Long Perhaps Poems
Long Perhaps Poems. Below are the most popular long Perhaps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Perhaps poems by poem length and keyword.
I dreamt last night of my father.
He played on roller-skates, with
grandchildren, more likely great grandchildren,
yet to be born.
It was a family get together,
perhaps his birthday, or
Father’s Day, coming four days from now.
He wore his famous big smile.
The one that makes everyone smile back.
The children screamed with excitement
and he laughed joyfully with them.
Though older, he was not fragile,
but had the vigor of his youth.
Like in the picture that stares back at me.
Family, friends and coworkers always
spoke highly of him.
Their comments and praise made me
proud to be his son.
I hope that he knew and felt that.
A farm boy from a small town,
not rich or famous, but kind and generous.
He never met a stranger, nor
refuse someone in need.
His work ethic that was matched by few.
I wish I knew the reason / meaning of the dream.
I think about my children, and grandchildren,
wonder how they will think of me?
My hope would be, similar to mine of the man
in the picture, that stares back at me.
A fleeting moment in time,
Is all I need for this rhyme,
Perhaps 10 minutes, no more
Sit in your armchair, close your eyes,
And to your utmost surprise,
Your life flashes past like an express train,
Happy moments with unimaginable joy,
Horribly sad ones, like the day
I lost my baby boy.
Where does each year go, life is greedy,
And definitely always needy,
Progress demands youth takes over the reins,
What will become of us,
Next week you or I are forty,
And in a decade we will be fifty,
Birthday cards sent to us,
Inappropriately witty,
You’re on the downhill now sis or bro,
You have to settle for second best,
Along with all of the rest.
You work you slog, but at sixty five
You are retired, what to do with each day,
Such a drag, but we all love poetry,
So we will never be solitary.
Soon we will be 3 score year and ten,
Our lifetime over, says The Book of Psalms
Psalm 90 verse 10, this is an older translation.
Today’s verse 10, has been adapted
Into many a version.
We wonder, how did we become so vulnerable,
We reach eighty,
And then ninety,
We could have dementia, our minds quite muddled
The way forward, every day a sad venture,
Or we could be arthritic or have Parkinson’s,
Chronic pneumonia, had an accident and
Broke our back,
At this age the cards stack,
Against us.
One day we can’t breath, rushed to hospital,
The family, children and grandchildren abound
No regrets, life has been profound,
We heave an accepting sigh,
As a tear rolls down from our eye,
Have we any regrets, is this that
Moment in time, you, means all of us,
And we and us, means as it does,
So you, us and we,
Means also my and me.
My husband, also sick, whispers, let go
My love, I’ll see you soon.
He lies next to me,
I feel cold, the clock strikes three,
It is mid afternoon,
Finally, my spirit leaves my spent body,
Hovering above my bed,
I wish I could tell them hey, stop crying,
Life is a journey,
And so is dying.
What is the color of your skin?
Yellow as the radiance of the sun that yields
to the ticking drips of morning's climb ;
or black in the gentleness of a dusk
closing its light to render god and man
the sleep from trodden journeys?
Perhaps, white like cavorting waterfalls
tumbling into ripples of snowflakes, lips freezing
into icicles of wintry moon?
Is it brown likened to the very soil of a hearth
feeding our bones with of mounds of wheat?
Our complexion has nothing to do with
the universal language of freedom or inalienable
rights of oneness--the equal opportunity
given by life's behest. And yet, most
of humanity have a low tolerance
for people whose skin is colored like evening--
marginalized through chains of prejudice.
I weep and ask; i have no answer.
