Long Planned Poems
Long Planned Poems. Below are the most popular long Planned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Planned poems by poem length and keyword.
The Dogs we called Family
Tara came first and then there was Ben,
When both of them died we said never again.
Then Sam the runner, got killed in the street,
Prince came and went quick, we didn't know he was sick.
He came from a farm where distemper was rife,
Took him to the vet where he ended his life.
One year had to pass to get our house clear,
Without a mutt there, it seemed without cheer.
One day I was out and the Pound I happened to pass,
I doubled back and I looked through the glass.
Inside I walked, many dogs ignoring my stare,
Until one at the end looked up at me square,
Sat on her haunches both paws outstretched.
She's the one, I knew, so my family I fetched.
I said nothing to them of the dog I had seen,
When they saw the same one I knew they were keen.
The dog was due for the jab that very hour,
To save her life now was in our power, you see.
We paid the fee for her life, Our Lucy was free.
She was the new member added to our family of four,
She lived with us and loved us for 19 years more.
While she was with us we had another to add,
Along came Jamie the Yorkie,he was a bit of a lad.
Like Ben he stayed near ten years and sadly passed.
Lucy died of old age, we said it's time to give in.
Our Garden Cemetery of loved ones was full to the brim.
To Cyprus we came to retire and live in the sun,
Of a dog in the family we didn't want one.
Then a visit to Larnaca was to change our life again,
Because along came Lexi to start it all over again.
She was soon followed by Levi, he was a lively one,
Then came Eli, the whirlwind and pain in the bum.
So from just us two forever as we'd planned,
Now we were five and life was once again grand.
A sad day loomed we had no idea of what was to come,
Levi was walking wrong so we took him to the vet
He had hurt his spine, as bad as it could get.
His rear end gave out and could not be reversed.
He was paralyzed, and getting steadily worse.
The love he gave us in his life reduced us to tears.
The vet said it's time he confirmed our worst fears.
We let him go to where he could romp with all the rest,
All the dogs in our family, they were the best.
With Tara and Ben, Jamie,Charlie the Pinscher and Lucy too
Neo the Collie and Big Ben & Storm the Rottweilers two,
Newfoundland Curtis and Demon the Chow,
All Pals together, in the Big Kennel now.
© Dave Timperley May 5th 2016
I reached into the depth...
But could not withdraw Excalibur from the stone.
Yet I knew I was the one.
Why else my 'Grail Vision' in the sun?
The depths call me to reach further still.
And Mary's eyes bled.
Realizing for whom the tear's shed.
I know not what to do.
Vainity reaching to withdraw from the glue.
I stare blindly in the distance a 'bust' of my former self.
Passing the secret of excalibur being drawn by someone else.
And passing by the oracle of Ephesus, Medusa's eyes
She drew the sword stone in deep catching my contemplations of the mirror.
I could loose myself in her forever.
Secret Sweets. Stained Sheets. and shaking cold she wraps me in the golden fleece.
Covered in snakes, I melt into the secret skin.
Learning the name, I see my fathers before me distrought.
And see now the blindness of the Kingdom Oedipus wrought.
Sophoclese Tragedies and I am forever Oedipus.
Betrayed blessin' between whorish thighs and my camarades' lies.
Where is Helena these days?
Gone so long, I've forgotten her ways.
That's the trick-she sucks in your depth.
I am Horus, my seeds sewn in the west.
Innana's dead. I broke my maiden-named womb.
Long ago I allocated multiversic kingdoms for Osiris' perversion tombs.
And in the mysteries of deep misery.
I have witnessed my seed coming of age.
To lay thoughts like these out on a page.
Christ, Annubis, and I planned this on a street in Greece, A.D., B.C. I can't remember which.
I bare down frost-bitten from the North.
And my Christ of peace bore symbols from the East.
Our dog-eared down-home friend brought simpler lessons from an outdated South.
And we witnessed our births spread out over time.
