Long Nursed Poems
Long Nursed Poems. Below are the most popular long Nursed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nursed poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a quaint little shop
Looking strangely out of place
And the owner was a hermit
With a crinkled young old face.
He was a man of distinction
Of health hearty and hale,
Had looked a Haggis in the
Eye and lived to tell the tale.
He had lived with a mermaid
Having found her in distress
Nursed her back to health
To become his new mistress.
He had sailed the seven seas,
Served with a Samurai band,
Been a leading Ronin before
Sailing away for Samarkand
He had awoken the Kraken
Then, before it was too late
Quietly swum away to avoid
A somewhat gruesome fate.
He had hunted with Vampires
But only on those darkest nights
For they'd had to be recoffined
Before any sign of daylight.
The werewolves of Carpathia
Had taught him transfiguration
A secret he'd long discarded
Once he'd left that roving nation.
Bareback ridden a unicorn
Learned all its Pan Pipe skill;
Sometimes early on cold dark
Mornings he would play it still.
He didn't believe in Faeries.
Didn't like to fantasise,
Only believed in those things
He'd seen with his naked eyes.
I left him making a Herbal tea
Said I didn't quite know when
But the very next time I passed
I'd pop in and see him again.
I shouted my goodbyes
As he worked away inside
And I eagerly continued on
My Magic Carpet ride.
SPRING
Each and every year I am surprised
As winter finally loosens its cold grip
Maybe by now we’ve seen the worst
There’s doubters with lips still pursed
Who think warm days are just a blip
Yet will slowly become acclimatised
Full heat setting is no longer advised
As in the morning air, it’s just a nip
The sun appears, not too hot at first
As temperatures are slowly reversed
Lingering ice thaws and starts to drip
And a spell of daily warmth is prized
As buds, flowers are at first disguised
The new stems emerge like a fingertip
Eager to rise, no need to be coerced
And by the daily warmth, are nursed
Quite soon, newborn lambs will skip
Now at last, a new Spring is finalised
I sowed a seed in shadow's gloom,
A whisper nursed within my room.
Its roots grew deep, its branches wide,
Yet still, my secret lay inside.
Beneath the moon, the tree took shape,
Its fruits of envy, fear, and hate.
Each leaf, a thorn; each bough, a snare,
Yet none would see what lingered there.
A neighbor came, with eyes so bright,
He gazed upon the tree by night.
I watched him pluck a gleaming fruit,
And saw his joy take bitter root.
He bit, he wept, he cried my name,
But still, I hid, and felt no shame.
The seed I sowed, its tale now told,
Its fruit bore truths both dark and cold.
So guard the thoughts you let take hold,
For bitter seeds yield trees of old.
Nine years he served his country
Then nursed in Mental Health
None of his professions being
Much good for his wealth.
Physical ill health
Brought work to an end
Very little hope that
His condition would ever mend.
I watched him cry today
Face covered in tears,
Drawn expression of anxiety
As he tried to explain his fears.
Fit for work they’d said
In the job centre up town,
Gave him a job advisor
And cut his payments down.
Degenerative spinal disorder
So at times he can scarcely walk,
You can hear the pain in his voice
Every time he starts to talk.
Nowadays there’s more often
The silence of despair,
He’s losing all hope
Starting not to care.
Once again the food parcels
Hoping for more success
As we repeat the facts for
Yet another appeals process.
We don’t always win
But we never stop trying"
Driven on by the sight
Of a grown man crying.
I watched him cry today,
Listened while he spoke
Shared the black humour
Of a typical squaddie joke.
Arranged to see him next week
Putting faith in my hope
I don’t arrive to find him
Hanging from a rope.
I longed to share a dream with you
A dream that was most sublime
It was about the two of us
But you said, “Another time!”
And so alone, I nursed my dream
Wanting so much to share
Its depth of passion and desire
But it seemed you didn’t care
In time my dream lost its appeal
And it lost its splendid hue
There was nothing of its sweetness left
Not a morsel to share with you
Then one night you held me tight
As fair romance filled the air
“Tell me, my love, what was your dream?”
