Long Pool Poems
Long Pool Poems. Below are the most popular long Pool by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pool poems by poem length and keyword.
“I am somebody’s child, and I need attention, I am somebody’s child and I need affection, I am somebody’s child and I need love and devotion”, she murmured as she walked through the door. She wasn’t sure where she was going when she left the house; she wasn’t sure about the next encounter, but she walked for five hours until she reaches the border.
The speed, at which she moved, left everyone confused but she was determined to make a point just to stay alive. She did not plan a journey she just wanted to live, and hang out with the daffodils but the trap was already set before they made the bet. She could sense it from within and so she had to learn to swim; with strength in her arms and strides in her feet, she made it through the dark before the break of dawn.
They searched everywhere for her, but they could not find her, the public became aware of it and they start to build a myth. Officer Jones devised a plan to begin the search mission he knew what he had up his sleeve, because he was so hard to please. He had laid the ground work to start digging up dirt, to catch the big fish and throw them back into the ditch, the climate was right and the alibi was riding high in the sky.
The search went on for days with no sight of her abducted in the bush or held captive by the brook; it was just one of those situations where you have to keep on top of things before the universe done you in.
The cheese, and the pie, the crown and the dye were just too reveling so they had to search for another meaning, and the sky was their only hope to keep sailing on the boat and so the narrative changed to give her all the blame.
Was it a crime torn area or someone lost their way and bumped into a criminal flattering in the sky that is a one-hundred-dollar question from a village miner who could not fit the pieces together for the director or the operator.
And so, the question remains, whose back was she trying to cover? My mind wander and wander and it didn’t look like a deal that turned sour, neither was it a set up by gate to discover something before it was too late. Everything seems to be in perfect harmony with the guitar, the piano, the band and the musical director.
The great Gatsby would have won the case if Tom Buchanan had not shot him in the pool over the death of Myrtle Wilson his darling wife. "I am somebody’s child," she screamed.
Eminem Protege 2
Don't care what you think
I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak
Adrenaline Obese
Extinguished to Concrete
Out the Pyramids Extinct
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach
on my limitless fatigue
My Old Image Obsolete
I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
of Venegance as My Apprentices
I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
to Reveal my Ventriloquists
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
Stealing Lucifers Instruments
to Use them Against Him
To appear as Glitches
against the System
I cook Hot Meals with Mittens
an make him taste the Illness
I'm Inventing
But only an Sample for Interest
for His Taste Senses
cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
with Eagles Precision
I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
I been Fighting for Living
100 percent Percentage
an no less than a Percent difference
Still Power in my Engine
to keep the Ignition Driven
You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
the Judgements from your Conscious
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
Mental Doctrines
Im use to Antagonist
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
Judaism Created with Iron Fist
in A Luciferian Science
of Enlightenment
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
Stolen Israels Environment
I ain't Racist
Just apart of a Nation
Created
Created Generations to Generations
Heritage Invaded
an Culture Undertaken
Perpetrated
by The Synagogue of Satanist
my fire been Penetrated
the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
stripes on the tiger Blazing
I'm Judahs Inspiration
an Judas Envy Craving
But I'm not Babylons Patriot
Bablyonion Doom Waiting
Doomsday
when the Moon Change
The Wolf Rage
Waging Spiritual Shade
against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
is Game
Sharpened Tools
my Sword is Shaped
Cut open the Wolves
an Bathe in the Pool
of Blood til It's Drained
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse
Eternal buzz of voices, heard by the wind
Stilling the music of yesterday,
Reassuring the soul has a friend
Breathless music of hers and his, in amazing
Stories, poetry and senses, embracing
Kissing away the melancholic wounds, feelings
Dazed by the night who is no substitute
Inspiring colors, in whispers of light
Softly flow from yesterday throughout paradise,
Rising in blending wishes for grace and ghostlike
Psalms, blessings remembered by the fall,
When wind feels like a promise of what is meant
By gentle and honest, gratitude’s permission
To erase the past with its heavy grasp,
Warming by the fires of wonder found when
One heart discovers the meaning of a kiss…
Is it the river of feelings, flowing, knowing
That wind through the spirit,
Awakening the music of a passion, sensations
Alluring, assuring, enthusiastic as trust
Washing the heart in grace, and feeding the feelings
Like faith who is absorbed by the way
Hearts heal when God’s love stills the spirit,
Resting His calm, like a clear pool of unforgettable,
To the tune of eternal truth, easing away the shadows,
Filling the soul with sincerity, serenity, silence
In peace, two wishes find the music that sees
Through the darkness to the destiny,
Believe, just believe, and receive what God brings
When He sends His ultimate beautiful, His music
In the seeds of lasting wonder, a muse
The feelings who grow and continue on, forever
Wiping away the tears and the fears,
All the past’s melancholy and bitterness
With light that frees the spirit,
Considers what has been and leaves a watermark
Of what it means to be free… free at last,
Because, in God’s grasp, there comes a true freedom…
Free as the wind and the sea,
Free as the music that resonates
With a feeling that can only be stirred
By two who know, with God at the center
This wonder will continue on… forever and ever,
Love that causes the wind to vibrate, to babble
The words of a love song, a fire burning
Like the promise of everlasting – free as the knowing
Love knew, all along, love knew the song
Freeing those who simply blow their kisses
In rhythms of praise, just praise, praise the One
Who brings love it’s light, brings hope its sight,
Brings faith its everlasting fight…
Sing the song, it’s a love song – God is strong
God will sing along, because God’s love is never wrong!
