knowin'
I'll go by a truck, down a long lane
And I'll get to the place where you live out your pain
And you who tried to push me back, Where are you now?
I have made it down this long track
So now you never can scoff
I have been trying to write this for a very long time. If you are struggling it is from the perspective of a South American trying to reach the United States.
Form:
i paint the world
or maybe the world paints me
mornings blaze awakens me
the blue grey sky sets me on my way
while soft green grass nows turned a deadly brown beneath my toes
i reach the bronze sand of the beach
dropping my burnt orange towel
i walk into mucky waters left by the needed rain
mud settles on my feet tops and i squirm to wash
i decide to sun bath instead turning my fair skin crisp red
then my day is almost over
i walk home under star lit sky
while full white moon shines down upon me
spotlighting my days tan
reaching home into a pitch black house
i go from room to room lighting the way
showering, then heading into a dark bedroom
sleeping into a tired night
into a new morning
IV.
But come the next day he saw no Cammy,
and could do nothing but sigh mournfully,
then say to himself,”I guess we're all done.
Even broken she'll stay here in the sun.”
Norm returned home, to his calm, rustic life,
though inside he didn't feel all that right,
realized he'd been putting off many things,
like a fool child he had been acting.
He wanted kids, a family of his own,
two week affairs didn't help such things grow.
So he tried to date, would go into town,
but things never really got off the ground.
Not many women liked the backwoods scene,
such freedom played to the masculine dream.
Alaska has less women to offer,
none seemed to want what he had to proffer.
Eventually it all began to grate,
and after another go-nowhere date
as he walked back slowly, no spring in his step,
he saw something that caught his heavy breaths.
There on his steps, with half a dozen bags
sat his Camilla, her face low and sad.
She looked a bit tired, stripped of youthful charm,
but he didn't care, and wrapped her in his arms.
“I'm sorry,”she cried,”there can't be another.
I'm tired of just being a lover.
I can't go back there, it's not worth the cost...
I regret all of the time that we've lost.”
He just kissed, did it repeatedly,
said, “For you I'll put in electricity.
If that's what you want, I will make the change.
I want you besides me, please, take my name...”
She did that as soon as the judge would allow,
and except for internet 'Where Are They Nows'
nobody much noticed that she had left,
Hollywood is fickle, likes to forget.
But none cane say Cammy really much cares,
she lives a life in the woods, with the bears,
and a husband who keeps her belly full,
not the life she planned, but at least it's not dull...
REQUIEM-A STRUCTURED PROSE
Nothing moves,silence, echos of
voices,the past awakes!Faces
appear,then depart!A tear trickles
slowly,the music plays,faintly.
Emotion erupt,again!
Regret whispers,in pain!
MEMORIES-A STRUCTURED PROSE
Memories surface,a requiem of
sounds,heaving emotions realign,
words recalled speak volume from
deep within , and live again on a trail
of nows then wash nostalgia’s face
with random spontaneity from
the unconscious mind.The house
full of yesterdays,books that filled
wet Wednesdays,cross-stitched hours
upon the wall.Eclectic collected
moments,sentiments,priceless,unique
and irreplaceable,this smell of love
percolating into endless tomorrows.
ADIEU-A STRUCTURED PROSE
To write my thoughts,to listen
and to see and let these feelings
outward fly.Unfettered dreams as
white clouds upon a summer sky.
Experiences re-lived,evoked from
shaded tones,no longer trapped,
but,by you dear reader,now set free.
Adieu, no more again sweet love to
know,no more,no more will love be mine.
AFTERWORD-A STRUCTURED PROSE
We forget so easily life’s reality,
vulnerable,alone we stay transfixed
by memory,frayed.Musings of the
mind,experience,past&present
lingers long.A reality that ebbs
and flows as morning mist.Just
out of reach shadows persist
circumstance moves on,twenty-four
hours remain a day.Our times change,
inside we stay the same,as players
not spectators in the game.
Listen to me read these structured prose on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
As the pixels of our images' imagined- dance
in magics binary
as chemicals mingling between us-
in touch's refibering, as element_OFelementals
entrenched,
drenched in of love's territorial ink
in it's.environmental sea
at moonlit cove
as stars scream in digital blink
In the silence of a starlit night,
I hear the whispers of the moon,
your serenade of gentle grace,
satelliting a mood,
as nature paints a tranquil face,
Time hands brushed strokes to interlace,
claws for an embrace.
Magic chronochromatic_poetry virtuates
automatically, as
fallen leaves of the tree of Life,
are we, like the nows'
fondest fronds of imagical memories,
drifted by and by inbetween reality sea, driftwood
carried,
buried in a crypt on the wind's soft sigh,.
the eternal cosmic expanse of adjoined mind,
In the diodes of pietry of infrared and canvas of
4D-shade, Spirit Never Fade,
find our way to our dream- that finds a way.
"he identified those who were more like him as friends
and looked at those who he found favor with to be kind to
those who were in complete opposition of how he felt a person should be present themselves he spoke of as potential opponents
he looked in a mirror and said those who shall be mine are my lovers
one asked what if those you wish to love might not want you in return
he said he'd labor and chore himself into being a devoted person.
he added there is always someone better looking, or more endowed, someone more special and someone who can better do something. she will when he does bla, bla!
what we are dealing with here are the right nows that might have more implication on those days of when these words will matter.
don't frustrate my existence with something you think is wiser than what's been done, and done right!
look at the rainbow after the rain, and stop pissing in the wind thinking something beautiful is gonna come from it, it ain't happening like that Friendalater, it ain't that type of party!
she wishes to have you speak bad, and he wants it to be you that say's bad things about him, man aint nobody in farts friend della, we got a future to make way for, the efforts of people today will pave the way for the superstars of tomorrow. A defeat is earned in respect to a loss, when he can be man enough to stand before those that speak of him as best, and say he put the Wowzer on me and I admit I lossed, that when I can deal with him, tha S$B said what happened in Venice was one sided, both reff's made liberal ten counts, and the inside man found his shoulders down for a five second stay, that's from the tape, i will find it in my heart to say, half way through he had me going, but like
a summer sun I risest to shine the chilly ways of winter away!
why?
cause I'm the Big Sky, and everybody who's somebody think I am the best!"
Kelp Seaworthy.. the Big Sky ladies and Gentlemen!