Long Passer by Poems
Long Passer by Poems. Below are the most popular long Passer by by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Passer by poems by poem length and keyword.
Alone and frightened on the street
Shunned by everyone he meets
Hungry stomach-- Dirty clothes
A life of sorrow---painful woes
No one stops to chat and see
All about his misery
Never knowing this young hero
Was risking his life at ground zero
Saving babies, kids and strangers
Never thinking of the dangers
Doing his job as a soldier
Victims flung over his shoulder
Through the panic and the terror
Not on moment did he ever
Lose sight of what's he's there to do
Training for this all day through
But now he's left to wonder here
Coming home---nobody there
To hug him tight and give him kisses
This soldiers hurting and he misses
The loving touch of his young wife
Leaving him because his life
Turned around the day he lost
His legs-- he didn't count the cost
No welcome home this hero found
When he became wheel chair bound
He put his life on the line
Someone please just take the time
To be a friend and say hello
He'll tell a story that will flow
Touching your heart--you realize
This young man before your eyes
Is not the "bum" he seems to be
But a hero to you and me
That deserves love and respect
Not the pain from the neglect
Every passer by has shown
Since the day that he came home
A leaf on a big tree was happily hanging
Favorably for every passer-by just to see
He was appreciatively coloured green
Like a bean, he was very much attractive
A treacherous wind rose up to shake’im fall
Forcibly, on the ground he landed green
He stayed’n suffered some time unseen
That was the moment’s norm to endure
On the ground, he all lied dead wondering
Why the bitter wind slaughtered him untimely
But he learned the truth was alive, not a lie
Black, red’n white ants gathered’round to dine
Eaten gluttonly, he suffered insensitively
Failing to feel the odour of the enemy
Who tiptoed to pitilessly extinguish him
While on the ground, he was lying powerless
But a generous wind to save him has blown
Him up like a living butterfly in the sky
Courageously, a new life he’ll have to try
Posing on a new branch of any big tree
He had died, but a new life he’ll remake.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
I pick up litter on the road.
What shines is often roadside trash.
I do it for the doing’s sake.
What glitters most is always gold,
To us who keep a highway clean.
Most cans and broken glass attract
Our eye like daytime fireflies.
I do it for the doing’s sake.
Not punishment for drunkenness.
(Though something I’ve been guilty of).
Nor for some passer by to take
Me for some do-good citizen.
I’ll not be known when dead and gone:
No apples trees as legacy.
I do it for the doing’s sake.
No stealing of what’s thrown away,
No trespass on what’s public land,
No evidence of DNA
Disturbed nor finger printed cans.
Just drive to give me wider birth.
Don’t honk or wave or two thumbs up.
Unless escaped from elder care,
Call no police to help me home.
I do it for the doing’s sake.
I wish to be the gentle breeze
Sweeping tearful eyes
Of the weary midday flower.
Or to be the horrid shadow
Casting fearful darkness
For a passer-by to rest.
A rippling river of white
I wish to be the one
Drenching thirst of arid earth.
Or to be a dancing wave
Of the mighty sea
Playing with a child.
A guild of fleeting clouds
Hiding splendid sun
For a homeless soul,
Or the canopy of green
Thwarting rain for a home,
I wish to be the one.
I wish to be a cresset
Guiding glimpse of hope
In the prosaic paths of pangs
Or to be a firefly
In the dim toilsome journey
Of a soul to his divine home.
Codger's Inspiration
I see you there,
Walking alone
along the winding, narrow path,
where a lively breeze drifts now and then,
lifting the folds of your white silk dress
like a feather caught in sunlight.
I watch in silence.
Wildflowers, dressed in colours bright,
bend softly as though greeting you.
Their smiling faces line your way,
Yet you move onward without a glance,
your thoughts wandering beyond the world around you.
I wonder,
What distant dream has claimed your mind?
What secret road unfolds within,
while another path unfolds behind—
a path where unseen footsteps follow,
drawn by the grace of your every movement.
I see again
A tiny butterfly dancing through the air,
a lonely sunbird skimming the sky,
each travelling without certainty,
each trusting the unseen horizon.
And I, too,
Am a traveller of such a kind.
Not a beggar for affection,
nor a seeker of promises;
only a passer-by who found a moment
worthy of wonder.
So before you vanish
beyond the curve ahead,
before distance gathers its curtain between us,
Pause for a moment.
Turn your head.
Offer one glance behind,
and see the old man walking there—
the quiet admirer,
following not to possess,
but simply to cherish
the beauty of your passing presence.
Then go your way,
And carry with you
the blessing of the flowers,
the freedom of the butterfly,
the courage of the sunbird,
While I remain,
Holding this fleeting vision
as an inspiration for the days to come.
Jayaratne Weerakkody
Do any of you guys wake up feeling great
And can't figure the reason why
Don't question it, just go along with the flow
High five every passer by
Some will smile and wish you a good day
While others will walk on by
Mumbling things like “What's up with him?”