She said that this man, my grandfather,
held her head under the black pool water,
while up above, a German man leaned
out of his window, against the moss and brick
to scream violently: "Don't hurt that woman!
She is the most beautiful woman in the world!"
The tone of the man's voice, authoritative, cold
broke my grandfather's concentration and he
let her bob up to the surface, coughing, sputtering
in an almost drowned manner, while still maintaining a beauty uncommon to humans, as she stole a quick glance
to the heavens of heavens to acknowledge the saving
power of a stranger.
This is her story today, as she sits on three moth-eaten,
velvet pillows to make her tall enough to reach the kitchen table.
She has shrunk in her old age and is no longer "the most beautiful woman
in the world".
She sips her black coffee out of Russian demitasse cups with diamond emblems
until she reaches the grinds which have slept in warmth on the bottom,
to fool her, she thinks.
She nibbles her white toast with butter and honey and shivers in the air conditioning as royalty should.
When she has filled the remaining ten percent of her stomach (the other ninety percent was removed from the worry
of ulcers when technology was in it's infant stage), she continues her story.
It lasts all afternoon and twists and winds around the basic sub-plot that, somehow, her beauty and dignity was
acknowledged in the worst circumstances, and, with her infinite wisdom, the world was made a better place.
Her voice soaks into the wooden cabinets, and will remind me forever of strong, fresh-brewed coffee, and I think,
right at that moment as I look at my hands (which I know will resemble hers one day), that I miss my grandfather.
The most gentle man in the world, whose thoughts never amounted to more than wanting to garden well, or shape
the perfect pizza in his pizza shop.
This man, who set chairs on tables to clear the floor before he danced in pure Zorba the Greek manner, with a glint in
his innocent eyes.
This man, who looked at this woman, this fabricating, self-absorbed, once beautiful woman, with an adoration never
deserved.
I clean up the dishes, while still listening, and kiss her good bye on her forehead.
Jittery from stories caffeinated and old, I chose to walk the long way home, lightening my mood and shedding her
words along the way.
Young Raymond worked the bakery
was up 'bout ten to three.
Just eighteen, still in high school he
had dreams of flying free.
He worked as hard as most grown men
then walked to school and slept.
Took all his wages home to Mom
who thanked him as she wept.
His forte's were science and math
in those he could engage.
Yet beneath all his knowledge was
a silent, anxious rage.
He dreamed, "I'll be an astronaut,"
but worked the fierce hot stoves.
"Impossible to soar," he'd think
while baking bread in loaves.
Young Raymond lost his childhood by
the time he reached sixteen.
Quiet brilliant in mathematics he
soon knew bread as his dean.
Scattered among the loaves of bread,
the flour, water, yeast,
he lost that precious dream-hope and
became an aged beast.
One fine May day in Physics class
with windows opened wide,
most students lolling at their desk,
our Raymond jumped and died.
His skull was broken on the sidewalk
entrance to our school.
Striding across the room's wood floor
he dove into a pool
of warm spring air as he took flight
toward impending death.
We gasped and ran toward the bay
while holding back our breath.
Some of us thought he'd stand upright
until we saw the blood.
Our teacher pressed the intercom
he'd shuddered at the thud.
Somewhere inside that bright young mind
with dreams of soaring high,
the walls of Raymond's world caved in
and left him asking why?
Not old enough to be a man
yet lost to days of youth,
his brilliant mind found no escape
he couldn't cipher truth.
Epilogue
While deputies worked at the scene
we all departed school.
With camera, tape, and clipboard they
applied fact-finding tools.
Yet none could reason why he jumped
and in May chose to die.
His teacher and the Sheriff would
return to find out why.
A physics book lay on his desk
a paper on the leaves.
Mathematically he'd worked it out,
two grown men were bereaved.
He knew the precise distance from
the window to the walk.
His pen the feet per second for
his keen mind to meet shock.
He'd chosen one three story flight
over stacks and rowd of bread,
abandoning the ovens that
had given him deep dread.
