Long Relaxed Poems
Long Relaxed Poems. Below are the most popular long Relaxed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relaxed poems by poem length and keyword.
Anxiety about what I might think preceded me
As I sat on the stool in the middle of my living room
Ready to think about who knows what,
I relaxed for a moment and then closed my eyes.
Gratitude and peacefulness were my first feelings.
I smiled inside thinking about how literal Ingrid had taken me.
He remembered that I intended to write at 3:00 a.m.
As the clock ticked, Ingrid kept time for me…
Fear crossed my mind next, afraid of my own thoughts,
What they might be. Nightmares. Horrors.
Repressed experiences dreaded.
But thankfully, the ringing in my head saved me.
At least for that moment…
A few things slipped in. The Jeffery McDonald murders
That took place when I was stationed at Ft. Bragg, N.C.
The horror had anguished me on an off over the years.
Then, I heard the crickets again. Thankfully.
Next, a hit and run accident that was reported in the news years ago
Flashed through my mind…anxiety from Army days.
It had happened on a road we sometimes traveled.
Fear, reality check, and cricket sounds followed.
Yes, it is that cricket sound that I enjoy so much.
It took me to the natural world in all its beauty.
Little seeds germinating in my sunroom...
Crickets outside making their noise; I smiled again.
And the crickets in my head chirped.
I was thinking that this isn’t so bad after all.
I have learned to find happiness inside myself
Then, Ingrid said, “Time’s up.”
I felt relieved.
© March 1, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
My DARE: Dane, you picked Dare* I dare you to sit in the middle of your living room...
(on a chair if you have toooo!) Close your eyes, and feel for 5 minutes... (you will need a
stop watch that alert you when the 5 minutes are up. During them 5 minutes, you have
to feel everything, allow your strong emotions to feel. Even if you have little one's are
running or your cat is purring at your feet. Don't allow it to bother you. You have to
concentrate and find that one spot in the back of your mind. The part that digs real
deep into every feeling we forget is there. After the 5 minutes are up... Sit in the spot
where you write, and write for 10 minutes, Write about every thought that passed
through your mind in a poetic way, sad~happy~ mad, crazy.. and so on... Take us deep
into your mind... Thank you..pd
Confession…I wrote more than 10 minutes…time slipped up on me.
(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
"Never mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing.
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve was picking up. This Griggs guy
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.?
……… … .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.”
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.
(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)
As i sit on this bathroom floor,
gripping a blade in my hand, with it
firmly pressed on my left wrist. I
start thinking this thought that could
change everything.. End everything. I
think of the people who would miss
me. I think of the people who
wouldn't care. I think to myself,
"Should I be doing this", this voice
inside me says, "Yes. Why are you
living anyway? Nobody cares for
you, they wouldn't even notice you're
gone. They don't love you.. Come on,
do it.. End it now, it's the best way..
It's the only way. The sound of the
voice was so weird. Well I can't say the
voice inside of me was wrong. It had
been completely right about
everything. What if this was the only
way? I wish it hadn't been true. It is
the only way. I think to myself, "Suck
it up! It will all be over soon. Just
one, two, three quick slits and you're
done. Get it over with already, i'm
tired of thinking about it! Then all of
a sudden, a voice said, "Stop! What
are you doing? This isn't you." The
voice was so heavenly, so clear, so...
Beautiful. I didn't bother wondering
where the voice came from, because
it came like the weird voice inside
me. I told the voice, "You don't know
me! You don't know anything!" SLIT
SLIT SLIT. Crimson blood, running
down my arm. I feel calm and in
control, but the pain is unbearable.
Unaware of it, I start to feel tears
running down my face. I get dizzy,
the bathroom I lay in gets darker. My
heartbeat gets slower, then, I fall into
a deep sleep. Or what I think was a
deep sleep. After a minute, I get up
from laying on the floor. I look
around, I see blood on the floor and
something else.. Me. Still lying there
on the floor, unconscious. I looked
so relaxed. Then it came to me. "Am
I dead?" Where is hell? Where is
heaven? I committed suicide so
heaven is not an option. I sit back on
the bathroom floor.. Confused. I fell
asleep next to my body. Morning
came, I wake up feeling groggy,
confused. I hear people banging on
the bathroom door and yelling. I
stand up, stumbling. I look around to
see blood still on the floor.. But the
unconscious, bloody body was
gone.. I was gone. Am I alive again? I
cleaned the blood, put on my best
face and hid the scars. I opened the
door and a bright light hit my entire
body like I just stepped into heaven
or something.. Everything is just so
clear now.
