Long Ramblings Poems
Long Ramblings Poems. Below are the most popular long Ramblings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ramblings poems by poem length and keyword.
I somehow missed the river in these woods
Until I heard water dripping onto heavy moss
A whisper in earthen tongues
A hymn sung in deep green
Stepping to the water, I sought a name.
I bled into color and waded into aimless conviction.
The surface interlaced my fingers—playful
The current rose to my shoulders and I felt the waves from within them
Folding around and under my arms
Tracing my back in a dance that mirrored the fluttering of my fingertips
A cool weight against my chest and rising up through my throat
A breath suspended between my lips, unsure of its direction,
Wavered
Until I fell from within like a rain cloud
I poured out as I drank in
Colorless abandon and sparkling mirth
Cloudburst and spring
I stood frictionless on her bed
Finding those softened edges that fit into mine and held me steady
But the trees whispered their scattered ramblings,
And my fingers faltered in the flow,
The earth rose to swallow the current
And the stones shed their last sorrowful rivulets
Back to the road as the fading light greyed
Unanswered and unguided
As before yet renewed
Past the the trailing reaches of the canopy,
The wind sighed at the darkening sky,
But as I left the green I smiled:
Flashes on the horizon and rumblings in the earth
Echoes of her soundless song
At the cradle of my nightmares,
My future is a horror film,
I track my ghosts,
Like a junkie in withdrawal.
I am a true clandestine calamity,
A mass grave of silent suffering,
A candelabra of pain soothed by dirty money,
I hate the human race,
And I will never have a pet.
I am a loner addicted to silence.
I only write in the dark, to deathly sounds.
A mix of gloomy feelings,
I walk in the darkness of my imperfections,
My hands are no longer innocent,
Since I’ve handled weapons of war.
I am a child of the slums of the third world,
I know perfectly the orifices of misery.
Another damn sleepless night spent monologuing in the darkness of this cold room,
The devil covers his ears to the atrocities spilling from my confessions.
I’ve already used gunpowder
For a firework on the edge of legality.
I never agreed to sleep on an empty stomach,
I’ve risked my freedom since I was ten.
I’ve learned to walk among hungry beasts.
I’m already at war with my demons,
I know I’ll end up in the flames.
I know I have no right to trust a human being,
Being a slave to shine is impossible.
My enemies squat in my imperfect flesh.
I don’t smoke crack,
I don’t smoke cannabis,
I don’t snort cocaine,
I don’t drink alcohol,
I sometimes burn a few cigarettes.
I avoid psychotropics,
I’m not a poet,
Just a tormented mind,
Prisoner of infernal loops,
Where murder scenes repeat endlessly.
My tears stopped flowing down my cheeks
Since I saw my friend crushed by a logging truck.
I am an angry man with murderous impulses,
I commit suicide each time in this same nightmare that has repeated since my childhood.
I’m approaching fifty,
I’ve stopped meditating on the whims of the reaper,
I’ve stopped wandering in graveyards.
Let the universal force show mercy on my impure, tainted soul
By the poisons of lust,
I accumulate transgressions to have a throne in the furnaces of hell.
I don’t believe in paradise, but I know I’ll burn in the abyss’s celestial flames after my twilight.
A deep philosophical reflection in the ramblings of my delirium.
I hate the spotlights like those criminals on the run,
Too many regrets hidden in the closets,
A clean criminal record like the entrails of Christ’s mother.
I blaspheme to darken my divine fragment.
When I was coming up
momma and daddy both said
"Finish your plate, son. Eat the rest!"
More often than not there'd be something
I didn't like, or didn't like enough
and momma or daddy one would say
"Finish your plate. Eat the rest!"
I'd eat a little more, ask to be excused,
momma or daddy see my remnants
"Eat the rest, child! Eat the rest!"
I'd eat a bit more. "May I be excused?"
"Listen to me, boy, you best eat the rest!"
So I'd sit there, pitiful like, and eat the rest.
Reflecting on this, I am keenly aware
proponents on both sides argue 'beware!’
Forcing a child always to finish their plate
can lead to obesity's worrisome fate
But letting them stop whenever they want
selfishly teaches life's lessons to flaunt
It doesn't matter which side you're on
I'll agree with you so let's move on
There's a deeper darker side to this
that I need to mention lest I be remiss
After year's of being told to eat the rest
is it possible I actually consumed "my rest"?
The rest I seek when I try to take a nap
The rest I pursue when I wear my CPAP
The rest that eludes me at work or at play
The question my wife asks me every day:
"Were you able to get any rest?"
No, dear. When I was a kid, I was forced to
finish my plate and eat the rest, so there's
none to be found. I done ate it all.
8/4/2020
The ramblings of a man raised by a momma from the South and a daddy from the North ;)
There was a whistling in the windy stops
a rustling of branches and leaves to find
slipping in and out the scattering of raindrops
a cardinal and a bluejay landing in the pine
a screech and click shout on the breeze of time
a foreshadowing of the storm clouded cries.
There were butterflies bees and flies
hovering within the flowers final demise
one more day of summer warm and bright
stretching out in August delight.
The end of seasons approach
as autumn chills slowly encroach
a day escape from the blistering and humid heat
when nothing moves and creatures sleep
the ever-changing world in revolution
bends to the sun and earthly delusions.
I have a few insights for every situation.
I walk alone on this Earth like a fugitive demon.
I draw nearer to the flames with every transgression.
I despise glory, yet that harlot will make my legacy immortal.
Wounds remain open in my tormented heart.
I chose solitude to preserve my surroundings.
Dark forces shine in my eyes ever since I discovered the pleasures of chaos.
My contempt for human beings makes me laugh when piles of dust try to undermine the rise of my celestial spark.
They will never betray me.
I have never granted my trust to those traitors.
