Long Reached Poems
Long Reached Poems. Below are the most popular long Reached by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reached poems by poem length and keyword.
Not Built For Goodbye
I wonder if you somehow knew?
When you heard my infant cry.
That I was somewhat different.
Im not built for goodbye.
As a child at play with friends
How I longed for them to stay.
But when they’re mother called them in
I’d watch them walk away.
It seems I would grow used to it.
When there’s goodbyes I must bare.
No matter just how hard I tried.
God knows I’ve known my share.
When lovers left, the tears would fall.
Could it be it’s my mistake?
Each love when it reached its end.
Again my heart would break.
I knew one day the day would come.
You would spread your wings and fly.
And on that day I must be strong.
But I’m not built for goodbye.
So mother, turn away from me.
So you won’t see me cry.
The child once held inside your womb.
Not built for goodbye.
Edwin C Hofert
Didn't make old bones, me dad,
Taken from us far too young
Barely reached his sixties when
He was killed by Farmers’ Lung.
Too many dusty threshing days,
Noxious fumes dipping sheep,
He seemed to live a life
Just to eat, work and sleep.
A farm labourer which made
Him a man of many skills,
No time for a doctor’s visit,
No time for potions and pills.
Loved greenhouse and garden
But he loved even more
Lonely walks across the fields
Carrying a loaded twelve bore.
Not a sportsman shooter,
No, everything he shot
Very gratefully accepted
Into the family cooking pot.
A man of quiet wisdom who
Set me standards to live by
And most importantly showed.
A man at times is allowed to cry.
We never really did talk much
Never did have much to say
Sitting watching the old TV
In our quiet companionable way.
He looks back at me in the mirror,
As I look back at him with pride
So glad I could be with him
At his side the day he died.
I sat there with quiet pride
For I really hadn't suspected
That my dad had been
So very well respected.
The church was packed
On his funeral day
Most of the village came to
Quietly send him on his way.
At fifteen I was filled with passionate dreams
God breathed possibilities through my ambitions
I learned to feel with my heart, visions of a caress
Whispering through me when I first met him, my fantasy
At twenty-three I was older and wiser, longing for a touch
Imagining he was with me, embracing my heart’s hopes
Touching me with reassurance, acceptance and compassion
Everything that would awaken in me a feeling of pure intimacy
At thirty-five I found myself dreaming of his generous spirit
Wondering across familiar reveries with a sense of urgency
Yearning for his hands stirring, awakening pleading from within
The mystery of his vigorous skills for pleasuring me warmed me
At forty-two I shared moments with him, nestled within his embrace
Reflecting on all the love we had seen arise between our secret expressions
Slowly, we discovered the opportunity to spread inspiration in our path
Amid the ones who saw our hearts and all that graced our circumstance
At fifty-five I came to him once again, after spending those years apart
We found a tenderness that could not be found in anyone else on earth
Together, we spend time learning and growing wiser with a sweet embrace
Knowing that love this strong and good comes around only once in this place
At times I worry about losing him again – amid the struggles to keep up
But there is a faith inside of me today that reminds me he has given me his love
Honesty, his passion, his tender caress – all that was lacking in my hopes
He is the one I long to share my life with and know will be in my heavenly home
God knows my heart and how I searched for him when I wasn’t in his grasp
God knows my spirit and how it reached out for this peace that I feel with him
God knows my hopes and dreams and how deeply I feel for this man that was
The one who got away and the one who returned on that joyful, inspiring day
The One that got Away Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
July 3, 2020
My sorrowful spirit rose high above the rainbow,
higher yet, until it reached the snowy peaks
of the ragged mountain. It was cold there,
though above the severe sun blazed hard.
Here and there rivulets tumbled roughly
down the mountainsides, and occasionally
meet to form a river that cascaded downwards
towards the high cliff beneath the hills.
The icy waters fell towards the crags,
forming a waterfall of fresh water, producing
a constant melody as the waters hit the plain,
forming a delightful and narrow lake.
Birds above twittered delightfully,
a serene sight and sound that pleased my sad spirit.