not in the heart again
for chrissakes it's like Swiss cheese
decoffinated please I'm a yet ambulatory zombie
off his medication as usual
alternatives to logic 101 with Prof. Spike
far too much work for a dead end
saw his only ally the embalmers needle
left his innards spilled in the sand
history in its entirety mocked his comprehension
had the nation in tears and then nausea
several dueling scars graced his genitals
if our perceptions already lie
why shouldn't we
I had to laugh
it was all I could do to keep from smiling
even after a thousand years of AI research
the electronic government was helpless
my Microsoft forehead radiator
absolutely charmingly couldn't get any focus
but the Royal Society of Blind Philosophers
helped me with my little problem
a miracle of recipe repair
because our endorphin soup is a bit thin
the quicksilver cooks ate first and fell asleep
having thrown away their brains long before
in the field kitchen of the gods
after the air raid sirens of postmodernity
can there be too much truth
for an army of blood diamond merchants
now a bit more about para electrics
if only I were at liberty to discuss it
yes imprecision can carry signal
but the place is crawling with dilettantes
wearing their secret butt plugs
it's a guessing game as you can see
petitioning for a visually diagrammatic idiom
although it's a devilish seesaw but let us restart
The Oblivion Ride was the big theme park attraction
my extended family was in the sideshow
justifiably taken for a pack of fools
then the sun went down and never came up again
and we stepped into the stone circle
chanting evidence is preferable
to the moonlit tombstone
good luck with that in your airwaves
broadcast on radio Sarajevo
signal drifting drifting drifting
with minds great and small
and smaller and smaller
the Internet is the yearned for Messiah
there it's done and out and not to be unseen
you wrestle with it while I proceed
dashing among startled commuters
mesmerizing the fact finding committee
their dictatorship of x-ray leeches
tossed him out of several monasteries
apparently the production quotas were relaxed
in a kaleidoscope of normalcy
the style crazed mannerist martinets
howdy do nail in my shoe
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
We lived about a hundred miles Northwest of Chicago It was the winter of '73, and snow was covering the roads
In the land of cheese and phesants, the air was crisp and cold Surely, I must have been bored; or more likely, I was a lunatic
I should have relaxed on that quiet day with my lovely and wise wife who pleaded with me not to drive on such icy roadways.
I was convinced that duty demanded I balance the books. I deemed myself important and vital for the success of our
drug prevention program. Yes, I was obsessed with my work and blind to any and everything else that tried to change me.
I was in love with my wife, but I was also having an unhealthy affair. I had heard of extra marital affairs, but no one told this 23 year old about obsessive affairs on the side. How could my premarital counsellor
have overlooked such crucial fine print and denied me of such vital details? Why wasn't I informed that I could be driven by an unseen combustible
engine inside my brain, compelling me to committ forbidden and obsessive actions? How was I to know that I could be so wrapped up by my job?
Not to be denied though, I would soon learned the hard way which is probably
the only way I was going to learn anyway. Less than a mile up the icy road, my vehicle's tire blew; I went into a spin, knocking down a mail box; and the next voice I heard was not an audible one, but my own mind speaking. "You should have listened to your wife!!!". I was all ears and sitting quietly in my 'upside down vehicle'. The only injury was my bruised pride.
That was my first bout with my form of obsessive compulsive behavior which was before the term was even invented.
71917PSContest, Obsessions, Silent One, P2
My Handicap Beach
As I lay here and look out the window from our hotel at the absolutely amazing view..
It makes me wonder how something so simple creates such beauty and always seems so new..
I feel sadness for those who pass by every day and don’t think another thought about..
The beauty that surrounds them from the beach and the water with the waves washing in and out..
The lighthouse that stands unintentionally stoic and tall and lights the way for those out at sea..
And the sand that finally runs across my toes which has been a dream for so long for me…
This was only possible with the help of a loving person who got me where I needed to go…
And to whom I really hope does realize how much they have helped me in many ways to grow..
And there are always a few people that have to make a spectacle of a girl in a wheelchair..
As they walk by me and say things in a whisper as if they think I can’t hear along with a stare here and there..
If they only knew that It was one of the best days of my life and that I am feeling so relaxed and at ease..
