Long Passenger Poems
Long Passenger Poems. Below are the most popular long Passenger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Passenger poems by poem length and keyword.
"I love you"
These are the three ripe words that
I wanted to whisper in your ears.
So, I
Fixed a date
You came
We met
We spoke
But I couldn't propose:
Though tattooed on the tip of my tongue,
at my dismay it refrained to flow out.
Then,
I packed all my feelings and emotions in a box
with a love letter clinched to it
and laid it on your desk.
Looking at the hourglass
Counted the time.
Zealously anticipating
for your arrival
But,
Unfortunately
you were on sick leave.
Poor me
Carried the box
ran and hopped into a taxi.
Impatiently sitting,
throughout the ride
yearning to meet you..
After reaching the destination
Carelessly forgetting the box,
restlessly I jumped down
Rushed to your flat
Found your name plate beside the door
Pressed on the calling bell
Faced your maid
With a fine clarification
I stepped inside the hall
Not finding you
Confused I stood.
In a while,
Got to know
that you have been shifted
to hospital;
Not knowing the address
and the exact location
I stumbled
Place to place..
In search of you
With a wrong information.
Cash had melted;
Looking my wallet
I sat on the street
gaping at your photo,
that..I had stolen
from your locker.
Hit suddenly an idea..
Thought of calling you
But,
In a hurry had left my
mobile on my table;
Recalling your number
I went to a telephone Booth
I tried and tried and tried..
With many failed attempts
I just heard the recorded voice
which repeatedly said:
"your call is not reachable"
My eye lids were twitching
prophesying something awful is to happen.
The clouds were shadowed by darkness;
And I returned back home
with a huge sigh;
Found my pillow
Embraced ,
Cried my heart out,
Lay insomniac,
whole night
Thinking
Of YOU
I stay awake
Worrying,
What might have happened to you..!
The next day morning,
I found newspaper
Headlines said:
"Airplane crashed due to turbulence"
Strange was to know..
Your name typed too..
under the missing passenger list.
Why such a shocking news ?!
Why the hell did he board the flight
all in sudden with no clue?
Myself wriggled
On the floor..
Soul paralyzed
"Losing him"
~The Untold love~
The one who capriciously
got away from me
in a very
short span
of time.
3-7-2020
Second place in the contest.
Note:The one that got away poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Silent One.
ONE100eight
ONE100eight
CharlaXFabels
www.three
SUN TRAN history
Passenger Pigeons carry messages to people entrenched at
www.wwone/ditched in doughboy britches wearing Army boots of wool
August 3, 1914 special free edition of the BerlinTageblatt announces "The War
with France” The Kaiser rolled away and fell from Germany the world is saved
they proclaim the war is over 1918
His hat was very black and ebon his vest hung down in back front was cut in
western sling style his hair was off white gray an old gunslinger out of old
Tucson days. He took a transfer out of his pants pocket and tried to slide it in the
bus to make it work but the driver had turned it off to see his face light up he had
been caught for this was the very first bus. NO the driver said simply with a smile
that will not work and left it at that and up to him he did not frown but added the
dollar paid the money for the fare the first time not again his bogus attempt at a
free ride had failed. He took his transfer paid he learned his western lesson
there the driver being kind and understanding could have been demanding that
he leave the bus and March 24, 2008 has come the carrier pigeons are taking
messages to www.wwtwo.com the war is over Hitler dead go home and live
without a gun without a dread. She simply simpered she opened up her bag a
purse no doubt without a dime or dollar amount inside her friend paid for hisself
one dollar kept the transfer in his hand she kept repeating to herself for all the
crowd to understand eye left the wallet with the money in it at home the wallet MY
wallet is NOT in this bag it has been left at home the man he seemed astonied
when she said in certain tones did you get a pass for me NO he said don't you
remember my pass and your pass is both in your wallet left at home the driver
moaned a bit but let her be she let them ride he said eye gave to you my pass to
keep for me she said so sad MY WALLET is NOT in this bag it is left behind at
home IT'S EVERYTHING the carrier pigeon flew with messages to the troop in
the trenchment ditch at www.worldwarthree.com/apocolypse
The message simply said
we airmailed
every missle
that we have
to hit the enemy
the world is over now
do not try to do anything
just pray
we are all going to see
JESUS
NOW
TODAY
Inexplicable blessing luckily
avoiding potentially grim fate
finds yours truly coming to grips,
how afterlife did not accommodate
the missus, and/or myself unwittingly
loved ones would never acclimate
reality of our permanent absence,
thus existence all the more I appreciate
and attempt poetically articulate.
