Long Recalled Poems
Long Recalled Poems. Below are the most popular long Recalled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recalled poems by poem length and keyword.
Seven cows, fat and plump,
Feeding in the reed grass,
Emerging from the Nile.
Seven cows, ugly, thin,
Stood beside for a while,
Swallowing the fat cows up!
Seven ears, plump and good,
All growing on one stalk.
Seven ears, blighted, thin,
Swallowing the good ears up!
Spirit troubled, king awoke,
Called his wise and magic men:
What does this dream mean, then?
Cupbearer then recalled,
“A young man in prison,
With the baker and with me,
Interpreted our dreams.”
Then the king fetched Joseph
And shared his dreams with him,
Asked him what they might mean.
Seven cows, fat and plump
Seven cows, ugly, thin
Fat cows get swallowed up!
Seven ears, plump and good
Seven ears, blighted, thin
Plump ears get swallowed up!
Then Joseph told the king,
“Your dreams are both the same,
They reveal what God will do.”
Seven good cows and ears,
Ample crop, bounty years.
Withered cows, blighted ears,
Bad drought and famine years.
Dreams like this come in twos,
Leaving little time to choose.
Famine soon, and severe.
Hurry now to prepare,
A man of God can help you.
The king was much impressed,
Also, was much distressed.
“We need a man of God.
All this, He revealed, yes?
Can you help save Egypt?”
Joseph was then set free;
He became the king’s right hand,
Set up the granaries,
The Lord then saved them all.
(from Genesis 41)
The winter winds piled snowdrifts against the old vets cardboard shack.
Another homeless vet, he shared his humble abode with his doggie Zach.
He pulled his tattered army overcoat about his frail frame and lay upon his back,
To reminisce about Christmases past when things were not nearly as black.
He recalled Christmases as a lad when family gathered about the Yule Tree,
To hear the story of that First Christmas as read from Luke at his Father's knee.
He mused, "How I pine fer Mother's turkey, sweet pertaters and punkin pie,
The warmth of my very first love and our sleigh rides beneath the moonlit sky!"
He wondered where his wife was and how the children were getting by.
Alas, demon rum controlled his life and they left without saying goodbye.
He shivered recalling Christmas '52 in Korea and being on the battle line,
The numbing cold, death and C-rations for Christmas fare on which to dine.
He was startled by the tolling bells from St Mary's Church across the way,
Heralding the joyous Birth of the Savior and he bowed his head to pray,
Saying, "Lord, I've hit bottom and I reckon to You I ain't of much worth,
But please lend Yer ear and accept my thanks fer that little Feller's Birth!"
Tomorrow, Christmas Day, he'd have dinner at the Springs Rescue Mission,
And sneak a bone or two for Zach, always looking out for his nutrition!
He'd abide 'neath the Uintah Street Bridge 'till the cops asked him to depart,
But he'd shift his meager belongings to another in his battered shopping cart.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Day stacks upon day, forming opaque windows behind me.
These can be blown away at times, a clarity of vision in momentary glimpses.
Here, a face most beloved, turning my bowels to water that reflects pain.
There, a scent, sensed so briefly, like a camera flash leaving red dots in my vision. Floods of sensation follow, barely tolerated.
Not all are plague days,
but pain is recalled far more clearly than pleasure.
This savings account of experience makes one rich with character and compassion. Cutting in the details of my sculpture, creating a face with my name.
Here, the vertical line between brows,
carved by the loss of love.
There, the deep dimple in my cheek,
where love was found again.
Sometimes the brush strokes, the etchings, are strong enough to reach inside with hands of despair,
the scalpel that sheds heart's blood
or drills deep into bone and brain.
That is where your memory lives, my son.
No, not anymore in my womb, nor my arms.
We cannot know the heights of joy and bliss
without the depths of blue sorrow.
To allow memory place is in my power to deny.
A truth I had to learn.
And in the knowing, I am set at liberty,
for what can they possibly do to me now?
I've paid my dues and fees for sunny weather.
The Forcast is bursting with light,
packed with windy autumn days,
smelling of pumpkin spice,
with cozy winter nights and
the scent of wood smoke,
with the crisp green of growing things
and ripe swell of new life.
The magic eight ball floats me a perdition…
”outlook good”.
Remember me
My Elysee
In the low hours
When you are weak
And have lowered
Your powerful barriers
For it's then I can only be seen
Remember me
As that tsunami of furious fire
That once reenergized you
In those dark years
When you were alone and tired
To be wholly free
Remember me
By looking at my picture
Your now favourite
Black and white one I sent you
As my holy scripture
That you'll only need
Remember me when you are old
Standing brightly as the early morning sun
In the darkness of old age
Even though your beloved memories are getting cold
Before God turns your page
So you can fade away
To join me
As the hours and seconds
Run away
Remember me
So I may stay
In some strange spiritual way
To give you comfort
Until you too are recalled
To float away
Someday
Remember me
My poetic love
So I can come to you
In dreams
Walking down to find you
Through the ethereal blue rivers and green
Underground streams
To reach you to swim
Together
Reunited
In the Holy Sea
Until the early morning sunrise
Remember me
As your true spiritual devotion
Who you never met in physical flesh
But one
Who wrote down
In his pre-life road map
With his spirit guide
In another
Far away nation
"I want to meet someone so extraordinary
Someone worldwide
Who will show me such poetic wonders"
"That my heart will open up its velvety doors and ask to be possessed as it pleads to confess
Before I once more walk
In these heavenly tides
Of the Holy Sea"
And then I suddenly met you
Mesmerised
By all
I could see
So that's why I pray
For you
Each night
So you'll remember me
As I wait here
Walking barefoot and alone
In the swirling tides
Of The Holy Sea
Waiting
for the one
I once wrote down before I was born
Now known
As Elysee
The only one I'll ever need
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
"Life overflows with brilliant memories-
lodged deep within to find again and see."
by Poet
I ponder on a word that means so much-
a word that congers thoughts of lucent things
grouped as those objects we observe or touch-
such as the glowing moon- or diamond rings.