Three wise men we were singing dark-hearted songs of a blackened Madonna we couldn't find.
So we relinquished ourselves to Daddy Darkest who knew best.
Redistributed seeds, we pushed ourselves to a static line beyond myth; where men like us no longer needed to exist.
Sweet Virgin, Return
I am old and worn thin.
Now, is your time to begin; A collection of stories your heart has borne, but you lay unblemished.
My daughter lay our bones to rest.
Cook them in your stew.
Reigns handover long overdue, but that's not the style you do.
Don't worry about ole Paw. Jimmy Crack corn.
May you be Princess Disarming Charming laced with meaning...
And I awake sleeping...
Beauty, I next to you.
We wanted to make a heavenly cake
But needed angelic ingredients
That were as far out of reach as can be
So we thought of other expedients
Like the famed store of unusual foods
Though it wasn’t around the corner
But then a melancholy light hit me
That we should seek a recent mourner
Who is akin to a newly deceased
Thus privy to a loved one in heaven
So I gently approached my grandfather
Hoping to make a mindful impression
I asked if he thought he could contact
The soul of my loving grandmother
To impart a glimpse of what they cook there
But he said that I should ask another
Making a heavenly cake like we planned
Was more trying than it first appeared
We needed to find some other way
Some way that may be more or less weird
I bravely entered a graveyard one night
With a shuddery moon full and blue
Hoping a spirit would come to my aid
With some heavenly food to pick through
But the creaking only got creepier
As each hour of that night crept by
And though frightened I got sleepier
With no ingredients to descry
Next day I dove deep in the library
About divine dishes present and passed
But couldn’t find one book apropos
So I went to the front desk and asked
The curator ventured to the attic
Where she recalled a very rare book
Aptly titled Eatin’ in Eden
With recipes for a heavenly cook
And on page one hundred fifty two
A recipe for heavenly cake
That purported the impossible
A trip to heaven to undertake
Yet most ways seemed too obnoxious
Even simply holding one’s breath
Which no matter how long it’s tried for
Is never enough for courting death
And if one died and went to heaven
How could they ever make the return
Back to earth to bake a divine cake
There was still much to this cake to learn
We flipped through every page of that book
To decipher somehow or some way
When we wondrously divined that the why
Was not where, but was plain as the day
The cake base is like a rich chocolate
Vastly deep as a moonless night sky
And while fudgy is light and airy
Certainly heavenly certified
Plus shrouded with fluffy cloud frosting
Of downy whiteness from pleasant dreams
That is also sweet as the sunshine
And piped with fresh rainbow hued creams
The cosmos cooks up celestial things
From the blue sky to heavenly cake
So after all that worry and work
It was in essence a breeze to make
If you've lived in outback Queensland just as I have,
you must've faced at times the scourge of drought.
You'd have watched the senseless dying of your livestock
and felt completely drained and numb no doubt.
Did you ponder on why life can bring such sorrow,
when other times you’re dealt a joyful hand?
Though the bitterest of blows is when the children
express, "Dear Daddy, we don't understand."
How I hate to see the hurt upon their faces,
but more so when they give your hand a squeeze.
And the question that forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Then one balmy morn way back there in September,
my children settled down upon the floor,
as they planned to watch Play School on television,
but little did we know what was in store.
How they sat perplexed at seeing the explosions
of buildings there upon the tele screen
and the aftermath then left the children reeling -
left wond'ring at the images they'd seen.
Though I sensed the children's minds took on the notion,
that things they viewed were happening overseas,
how that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Hosts of men, who searched the mountainous piles of rubble,
live vividly within each young child's mind,
plus the endless walls of pictures of lost loved ones,
placed there by anxious folk now left behind.
In their classrooms children talk about the horror
and can man stop the threat of war somehow?
Though our home is miles away from New York City,
our children know that life is altered now.
