Long Point Poems
Long Point Poems. Below are the most popular long Point by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Point poems by poem length and keyword.
A pill rolled under the rug.
Someone swallowed it.
The man lived at one point.
Then he went under the rug to rest.
I decided to walk on the rug.
And almost tripped.
You can’t forget your meds.
They grow and grow.
Even when they’re hiding.
Like a caterpillar.
A pill crawled from under the rug.
Covered in blood.
The pill has no teeth.
Still-
Thrashing in his throat.
The man under the rug.
There is a man under the rug!
But he died and no one believes me.
Take your meds, take your meds.
A pill that is blue.
Or green or mean.
I sat on the lump on the rug.
Blood seeping through.
It’s getting on my pants.
I need to wash them.
They don’t understand.
A pill rolled over to where I was curled up.
And he wondered why I was scared.
It’s Sunday morning at 8:30.
So I need to take my meds.
I don’t know why.
It’s Sunday morning at 8:34.
I died very easily.
Pills are like that.
They kill you.
Simply because it’s 8:30 am.
~ for JM Barrie ~
I’ll wait …
you know I will -
I’ll wait for you … here …
but not a single instant longer than
forever …
I’ll ply the marshmallow sky for
the breath of you
(that aging world will be the death of you)
pixie dust trailing like ribbons -
satin pink to tie your hair
the flaxen strands so
often fell between our kisses …
my wistful miss is the
sun and the sea and the moon!
beg, fly here soon
or this wondrous place will turn ice
no more paradise -
no more mermaids or Lilies or Tink
just think of the calamity!
empty house, empty tree … empty hearts -
fits and starts
and no mother for The Boyz
no crowing noise - no bang-a-rang
just chill pirates, the Jolly Roger
and a Hooky ol’ codger
with a tick-tock crocky tail and his
vengeance for a sail -
(he needs a hand, after all) …
oh girl, return you must
with just a wee bit of fairy dust
and a tall tale or more -
maybe two … or fifty-four
“Home Sweet Home” upon the door …
just point to the morning, on
two stars to starboard
(never larboard)
and find your home … your boy
your me, your Pan - no fat ol’ man …
for I shall be here
with the wind ‘neath my heels
sprite sprinkles in my hair
(wear no wrinkles - dont you dare!)
oh, your girly flavor -
like marzipan savor on my lips
soft, tangy sips that
leave me thirsty for swallows
such sweet numberless tomorrows
yes … I’ll wait …
your lad, so clever!
but not one moment past ever -
still, Wendy …
leave your window open
all the same …
just …
in case.
Original - Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden July 2, 2024
Rewrite:
from "The Waking" by Theodore Roethke:
"I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go."
Queasy anxiety, a fearful edginess of dread,
an old and omnipresent sense of doom
taint the times that random opportunity affords
to slip convention's chains, to openly proclaim
a saner point of view, a logical rejection
of muddy, inane thinking, of tradition-bound
adherence to stupidity's insistent songs
that perpetuate a myriad of wrongs.
Let there be no turning back; face the fears, be the change --
for diversity, humanity, acceptance, brotherhood,
and love. Explain, support, convince. Break the silence:
come out, come out, whoever and wherever you may be!
"50 Words for Poe: Eclipsed"
Eclipse
Moon’s Silvery shadow
kisses Sun’s Golden coronation
at the point where tame fear meets Wild’s strong divination
Moon’s Silvery shadow
melts the Sun’s Golden frown with cool blunderbust
at the point where lupin drinks luminous dew from her dusk
on a clean sheet magik strokes a new story with ever constant silent trust
Melts the Sun’s Golden frown with cool blunderbust
The Moon has power to turn tides, draws deep oceans to shallow shores
On a clean sheet magik rolls luminescent marbles of pearls
opalescent treasure plundered as above so below closed petals unfurl
The Moon has power to turn tides, draws deep ocean to a far and shallow shore
sands of time stop at the point of singularity magik opens closed forgotten doors
opalescent treasure plundered as above so below freedom comes but will never go
Sun’s Golden warmth enraptures Moon’s dark pall with pierced heart of dead Poe
At the point where tame fear meets Wild’s strong divination
Sun’s Golden Coronation kisses
Moon’s Silvery shadow and She is summoned to a tryst
Sun and Moon
Eclipsed
At the point of singularity
two celestial bodies shimmer in the gloaming
In a kiss they are found and lost
Together, nevermore missed
Moon and Sun
Eclipsed
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/_bMpBY_xGcA
“Let’s Get Lost”/ Beck, Bat for Lashes
“He sighed. "The clouds I can handle. But I can't fight with an eclipse.”
“I'm gonna fight for you, until your heart stops beating.”
“You are safe inside your mind. No one can reach you there.”
“Bella, would you please stop trying to take your clothes off?”
1. Eclipse/Stephenie Meyer
2. Lyrics/Let's Get Lost
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/3530822107858838257/
For what I write- is that the reason why?
You visit me and spend with me some time
Perhaps it is for words that make you sigh
Or truth you find well hidden in my rhyme?
Is it, perchance, to see a coy sweet smile
The vision of a woman in your mind
Perhaps forgetting troubles for a while
Elusive peace in what I write you find
But if I leave and can no longer write
Will time erase my presence from your heart?