For Brian Strand's Premiere 125 Contest
Reposted 1/30/2018
Why do we have such trouble
trying to explain
the height of ecstasy
and the depth of pain
when to you I am connected
the blossoming of joy
where upon it being severed
hollow emptiness deploy
I hear your cries in the vagaries of night
but your distance prevents the healing of your plight
your pain has saturated every cell in my soul
but only can the embrace of Love make you whole
My heart aches to hold you to my breast
to see you lifted like a kings treasure chest
wish you could see in mine eyes your own reflection
and take away that you aren't precious misconception
I have never spent my time tearing you apart
but sought those qualities shining in your heart
who keeps telling you with a derogatory voice
that you're valued less than any other choice
I have loved you from the day we first met
my promise until the end I'll you not forget
I exerted to support you every drop of energy
though would have rather had you very close to me
There is no treasure over you I cherish
count them as nothing that my Love should perish
an espoused sentiment will not a tummy feed
I had to work to roof and clothe your need
The only family at the time that cared for you
two grandparents who tried to help me through
they saw to it every school year you had clothes
and when I lost them how my sanity then froze
I'm required to forgive those who threw us away
and the father who never supported you in anyway
also the men who hide those who violate
until our God by Christ does away with hate
Sometimes in Life there is no indication
the path required will receive its vindication
I already know every place that I have failed
and my own inadequacy which upon I've railed
Someday perhaps You will understand
Gods requirement to care your needs demand
if I hadn't been alone might've been easier to stand
and in myself what I've lacked not to reprimand
1 Timothy 5:8
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith
and is worse than an infidel
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C Michael Miller
When you plan something spur of the moment,
At first you feel proud and in charge,
But the longer you think,
It will end in a blink;
Then the doubts stumble in and loom large.
I need time to mull over my choices,
Possibilities I can assess,
Weighing good points and bad,
What will make me feel glad
And eliminate what might cause stress.
Sometimes, though, I can’t make a decision
And the plans do not ever get made,
So perhaps if I pounce
I might get to renounce
Hesitations that make me afraid.
If the scale tips one way or another,
Either method can end up with doubt,
But at least if you book,
Then by hook or by crook,
An adventure you won’t do without.
“What Does It Take to Win Your Love for Me?”
A golden oldie’s lyrics—soulful, sad—
blend with my thoughts on love I thought we had,
but I saw only what I wished to see.
(Jr. Walker and the All Stars, 1969)
The brokenhearted~~what becomes of them?
They’ve lost their happiness and peace of mind.
They trudge through each day, praying they will find
true love. Till then their outlook will be dim.
(“What Becomes of the Brokenhearted,” Jimmy Ruffin, 1966)
To “Everybody Plays the Fool Some Time,”
I think of how good-byes can be quite cruel.
A special skill not taught at any school
is how to find a love sure and sublime.
(by the Main Ingredient, 1972)
“Love Hurts”~~words aptly chosen and so strong.
When romance fails, hearts break and hot tears flow
like nonstop rain. Recovery is slow.
The lyrics resonate on nights so long.
(“Love Hurts,” Everly Brothers, 1960; Nazareth, 1975)
“It’s Gonna Take Some Time” I’m hearing now.
Perhaps, when I’ve recovered from this pain,
I’ll find my search for love was not in vain.
Then loneliness will take its final bow.
(by the Carpenters, 1972)
The Grass Roots’ lyrics in a sixties song
say “love is gonna get” me. I’ll just wait
and see. Perhaps confessions of a date
with romance might be real before too long!
(“Sooner or Later,” 1971; “Midnight Confessions,” 1968)
Nirvana protégé podcast/youtube
phenom quite mature
talented young lass promising future
media attention did capture
overnight starlet exhibits bravure
generates profuse nonstop
outstandingly positive conjecture
nine year old greeted in France bonjour
mademoiselle so innocent and pure
guaranteed future success
near anonymity one day
household name the next,
automatic fame secure,
whose beautiful swarthy
complexion compounds allure.
Courtesy technological tentacled
trappings everywhere
twenty first century raw
talent discovered anywhere
across world wide web
instant cash cow bajillionaire
clinched record deals guaranteed
linked immortal wealth crystal clear
financial woes never nightmare
flush electronic deposits buffer
sudden renown claim heir
reddit teary boosting
quantity kith and kin here
rilled predictable feigned
interest to care,
when yesterday no hoots given
toward young person's welfare.