As my children leave the light on in their bedrooms,
lock windows which exclude a nightly breeze,
yes, that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
We had planned to fly the children to their grandma’s,
who lives just north of Brisbane on the coast,
but the thought of going on a 'plane is not on,
as flying is the thing they fear the most.
So as parents we have organised this summer,
a camping trip with some of their close friends,
but I fear the world will never be the same place,
though live in hope the terrorism ends.
All I wish is for my children to be happy,
that innocent young minds can be at ease.
Though that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
I came home one evening after a hard day at work,
To find a surprise waiting for me.
I ran to the table, my heart filled of glee.
I imagined him sneaking in with a sexy little smirk.
It was a wooden box, beside it a mask of snowy white
I opened it up and found a note.
Written on it was a cute quote:
“We will dance until the clock strikes midnight”
I followed the rose pedals sprinkled on the floor,
They led me to my bedroom.
My heart went boom, boom, boom,
As I opened the door.
I could not believe what I found,
For it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
An elegant white with a beads of green.
On my bed was a gorgeous gown.
There was another letter,
This one written out in pedals all across the bed.
The message read:
“There is a hole in my heart, and seeing you tonight will make it all better”
I put on the dress and looked in the mirror.
And I found another remark.
“Get all dressed up and come to the old park,
Our moment together draws nearer and nearer.”
I rushed down the stairs,
Grabbed the mask on the way out.
Ran down the street, my mind clear of all doubt,
For this man was the answer to my prayers.
I got to the park and saw him waiting,
And I discovered I was not the only one to wear a mask.
He told me that I had one more task.
He said “Close your eyes and think back to when we started dating”
Obeying him, I closed my eyes,
And without me knowing, he got down on one knee.
Everything fell silent, then I heard “Desiree will you marry me?”
That’s when my heart burst into a million fireflies.
I opened my eyes, stuck in a trance
As I was not expecting this thrill.
I flung my arms around him and replied “Oh Stephen of course I will!”
Just then he grabbed me and we began to dance.
Just like his note said,
We danced until the clock struck midnight,
Holding me close with all his might,
Right on his shoulder is where I placed my head.
The rain began to pour,
So we ran hand in hand.
He said “This is not how I planned”
Then we reached my door.
We entered my house,
Where it was all cozy and dry.
Once again my heart began to fly,
As I stared into the eyes of my soon to be spouse.
All he said was “I Love You”
That was all I wanted to hear,
For me to wipe away all fear.
Knowing he loved me, I replied “I Love You Too”
*Not a true story, just a sort of fanatasy I suppose*
“10And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. 11It shone with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal. 12It had a great, high wall with twelve gates, and with twelve angels at the gates. On the gates were written the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. 16The city was laid out like a square, as long as it was wide. He measured the city with the rod and found it to be 12,000 stadia in length, and as wide and high as it is long. 17He measured its wall and it was 144 cubits thick, by man's measurement, which the angel was using. 18The wall was made of jasper, and the city of pure gold, as pure as glass. 19The foundations of the city walls were decorated with every kind of precious stone. The first foundation was jasper, the second sapphire, the third chalcedony, the fourth emerald, 20the fifth sardonyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, and the twelfth amethyst.21The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. The great street of the city was of pure gold, like transparent glass. 27Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life.” Rev 21:10-12;16-21; 27
There’s a place for us
In heaven’s glory land above
Mansions of mercy
Golden streets paved with love
Living waters sweet
Fruits grown for our healing
The pathway’s narrow
Requires God’s special sealing
There’s a place for us
Made of diamonds and emeralds
Japser, sapphires; every precious stone
Twelve gates of large pearls
No pain or heartache
Just joy and peace reign
Our loving Saviour is King
His kingdom forever will sustain
There’s a place for us
God planned long, long ago
A palatial,‘holy city’
With a sparkling river that flows
We are His children
Heirs to His throne
Each one will receive
His own rightful crown
There’s a place for us
It’s not just a dream
Revelation describes it
Enlightened with God’s glory beams
I plan to be there—
By His sweet mercy and grace
I want to meet you there too
With our Lord face to face.