If brokenness and strife have dimmed my sight
In coming days, will I no more have part?
Sought after and adored if I’m to be
For naught else let it be than being me
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I’ve been thinking about this community a great deal lately. We claim that we love each other. We claim to be there through thick and thin. FEW…yes, FEW can stake a claim to that. I’ve been under the weather for the last couple of days. I’ve been ill….AND….I’ve been forgotten. I know, it is easy to point the finger. There have been poets here who have gone missing, and I do often wonder where they are…..if they are ill, disheartened or just disinterested. I wish I could say that I’ve always sent a little message saying that they are missed. I haven’t. Yes, we are all in love with poetry, but I hope we can see beyond the poet’s words and into his/her heart…..There abides a person wanting to be loved for whom he/she IS…and NOT simply for what he/she can GIVE. I’d like to share this lovely poem that illustrates this so well…..HUGS
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile—her look—her way
Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Grace in-pours from the baby’s fontanel
That soft, tender spot on top of it’s head
In time gaps close, blocking God’s miracle
We become a man of the world, well bred
Desires pursued, till point of exhaustion
We recognise pain follows fleeting joy
Thus ceasing striving, we choose cessation
Dwelling in silence, free from ego’s ploy
Back to the start, our crown’s activated
This time around, by divine magnetism
Lower mind’s cravings are all placated
Vibrant and aglow, becomes body prism
Earth life is short, so let us not waste time
Heeding love’s chime, meld with divine sublime
03-March-2022
Pretty ocean blue hue,
I ought to tell you,
You belong to very few
People who don't get your clue.
The wonderful job that you do
Staggers me and you too.
And in my point of view,
Whatever you say is true.
Monsoon's dazzling blue night sky,
I ought to tell you,
It's raining, you're no more dry,
Don't let her mascara run, I sue,
Wipe off the tears, don't cry.
The fact that she never knew
May one day you pursue.
Take notice of the time that flew
While you were looking for something new.
You don't sound good, but why?
It's because you always deny
The fact that you are shy
And always wanting to fly sky high.
People barely get your clue
And you always tell unjustified truth.
So beautifully you grew
Your pretty ocean blue hue.
Ellie was going to play in the World Scrabble
Championships in Thailand but format had changed,
instead of the usual English rules, it was sexual,
all words now were risque' with no decency at all.
She was horrified but somehow still agreed to play,
closed her eyes and wondered what mother might say;
there was still the fifty point bonus for seven letter word,
like 'bollock' which all sounded rather absurd.
There was a triple word score when she put '*****,'
and another bonus for even managing '********,'
double letter score for dumping the 'X' in sex,
there were numerous laughs when she managed 'sucks.'
It wasn't enough, she was just out of her league,
and finally had to give up due to sexual fatigue.
Arched corridor of quiet,
a long stillness unfolding forward
as if the air itself remembers
how centuries move.
Light drifts in thinly,
a pale wash across the stone,
touching each figure
with the gentlest insistence.
Statues keep their marble vigil~
solemn faces turned toward a brightness
that never fully arrives,
as though waiting for a footstep
that history forgot to send.
Busts line the passage
like a council of still minds,
each one caught mid-thought,
each one holding a silence
that feels older than the room.
Shadows pooling like old thoughts
gather at their bases,
soft and deliberate,
settling into the floor
as if memory has weight
and knows where to rest.
The vaulted ceiling
holds a quiet reverence,
stone and time slowly exhaling,
arching into dimness.
Here, history holds its breath.
Not in grandeur,
but in the restraint of stillness~
in the way the corridor narrows
into a vanishing point
that promises nothing
and everything at once.
Macpherson’s lens consecrates the quiet,
turning the museum into a threshold
where time folds in on itself,
where the past stands watch,
where the present enters softly
and leaves changed.
He never lets me drown
When it feels like my heart and soul,
My story, might just burn down,
His mercy fills me up, makes me whole,
So I can see His crown – His love is all around.
He never lets me sink
Into the web of my defeat,
My story, written with His ink,
He pens each pulse, each heartbeat,
So I can see my sins start to shrink.
He never lets me fall,
Overcome by the world, so dark,
My story, though not as amazing a call,
His grace always lights up a spark,
So I can see His wonder – His writing on the wall.
He never lets me crash,
Even though I sometimes feel downcast,
My story, sometimes calls me white trash,
He rewrites me, despite the worst in my past,
So I can see – His love changes me, in a flash.
He never lets me doubt,
Though my heart sometimes fears,
My story, it is filled with times I’ve burned out,
His light restores me, wiping away my tears,
So I can see the song He is writing, so devout.
He never lets me run away,
While I want to go, He says I must stay,
My story, it is one where I’ll always pray,
His love can be felt, be it night or day,
So I can see that He will never lead me astray.
He never lets me disappoint,
When I feel lost, He gives me courage,
My story, I know He will anoint,
His music, it will always encourage,
So I can see the way to my turning point.
He never lets me wane,
When I feel weak, He is my strength,
My story, it’s filled with pain,
His redemption goes to any length,
So I can see sunshine through the rain.
He never lets me elude,
When I want to hide, He will provide,
My story, it reminds me that I’m pursued,
His spirit chose me, despite my pride,
So I can see and my heart is filled with gratitude!