Long Onto Poems
Long Onto Poems. Below are the most popular long Onto by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Onto poems by poem length and keyword.
The dream to me seemed so real
It started off with such a thrill
Hiking in the woods alone
In geography to me unknown
Looking at fauna new to me
I did not see him behind the trees
A madman with an axe in hand
Came charging at me with wild abandon
The axe buried deep in my head
At that moment I knew I was dead
Then my wife shook me awake
It was all a dream, this terror a fake
I was telling her about my dream
And how real the terror seemed
When a shadow came up from behind
And again the murderer my eyes did find
My wife did not see him coming
The axe swung with an awful humming
Her head fell onto my lap
I saw blood dripping from his axe
Reality was mirroring my awful dream
Before it hit me I let out a scream
Then I woke up in my bed for real
Or did I?...Perhaps I am dreaming still
My long ago mother
used to string together cheap jewelry,
baubles and glitter threaded onto silvery strings
for a begrudging merchant
who kept a cramped second floor office
near what I later knew as Smithfield Market.
I would go with her
for I had nowhere to go but with her.
The very thought of 'nowhere' now
fills my mind with the muddy puddles
I used to jump into as we walked for miles
to a place where she sold
her time absorbing, paid for hourly
and tedious labor.
A place where an elderly, sour
and sniffing man doled out
a few coins into her open hand.
A scant amount and never enough of it
for us to ride a London bus
back to where we came from.
It was on a Spring day when I decide to go hiking,
none of my friends were available so I went alone;
soon, I found myself on a path deep in the forest,
the birds were twittering and the forest was fresh.
I heard a rumble and roar from not too far away,
it was a wild stream flowing quickly over rocks;
holding my camera I started down a small hill,
but the hill was wet with thick mud and I slipped.
Trying to hold onto anything on the way down,
but it was hopeless, I was bumping along- until;
I was half in the flowing water of the wild stream,
nothing could have prepared me for the force .
The water was cold and was pulling further in,
I was all alone and had not seen a single person;
my whole life started to flash through my mind,
and saw my family, friends and all things unsaid
What about my cat waiting for me at home,
who would take care of her- Oh, I was afraid;
I looked around for something to hold onto,
but there was nothing, so I prayed to God.
Then, I turned my head and saw a tree branch.
I pulled and pulled myself from the roaring water;
and crawled up the muddy hill until I stood again,
I was covered in mud- my camera forever gone.
But, I was alive- though I was trembling badly,
somehow, I got home and stripped off those clothes;
I curled up on my bed in a fetal position crying,
and cried and cried for hours then cried some more.
" I thanked God for saving me for there had
been no branch and then there was . . . "
__________________
November 23, 2021
Poetry/Verse/I Happened on a Spring Hike
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1409-150-23
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes
sponsor, Matt Calari, Judged 12/31/2021
high upon a green hill
raising hand against the sun
turning quickly this way and that
looking out upon the land
with quick steps pacing back and forth
looking long this way and that
suddenly looking out
at something far away
cold dark clouds rise high up
cold winds from them descend
dust blow skittering across the land
before the coming of freezing rain
feeding upon the rising heat
growing broader and darker still
the wind is now more fiercely blow
racing across the land
with slow query steps continuing on
pausing to look ahead
glancing quickly side to side
continuing with slow steps on
looking on the way before
feet dragging in the dust
shoulders sag so weary down
pausing to look on again
suddenly pausing in the gaze
looking to the coming storm
quick steps taken towards it then
looking with shaking head
dark storm races across the land
sweeping all the before it lies
cold rain and slashing all that lives
darkness consuming all
stumbling steps continue on
no longer looking about
tripping and falling to the knees
and falling onto the ground
quickly racing forward now
racing towards the storm
and what upon the road there lies
straining with quick moving feet
cold drops begin to fall
wind teasing at the cloth
sunlight into darkness fades
the face looks up again
into darkness the steps race
the darkness embraces all
light fades from the land
within the falling rain
Christ and the Soldier by Siegfried Sassoon (1916)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7OEnXw7P60
The straggled soldier halted and clumsily went down "O blessed crucifix, I'm beat !"
Christ still sentried by a seraphim between two splintered trees did speak
"My son, behold these hands and feet."The soldier eyed him upwardas he muttered, "Wounds like these, Would shift a bloke to Blighty just a treat !"
Christ, gazing downward grieving and ungrim, Whispered,
"I made for you the mysteries, beyond all battles moves the Paraclete."
The soldier chucked his rifle in the dust, slipped his pack, wiped his neck, then said -- "O Christ Almighty, stop this bleeding fight !"Above that hill the sky was stained like rust With smoke. In sullen daybreak flaring red, the guns were thundering and the soldier cried,
"I was born full of lust,hungry and thirsty, with a wishfulness to wed. Who cares today if I done wrong or right?" Christ asked , "Can you not trust my word? Am I not resurrection, life and light ?"
Machine-guns rattled from below, high bullets flicked and whistled through the leaves; smoke came drifting from exploding shells.
Christ said "Believe and I can cleanse your ill. I have not died in vain between two thieves; Nor made a fruitless gift of miracles."