Tall verdant pines exuded delightful fragrance.
How I wish I could stay there forever.
But my tired body beckoned
and my spirit returned to my lonesome solitary bed.
I watch the reunion stories, and this is somewhat one,
fifty- six years late,
the tear filled reunions and encounters portrayed,
sadly; they just turn my mind and heart away.
I can't change the feeling of emptiness,
lingering without any longing or need in my soul
to see again those few memories,
those years lost long ago.
Four year old, tall and built
with subtle vulnerabilities,
held a three year old sister's hand
and pushed a younger brother in a carriage.
A young disillusioned mother stood silent watching
distanced in her thoughts desiring to be set free
the bond of love and children
often falters without marriage.
Three children and another on the way was far too taxing
not enough for him or her to stay
and in her lonely inconsolable hours,
perhaps her choice was best in giving all away.
He returned briefly
and together they slipped out together in early morning,
the car they drove took the path to an orphanage
from there, they moved separate but quickly down the road
Each child was kissed
with a short hurried goodbye
and suddenly these four children
found themselves alone and cried.
The story never reached the papers,
never made the news
the children, they survived
with his name marked upon their shoes.
Paternal grandmother stepped forward
but by then, only the oldest remained,
she took her home without a question
and the truth became the secret never told.
Years passed and each child must have gone their way,
disappearing in the multitude of crowds
and until this day,
the secret had never been betrayed.
The oldest child knew it,
and over the years,
the father alone returned
but truly the family was no more.
It's not a happy story nor is it really sad
I hear each one found and has some family;
and boys grow to men and girls to women
but not all are meant to be a mom or a dad.
If you're looking for a reunited happy ending
you may find it still hidden somewhere else.
as for me and my closing story,
there lives that memory of grandmother and myself.
Special Forces is where my loyalties lie
And Air Force well it runs in the family
Sitting around a campfire
Passing a bottle of Gentlemans jack around
talking about our grandpa and smiling big
but today i make a circle and stop by the grave yard
i've reached my limit Ive had enough
Hey Sir lets just go and pick out my grave hello to you 2 Holy Men
this is not the path i chose
excuse me while i take command of the situation
Im sure there are many better trained and capable of keepeing the peace
and keep these hands clean from spilling blood
but speaking the truth he has his heart set on my destruction
Well Sir your more than likely going end up dying trying to kill me
Im speaking Brass wtf am I a helicopter base
And where the hell is those ghost of my past
I tell you they ain't no body bracing them when Im around
beaware danger lurks
he said remember this aint over yet
we'll see wont we and yea if your an oposing force
you wont never see where the blow comes from
the Lord's got His sword in His hand and he's swinging back
It's Christmas eve today instead of being scared to dye i enjoy myself
but im still pist and im still not backing down
I know there is nothing i can say to change your mind
A Team of Assassians meet A Team
really we dont think you wanna play those Assassian games
it'd be bashing your ****ing skulls in and feeding you to the coyotes and buzzards
it'd be seeing your protege advancing farther than you
Your what a lion is with no heart
you give us all a bad name and im just a no account
Im a part of nothing I have nothing to do with it
still im forced to do unspeakable things
but no one forced me to take hits for that Lady
That was a choice I made
I dont seek my friends to fight my battles
I face it alone like ive faced everthing
but beaware to all Ive never seen a force this big
The Angels weep in Heaven
And i will die with the strength my friends inspired in me
I worked towards this dream my whole lifetime
But it always seemed just out of my reach
The harder I tried to achieve it,
the further away it seemed to become
I was always told growing up
That I could be whatever I wanted to be
As long as I worked hard for it,
And kept my eye on the ball
No one tells you
No one prepares you for
what happens when you fail
The feeling of defeat, and loss.
That feeling of hopelessness
that seems to envelope you
Mind, body and soul.
I have fought so hard over the years
Tried and failed, just to pick myself up and try again.
Only to realize failure once more
How long do you ride this never ending Carousel?
constantly and consistently
Round and round,
only to end up in the same place you started.