Herewith the scenario that defies
conventional atheistic wisdom
finding me unable to square
involving 2009 Hyundai Sonata automobile
driven by spouse or her scribe, who dare
not allude to guardian angel,
yet conundrum inexplicable, when
touted as luck, regarding the rear
wheel bearing (passenger side of car)
that went kaput, blessedly ignorance
attributed absented scare,
yet in retrospect taking stock
i.e. how existence imperilled,
now more grateful than ever
toward life, liberty and
pursuit of happiness,
this in essence potential whipped miracle
of sorts presenting possibility
cosmic creative force continually near.
CJ'S TIRE & AUTOMOTIVE,
(1405 South Township Line Road,
Royersford, Pennsylvania 19468)
intuition doth agree
expert knowledgeable SERVICE
familiar personnel employee
since patronizing said facility
(actually franchise sites
scattered across United States), we
regularly return taking car repeatedly
to team of mainly younger,
but wiser technicians than me,
who realizes scant knowledge, née
absolute zero mechanical ability,
especially regarding
twenty first century vehicles
heavily accoutered
with sophisticated technology.
Now yours truly loops
back to (house at Pooh corner -
think Loggins and Messina)
i.e. core theme
Impossible explanation within
the infinite universe scheme
to explain convincingly fluke
protection against meme
evoking death, demise, destruction,
et cetera regarding as ye gleam
teetotaler who avoids Jim Beam
plus alcohol in general, cuz
prescription medication harmful
unless feeling suicidal to thee extreme.
Thus one garden variety, generic guy
NON GMO android (ha)
he doth not fear
the grim reaper at rapier
or gunpoint, nor mortality do I despair
hoop fully made somewhat crystal clear,
a quandary (one among many
that recurred), whereby air
ring professed nihilistically
skeptical minus impulse to destroy
comprises whether doubting Thomas
(English Muffins) stance
on wing and prayer
inadequate, obsolete, untenable...
The slowing whine as it came to rest
A spacecraft settled down
Like a mother bird into its nest
Glowing there green and round
Smoke spewed from open ports
The air smelled of gas
Little men came out of doors
And laid upon the grass
There soon formed a crowd from town
Peering at this awesome sight
The spacecraft there coming down
And glowing in the night
The mayor spoke and said he knows
What to feed these creatures green
They feed on French tomatoes
And drink the juice of beans
This is why they landed here
By this garden in the grass
But first to have a nice cold beer
From a large and frosty glass
Now arrived the TV news
Those men of truth renowned
And started doing interviews
To spread the word around
Camera trucks and many more
Big frames of antennae
Microphones by the score
And dishes ten feet high
Beaming waves of HD pics
Popping flashes all around
Sending data high speed flicks
Of the creatures on the ground
Throbbing cables glowing hot
Plugged in every place
Trying to get a camera shot
Of the first from outer space
To scoop this scene
Would guarantee
A place for them
In history
If one could see from outer space
The light from each ones screen
Glowing back in every face
As they peered at those men green
Then finally in a casual way
One begun to speak
In a manner rather cool to say
We come to here in peace
Our trip was going very well
Between some outer stars
When a passenger ask do you sell
Those peanuts grown on mars?
I am the steward here
I serve folks while we fly
Bean juice and good cold beer
And peanuts you can buy
Many times our flights are long
My supply of things run out
We know if things go wrong
The captain starts to shout
We had just crossed the great black sea
A dreadful place to span
This chap had then just beckoned me
For bean juice, another can!