I do good to my fellow man to erase a few sins in the grimoire of my karma.
I speak with eloquence,
I dress with elegance,
To conceal the fury blazing through my veins, widened by the darkness of the abyss.
My stay in this dimension is a nightmare filled with scenes of horror.
I watch men preach democracy while dropping tons of bombs on lands overflowing with wealth beneath their fertile soil.
I am not your brother, I will not lie to you,
We do not share the same indelible scars.
I will never be a hypocrite, unlike those parrots who repeat the fleeting vanities of liberty, equality, and fraternity.
Where I come from, a man is free only if he accepts to bear the weight of his chains with dignity.
The heirs of the slavers wish for me to remain property.
My family tree was ransomed by the predators of the Republic of Enlightened Slave Masters.
I have excelled in excess since the very first minutes of my life.
The only laws I respect are those that sanctify the blasphemies spoken by my insolent tongue.
When I was younger, consumerism scourged my convictions so that my ambitions would be merely financial.
You who read me, do not seek transcendence in the obscenity of my ramblings.
I wield a colonial language like a weapon of war against those who sanctify anti-Black hatred.
I await the reaper like a condemned man at peace in death row’s corridor.
I am not a poet, merely a prophet confined between filthy walls shaped by human madness.
No tears will honor my dusk.
In the furnaces, my throne is gilded like the entrails of the sun.
CATERPILLAR'S* JOURNEY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a caterpillar,
clad in emerald armor,
pauses at the fence—
a splintered barrier,
a threshold of dreams.
It inches forward,
a tiny architect of hope,
navigating the spaces
between the known and the unknown,
as if the journey itself is a metamorphosis.
For a moment it hangs,
suspended in the air,
its tiny heart racing,
reflecting on the fence
that separates the past from the future.
I watch, pondering upon its journey,
the courage it takes
to inch forward,
to trust in the unseen,
to embrace the risk of change.
*Note: Poem originally written for Haiku Shack’s (Creative Ramblings Weekly prompt) July 28, 2025. This is my original poem
When we speak, I hear your voice through the words! Only a few times have I heard your voice! To me you are beautiful and perfect in everything! Maybe I am a fool for having a passion that is strong and appreciative of your presence!
I would rather be called a fool by everyone for my constant ramblings about you and your compassion; instead of being called a fool by you. Time and distance are only relative to the person, as the Will of God does not see either.
When we met it was under stress by our lives. Two different people stressed by their lives that they reached out in the social media void to speak. Little did these people know that they would connect.
Destiny! There is a future Hope and Serenity that the Whisper in the wind is speaking loudly about!
Amazing Grace! It is the sound that will save the two hearts meant for more than their current states!
You are my Destiny!
A love ‘Smooth as Silk,’ that only music can show
No, we are each other’s Destiny
Even when the conversations are of concern, the Will of God enters into our hearts and opens the door for pure heartfelt communication. Compassion, kindness, appreciation, and genuine love are the minimum of growing together.
I am of the West, and you are from the East. Unlike Romeo and Juliet, we will survive! I am the Beast in the West, and you are Beauty in the East! I am your Beast! You are my Bell!
We are two hearts that have come to see each other as more than just casual friends.
Let me tell you a secret that others will know before you as you read the words and understand them in your own words. Before you came into my life I wanted to give up and fall into the abyss of depression. It was your questions about my daily life and the events in them that brought the light back to me.
You are the Wind Beneath My Wings, and now I am the tree shielding you. Will the future bear any Fruit from us? Only God will ordain it! Let us place our trust in the Divine! Your words have kissed my lips, spirit, soul, and heart. I love you!
FADING LIGHT OF HISTORY*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mysterious monuments,
magnificent monoliths,
ancient ruins
capture our imagination.
Wandering through them,
we become seekers,
finding mystery and beauty
in the decay.
The air surrounding them
thick with the scent of history.
forces us to tread lightly,
our hearts attuned to whispers of the past.
We wander purposively,
sifting through the grains of time
listening to the ruins speak
of the fading light of history.
*Note:Poem written for and submitted to Creative Ramblings weekly prompt in response to the picture below.
“The Monumental Arch, also called the Arch of Triumph or the Arch of Septimius Severus, was an ornamental archway in Palmyra, Syria. It was built in the 3rd century during the reign of Emperor Septimius Severus. Its ruins later became one of the main attractions of Palmyra until it was officially destroyed by ISIS in 2015. Most of its stonework survived, and there are plans to rebuild it.”(Cendrine Marrouat)
The ramblings of an old man. Whose years have seen what this life is. Whose eyes have seen the cold man and felt his passing breeze. Who knows about the stillness of when time seems to freeze.
Who knows about the sorrow of death where loss put him on his knees. Who knows about the pain of the broken body and the broken mind. Who knows about the demons and avoids their eyes.
The ramblings of this old man. Whose years have seen what life could be. Whose eyes have seen the kind man and felt his hand in need. Who knows about the love and what love really means. Who knows about the person for who this life really means. Who knows about the joy of all the happy times. Who knows about the truth and where to hide the lies.
Where did all the memories go?
Stories we were told as kids
Ignored as the ramblings of the old
Stories not connected with our time
Not happening in our space
Not part of our lives
Why should they matter?
Horror and starvation
Disease that took the lives of millions
War in distant lands killing sons and brothers
Atrocities done for many reasons
All beyond a man’s imagination
Yet they survived the pain
They remember through tortured dreams
Through tears flow down a rutted cheek
From vacant eyes that stare into space
All they wish is for someone to listen
Maybe not believe…just listen
Is that too much to ask
After all they went through to survive
To live long enough to share their story with us
Where did all the memories go?
Ignored as the ramblings of the old
Lost because of the ignorance of the young
Stories never again to be told
Yet destined to be repeated