Yet, special is that shine that dwells within-
those memories that spark a recalled scene,
then rises to our thoughts as we begin
to search that field of images still keen.
So many gems lay sparkling in our minds
of wondrous days and years, we can recall;
and each gets glossier as it unwinds-
while joyous recollections shine- enthrall.
Pray that our shiny jewels are kept sublime-
as we proceed to polish them with time.
April 12, 2021
Contest:A Brian Strand Premiere No 1198
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Many have gone
Family, friends, sacred and godly
Leaving moments as mates
Inspiring and motivating
Placing life before the eyes
Far from imaginations and dreams
Memories allow to relive the life
Past turns into present
Pleasant or pesky; good or bad
They are an experience,
A bunch of events and encounters
More of a realization
During a bout of severe adversity
I recalled my late father’s skills
Deriving the combating courage
During the exciting spell I found
Memories are not mere mental spurs
They are concrete recitals of the self
I admire the nature for bestowing
The power to preserve the past
An attribute that grants continuity
An association to the gone
Rejuvenating the hearts and souls
With wonders, smiles and grief
Life is palpable, candid and real
The moments are never dead
Past does not dissolve the personhood
We are a symphony of eternal notes
Old songs remain inside the heart
Mystifying melodies resonate at times
F
They gathered outside- I'm alone,
and at my back window, I groan!
I think- what is this
my hubby will miss?
Then, quickly I reach for my phone!
"We're being invaded, my dear!
Please quickly come home, for I fear
these huge long-necked beasts
are looking for feasts!
Whatever they are- is unclear!”
“I counted at least twenty-one
now looking for food where there's none!
It seemed a bad sign
when their eyes met mine!
The door's locked- so I need not run!"
Some photos I send him to please;
He views them, then texts me with ease-
"Please, honey calm down!
No need for a frown!
Your so-called wild beasts are Turkeys!”
Confusing, as I just recalled
my Thanksgiving Turkeys were bald;
came right from the store
piled up with lots more!
Not “beasts”- but OUR “feasts” - I'm appalled!
I stood
at the century-old gate
of my high school Alma mater
on Sunday morn last summer;
Excited as if I had a date.
I saw
people passing by;
The old folks recalled me,
Yes, they recalled me with glee.
And I humbly knew why.
I gazed
at the benches made of stone
beside the Marcos building,
where we used to sit and sing
as if the place was our own.
I smiled
as I set my eyes at the hall
where we performed comic plays
that brought laughters in many ways
to the audience, big and small.
I recalled
the honours on us bestowed,
the medals -silver and gold;
the warm applause of young and old
that gave our parents something to behold.
I pondered
these things in my brain,
the changes from places,
to people's faces;
Only memories remain.
BRIAN'S SELECT 2,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 6/3/2020 5:58:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
1st Place
I was sitting in my
small cottage with
a cot and a chair
On name of furniture.
The little window was
my amazing friend
Because it gave me
Chance to peep through.
The next window panes
Always welcomes eyes
A girl Motee(fat) was forcing
mirror to declare herself princess.
A coat of talcum powder
followed by sun cream lotion,
all artificial things to fool girls
market produced for beauty.
Nice fragrance to add ghee in fire
From left to right, feet to head
examined herself but not satisfied
Once I dare to tell her truth hard.
Beauty lies in our self not
in things that used by you
Wrestler brothers bad memories
Recalled ,got on first they met.
If you have courage enough
to tell her once Motee
got rewards fractures on body
Then why not dare my buddy.
Between the Indian plains and the hills of Burma.
Protected by the affection of its three guardians,
The Ganges, Brahmaputra and Meghna.
From there - this story began.
On a grassland full of hopes and dreams.
Right at the edges of Brahmaputra river.
Lying there without any wheezes,
A sad and lonely royal bengal tiger.
He remembers the smell of the Sal trees,
In Bhawal Park near Dhaka, his place of birth.
He remembers the sounds of peacocks, elephants, and deers
His heart wish they were not yet became a myth.
He has been a part of Pohela Boishakh feast.
When people bathe early and dress in fine clothes.
All the men put on their kurta, or the finest lungi at least
While women dress in sharee, letting their beauty to be exposed.
Tears streamed from his cheek. As the old tiger weep.
A momentary recalled the legends of his ascendant.
The story of the one whose once Sultan beloved,
And the one whose survives the liberation war in 1971.
The tiger now stood, underline his courage and chivalry.
"Will this liberty be felt by my offspring?" his mind fly.
Despite the poverty, instability, and all its vulnerability,
There is more to Bangladesh than meets the eye.
~ For the "LOVE LETTERS TO THE INDIAN SUBCONTINENT" contest by Cyndi MacMillan