2008-2012 Copyright Maureen LeFanue
You, me, seashore, one place, one earphone,
Coconut with two straws—one ice cream, two noses.
Cold winds, but your warmth wraps me whole,
Two souls in one sweater, hearts beating slow.
Sitting under the moon, watching him chase the clouds,
And that night, love, I realized how foolish I’ve been,
Calling you my moon in all my poems—
When he borrows his light, and you, you shine without a single shadow within.
Our legs sinking into the sand, always chasing the shore,
Waves kissing our toes as they meet once more.
I’ll show you the pictures—screenshots I took slowly,
Not the perfect ones, just the freaky, fuzzy shots where you’re you, wholly.
I lied when I said I was chasing butterflies in your hair,
You were between my legs, your spine pressed against my chest,
Wrapped in one jacket, sharing warmth, our breaths in sync.
The shore beneath us, waves whispering secrets at our feet.
I told you I was playing with a butterfly,
But really, I was setting your hair free from that clip that didn’t care.
I needed to feel your hair wild, untamed, falling like waves,
As it brushed against my face, soft strands dancing with the breeze,
Every lock sent chills down my spine,
Your scent filling the air, your hair wrapping around my fingers,
And the wind, like us, was making us one,
Your hair, in its messy perfection, said more than words could ever speak.
Your hair blowing, my eyes closing, breath aligning with the wind,
Like the universe itself was folding us together, as if it had planned it.
Let’s forget forever—just be with me tonight—
Until we count every star, holding on to each other tight.
No time, no crowd, just you and me, enough as we are,
I want to bury my ego in the sand, let it go,
In that moment, I’ll be mad, unfiltered,
The way I would be before my mother, no regrets left to show.
We’ll dream of a future, a life we’ve yet to write,
Maybe two passengers might join us—two little hands we’ll miss tonight.
And as our eyes grow heavy, as stars fade from the sky,
We’ll break the chains that hold us, love—eyes closed, we’ll fly.
Good morning, whenever we wake from that sleep so deep,
Now four hands and two rings—two hearts that forever keep.
The rest of the story, love, I’ll tell you in a language only we’ll know...
When we leave this seashore.
after years of working &
raising the kids, whom both adopted,
ended up with problems that came from
undisclosed heredity,
the two had put aside a
nest egg, as so many did
in their generation,
growing up with parents who
remembered the depression &
what it was like to have nothing---
hearing everyday that
“a penny saved is a penny earned,”
putting together a life for themselves
while taking care of their own parents
as they passed on
as people do, as we all will,
they thought that when illness started to show its face
in the latter years
that retirement & more time spent
nurturing each other back to health,
would be the most appropriate way of doing things &
so it went---
mother was the first to walk into the hospital
to get cut up &
upon returning home,
father had to take care of her, full time,
so he retired early---
at this time,
the economy was said to be doing “well,”
and nothing was being said of the atrocities to come,
so father, always trying to be fiscally sound,
invested a good portion of their savings,
thinking that over time, it would multiply,
like the broker assured him &
the two would be able to stay retired,
living off what they had saved,
as had been planned---
but father was next into the light blue gown &
being told there was cancer growing inside him,
the worry shifted just as mother was getting better,
to the new horror---
& while the two worked on keeping each other
emotionally sane, while their own bodies started to
give up on them,
the meltdown came,
like a tropical storm of immeasurable proportion
sweeping in from some angle that couldn’t be detected
by any formerly successful means &
the unplanned agony began.
the money lost by others with whom a working couple
had put all their trust,
could never be regained &
their bodies now exhausted by a life of work,
recovering & enduring illness,
would have the most difficult time trying to make it again
in the 21st century work force---
so as the stress came on full
the strain joined in &
as the strain & stress pummeled them both,
all that was left was the re-mortgaging of their house,
the last thing they wanted to give up,
that very vital shelter over both of their heads,
now being hocked in the system’s pawn shop,
allowing them nothing to pass on to their children,
allowing them to never stop agonizing over each passing day
wondering just when the ball will completely drop.