How could I when nothing’s there?
“A dream deferred” no longer yearns
To be lived and brought to light
Faded is its splendor now
The mind’s eye without sight
And slowly now, I break away
From the circle of your arms
My dream, you see, was dear to me
Somehow you've lost your charm
Garment of my identity
It throbbed with rhythm and rhyme
You had no time to hear my dreams
"Love” can wait till another time
Eileen Manassian Ghali
She admired him, worshiped him, every hour, every day
Never found fault with him, at home, work or play
Felt herself ever-so-lucky to be his lawful wife
Even during moments of matrimonial strife
On Sabbath she prepared his favorite delicacies and treats
The house sparkled and shined---'twas Cinderella-sweet
You saw them walking together, arms locked, hand-in-hand
Their harmonious coupling inspiring today's wedding bands
Near the end her Yudi stumbled; he landed squarely on his head
She thanked the Good Lord that he was injured badly, not dead
She cared for him, nursed him, fed him and dressed him
Round the clock dedication, her feelings caressed him
When the end came, she sighed a deep sigh, wept uncontrollably
For the man in her life, whom she'd given all of herself devotedly
Sounds of a baby’s cry echo through the room for salvation
As an old man hums in his head to ease the humiliation
He feels a volcano deep in his soul
Ready to slowly blow
As accursed bowels churn and burn
Never feeling hunger or thirst
Frighten for the moment it will explode
He lies not alone nights,
but
Nursed by his companion
as he walks up to him and snuggles next to his warm beating heart
Understanding comfort is all he needs
Taking his mind off his own affliction
He has had all he can handle
Drawing breath for benediction and not abandonment
Subdue
Through ceasing to be and be spared
For he hungers for the sacrament of the Word
The Fisher of the sea
2/10/2017
Against sadness:no-one here must weep
Nor lounge about in melancholy deep
Was Van Gogh senseless to permit his muse.
For even masterpieces ,was the price too steep?
We see the yellow chair but not his views
Nor his mind where technique made strange leaps.
Nor was his journey broadcast on the news.
Against sadness.
Happiness or joy is hard to find
When we rest, the News preys on our minds
Yet some are cold towards the slaughtered priest
His nose a beak of bone in old face lined
Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast
Against sadness.
What rages in the mind make men kill thus?
In Syrian wars the innocents fare worse.
But these are our near neighbours so we weep
And wonder how to end the frightening curse
The sins we once committed hold us deep
We hold our hands out, wanting to be nursed
Against sadness
As I gripped the glass in my hand,
I studied its form
The diminutive stem of depression era green
was pale and nearly transparent
It supported the fragile, colorless goblet,
also very small and featuring
a decorative etch just below the rim
Perfect for sipping a classic Martini
And with each sip, I pondered
whose lives had it touched,
where and when could it have been
A flea market find,
I knew only its approximate age
I imagined the possibilities
And as I nursed my inebriant friend,
I realized that the glass
was half empty or half full
and I wondered if anyone else had held it
during difficult times
determining how to
process the world in which we live
nascent
dawn appears
kaleidoscope
of
color
midnight
sighs
leftovers
of
last night
plateful of
unsaid
words,
a
tablecloth
of rapier-sharp
folds
&
fireplace
dying
to be
kept
alive
sensitive
hearts
feel
powerful
in
mundane
rain
pelting
petals
think
of
others
when eating
remember
pigeon
food
when fighting
remember
seeking
peace
paying water-bill
remember
cloud-nursed
when homecoming
remember
homeless
campers
when sleeping
counting stars
remember
sleepless,
roofless
foodless
healthless
hopeless
be a candle
in
dark
snow
mixed
drizzle ...
dust-covered
man
holds
hand
of daughter
dying
slowly
under
slabs
of
concrete
life
illusion
dream
swoon
ecstasy
oblivion
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: February 14, 2023
YOUR SELECTION AGAIN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.