Long Returned Poems
Long Returned Poems. Below are the most popular long Returned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Returned poems by poem length and keyword.
I bought a new Car of creamy color
after a long time I wished
but needed a an expert driver
Searched and I got an young one
with the grace of God
for a month's trial he was employed
I saw every morning with my smiling eyes
took care of it even my wife cries
because that was my sweet dream car
One day, I am and my driver started
Car was on speed and CD player was on
up wards a hilly top so nice was that spot
Suddenly, heard a sound...drum... Car stopped
for a few seconds our mind was blocked
struck with a big rock seen snub nosed lovely car
I hold my head high to the blue Sky
Thanked God for saving us, loss was no matter
we returned to our home, my wife again cried
Entry: Driving me Crazy
Sponsor: Paula Swanson
Written by: bldevnath
Written on: 06/09/2011
Just once may I see beauty that matches your own
I have searched for such
Returned alone
Juliet thou escapeth the curses of time
Romeo's sweetheart
Intense flame that scorches those who seek to touch
I reach out my hand
Trembling
Knowing
I ask too much
Even the sun bows in your radiance
Morning dew compares not to the tears you shed
As does the rivers that have rejuvenated new life
Evening falls in quiet echoes of your footsteps
Cradling past days as if they had just been born
Show me creation
And I shall show you it's flaws
Yet show me Juliet
And I shall show you perfection
I beg of thee
Sweet Juliet
One moment in thy presence
And I, this desperate Romeo
This unworthy creature of despair
I, Romeo's adversary
Will kneel as thy servant evermore
A Shakespearean boy
In a 21st Century world
He breathed his monotonous homely air
And felt it was not his time to be there,
And departed for world-famed distant shores
Where he believed happiness brimless flows.
And true the sundry scenes promised change:
On the bitumened streets were gals of every range
And though the languages were new, all looked fair
And his heart throbbed with the puff of foreign air.
He liked the taste of the liquor folks imbibed there
As well as their willing capacity to dream and dare,
And so he began to think: “My heart’s merry at last”,
And cursed his country and washed himself of the past.
He taught himself the rules associated with foreign codes
And marveled at his capability to adopt unfamiliar modes,
He forsook the old and with feigned piety learned politer faiths
Convinced that his father’s religion was a careful set of myths.
But when all was forgotten and the new seemed ever right
The silent old started to haunt his every other sleepless night,
So he couldn’t take it anymore, and returned after years had passed,
And when he puffed again the native air, he sighed: “I’m home at last!”
Hey!
The prodigals have returned.
The one we entrusted with our wealth.
The custodians of the granary keys.
They are here again.
Five years ago,
We sent them to legislate for us.
Very angelic they were.
Very blameless they appeared.
The prodiglas have returned.
Overseas they have been.
Offshore accounts they've created.
Their lifestyles lucrative.
Very egocentric they are.
The roads they promised to improve.
Till dystopic.
Bursaries in their accounts.
As our children languish in illiteracy.
Their son and daughters graduates.
Ambassadors and high officials they are.
The prodiglas have returned.
To persuade us into voting for them.
With incentives they have come.
Sweet words they have.
Very seductive they are.
The prodigals have returned.
@ Tha Formidable Cheru.
Last year I became very angry because in my town, Christmas was banned.
I wanted people to celebrate Christmas so it was something I decided to demand.
I was arrested when I returned from another town with a Christmas tree.
Just because I was going to celebrate Christmas, the cops incarcerated me.
But lucky for me, a couple of my friends decided to post my bail.
I was determined to bring Christmas to my town and I didn't fail.
When very few people signed the petition that I started, I decided to contact CNN.
The entire country was outraged when they saw me on the news so the Mayor gave in.
Our Mayor banned Christmas because he never received any presents when he was a child.
Every single year, other kids had toys but he had nothing and he became bitter and riled.
But the Mayor saw the error of his ways and Christmas was reinstated.
Christmas came to my town and it was what everybody celebrated.
(This is a fictional poem.)
