Long Rememberance Poems
Long Rememberance Poems. Below are the most popular long Rememberance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rememberance poems by poem length and keyword.
Late nights turn into early mornings, just another. early morning where I'm pouring it out. Sleepless nights and a heavy heart is starting to take its toll on me the flesh wants to get a hold on me, I know this is only for a season but it seems so far away even though I know its all for a reason. Gotta face your problems right, so what's this? A head on collision, gotta carry my cross bury the dead, and leave whatever I never spoke up on as words unsaid, just tears unshed kinda what this right here feels like if I was to be performing this at an.open mic, walking by faith is far from easy and I got visible wounds to show that it hurts, but God told me to love her like he loved the church, so even when love hurts do this in rememberance of me and no matter what you two go threw always know that its more easier to turn the other cheek
Cold is the tittering of befitted feet
Cold is the meagre meanders of falling fractals
Cold is the twinge of bitter blues upon reeling retreats
Cold is the roiling retch of frostbitten flesh
Cold is the weary wench of an incomplete belch
Cold is the hoarded heath upon a ridiculed roof
Cold is the eerie ebb of a trepid twitch
Cold is the boyish bodice of meaningless man
Cold is the bane of bountiful bone held of chain to vein
Cold is the foiled figment of blustered breathes
Cold is the iridescent icicle of purified pain
Cold is the poignant punch of a sickened stench
Cold is the frivolous fawn of bludgeoned brain
Cold is the enticing ice of roiling rest
Cold is the belted buoyancy of a famished feign
Cold is the writhing wail of fraught forgiveness
Cold is the desolate depth of ailed eyes
Cold is the stringent stain of blotted blood
Cold is the rouged rememberance of pelting prise
Cold is the gaudy gulp of satin salvation
Cold is the harrowing hurry of soiling snow
Cold is the darkening winterous warmth of comforted coverage
Cold is the heeled horn of the sinner's wretched woe
And wretched be the cold of mutilated body, strapped to snow, falling in tow.
And cold be the sorrows of selfish self.
I met someone else, the end of us is in sight
Maybe we left it just too late, to stick it out and fight,
Even though It hurts me, and for lost love I grieve
Time has come for me to say, I really have to leave.
Sorry seem's so pitiful when of love your letting go,
Once you were the only love I thought I'd ever know
Memories I take with me
Ever in rememberance I will often glow
Of the laughter and the playful times, like making angels in the snow
Never think that I will forget, the love we used to share
Evening time draws closer, the cold reality of crisp night air
Easy to leave you, no my love
Leaving breaks my heart
Still I have to leave right now
Escape to my new start.
For Ogunyinka Damola Ebenezer 2nd Year Remembrance
Of Illness of a Damola
Of Death to an Ebenezer
Of Disappearance of a Linguist
Of Eternal Ascension of a Living soul
To the great stage above the beyond
Bred in a clergy clad family
Of no one but the Ogunyinkas
With the last born baton in his hands
Exhumed from the city of "Iseyin"
A man of a baritone voice in
The wilderness of a choir
We toiled and laboured endlessly
With our eyes very heavy of TDB
The core to which you keep vigil
Became helpless and hapless
Only on your back exit from the stage
It all re-echoes nothing but something
In a Play titled Vanity of Life
For two moons rememberance we gathered
Not to mourn or weep today but to
Extol the uniqueness in him
That liveth still in our heart
For he it is indeed a rare breed
A scroll whose rarity brings out veracity
To three scores in November we shall
Continually gather every moon
To look Death straight in the face
And breath in fulfilment for a great work left behind
For we shall all come to join you in
The stage above the beyond
Promising to positively impact our society
Like you did in your sojourn on stage
Adieu.
Alayande Stephen.T
28th of November,2005
11.30am
For and on behalf of Dammy's Core in the
Deparment of Linguistics and African Languages,
University of Ibadan.2003/2004 Set.
Form:
If I was a rich man
I would buy up market friends
Follow all the new trends
Drive the latest Mercedes Benz
Service myself with greed
Consume more than I need
But if I am honest to myself and true
What I would really love to do
Is buy back time
Take a completely different view
You see to me my biggest regret is that I realized to late
The bounty of love set at my plate
As the cancer took took care of that fate
Familiarity breeds contempt is what he always meant
And when he eventually took his breath his life finally spent
It came abundantly clear what familiarity breeds contempt really meant
When you show love to late your left with only crumbs on your plate
For in reality a truly rich man to this will attest
He has very few friends
Drives a bus not a Benz
Rather lived out his life to atone to amend
In the hope come the day the bitter end
Reading his obituary
Those he loved the most loved him back the most
Upon the anniversary of soldiers who fought and died
When the moment comes to mark that sacrifice' when
starmer steps and strides, a wreath of treachery to lay
Then watch as the veterans turn.' As they express Britians
Anger, may parliament look and learn.? Learn of love
And loyalty..Of care, And how hearts burn; as they turn.'
Turn just as the ANZACS did.' With their own true blue; about turn!
Upon the lies and word Salads' also that endless churn' the twisting decieving coercion and scheeming, may the whole
World look and learn.' Although I don't approve of wars
I agree with the feelings inside, and the wish to right the
Ship of state.The right to live, in an 'honest pride' a right' of security, of solidarity
In dignity on all fronts' all backs and sides.!