Such simplification possibly doth err
grossly inaccurate, I aver,
rushed prediction unfair
nonetheless interesting how
forgotten friends and relatives spur
unexplainable long
atrophied well timed flair
to buttress crumbling complex edifice
long forgotten grudge doth disappear
tangentially madding crowd
metaphorical boatload relative
strangers ferried jostle appear
amazingly enough out thin air
human nature inexplicably fickle
another case in point here,
when yours truly did not roundly square,
among classmates nasty glare
but triangulated, threatened, teased...
convenient token (non smokin')
scapegoat bullies throve to scare
name calling, spitting, suckerpunching,
a curse this then skinny, puny, dorky...
boy never did dare
raise his non hazardous dukes fear
ring being clobbered, pureed, whipped...
perhaps thugs menacing scissoring my long hair
passively internalized deplorable angst.
To Do Or Not To Do?
by Odin Roark
To do or not to do?
That is the question
He asks each and every slow day
And
He is slow
One-finger typing
Today’s beginning
Anticipating
Today’s ending
In between
He will stroke his cat
Gaze out the window at passing cars
Occasionally caress the faded photo
His beloved past
Forever vibrant
Sometimes
He listens to Debussy
The turntable periodically pausing
Reminding him slowing down
Doesn’t mean the end
By mid afternoon
His book is open
Another page to edit
Perhaps two
Then
He pauses
Does nothing
Minutes pass
Sometimes
Hours
He dwells on early day attempts
When sun’s first rays are so promising
Trying to get things done
You know
Things that others tell him
Need doing
Late afternoon appears
He often takes a slow walk
The institution’s grounds are friendly
Tree and bush greet him
Offering as usual
Peace
No demands
The leafy details move gently
Some lose their grip
Fall to the ground
Some days so many sadly fall
He often considers gathering them
Transporting them back to his room
Dying alone seems…
Another day closes down
Sun finds sky’s end
His one-finger typing
Finds little to say some days
Years pass slowly
Like his one-finger typing each night
But
He is thankful
Knowing continued life
Offers so much not to do
Leaving him the time
Not to do it in
Death’s finger points - not now –
but when. Scans the crowd
claiming some at start of day
letting others in twilight linger.
Caring not for kith and kin
nor hearts or spirits broken
Death points an icy finger
claims - another token.
Draws the life from all who love
with passionless disdain.
Death points and in his taking
is numb to dying’s pain.
Death’s finger points, unwavering,
no thoughts of grace – or sin,
Death points and sheds a dripless tear
perhaps his job is killing him.
John G. Lawless
11/15/08
submitted to - The Life of Death - Poetry Contest
sponsor - Anthony Slausen
Have you ever noticed how people gather together..
comfort and help each other…after the bombs have dropped
Family, friends, neighbors, strangers…hugging
consoling one another as they search through the rubble
after the the bombs have dropped.
People grieving together…leaning on each other
trying to deal with unspeakable loss and sorrow…
after the bombs have dropped
Mother’s, fathers, children…innocent victims of war and hatred…
walking side by side…hand in hand…
trying desperately to understand…
after the bombs have dropped.
Have you ever thought to yourself…
how throughout Earth’s history
this fighting among ourselves has gone on too long?
That perhaps we have it backwards…
perhaps we have it all wrong.
What if we made an effort…to gather together
comfort and help each other…
before the bombs are dropped
What if family, friends, neighbors, strangers
would hug and console each other
before the bombs are dropped
What if before we dropped our bombs:
we made an effort to see all people of the world as one family
and Earth as one land…
What if before we dropped our bombs
we tried walking…side by side…together…hand in hand.
If we all made an effort before we drop our bombs
to know, understand and love each other…
to pick each other up…when we fall…
Then…and only then
as one family…as one Earth
there would never be a reason
to create and our bombs again.