The hardest advice to take is your own
This must be why my heart never listens to my thoughts
I wish it would
Because if it did I wouldn’t have to keep asking God for a sign
But my heart hypnotized me and I gave in to the trance
Only to have my heart recycled because love just used me over and over
Time spent can never be bought back or returned so all the memories mine as well be burned
Love has been tugging on my heart strings and I know I shouldn’t keep holding on but my heart clasps tighter
Love is always playing games in which I am the prey
Love has a face but no legs, slithering around for love drunk mice
Such as myself reciting sticks and stones may break my bones but love you forever hurt me
But this is the last time, love is now in a coffin
Buried with all my plans for her
p.s. I hope you rest without peace…
Late at night, caressed by nocturnal howls
I strode across streets of snow
A gentle tune whistled from my pockets
As the frosty breeze kissed my exposed nose
Knee deep in my final stand
I claimed old thrones that had forgotten me
An old professor who gave me hope
Taught me how to work a camera again
36 boneless wings and three Blue Moons
Fell down my throat as we finished the day
A noisy sports bar I'd only heard about
Was my safest haven in a frosty Spring
As legend upon legend passed me by
I finally met a travelling group
Inducted hastily and baptized by dragons
All twenty years older, but my closest friends
My hands held two victories; both long sought
The diploma representing five years and endless tears
And a credits sequence for an old game
I couldn't tell which meant more to me
So began my final Summer Vacation
Unwittingly and undesired
I searched for those who would take me
And found naught but shuttered doors
Summer's heat gave way to repetition
Each day bled together
Like endless drops of sweat mingling to form a greater one
My days dripped rapidly
I left humidity and oceans for mountains and dazzling vistas
And returned to hope gushing forth violently
And yet once more did the humidity sink me
My days dripped rapidly
The dreams began, vividly and painfully
As each failure led me further into my mind
A safer haven of harsher memories
Of craving the Reaper's touch to make life interesting
Blazing heat gave way to blistering cold
For I have stolen Autumn's in-between
Cold or hot; it's matters not
When my desk is above a vent
How much can I hate an anchor
When it's all that keeps me from floating away?
As the twin herobreakers that stalk the night
We could never truly understand, so we don't
And thus a year of dreams passes by
With no fanfare, as there are no frames of reference
My yearly review rings as hollow as its subject
So sleep tight, and may you never awaken again.
Household Auction
Saturday and Sunday
Refreshments
I must sell some family heirlooms from grandmothers attic,
there are many items, jewelry, glass, lamps, and some furniture;
but the most treasured item is a mahogany sideboard quite exquisite,
beautifully carved, and ornate with dragons and scrolls and gorgeous feet.
I noticed you arrived a half hour early and saw you wandering,
many times you returned to the sideboard and caressed it so gently;
approaching you, I offered you a coffee and we had time to chat a bit,
I told you that the sideboard had sentimental value for me, it was grandma's.
People came and went and many lingered with the lovely sideboard,
you know it is in pristine condition, has never been repaired or refinished;
it is a scarcity, hard to find a vintage piece as profusely carved and deeply loved,
in an antique shop they would mark it up 500%, I am auctioning it at a reduction.
I will not be long-winded, if you are interested, you can trust me,
dishonest, I will not be, this mahogany sideboard is the real thing, no rip-off;
take your time, have another coffee and then we can talk again if you want to,
I am no antique dealer, just a girl with some beautiful things that I need to sell.
In the end, I could not sell the mahogany sideboard . . .
________________________
February 24, 2016
Narrative/The Mahogany Sideboard
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 761-247-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Yes I know
I've heard it all
It's for the best
That distant call
But yet your ghost
Still haunts me here
I've built the walls
Yet you're still there
But now I look back
Now I see
You were never present
Not there with me
And I returned
Back to your need
Jumped into water
Fulfilled your greed
But here alone..
I see so clear
The fog you sent me
No longer here
We are Ethereal
Temporary
I've become immune
And you can't touch me
Seen then unseen
Willingly used
A deceitful love
No longer moved
It was a pipedream
Those years we had
I look back
It was rotten, bad
So I made the choice
I walked away
I've left the feeling
I'll no longer stay
I am the beautiful
I am the strong
I let you go
And I'll live..I'll live on
In the end
I'll walk past your stone
In our own ways
We're both alone
'Cockaine' took another slow snort from magic white crystal dust
pleasure inhaled at ease and great vastness for her was a must
with 'Cockaigne' the land of physical comfort and luxury near
nothing to lose in addiction she had no more demons to fear
they called her a **** on cocaine an outcast and street trash
but when on the drug of her choice she cherished the bash
threw caution to wind as long as it did not disperse the powder
when trashed everything became brighter lighter and louder
as a kind soul she shared her treasures with Charlie and Mandy
freebase for all gak sugar coke and vast mountains of rock candy
when she ran out of gear her smashed fellows returned the favour
good friendship is a treasure to hold very dear and to savour
she ran out of money and companions because they’re all dead
sold her body for a few bob to Dick Tom and Harry giving head
blew instead of inhaling and soon she took to needle and syringe
believed she was happy when she overdosed and went out in a binge
15th November 2020
Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Theme picked 'Cockaigne'
'Cockaigne' is a mythical land of plenty with comfort luxury and instant
gratification.
A 'cockaine' is slang for a **** on drugs especially cocaine.