Long Rambled Poems
Long Rambled Poems. Below are the most popular long Rambled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rambled poems by poem length and keyword.
You’re always there
hovering in the background
waiting for the invitation
to accompany me on this journey,
I can feel your presence
but as always when things go well,
You were just an afterthought
a rambled prayer just before bedtime,
You stayed in the background
not moaning, not sulking,
just waiting, waiting on the words
“Help me!”
And when things go wrong
when I lose control
when I’m not able to carry on
with one word, You’re there
to pick me up, to help me on this voyage,
not holding a grudge
not saying
I told you so,
always forgiving…
Without You, I am nothing,
without You, I have no direction,
without You, I don’t know my own strength…
But with you everything that seems impossible
is made possible
every obstacle that seems big
becomes minuscule,
that’s how awesome You are
that’s how forgiving You are
always there, always willing and able
to respond to my plight,
Lord, help me never to forget
my reason for being alive…
I vividly remember my childhood days,
we had a small garden,
in which we grew flowering plants,
butterflies would sit on them.
Moment I woke up, I would run to them,
to see how many flowers had bloomed
Oh! The exquisite beauty of colourful butterflies sitting on them,
it would give me immense joy.
I would often gently caress them,
smell them, even hug them.
Oh! How much I loved them.
Every time I made a mistake and my parents scolded me,
I would run to them for solace.
It was done accidently, it was done not knowingly,
I would lament to them.
All my joy and happiness,
they would be the first one to hear,
I would share my victories with them,
show them my prizes.
Oh! I did love them.
Butterflies were no longer scared me,
they knew I would not harm them,
They would keep sitting their, while I talked to them,
Their beautiful colour and design was a marvel of nature,
They were the most exquisite of God's creations.
They were a friend of flowers,
so where they of me,
How much I loved to watch them fluttering joyfully.
I would weave stories with my dolls, flowers and butterflies,
I would spend hours playing with them.
When I joined guitar class I would play to them,
they would dance to my tunes,
I would be really amazed then.
They were my best friends forever,
Who would listen patiently,
as i rambled my joys and sorrows...
I felt I could feel their emotions,
As if they could feel my emotions,
They were either happy or sympathizing with me.
One day father brought the news,
we were leaving that house for good.
I was beside myself with sorrow.
What about my flower plants?
Who would take care of them?
I can't leave them to die!
They were my best friends!
My soulmates!
Mother tried to console me,
they would soon get another girl,
who would love them the way you did.
"Don't worry dear,
God takes care of everyone here"
With a heavy heart I bade them goodbye,
I sang my last song to them,
with tears in eyes I left them.
I would oft remember them,
Over the years they were forgotten...
Now I tell my children stories about them,
They were wonderful memories,
Memories that still bring joy and happiness to me,
Memories that can never be forgotten.
Date: 7/27/2020
"Rambling is a mood enhancer and it is during my ramblings that Nature talks to me in inaudible whispers and I am struck by the silent beauty around me"
_By Poet
As the shadows began lengthening,
I slowly walked to the seashore,
Through the cobbled path,
With stinging stones under my feet,
And piles of golden clouds floating above,
Enjoying the whistling of the wind through the reeds,
Inhaling the saline air, smelling of rotting seaweeds.
Along the margin of the vast strand, I rambled for long
Feeling the foamy fringes of water lapping at my feet
And sensing the sand slipping away under my feet
I watched the gentle undulating billows.
Rolling their silver volumes
As if to die away on the happy shores
The sapphire waters and the roaring waves
The churning tides and the feathery foam
Made me wonder at the horror and beauty,
That inbred dichotomy Nature carries within
With such surreal beauty surrounding me
I yearn to ramble on and on till the end of time,
Like a recluse with only the company of the sea at my side
The wet sand under my feet and the clouds above my head!
April.5. 2023
~ Placed First~
Writing Challenge ‘R’ Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Constance La France
Millie Brown was 12 years old.
Who didn’t like to do as she was told.
She didn’t eat her greens or even brush her hair,
As she’d spend all day sat in her gaming chair.
Oh how she loved video games – all she’d do is play
Every sort of video game every single day.
Not only did she play all day, she’d also play games at night
Hour after hour she played until the morning light.
Her brother played with his bogies, but to her that was not such fun
All Millie wanted to do was play her games until she had won.