I opened up the saucers store
To take his order back
And It was empty, was no more
The captain blew his stack
We were only half way there
How long here who knows
But the captain does not care
If we need French tomatoes
Our snifter found your plot
This garden full of greens
French tomatoes all you’ve got
And the juice squeezed from beans
Fear not earthling creatures
And even though we’re green
Maybe strange our features
But our nature is not mean
Steward sir, get the door
Our loading it is done
We now have filled our store
Goodbye ..to everyone!
Here is my story, raw and uncut.....
I was a DJ at a small gentleman's club - I loved music, and so I had an "ear" for mixing
tracks, plus with my passion of creative writing I wrote lyrics to songs. But working in a club
you're around alcohol, and drugs. I quickly got hooked on cocaine, the rich mans drug.
Liquor and cocaine was my thing. On the night of my crime, A "homeboy" of mine came
over to my apartment with some coke, I had the liquor. So we begin getting high, drinking
liquor while playing the Playstation2. We got a call from a mutual friend, a girl we had both
dated. She asked us to come over. We said we were on our way.
Now by this time, I remember, I was soooo messed up man. But I got in my car, him in
the passenger seat - on the way to Jenny's house, we are passing the bottle of Jack back and
forth. It's around 2ish in the morning. I was off that night from work.
So we pulled in the driveway, we went around back, like we always do at her house.
(Everyone goes to the backdoor). The door was unlocked, lights were off, all was quiet - we
figured she was asleep. My homeboy goes straight to the kitchen to fix him a sandwich -
don't ask me, I have no clue how he could eat. I go into the living room, she's laying on a
futon, I jump down next to her, playfully saying, "Girl get your ass up." But to my surprise
an older woman jumps up saying , "What are you doing in my house?" _ Now understand I'm
high out my mind, I was invited to Jenny's house. Who is this woman screaming, "Get out of
my house!" I say, "Where is Jenny?" And she says "No Jenny lives here!" - Then like a light
switch comes on! I realize, "Shoot I'm in the wrong house." - Now I know what you're
thinking (How would I not know?) I can only say with the amount of alcohol and coke, and
the fact, the houses looked the same (It being a subdivision) I believe that's what they call it.
So I take off running "Man we in the wrong house" I tell my homeboy. As we are leaving
I'm asking him questions like (How we not realize this isn't Jennys office?) He's got this big
stupid look on his face - A lot of what happened that night has come back to me over the
years. And the look on his face when I asked him that question confirmed - we sure was
trashed!
Continued in Part 2
Walking home from the bus stop, with a little girl.
I did this every day, and I was really sure,
That everything would be just fine, like every other day,
But little did I know, that this was not like other days.
She stop behind a broke down van, to tie her favorite shoes.
Little did we both know, the van was working well.
I stopped with her, making sure not to leave,
As it was my job to get her home nice and safe.
The van suddenly started moving, and I told her to move.
I can’t she said in reply, im not done tying my shoe.
Tara I said impatiently, we need to move now.
She refused and then I pushed her, making her move.
It was my job to get her home safe, and safe home she would get.
Just then the bumper hit me, knocking me to the ground.
I tried to get up but couldn’t, because the tire was on my leg.
People screaming at the lady, who was in the driver seat.
The lady did not listen, she kept going on with ease.
I screamed, and all went black.
And the next thing I remember,
I am sitting in the passenger seat, my mom lunging over me
Paramedics all around asking me if I hurt,
I am I said, my legs and shoulder, but I cant really feel my legs.
They put me in the ambulance, carefully transporting me from the scene
I wake up in a hospital bed, with my mom sitting next to me.
You may never be able to walk again, she tells me delicately
The accident broke both your hips, you were lucky to survive.
Then the nurse came in, telling me the rest of the news.
I cried and cried as I heard I may not be able to move.
Your really lucky she then told me, as most people don’t survive.
But you did and that’s all that matters, my mom said with a smile.
She kissed my forehead and said she would be back soon.
I fell asleep in a hospital bed, and woke up in my own.
I don’t remember much of this day, but what I do I have said.
Tara survived with no injuries and I am happy that it was me.
I had to quit my favorite sport, and I missed nationals that weekend.
3 months later my shoulder was healed,
And I was re-learning how to walk.
I don’t dread what I did that day, not one bit in the least.
