Long Raise Poems
Long Raise Poems. Below are the most popular long Raise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Raise poems by poem length and keyword.
My mother-in-law was a Taurus.
Thought she was the easiest person in the world to get along with.
Incorrectly thought.
People loved her. She was revered and adored.
Also feared and tiptoed around, for she needed her own way
Most of the time. She also stood up for the underdogs,
And wanted others to have their own way too.
She was nurturing and loving when she liked you.
She had an eyebrow raise that could strike people dead
When she was displeased. I only saw it every day or so.
Usually directed to my father-in-law who was terrified each time.
None of us dared laugh.
A Taurus is an eclectic combination of
Have-To-Have-My-Way, and Want-You-To-Have-Yours-too.
We never double crossed our Taurus.
She loved me to pieces, and I her, but I knew who was the boss.
Yet again the door is being knocked
For ages it’s been closed
Who's there?
The Sun looks down
The Breeze Halts!
Tulips raise their heads in delight..
But the Cascade continue to flow__ like an indifferent Bee
Knock___ knock___ Knock!
How persistent the knocking is...!!
But what is there?
Its light from the peepholes
Enlightens every corner of the Valley,
Old Cider tree opens his eyes
Sheds away, with one jerk,
All dead leaves...
Pale, sick and dried..
Which now floats on the waves,
Concealing image of the orange sitting sun,
In the cascade__ for a while.
At once, Gigantic Mountain roars in panic,
The sun closes its eyes,
Breeze hides away in a dark cave,
Tulips are now harming themselves in despair,
For the light from peephole is fading..
I can hear sound of a pair of feet going away..
There is but No more knocking…
It’s dark now!
Tiny little moon is waiting for the stars to shine,
The valley is silent
But noice of Cascade, ____ of distance Wolves
And somewhere far behind the Forbidden Forest
The door is still closed…
~~~~~~_____________***____________~~~~~
____________________________________________________________________________________
3rd December, 2020 (12: 01)
Originally posted in February, 2020.
Note:
Cascade symbolizes TIME.
Sitting sun: End of life or old age, sadness etc.
Somebody asked me what does the Line "Concealing image of the orange sitting sun, In the cascade" mean. Here is the explanation: when you get rid of your burdens, pains, worries etc, that's the moment when you are truly alive. You might you even stop aging if you are happy. Same happenens here, deade leaves of Cider (burdens, tensions & illness of it) hide sitting sun's reflection in fhe water.
And I hope you have noticed the pronoun *I* which as you can see, appeared quite late in the poem. Happens when you nullify/neglect yourself. This "I" is thematically very significant.
Plus note, the Valley is behind the forbidden forest, that is also thematically important.
What Party Are You?
Huh?
Does it matter?
Who I voted for?
I am alive,
so it was legal.
I have not been dead,
for thirty years.
Surely that is enough.
If I tell you this or that,
you will condemn me
for the weather.
If I stand for the innocent,
you will strive to make
me ashamed.(or try too)
A common courtesy shared
by many… once.
(empathy for the weak,
kindness for the innocent)
Now only protected and
cherished by a few.
Similar to freedom,
herself.
The fact that I voted,
in the last elections,
should say volumes about
the desperation of the times.
Not that I do not vote,
each and every chance I get,
as I do.
It is a privilege,
and a right…
Thank you to OUR forefathers.
Now…
I find that I am angry,
and I never am.
I find that I am unsure…
and I do not like it.
I want to raise the flag of my country,
and tell my neighbors to do the same,
or perhaps, it will be too late,
to raise anything at all,
including our own children.
Don’t badger me as I watch bad things happen.
The people I once trusted for the news,
live on lies and eat dust for dinner,
the truth of their own smoke.
They have jumped ship willingly,
or perhaps meandered away…
Little difference in the end,
to the people they once faithfully served.
Now they take turns, laugh and make jokes,
at the expense of the nation herself.
At the expense of her people,
the ones still left with non-stolen ID’s.
The small ones, with small jobs,
like; the postman, the baker, the grocer,
the maker of pots and pans,
the soldier and the officer,
the fireman, and the chief.
The homemaker, the parent,
the pastor and you.
“They” call us names,
and do it still.
“They” repeat gossip and lies,
like it is truth and fact,
gold and silver,
materials to build a crown,
to an unknown as yet…
disguised, evil
in plain,
sight still unclear,
for now.
What party?;
the one that stands for freedom.
the one that stands for the weak.
the one that is not afraid,
and knows, “In God We Trust”
are not just words.
I am an America.
God Bless America.
Amen.
With limp thunder
came silent still-born rain.
Sky broke,
clouds chose
to play apart today,
as the gray clad stand-ins
in blue duffel coats,
and snow white hoods
slunk away, to fade away,
like peals of bells
fade when echoes fail
to surface on
soft absorbent
compliant surfaces.
Black clouds like the thunder
missed the role-call.
Remained waiting
in the bleachers
for someone
to applaud,
to gee-up
the thunder with claps,
to raise a curtain call.
To giddy-up, giddy-up
the mighty steed Thunder,
to do its
clippety-clop, clippety-clop thing.
to do its
rumble, rattle and roll,
with steely shod and shiny
hooves on cobble stones.