She’d play online until she was the number 1; the absolute best
She had to make sure that she was better than all the rest.
Millie Brown was great at video games but not so hot in school
She proceeded to fall asleep in class - her mouth dripping full of drool.
“Millie Brown”, her teacher roared! “You’ve been yawning all morning”
Millie woke with a jolt to the sound of her teacher giving her this warning.
“I’m letting your parents know that you really need to go to bed
If you cannot stay awake in class then I’ll have to keep you back instead”.
It will be detention instead of games for you indeed Miss Millie Brown
Her teacher rambled on with his warning (his face wearing a frown)
“Please Sir”, Millie Brown cried, “Please don’t tell my dad”
“He’ll take away my games and then I’ll be really sad”.
“I’ll change my ways and from now on and I’ll not be so silly,
I’ll only play a little and ensure I go to sleep” promised Millie
“I know what I need to do and I know it’s for the best
I’ll stay awake in class because I’ll have had plenty of rest”.
So Millie Brown now only played her games a little at a time
She did as she was told and she began to tow the line.
She ate her greens and even brushed her hair,
Because she wasn’t always playing games, sat in her gaming chair.
A wild bitter wind pushes me along this empty path,
that I have rambled before many, many a time;
but this day I am feeling winters anger and wrath,
and though cloudy there is a beauty sublime . . .
A stone cross marker stands protecting the peace,
and raven calls far and near in the cemetery- never cease.
_____________________________
September 27, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Protecting the Peace
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1184-348-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Make It Six
sponsor, Joseph May
Third Place
Inspiration Pic #2
During a tour in this island nation,
a Maori guide was seeking a nomination.
Among our tour he sought out a spokesman,
to respond to the chief's words, as a small token.
"Sir, will you represent your touring tribe?"
"Yes," I responded, "for a very large bribe!"
I wanted to know what was required.
Giving a speech was nothing I desired.
"No. There's nothing to it at all.
Just go up there and stand up tall."
As we closed in on the Maori stage,
changes to instructions began to be made.
"Say some words when the chief's talk is done.
It's just a matter of having some fun."
"You must always show a serious face.
Or the chief will put you in your place."
"In your speech, you must show respect.
Or the gravest insult, the chief will suspect."
I was as nervous as one could be.
I seriously considered an option to flee.
"Don't worry too much," the Maori man said.
"I'll give you some cues to ease your dread."
The chief rambled on with his lengthy speech.
Then it was my turn, into the breach.
Nervously, I told the chief about my tribe.
"We're from a cruise ship, traveling far and wide."
I could think of nothing else, just wanted to be gone.
The guide then whispered, "Sing the chief a song."
Again, the Maori guide bent my ear,
"Have your tribe do a song near and dear."
'Take Me Out to the Ball Game' invaded my mind.
Could I get away with that this time?
I asked my tribe to all pitch in.
And we all sang loudly that sporting hymn.
Congratulations were given, a job well done.
Everyone cheered as they had much fun.
I was so glad that things worked out.
Would I do it again? Without a doubt!
To Daddy, Mama, Billy-Bro, Punky and Massachusetts....
Glazed, deep snow, virgin crunched under my aimless walk
as I idle rambled onward through a vacant, bare-treed park.
Sun was so high that its brightness flashed sparkling pastels.
Fleeting blue spots danced randomly and surrounded me
with images of us until old tears appeared and newly swelled.
In and out, snow to house, young you and me in tender years
of igloos, snowmen, skating, snow ball laughing and fighting,
in animal mittens Mama knitted and snow suits tightly snug.
On some far stage, I feel sure we are still close and at play,
but today I have no smile to curl, just winter’s bleak weight
from tons of missing and reminiscing for my ill, lost brother.
Climbing a hill covered in deep snow reminded me how thick
my own thoughts were sadness bogged, of love now long gone
that was once joyously caught and I swear that hill mocked me.
My legs moved on their own accord as memories of other hills
caught my heart and held it painfully, eloquently still-scored.
Looking up as though Daddy could see me, remember with me
the hand holding and hill rolling he showed me decades ago
as his delight from falling snow created and molded my own.
Years later it was my son’s hand he held, watching icicles melt
while from a distance I watched their silence spill laughter
and their sled fly hills, growing a bond now many winters gone.
At hills peak, I felt my aches that winter etched as pains’ crafter.