I saved a little girls life. But gave away some of my own.
Its been a little over 5 years since this.
And I still have side effects from it.
But I can walk, and do most everything,
That I was able to do before.
Form:
Monday morning comes alive with the piston train speeding by, thousands of people gather at the gate and crowd the platform before it was too late.
Monday morning full of passion with hangover lingering in the shower, a change of clothes and alcohol on breath the impatient driver is starving to death but a passenger was just in time to save his life with a mug of coffee, spicy donuts, and cinnamon bagel. He has an appetite as big as a lark and when his passenger emerges from the dark he flips the script.
Monday morning stumble through the street and the traffic and city sound disrupt my heart beat; business women and business men tunnel through the crowd and the vendors on the other side bellowing in the air selling merchandise in the early morning.
Everyone with conceited mind presses through the thick crowd and everyone talking very loud and even the quiet one expose his ambitions.
The crowd in the street began to swell and the small school bus and big trucks rubbing side by side speeding down the street trying to outdo one another and the children scream and shout and laugh out loud when the driver pull away from each other.
Cars and van honking their horn as the traffic converge at the stoplight and an impatient fellow came out of nowhere and speed through the crowd and collide in a big tree on the side of the road.
There you go again; the traffic lined up around the bend and
the cops were swift to pick up the dead and the traffic come to a standstill.
The ambulance began to shout with red lights blazing from the hill and busy nurses in the back resuscitating the deceased back to life but it was a feat on which destiny rely.
The traffic began to flow and a radiant light burst through the sky and lit up the entire street.
Across the distant the sound of the Piston train has completed the sixth round and destiny billows through the angry town.
It did not stop at the usual stops and the people were unhappy about that, but the train picks up the speed and continue to barreled down the street.
It got out of control and Monday morning began to roll and the piston train empty its contents in the bush and set ablaze.
And birds in the bushes gather around to give their condolences to the relics scattered on the ground and the Piston train broke in several pieces.
You know that new Halloween movie coming out in October, well this is the soundtrack
The only difference is I have the audacity to kill Poetry without masks
My pen is sharper than Michael Myers knife and I've also put my surgical gloves on
Pieces of paper from my pad laying on the floor to put your blood on
I'm not even the violent type
But my pen will cause so much destruction that it can't be a silent night
My mind games will drive you Insane, but you'll secretly enjoy being the passenger
The torturing will be so much that you'll wish I was a kind hearted soul like Dracula
The poetical Michael Myers is here to cause a Halloween massacre
You think I'm lying and that I'm bluffing?
Well I used Freddy Krueger's fingers to cut the pumpkin
You can't kill me, I won't vanish
You can try, but you won't manage
I can survive any amount of damage
What are you going to do to a Monster who uses Jason Voorhees machete to make a sandwich?
If you don't like Horror movies then you best leave
Freddy Krueger made you want to have less sleep
This isn't your typical Horror movie, where there's a flickering light and someone dies during a sex scene
It's worse, because everytime I write a rhyme on paper it will make your flesh bleed
So I literally make sure everything I write on the page is felt
It'll cause Freddy to die in his own dream while he's dreaming about being as great as myself
I birthed a generation of copycats in other movies
But none of those mattered because they couldn't reproduce me
You can hide to try and last longer
I may disappear from time to time, but it's only to come back stronger
And I'll stay in your mind forever so you can't lose me
I know it hurts, and reading this will cause blood to come from your eyes
Because you just realised that Michael Myers won't die
And there's nothing that can be done about it
Everyone loses their minds and becomes dumb about it
You won't escape Michael's clutches once he has a hold of you
Nice people don't last, it won't matter if you have the warmest heart in the coldest room
I know everything about you, without anyone sharing out your info
You can lock your door, just to find me staring through your window
I just killed poetry without a mask
Michael Myers is back, and this poem is the New Halloween movie soundtrack
The haunted train of Schwenksville
After dark every Halloween
since living social in Perkiomen Valley
for seven long years,
a shrill whistle train whistle
(often compared to the sound
of a bird's call, particularly
a large bird like a hawk or a crane,
due to its piercing, high-pitched
and long-lasting whistle-like quality)
soundcloud heard
from afar clear as a bell,
yet nary a train present
since locomotives stopped running
through Schwenksville, Pennsylvania valley in 1976,
when Pennsylvania Railroad
gave up its rail assets
to Consolidated Rail Corporation (Conrail).