I will take all of their comments and let them go over my head along with the beautiful breeze..
Because this morning I may have been the disabled girl on the beach which was a wonderful thing to me..
And until you learn to see the view from down in a wheelchair every day I don’t care what you think you see...
Because today my view was from the warm sand on a beach towel that was laid down just for me and was the best..
Day I have had in so long because I was no longer that poor gilt in the wheelchair and felt almost like all of the rest..
Of beach goers and comers to the new jersey shore in Atlantic City and right on the pier that is very well known..
For gambling and partying but for me it was just to feel the sand on my toes and feel like I was not handicapped if even for a few moments alone..
Coming home with my stuff in disarray the way it always is along with a few souvenirs because they are from my very first trip away from home..
I loved it so much and want to thank those who took me long on a short but awesome vacation to start me going more which I really hope..
Because it’s nice sometimes to go to places that make you feel different than the usual girl in the wheelchair always needing help from what I call in my head my proverbial rope..
Buffy Sammons
Far out on Neptune's briny sea,
my hammock holding still
while the ship slowly rocks side to side,
tired and lonely, I close my eyes.
In this darkness I can hear
the constant lapping of the waves
against my ship's hull from bow to stern
and imagine the breeze's gentleness
as it caresses each delicate drop
before it splashes back to its home in the sea.
In this quasi-conscious state of being
My attention is drawn to an aroma so sweet
it reminds me of vanilla or, maybe, jasmine
rooted in a desert hillside mingling
with the cleanness of a Spring rain.
Am I really smelling this
or is my heart playing with my mind?
I am now imagining my arms
wrapping around your body,
breathing in your essences
after my tall ship returns to port.
How many days and hours will that be?
The sea is my home and I know it well,
but am cruising in unfamiliar waters
whose depths, denizens and perils
have yet to be discovered and charted.
With fair winds and a forgiving tide,
how fast can we go?
Is there such a thing as sailing too fast?
How many knots can that be?
Every moment ticking by creates another knot;
one that ties itself inside of me.
Sleep is not forthcoming;
I stir, my breathing heightens,
I slip out of my hammock
and my steps bring me to the deck
where I longingly look out over those ripples
separating me from you.
Surrounded by the pitch black of night I'm enheartened
by the moon's beams dancing like water nymphs
on the milky crest of every wave
filling my eyes with sensuous beauty.
My heart feels warm and vibrant now
and I turn my gaze upon that splendid orb
slowly spanning midnight's sky,
for somehow I know across this expanse of ocean,
you are looking at it too.
I continue my journey into the darkness,
chasing the moon to be closer to you.
Tonight, standing on this cold forlorn deck,
I wish I could reach up into the heavens,
pluck that chromish gem from the sky,
and give it to you to hold forever.
Back in my hammock I think and wonder,
when this ship, again, drops anchor in port,
will you be at dockside waiting for me?
When my sails are relaxed,
my jib tied down resting in its place,
and I finally set these seadog's legs upon the shore,
will you be there?
I am but a lonely sailor
looking for your outstretched arms
to guide my heart into a safe harbor...
copyright2000acb
My family doesn't understand
How me and my brain work
Or all the instabilities in my head,
Feeling like I might break
At any point or another,
How I could cry at any moment,
How I am never relaxed at any time,
How I am so untrusting because
Of the trauma I've been dealt
That they don't even know about
I just want to take a day off
But I'm not allowed because
"We never get to see each other much"
And I can't just stay home even though
I've just been through another bad thing
But who cares, get over it, fight on
Well, that's easy to say but is such
Toxic thinking to put down another
And to just say to "get over it",
I'm sorry, but the pain is real
And I just want it to go away
So I want to take a sick day today
But I'm not allowed to take time
To recuperate and recollect myself,
No, I have to go out into public,
A place which never fails to
Make me feel oh-so uncomfortable
And never let me be able to relax
And I like how they say,
"You can relax anywhere as long as you try!"
But that is such utter fallacy for me,
The one who deals with so much anxiety,
I mean, who can blame me for wanting to be
Comfortable in my own house for a day?
To take a day for myself and feel better?
But of course, that isn't a thing I get
And they try to empathize with me,
But they only use themselves and don't
Even try to understand what I might feel
Compared to how they would,
Like they are just telling themselves
What to do, not even me anymore
Like I'm not the subject anymore,
But since when was I ever?