Back to square one, over and over
When is enough, enough?
A day, a week, a month, a year?
When does one decide that
it is no longer feasible
To continue on this path?
To continue the ups and downs
on this roller-coaster of life?
You may even momentarily feel
that you actually are in control,
only to be holding on for dear life
within the next moment,
hoping and praying that you won’t
be ejected and thrown from
the false security of the car that is
barely being held upon the track.
One after the other,
time and time again
Failure after failure,
try after try
As I sit here once more,
after being thrown from
the proverbial horse
Trying to decide if
I should continue this
seemingly never-ending
spiral of failure.
I look back at all of
my attempts to succeed
that ended in failure
Never realizing the pattern
that was before me all along
I see those who have
supported me and had been
brought into my life at the
precise moment they were needed.
I see the places these attempts
took me and how each one
changed me in such a way that
I have become a better person
than I could’ve ever imagined.
I realize how each failure
caused me to become more
determined and more courageous
than I ever would have been
had I not experienced that failure.
So I guess it cannot be perceived
as a failure due to the good that
each experience has created.
I may not have reached
the goal that I have dreamed of
all of my life but what I got instead
is something greater,
something that goes beyond
all of my wildest dreams.
I was never a great athlete, just a sub-par one at best.
I don't sing, play an instrument, nor did I ever learn to dance.
As a young boy, I felt and accepted the call to preach the gospel,
but from a professional standpoint, I did not succeed in that field.
Moreover, I spent the prime years of my life in other fields of endeavor
To support what I felt to be the true calling and purpose of my life.
During those 30 plus years of ministry and raising a family with my
very supportive and dedicated wife, there was still a longing inside of
me that cried for attention. The years came and went, but there was
something yet unstarted, yet unheeded, sitting on the shelf of my life.
By then, I was mid-50's and felt I was running out of time with a mission
unfulfilled. I was filled with a purpose like a seed planted inside of me by the hand of God, but this seed was not germinating. I knew that it was passed the time for me to launch, and I had no excuse, because this project did not require an allocation of funds, and the only equipment required was pen and paper. So on an amtrak train in 2004, I began to write.
In 2015, I discovered Poetry Soup and began to post my poems and stories.
A few days ago, I reached the mark on Poetry Soup of 1000 postings. I tell you from personal experience, I have come to realize that as a famous violinist once said, "The music is not in the instrument, but in the soul". Yes, the writing was deep inside of my soul, but it seems that it was being delayed, distracted, and blocked. Though it was a long time coming, 'release' did come, and when it did, my soul found relief, sweet peace, and refreshment because
the writing was released.
102019PoSoupCtest, Strand Choice A, Brian Strand(030920)
quot: "The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind.".. Khalil
I met him at a square dance, beneath the stars,
A square of joy where laughter filled the air.
Not long before he saw beyond my scars,
And asked me to change my path with care.
His lessons weren't just found within the class,
But in the way he taught me how to see—
No pressure placed, just guidance when I'd ask,
A teacher, yes, but more—a friend to me.
In the darkest days, he stood by my side,
A mentor, a teacher, a steadfast guide.
When pockets were empty, and hope ran thin,
His hand reached out, pulling me in.
Through trials and pain, his smile remained,
A beacon of light when all else waned.
How can I forget the strength he gave,
The reason i survived, the way i stayed brave?
With every step, he lit my way,
His kindness helping me seize the day.
In this foreign land, I owe so much,
To a heart so warm, to a soul’s gentle touch.
Following the lines from pole to pole,
You can see a man in the backyard mowing,
The children in the park throwing,
The woman in her car going.
Following the lines from pole to pole,
Carrying currents that make night lights glow,
Causing music on radio waves to flow,
Sitting at home watching a picture show.
Following the lines from pole to pole,
They have reached the point of an idol,
Without them our world comes to a stall,
Without them how can we shop at the mall.
Following the lines from page to page,
Tells of God who sent his son as a man,
He gave his life upon a cross at Calvary,
So all could see the Glory of God who loves you and me.