However, some passenger "rambles" took place
from Reading to Schwenksville in the late 1960s.
Matter of fact beginning at the junction
of the Schuylkill River Trail in Oaks,
the trail uses much of the former rail bed
of the Perkiomen Line of the Reading Railroad.
The Perkiomen Trail
created in 2003, often called, the “Perky”,
the trail rolls down the valley
of Perkiomen Creek,
which may have been a reference
by local American Indians
to the surrounding cranberry bogs.
The northern end of the trail begins
at Morrow Pavilion in Green Lane Park,
where trail users can find parking and restrooms.
The 20-mile Perkiomen Trail
follows the route of the Perkiomen Creek
from Oaks to Green Lane Borough.
It connects to the Schuylkill River Trail
and the Audubon Loop.
For most of its length, the "Perky,"
known by many, uses the former rail bed
(as iterated earlier)
of the Perkiomen Line of the Reading Railroad.
Every other time of year
outer limits of the twilight zone
spread dark shadows,
which creep along the edge of night
startling a driver unexpectedly
yet instinctually to veer
away from harm's way
courtesy a nocturnal creature,
now ghost rail activity heard to scare
the living daylights
out of atheists like myself,
who quickly utter a prayer
immediately afraid then jubilant,
cuz prevarication (housed within
a ghastly fashion) my métier,
which brilliant notion
sparked immediately, née instantaneously
after discerning unquestionable choo-choo
within a kiloampere,
a unit of measurement equal
to one thousand amperes.
An ampere is defined
as the amount of current
that flows through a conductor
when one coulomb of charge
passes through it in one second.
Serenade Me, Julius La Rosa
His striped tie has a green tint color
And his hands are dark and bulging with blood.
I can see them gripping the steering wheel like parrot talons.
I can see from all the way up here
That one of his fingers has a golden wedding ring,
And he just sits there in that Studebaker
Looking up at my apartment window,
Like I’m some freaking captive locked in a high tower,
And he’s my guard, my sentinel,
Making sure I do not escape.
“Hey you! Yeah you! I’m talking to you!
Oh? You have a problem with me seeing the blond bombshell?
The one with the face that launched a million ejaculations?
The face that burned the topless towers
Of a million American households?”
Now he has a cigarette going inside that sleek automobile.
It’s dangling from his lips
Like a big white toothpick from Scully’s.
The Los Angeles Mirror,
The front page,
Rests forlornly on the passenger seat.
I can even see the headlines from up here –
Something about an execution,
Julius and Ethel R.
Serenade me, Julius La Rosa!
Sing to me now! ‘Eh, Cumpari!’
It’s 1953 and all’s well in the world.
There shall be a tiki torch in every back yard!
“A cocktail? Here, have mine.
I’m well stocked here in my Kasbah.
Now, sweetheart, what were you going to say?”
“When I dance with you,
I feel like I’m in Paris by the Seine,
Dancing in technicolor with Gene Kelly.
You have wonderful moves and a very masculine touch,
And I can almost hear Gershwin music,
Way off in the distance.”
“By the way, my darling Norma Jeane, who taught you to dance?”
“To be honest, my mother.
It was an emergency situation, I had a hot date, so…”
And now we are sashaying on my torn and tattered carpet,
With Perry Como crooning ‘No Other Love’ on my Hi Fi,
Over there in the dark corner.
The lights of the Big Enchilada
Glisten outside my lone window
Like a million incandescent candles
That burn with lust for us.
“Hold me closer.
I need to feel your warm blood.
I need to breathe in your luscious sweet cologne.
Mmmmmm. Kiss me.”
“I will kiss you.
I will kiss you long and I will kiss you very hard.
But first, my darling, why not some Rachmaninoff,
The second piano concerto,
Instead of Perry Como?”
“No Piggy.
Locked in your arms I’ll stay.
Waiting for you to say,
No other love have I.”