Sometimes my dear steed Thunder,
led along on its reins and bridle,
enters the storm unmounted,
hushed to neigh forlorn,
in gray clouds,
in sky-blue skies.
My arms are strong enough to break your fall.
As you float in my arms, in gentle grips,
You’ll be held safe, and free from any thrall.
My kiss will whisper love upon your lips.
We will be free from the world's distraction,
Our hearts will never again have to cry,
Your love will just be my sole attraction.
You'll be my heartthrob, and I'll be your guy.
But if you allow lies to unbind us,
There’s a depth down there awaiting your crash,
I promise I won’t have to raise a fuss.
Your fall would satisfy more than a clash.
My fear is the beauty glow on your face,
For love undone, doubts might one day replace.
From heaven's splendid throne above
You show the world abundant love.
For daily breath and length of days
Oh Lord, I bring you thanks and praise.
You fill my senses with delight
I thank you for the gift of sight.
For wonders which enthrall my gaze
Oh Lord, I bring you thanks and praise.
For music which in me abounds
And life's melodic, joyful sounds
Your love continues to amaze
Oh Lord, I bring you thanks and praise.
You sent your Son to die for me
And set my burdened spirit free.
To you my grateful prayers I raise
Oh Lord, I bring you thanks and praise.
13.01.20
In Praise Of God Poetry Contest - sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
N/A Favourite Poem from January 2020 3/11/2020
N/A Rerun 5 Poetry Contest -sponsored by John Hamilton
On my walk around the green meadow
in the sun splattered mesmeric mornings,
I used to see an old lady of the neighborhood,
sitting straight like a lone statue of cold stone
on the road-side bench I always crossed.
The golden stream of surging sunbeam
cascaded down the engraved web of rills
on her septuagenarian fragile face.
She would raise her thin ivory hands
from the recess of reclined lap unmoved,
flail in frail gesture in the scented air,
murmuring ‘good morning’ perhaps,
I could hardly hear in the rustle of leaves,
but my long day waited to begin
with the shining dawn of her smile,
drenching me in the silent shower of joy.
I still walk as the senile sun rises everyday,
but its searching rays saddened like me,
don’t find the lady on the bench,
but she walks smiling with me,
down the memory lane.
Written : March 22, 2020
July 23, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
Poetic Justice
His rage arrived before he did—
a slammed door, a bottle’s clatter,
anger breathing louder than love
ever dared to.
Alcohol was his armor,
his excuse,
his slow, faithful accomplice.
He ruled the house with weather—
storms without warning,
silences thick as smoke.
We learned to read the tilt of his glass,
the slur of his footsteps,
the way cruelty passed for strength
when fear went unnamed.
Poetic justice is patient.
It doesn’t raise its voice.
It lets habits finish their sentences.
Cancer did not argue with him.
It did not flinch.
It moved in quietly,
cell by cell,
teaching his body the lesson
his soul refused to learn:
nothing survives constant poison.
The rage had nowhere to go then.
No one to corner.
No child to diminish.
Just a body turning inward,
consuming itself
the way he always had.
In the end,
there was no grand reckoning—
only the math of consequences.
The bottle emptied.
The shouting stopped.
The house exhaled for the first time.
Poetic justice isn’t revenge.
It’s the truth completing its arc.
A life shaped by destruction
meeting its mirror—
and finally,
falling silent.
Combinations of Catastrophy
Combinations of catatstrophic scenarios everywhere I look
Invocations of prehistoric evidence collides with the big book
Complications that are caustic that sit in their niches and their nooks
Calibrations that the agnostic makes as he theologically cooks
Annotations of beauty upon a classical music score
Connotations refuting why there’s so much to be living for
Computations that are computing why we’re always looking for more
Permeatations polluting the old, sick, vulnerable and poor
Believable intonations from a child wanting to be heard
Conceivable imitations from a comedian repeating the absurd
Retrievable limitations from someone trying to preach the word
Foreseeable complications that could be prevented if it weren’t all so ill learned
There’s an evening with a mix of difference, strangeness and the unusual of demeanour
As they’re seeming to play with the inference that they’d prefer a worker to a dreamer
While I sit there in a conference about why the ocean isn’t cleaner
It’s difficult to evade the nonsense while your talking politely with a screamer
Multitudes of humans being just that and trying to raise themselves up from the ground
Interludes of a laboratory rat chasing the wheel round and around
Magnitudes of masses converging that are bordering on profound
Altitudes of heights now deserving of this disconcerting sound
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
Give me no limits
Limitless sky
and vast ocean,
No boundaries
breaths will follow,
Sunshine pierces
the minutest,
Moon brushes in sleep,
God created no limits!
Why should I
His daughter,
follow any limits O man,
That you created
just to subjugate ?
What to wear
When to laugh
Whom to talk
Making friends with
Why these limits ??
Putting a full stop
to my thoughts,
No freedom
of expression
or education,
Snatching rhythm
off my heartbeats,
Am I not human ?
Unacceptable are,
The narrow visions
that don't let us grow,
Gender inequality
that ought to raise a brow,
Don't measure my span
as I take a flight,
Care for my emotions
give me no limits !
Written August 5th, 2015
© Dr. Upma A. Sharma
For contest "Limits" by Chase trevi