"A bird lit onto Christ. a breeze came to pass and shook the ripening corn
A Red Cross waggon bumped along the track "Lord Jesus, ain't you got no more to say ?" He bowed his head with a crown full of thorns, as the soldier shifted, then stumbled on his way.
"O God," he groaned,"why was I ever born ?". The battle boomed, and no reply came back.
Posted by kipper at 14:22
Another snowy day in paradise.
We're just not used to this stuff.
The guy trying to dig his car out by hand,
well, he doesn't look so tough.
There's a shovel by the door for all to use
but genius-boy is using his bare hands
and trying to back out of his parking spot
no matter where the poor car lands.
His buddy is helping to push the car.
They make it out onto the street,
And now he's floored it and back he goes
into a tougher snowbank, his defeat.
So off he walks, muttering under his breath.
I think he's given up for today.
But my amusement is not over.
There's another idiot driver on the way.
This one and his tiny white car
have tried to park in the ditch.
Now with all the snow, he didn't know
but I can still hear him b*tch.
A guy with a shovel across the street,
( at least someone is prepared)
has wandered over to help him out.
Just when he thought nobody cared.
It's all amusing from this side of the pane.
We west-coasters just don't have a clue
how to deal with a foot of snow
like the rest of the Canadians do.
Rain has started and melting too,
so eventually we'll all get out.
But its been an amusing morning
watching these islanders try to get about.
18/01/2020
“Love”
Hearts,
like dice, rolled
across a cold table
into the dark of Chance.
Love,
is a risky business.
A sudden plummet from Grace,
standing on the stable shore of all things,
only to be taken by the undertow of slippery Time,
“farewell to the past of all lost things”, whispers the id
holding firm onto its Pleasure Principle,
sucked in by the tide of the ocean that is Life.
Bare emotions ride pale wild horses far out into the deep;
where control is lost, the Sun kisses the soul naked every day,
golden highs are strummed and plucked like strings.
Love,
saves the lows,
for other lessons, to deliver better things.
Crowded thoughts like credits, rolled,
and the jazz joint smoked, Palo santo, Rosemary
and Juniper, smudge sharp corners phantasmagorically,
to eradicate sad stalking ghosts and tired voiceless dybbuks,
where the Sage-blue curls find their way around the room
fed to those far removed, yet present soundless poets,
like an addiction slipping under the skin.
Love,
rolls role calls, unannounced.
Like a beautiful thief in the night,
hungry for more than less,
it wants much higher things –
reaching ever upwards for its infinite twin.
Love,
like a grand maestro,
will always have its own way,
with what it takes,
and eventually brings,
with the cards it deals, and the keys it plays.
Love,
like an ancient mystic,
will always have its final say.
Love,
in one way or another, remains
haunting -
Sovereign,
Love rules, each
and every day.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
“When I'm feeling high or I'm feeling low
Or there is no change
Somehow days keep melting into the night
And there's always light on the cosmic range
I am always high I am always low
There is always change…
Hear the strings are bending in harmony
Not so far from the breaking on the cosmic range…
In my life the piano sings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings
Fiery rain and ruby's cooling sun
Now I see that my world has only just begun
Notes that roll on winds with swirling wings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings…”
(excerpt lyrics, “Strength of Strings”, Gene Clark)
7
I was scolding you
You were a 4-year-old
sitting in a big chair
at the dining room table
hunched over your copybook
the pencil in your hand
held straight, halting, looking lost
as you dragged the tip across the page
that has turned into a minefield
because one more misstep
another dot out of place
would set off a new explosion
projectiles masquerading as words
from the mouth of the preoccupied father
sitting next to you
not wanting to be sitting next to you
begrudging the time
Then I saw it
onto a blank spot on the page
a solitary teardrop lands
as if in slow motion
splatters
spreads
a translucent bloodstain on gauze
I don’t know if you remember it.
I certainly do.
Will.
Someone saves three from a fire,
but loses his life instead.
A police officer brings a newborn into the world.
A guy saves a man who fell onto the train tracks.
The list can go on and on.
These are the people we call heroes. But heroes
don't just save people from disaster. They give
support and comfort when times are hard.
Most anyone can be called upon to be a hero. It's not just
when one does heroic acts. Being a mentor to another is an
act of heroism. A hero needs confidence and strength.
Sometimes fear can stop them. However, they can overcome
when the situation warrants.
Each of us is hero material. Just wait until you're called upon.
Humanity breeds them. Be a hero to someone today.
My book of my inner most heartfelt emotions from my soul,
Sit unseen inside a book I created with my hands, hours of editing, finally created out of love.
Now sits in a shelf, with nobody to seek but me, is this how much my deep life experiences are worth?
Only Jesus has seen, for it was only HIS Holy Spirit which guided my hands to type them onto the paper, my tears unshed puddled up behind my eyes…
Time will tell if I open it back up my SOUL, Jesus help me, as with my past life, I’m Just INVISIBLE………….
Unless it’s positive, all I get is “thanks for sharing thus one” I guess like the song, “It is well, it is well with my soul”