He never seemed to have the time for her
Responsibilities kept piling high
His days just seemed to fly in blinding whir
He could not sense her love was soon to die
So tired from his work, he'd lie in bed
and kiss her quick goodnight, then fall to sleep
How could he know her needs he had not fed
For they had life and home and funds to keep
He felt that life was good, and all was well
They spoke of his good fortune and his wife
How could he know that flames reached up from hell
and soon he'd taste from cup of bitter strife
That night he planned to take her for a spin
He bought some chocolates and rose in bloom
Outside his bedroom door, he lost his grin
He found her being ravaged in their room
His best friend and his wife in love's embrace
it made his heart convulse in frenzied beat
Before he'd kill them both, he left the place
But how could he forget her brazen heat
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sat there in the office, pens in hand
their lives were torn in two, divorce: the end
She touched his arm as he prepared to stand
He melted then, but had to just pretend
"You never knew the love I have for you
I tried my best to keep you satisfied
Throughout my days, the best I tried to do
but your neglect just left me traumatized
You never praised the beauty of my face
The touch of love you kept; I died within
You did not see the negligee of lace
HE saw all these, and tried my heart to win
I tried to close my heart, I did not dare
to lose the home we had, I longed to be
the one you loved with soul and body bare,
yet all my pent up love, you did not see."
And with those words she gave a little cry
the tears that flowed struck cold his broken heart
He knew the fault he bore, he now knew why
But it was all too late; they now must part
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is a moral to this tale so drear
A wife is still a woman with desire
She longs to know her man to her is near
So take the time to please and stoke her fire
You need to show her that she is the one
Who makes you long to love, and laugh, and live
So let your passion rival heat of sun
And then her all to you, she'll freely give
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A wife has needs and wants just like you do
To see her constant bloom, give love that's true
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eileen Manassian Ghali
THE CONCERT
The members of the orchestra had each gone to his chair;
The audience was waiting now for the conductor there.
And when he stepped on to the stand, applause was heard, and then
He lifted up his white baton and music soon began.
It started out quite beautiful, each person played his part,
But soon some went on their own way; they thought they were
more smart.
Some put their music on the floor and stopped playing at all,
While others stared around the room at all the lights and walls.
Some started playing other tunes, some played too sharp or flat,
Some even talked among themselves, some even got in spats!
The leader was beside himself, not knowing what went wrong,
For he had planned this concert night for oh, so very long.
And now he was embarrassed by the actions of the band;
He tried to calm confusion there by raising up his hand.
The members of the orchestra just went their separate ways
Each thinking they were doing right with music they did play.
The audience was quite disturbed, for what they came to see
Was surely not a show like this confusing, sad melee!
This story is a parable of Christendom today:
We started out as one in Christ, but each went his own way.
Denominations, sects, and cults, all claiming to be right,
But all they do is disagree on everything and fight.
We can’t agree which Bible is God’s word for us today;
We can’t agree on how to sing and sometimes how to pray.
We can’t agree on baptism, security, or gifts;
It’s sad to see how very far from early truths we drift!
And some have even now denied the basic gospel truth
That many died for in those days of the church’s early youth.
They say that Jesus was not God, the blood was not required,
Or say that there are other books that God has now inspired.
They say that hell is just the grave, that Mary is the way,
That purgatory is a place where we could go someday.
Yes, many doctrines have crept in; just like that concert hall,
It’s hard for many to believe there’s any truth at all!
Yet our Conductor wants us back! We have a job to do!
If we would follow as He leads, what impact we could view!
It’s time we got back to the Lord, Conductor of our life,
And put away these selfish ways and arguments and strife!
It’s time to come back to God’s word, not ideas of man,
And follow our Conductor, Christ, and trust His guiding hand!