Memories where finality marks each season, hurt me most of all.
There are people who have known since birth what they want to do when they grow up. I was one of them. I wanted to be a newspaper reporter, race car driver, ballerina – a career woman who would stay single, and not have children. And when I grew even more up, I wanted to be a grandma who lived in the country – tricky I realize now, as I did not want children. Not as tricky as it would have been in the 60’s and 70’s, but still rather tricky.
Of course, my reoccurring epic night dream for over a year was to run an orphanage, and a dog-saving center, where I would match up sad children and lively happy dogs. That had nothing to do with my day dreams though, as this epic dream was more intense and more real than any day dreaming could have been, even in Mrs. L’s third grade class, a terrific place to day dream as she rambled on about math for hours, never interesting anybody.
Actually, this epic night dream was one hundred times more real than the day dreams. Where is my gallivanting muse? Get back here! I wanted to add something for a dramatic ending, and you have wandered off again. When I was seventeen I took a career assessment test. The results were in. I had more in common with race car drivers than any other group of people who said they still liked their job after five years. If you have ever ridden with me, you know that this makes a lot of sense. Unfortunately, I do not live in Indiana, and I do not have the means or the money for a race car. Also, how many FEMALE race car drivers were there in the 70’s? DUH!
Case in point: If you know any young people who do not want to get totally lost living their real lives like I did, probably missing their calling too, schedule a career assessment test for them, and drag them to a junior college to take it. We do not want anyone else to end up missing their calling.
I listen as she slowly breathes
Praying to God this isn't when she will leave
So far she's lasted longer then anyone thought
Now wrapped up in the red tape we are caught
Papers waiting to be signed
Every dotted one they underlined
Knowing that she can't read them and would just not understand
Leaving each and every choice solely in my hand
Not wanting to give up the right
To choose where she sleeps at through the day and night
Now will all my concerns be taken into thought
Or once I sign will I be the one they forgot
Will she be kept with the ones that care
Or just sent off any where
Here on this I may have just rambled
But on her health I can not gamble
She's not laying in a bed of clovers
And there's nothing like " Do Overs"
As a full grown and some what hard man
I shed a tear and try to understand
If the tables would be turned
Simply in Hell would I burn
Maybe God would just carry me away
Knowing, I did the best I could ever day
But when she gone would she be proud
Thinking I did what was best while crying out loud
An Uncle charlie Original
© 2011 unclecharlie
We were once a pair of flying, floating, diving doves
Warming on wintry days under weathered wooden eaves
We swayed and swirled with ecstatic, electric pleasure.
In synchronized steps to the rising and lilting measure,
We meandered down meadows, gathering magnolia flowers
We roamed and rambled, resting under roomy bowers
We watched life’s swirling and twirling ebb and flow
We waited eager to grab life’s evanescent, ethereal glow
We never knew arrows sting or sorrow’s depth
Each merry morn, for us, was love’s lovely rebirth
We walked close to paths celestial and supernal
And lived and dallied in thoughts of love eternal
But how soon I lost the rhyme n’ rhythm of life
Dropped into a weary world with worries rife
Became a bent, broken reed far beyond repair
With no songs sung to be tuned or played ever
I had no clue why you had so hastily and stealthily left me
I found myself drifting and drowning in a dreary sea
I have been under despondent delusion and deep despair
Thought that our love was cracked and wrecked beyond all repair
Until you let me know what had transpired behind the scene
And told, you still love me and look longingly to make me your queen
To make everything a sweet surprise for me and for everyone,
You went to a far forlorn land for a living, but had none
On false charges, got detained and delayed in a refugee camp
Where you had access to none, was taunted and treated like a tramp
Now that you have a decent job and can stand on your feet
You would come to take me as your wife and would soon retreat
Now I count my days and weave dreams on dreams
Of the time you will come to darn the torn and tattered seams
When you proudly proclaim once more in my attentive ear
You are my devout darling, my all time legitimate lover
Each wayside flower brings to me your long lost, lovelorn face
The wind swayed lilacs and lilies reflect your gorgeous grace
On sordid silent nights, as the odor of your body and hair
Comes winging and wafting, for a while, I feel you are near
March.19.2022
~ Placed First~
My Lost and Found Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor- JCB Brul
Resubmitted for Alliteration- Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Joseph May