I think of him on fine May days
rich with ambrosial air.
I hope that Raymond soars the skies
and sees his world as fair.
Losing Raymond
I could recall some years ago
The day that sealed the deeds of the deal
And dot the long journey of nine months
In my calendar of the years
The same brought about the cry
That started the journey of my childhood…
What a honey of motherhood?
An answer to your heart cry
You were assisted and ushered
Into the labor room
Like my savior was accompanied
To Gethsemane and went further
With the burden of sin of perishing souls
He bent His knees in prayers;
He sweated blood
So you lingered 'un-angered'
With the burden of a baby boy
You genuflected in labor
Fear with joy loomed in the air
Swimming in the ocean tides of the clouds
And I could see water dripping
Down your cheeks and nostrils
All because of me
Could I see any one that flogged you?
No! It's I beating you from within
Not with cane but with pains
Like a sheep before its shearer
You journeyed between life and death
All because of me!
It would have been simple if that was all
But I could see
Like two of your younger ones
Even of your daughter's age
Shouting at you
Push! Push! Push!
Else you kill this baby
What ridicule leading a miracle?
All because of me!
Push! Push! Push!
That was their shout and cry
That ushered me into a new world
Right at their ward
That was not because they're wayward
It was a labor room
It was labor for you
That which ignited my favour
What a pain heralding a gain?
But it was like a pay to me
I took it for a ride but
It was mother’s pride and joy
I thought it was play
Until she smacked and spanked me
Yet they succeeded
As they persuaded you and encouraged you
Then and there with flow of water
And pool of blood you pushed forth
And you pushed through.
I thought it was a favour and for my good
Only to see her hand carried me
As if she was all out to help
But it was only to cut the cord
While I held my hands together
Lost in the comfort and dream
Of the cosy womb
She took me out of the comfort zone
She smacks and spanks me
Again, again, and again
She made me to cry and never cared to say sorry
But told stories
He's another boy, she said
Right there she baptized me
Into a new world
She dragged that thing
She called cot to your side
And placed me in it
Alone I was laid crying
And all she did was to laugh at me
Mum. Her white uniform belied her act
Dedicated to V.A Aderounmu.
© Fisayo Aderounmu.2012
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
there are seven birds that I often get to see
as I walk on the tracks in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
A Whipbird crack through ti-tree scrub,
a Lyrebird echo from Cascade Creek,
Red Browed Finch on the sword grass heads,
I’m watching close a Ground Thrush sneak.
Black Cockies feed on Blackwood wattle,
in heath Blue Wrens are a family,
Yellow Robins perch on a paperbark trunk
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
are seven mammals sometimes I get to see,
as I walk on the tracks in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Echidnas forage in wood or litter
Wallabies graze on grass and weeds,
a burrowing wombat sleeps all day;
high in a manna gum, a Koala feeds.
Sugar Gliders doze in a hollow log,
like Ring-tail Possums in a high ti-tree.
A Bandicoot scarps through the undergrowth
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
in Cascade Creek sometimes I get to see,
as I look at the water in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Flowing over sand, fishbone fern as cover,
lurk Blackfish and the Gippsland Cray.
Brown trout forage in the hiding place
where Mountain Galaxias are their prey.
In Cascade Creek; well the Platypus play,
in long deep holes, but are rare to see.
There’s Short Finned Eel, Yabbies and Shrimp,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
are a few reptiles I sometimes get to see,
if I look down at my feet in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
There are Blue Tongue Lizards and Three Lined Skinks;
Goanna’s up a tree and the Tiger Snake.
There’s Copperheads or Red-bellied Black,
and treading on snakes is a big mistake.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
Growling Grass Frogs watch from water grass,
And the ‘pobblebonk’ croak is an Eastern Banjo,
in a swampy pool as I walk on past.
Skippers float over the canopy blooms;
Mosquito, March Fly, Bush Fly blight;
Jezebel Caterpillars feed on mistletoe;
Stag Beetles hover in the fading light.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
on walking tracks there is much to see,
where I’m just a link that don’t belong,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
GHOST MIRRORS
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
A sudden shimmering, in the beguiling mirror of illusions,
As in the icy eerie chill of this frozen man made pool of
Optical delusions, something within shifted and moved!
Disembodiment's outcasts to incisions resistance, cut at
The bitter edge of the graves stone marker, are these
Silhouette shadow beings, trapped within clarities maze
Of solid crystal!
Black sheets haunted, hidden behind the spiritual mirrors
Of religion, encasement's prison of soulless mists, a vaporous
Cage without iron bars, nor steels reinforcement, these are
The lost or damnation's cursed unto the light of salvation!