We know not how the movement of each passing moment will shake us _ so take not those who sit in silence as malevolent indifferences_
Forgive us_ at a time of such great lost _ there are those held silently _ as souls suspended in quite innocence_
Yet, Within each silent heart and turbulent mind _ as secret as they may be _ lies the most endearing words of true relevance.
We give unto Thee of our devotion sealed with and by Love’s influence
To take with Thee _ to journey onward _ in everlasting Perseverance
Let not our weeps and wails turn thee back a glance for proud is our stance
As We share in this moment of Honor_ in your return to Excellence.
We yield thy way, for our wants and needs are of no importance_
Our earthly dreams and goals no longer offer thee thy sustenance.
~Thy names been called_ Thy breath’s the wind _~Thy flesh tarries not of mice and men
Thy meandering soul ebb tides of sea_ on rivers edge we now search for thee~
Mi Amigo
Flying Fortress Mi Amigo Remembrance
Mi Amigo
It happened in the year nineteen forty-four
Ten young lives from that day were with us no more
Flying a B17 bomber plane
A ten-man crew “Mi Amigo” her name
Returning from a raid over Denmark
Badly damaged and struggling back to her mark
Her radio dead and engine misfiring
The skin in tatters from all the shell firing
A nurse plane was left to guide her way home
But they lost sight in the clouds and presumed she was gone
But the pilot valiantly searched for the English coast
He needed to reach Charleston but managed Sheffield, their last post
It was just before five on that February day
Children in the Endcliffe Park with a football to play
Mi Amigo couldn’t wait, she had to come down
She spiraled and tried to land in the Park ground
The pilot he saw the children playing there
He lifted the nose and tried to climb in the air
There is a Memorial Stone in the park these days
They planted ten oak trees for the boys they couldn’t save
The boys were all American aged twenty-one to twenty-four
February Twenty Second, they were lost far from their own shore
The Pilot determined he missed the children and hit in the trees
Heroes to the parents of the children playing in that February freeze
My mother watched the plane as it struggled overhead
The engine sound and smoke from above filled them with dread
They had souvenirs made from the Perspex nose of the plane
But they are now lost like the lives of the boys that were claimed.
© Amanda Tams 2012
It was the anniversary in Feb of 10 American boys that died in a Park where I played as a child. My mother would normally have been playing there with the others, but she watched it from her sick bed at home as the plane passed yards from their roof. Although she was an eyewitness this information is from A book By D Harvey called Mi Amigo Sheffield's Flying Fortress
Give me a false hope..
By saying it is still a dream..
In any language
Even you are allowed to scream
The smile which was not fake..
Even after making a mistake..
That widespread smile
The loads of joy..
Are now only left as rememberance
When despair was not allowed in entrance
I want you to say that
all what I'm facing now
Is a dream..
Shout, gasp or scream
But let me be in a dream
Let me be in a delusion..
Maybe full of confusion
But atleast it's better
Like former from latter
'A long lost good time'... I can't forget
When there was no regret..
Neither complains nor mistakes..
Were a part of my life
'Those days' which I'm missing now..
Praying for the 'present one' to be a dream
And when I wake up..
It would be again 'that time' which was lost somewhere
And 'those teachings of my elders'
'Those days' where I wished to let that time pass
In order to get older
and leave the category of being in a small class
And now when finally left..
Feels like I'm not anymore blessed!
In the hurricane of term called 'age'
Maybe I left my home which I felt like a cage..
Has left me at the stage..
Where I'm begging to be in a delusion
Want every moment which does not feels like part of 'those days'
to be a dream!!
Shout, gasp or scream..
But let me be in a dream!
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part. 4
Prelude Note:
The story as painted here on Poetry Soup
is the sole creation and imagination of the writer,
except the names Tesu and Jhonjhi.
The Poem Tesu is based on a folk story of India.
The Tesuwalas* (little children with a earthen lamp
on their heads) as depicted in the Poem are gradually
diminishing with the passing of time and changing life
styles. It's a tribute to that great warrior and lover Tesu,
who sacrificed his life because he had given words
to someone. How and when you would come to
know soon ....
With best wishes before the festival of Dewali (Light)
...Ravindra
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part. 4
This is how , the existence
of the name & deeds of Tesu
Was saved by small village children
who are carrying it since ages
On their pretty little heads. 09
Though the name and story has lost
Its real warmths and glamour
In the mind of those
Who have forgotten
This non painted hero
Of the bygone age. 10
By coming only once in a year near Dewali*
These little children
Carry Tesu and Jhonjhi,
While singing the Songs
Of their forgotton love story
As a rememberance of a Hero
And his lovely bold beloved Jhonjhi. 11 To continue...
Ravindra
Kanpur India 10th Nov. 2012
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws. Copying this story without the permission of the writer is strictly prohibited and would be subject to legal remedies taken by the writer.
Clarification of Hindi words*
Dewali* - The festival of light.
Tesu* - The Name of the hero of this Poem.
Tesuwalas* - Hindi word. The young boys
and girls, who carry The decorated
earthen pot with holes and a light
inside on their head and come
Once in a year near Dewali are
called ‘Tesuwalas