“Escaped from the funny farm” they sigh
Wanna know the secret to a stress free life
One with perpetual good times
Where every damn day is hunky dory
And the big old world is in rhyme
It doesn't always have to be like a fairy tale
Always living happily ever after
Just seven days a week would be fine with me
With good times and a whole lot of laughter
Let me know if I'm overdoing this stuff
Love sharing my happy with you
Been on this kick for quite a long while
Guess a bunch of giggles are due
THE STONE WALL
I was loitering lone aimless in pathless wood
making way through thorny bush and wild weeds
where creeper secretes peculiar fluids.
Feral flowers flowing fine fragrance fresh.
Stunned to discover a stone wall covered in moss
and climber coiled getting wall as strong support.
An awkward structure, mismatched in verdant scenerio.
Surely the wall is the remains of some construction.
Might be a portion of boundary wall of a garden.
Might be a part of demolished building.
Whatever however once it stood rigid bold
watching noisy lively habitation.
Once well maintained, now in wreck and ruination
standing as sentinel in solitary wood.
Only witness of past habitats
presently adored and adorned
by moss and thorny climbers,
arousing curiosity of passer-by.
Stone wall standing shy embarrassed
finding itself misfit contrasting
rhythm and harmony of woody panorama.
10/10/20
' A Wall in The Woods ' Contest by craig cornish
It is there when all is silent and quiet.
With sugar plums and misled toes dancing in thoughts.
Most time you can see the snow fall as kids play about.
As it is winter time and Christmas is hear again.
And it’s peace and giving again.
But do we always give thanks?
Or is it just during certain times of the year.
But do we truly remember the day!
The day when Christ our Savoir was born.
It was that of a Christmas day.
When Mary gave birth and gifts come from far and beyond.
For this day, there was a new King that had been born.
That all gave glory before Christmas was destroyed.
For there in his heart he gave Jesus unto us to rein.
That in the days at hand, we would know the true love.
And in our hearts he would rein.
It was there somewhere far beyond.
That Christmas is known as king of the year.
For it is there to which a new year rings in.
For there I say Merry Christmas and God Bless my friend.
Hope you think of the real meaning of Christmas this year..
To always be thankful through out the year.
For each day is a blessing just to breathe.
But each day was about giving and caring about the one of no name.
That in your heart, you find a love of that Christmas day.
As you find the spirit of kindness everyday.
May you share a joy of it to the passer by...?
That the spirit of Christmas lives and never dies.
That each day will be in Christ our King.
And In your heart, he will always rein
And that is a true Christmas Day!
Better to be an honest and shrewd man than to be an innocent dolt,
Better to be an enlightened pagan than to be a short-sighted piece of flesh and bone,
Better to be a frugal voluptuary than to be an impressionable vagabond,
Better to rule in the streets than to serve in a castle.
Better to be in a crowd than standing alone on an isolated road,
Better to enjoy the rain than to be a parched fowl in the desert,
Better to put on a hat than to stand still in the hail,
Better to be a stern bystander than to live in tremendous ache.
Better to be a sceptic than to be an unsighted tumour,
Better to sit tight than to walk on water,
Better to be a remarkable clickbait than to be a foolish mercenary,
Better to be a judge than to be an instrument of judgment.
Better to be a brute than to be an unspeakable human,
Better to raise the voice than to stay always hushed,
Better to be a revenant than to be a destined passer-by,
Better to be a knight than to be a mere guard.
Better to lie in your own sewer than to sleep in someone else's nursery,
Better to welcome the changes than to stand alone, bearing the ancient typos,
Better to eat alone than to waste at a feast,
Better to be always you than to copy a protagonist.
Where do you come from?
And where do you go?
Pigeon steps, crinkled blazer, bent
Posture, sunken face, worn and never changed,
Stumbling along your broken track
Over hills, underpasses and tarmac
Carrying shopping bags two for each
Arm like a POW bound in Disciplinary harm,
Face forward not taking a blink at a
Passer-by knowing their staring giving you a eye, sometimes
Laughing, never wondering why, your
Just going to your home the empty, cold, and familiar abode,
Away from anxiety of being, among the 'normal'
then sitting Alone wonder if you even have a
Phone? Just wrapped up in your in-
Secure security like a forgotten Piece of furniture neglected and old,
And what has happened now your bruised and covered with blood
Continuing on your journey no one observing, just another phase of
Learning that you’re a ghost, bright as
the sun visible as bacteria on toast I don't even know your name
Or even how old I just know your
Lonely with sadness, shopping bags
And a hunchback to hold so may you
Receive everything you lack
As you stumble quietly and alone, along your reclusive track
And when you appear again out from the mist, to gather the essentials
to continue in life's bliss, i hope your journey is peaceful without them taking the piss