What skeletal keys can unlock these dimensional doorway,
And just where is the keyhole to fit, this illusionary anomaly?
At the shutters sudden flash, in ethereal creature slides
Across the screen of realities review mirror, a dark
Hauntings presence that alluding the neck eyes detection!
A dead man’s situation lies exposed, by the elemental
Reflection of lights retraction, hidden beneath the graveyards
Bones of the unsolved murder!
Within the winds of the whistling breeze, hear the unruffled
Cries of fates lost children, crying out for justices guiding
Light to save them, from the disembodied hands of their
Tormentors!
Running children of the ethereal night, whom rage in
Vengeance, against the glass prism of shattered light,
Weeping in devastation's despair, for their loss of life eternal!
At the flashing neon point of no return, the devils forsaken
Sake at the tempered glass of realism, clamoring to be
Recognized for once existing!
Within the four squared frame of reality, dwells the
Infinite pool of the ethereal realm, and in its rippling
Waves, phantom faces are shone in the tormented poises
Of the after life’s jail cell, without the possibility of
Paroles final tender mercy!
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
BEWARE THE MONTH OF HALLOWEEN IS COMING
I remember how I would cry myself to sleep
Night after night then I would wake the next morning
Dreading the moment I stepped into the
School's doors where you would all be waiting.
You'd smile and pretend like we were the best of friends
Till my parents left the car park then the words
Would fall from your mouths slashing and cutting,Burning into
my brain. You would all stand around me mocking me,jeering.
When you saw your words didn't effect me,you moved on to
The physical. I remember how your hands would wrap
around my throat,preventing me from breathing. You'd laugh at
My struggle to breathe. I remember how they would hold
Me down so I couldn't run while you would punch me repeatedly till I
Could no longer stand up right,till I lay in a pool of my own blood. How people
would just watch and laugh but never stop and intervene. The pain and
humiliation I felt only enhanced your glee.
I've grown stronger, now nobody would dare mock me. Sometimes
people aren't strong enough to survive this so they leave but some
people come out stronger...like me. I remember how you'd get so angry
Because I never cried,I never screamed I just took it silently.
When I look back I see how small you were and I try to feel anger at what you
did to me but I feel nothing. I try to hate you but I can't.
Maybe it's because I'm now successful and you have nothing to look forward to
but another gruelling day of pain and little food.
I feel no hate only sympathy towards the person I once feared but no longer do.
Now I look back and smile at how I could've stopped you and I know you
realised this too, now I know why you only ever hurt me when your friends were
around to hold me down. I admit you've ruined me in many ways. I can no
longer trust people,love people,no longer look people in the eye,but I look back
and smile because if you had never hurt me like you did I wouldn't be the
person I am today, I wouldn't be as strong and independent,as successful and
happy as I am today, I would never feel such a strong sense of justice like I do
now so I would like to thank you for making me a better person.
Thank you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He never really did learn to treat me like a step-daughter. How could mama marry someone so vindictive?
After daddy died I thought for s u r e we’d be ok. Then Jack walked through the door.
So what if I didn’t finish my homework? That gave him no reason to leave bruises and bumps in places only I can see. He threatened me if I told, I would regret it. Keeping quiet was more dangerous, so I thought…
I shouldn’t have told mama and showed her my s c a r s. I thought the police would’ve taken care of it.
It was warm that night, humidity was rising and sweat was pouring down my forehead as I was tied down by arms stronger than myself. Not once was there a sexual encounter, just a paddle and strong hands. Screaming with a rag in my mouth and in a position I could not break free from. My fear led me to a place of shock. I became quiet and loathsome. After every hit I became more numb, and the more numb I became the more I closed my eyes in weakness. Is this what it felt like to die? The final blow is what caused my final breath. I laid there in a pool of blood and as I rose from my body I saw horrific images of my lifeless body so cold and alone. I died alone in a basement on a cement floor wrapped up in a plastic bag. Twelve years old.
Too young to fight, yet too old to f o r g e t.
Mama was left wailing. She never did forgive herself. Later I saw her in my bedroom holding my blankie and remembering my birth. She was the first to hold me, and couldn't be the last. She needed closure, and I needed h e r …
My youth stolen from a monster who sought pleasure from my death.
My body conquered from a man who brought leisure to my last breath.
Bloodstained floor left marks mama will never be able to forget.
Restrained and more remarks from neighbors; she’ll always regret.
Left lifeless and cold I was tormented from a disturbing step-father so often.
Bereft fight-less as I moaned in agony from a murdering killer left in a coffin.
As mama sat at my grave that cold rainy day she knelt down in prayer asking for divine forgiveness. She laid two white roses on my grave. One for me and one for my daddy. She knew he would take care of me in h e a v e n.
Through Their Eyes II
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Date Written: August 14, 2016