Not like I'm the one that matters,
"Oh, well your grades are good, move on"
But they put so much effort into
My siblings who don't do as great,
"You're doing that? That's great, that's fine"
But they push my siblings to do things,
Never a thought about me,
Or any reason to put any effort in me
Although, I guess I'm lucky since
I don't need their help, not that even
When they gave it to me it was any good
They talk me down now about not
Bottling up my emotions, but they were
The ones to first instill the idea in my head,
Never letting us be anything but
Completely and utterly happy, otherwise
You were told to stop and stamp it out
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
But that's not what you raised me to be,
I guess in the end, family does not
Always know best
Written on March 20, 2021
Anthony had always been cautious and wise about matters of morality. But
this time, his eyes were dim to matters of reality. That December day was
relaxed and peaceful. The "back then's and remember when's" began to leap like antelope across many years in his memory zone. But trouble lurked
ahead, and he was home alone. All was calm and silent, but it wasn't even night. The day wasn't holy, but it was sunny and bright. In the quietness of his
blessed home, out of curiosity, he picked up the phone. He never should have made that fateful call. It cost him dearly, and he nearly lost it all. It was
indeed a normal beginning of the winter season. But sometimes normal changes course for any reason. Like falling leaves of Fall, innocense graced
that first call. A happy season, it was Christmas Eve as I recall. It would have been better had he gone shopping at the mall. But instead, he was curiously
driven, unaware of what would befall. He simply wanted to touch base with his past, and that was all. He never realized his future was moving toward a huge
waterfall. It's funny sometimes how a bit of curiosity can lead us astray. But it's not funny when we realize how we can easily lose our way. For seven
months, he ignored the teachings of Jesus, Peter, and Paul. As his resistance grew weaker and smaller, his became a battle royal. There were songs that
came to mind making him feel 10 feet tall. But without warning, he felt one song penning him against the wall. That song spoke of a Southern city on
Southern summer nights. And I tell you, for seven months, he really had no desire to be right. In his heart, he knew he was wrong. Within a few weeks,
he realized he really was not that strong. It's funny sometimes how initially we have no misguided intention at all. But it's not funny when we come close to
a great big fall. His deed was detected, causing a bit of dismay. But in process of time, it was to his delight that he was brought to the light. In due time
there came along one like a lion on the prowl with a mighty roar. After being pulled from the jaws of the bear, Anthony began to thrive and soar, and like
an eagle, he mounted on the heights. Doubtless, he would surely have been devoured had not God sent someone to help him fight.
07232017PoSoup
My co-worker posed a theory to me
That our boss was born one hundred years later than she was supposed to be
Neither of us could exactly put our finger on why, but I had to agree
No makeup, unbrushed hair, bad teeth
As though she just awoke from a long, troubled sleep
Her mannerisms seem out of sync somehow with contemporary company;
Solitarily sorting books in the back room of the used bookstore she manages each day
to remain distant and dazed, as though unfamiliar with a world that has dramatically changed
Nobody knows how old she is, but I’d guess upper-middle-aged
She never seems relaxed or at home with where she has landed, always looking around as she walks through a room or doorway, ever vigilant
She shows up each day looking like last night was another rough one, but her speech and ways seem oddly quaint and well-bred,
strangely legalistic and more formal than needed in this squalid environment.
She simply doesn’t seem at home in this place;
She can stand two feet away from me and a co-worker as we’re sorting while joking and, while our hands are busy working, our minds are away playing,
But she is immune to the general contagion of the strange repartee and laughs exchanged, seeming to hear nothing we’re saying.
Never laughing herself nor conversing, guarding her thoughts, observations, and history from judgment, and getting lost in her own world such that the sudden awareness of the presence of another person can induce a violently startled jump the other way.
And I know what that’s like, as I’ve spent many years in that state,
so it is painful to see it in another neglected appearance
and another needlessly nervous wreck of a person who is
wishing to just go home or one day somehow escape this place
where her body has ended up by way of a misdirected fate.
But today she took my co-worker and I by surprise when, after being shown a book with a cover featuring a picture of Jesus playing golf, she smiled widely and lively, and she replied,
“That’s ridiculous! Everyone knows Jesus only played tennis!!”
It was just a small joke, but it was like seeing a rainbow in the refracted light on a dark sky
It gave me hope that, despite being meant for a time perhaps one hundred years ago, in this day where she was nonetheless sent, she may someday come home.