Long Road Poems
Long Road Poems. Below are the most popular long Road by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Road poems by poem length and keyword.
God is Always There
We often feel as though
God is far away
And we often feel that He
Is distant when we pray
So often we feel lonely,
Not knowing where to turn
Just a touch from God above,
Our longing spirits yearn
So many times in our lives,
God seems slow to act
We cry out in desperation,
But it's faith we often lack
For God is not being slow
In coming to our aid
He comes through in His time,
We just need to learn to wait
The Lord is never distant,
He is there by our side
And continues to walk with us
Through the storms in our lives
He always hears our hearts cry
And answers all our prayers,
He won't leave us all alone,
For God is always there.
So I Asked the Lord to bless you.
As I prayed for you today.
That God will guide you and protect you
As you go along the way.
His love is always with you.
His promises are true.
And when we give Him all our cares,
You know He will see us through.
And when the road you are travelling on
seems difficult at best,
Just remember well wishing friends are always praying,
And God will do the rest.
Your bad past doesnot mean that
You donot deserve the good future.
But only and only if
You turned your thinking and mentality
To be a moderate man.
This is well known truth
God protection is more than killing hands.
No one will have ability to harm you.
If you have solid character and solid personality
To do sin is not good
But to promise not to do sin again is a good habit.
If you will create a down to earth personality
Which should not have crack like broken mirror.
Then we can say
We are Blessed by GOD in both worlds.
Before Death in dunya and after death in akhrat.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran
How tall the naked oaks stood, and so bold
The sidewalks and my heart still damp with rain
The topaz twilight fades in shades of gold
As fallen leaves lay carpets down the lane
How brisk the wintry winds blew, like a kiss
September’s scent a rich and spicy musk
How perfect was that moment, trimmed in bliss
The gilded leaves a glimmer in the dusk
How crisp the autumn air felt, like a leaf
While October’s hollow voice recites a poem
That tells me tales of all its joy and grief
And even in its sadness I am home
Without a fear, without a care, and without a heavy load
You will find me walking down November Road.
I saw a monk
make water today
and almost cry;
water that was almost
tea.
Tonight we couldn’t
make heads nor tails
of the blues or the pinks;
the boxes or the lenses.
Tonight we couldn’t
make heads nor tails
of the words called
poetries.
Tonight, the gravity assist
came to the heavy-papered
water coloured gouache, magnet held.
Tonight, the daal
was too spicy,
the back room too old,
the road too wind-y
or not winding enough.
Tonight, sleep came too soon for me,
for her,
for the cat on lap;
the grey barrier to repairing to
bed instead.
Today we pulled mint.
Today we lifted stones.
Today we borrowed swords.
Today we ate outdoors.
Sleep is coming...
for me
Sleep is coming...
to take and bury
the proper end to this
poem.
Always prepare for the unexpected, as more often than not the unexpected will happen.
Always have a plan B, even better a plan C.
Quote by Poet.
I was heading into Death Valley to
deliver drums of oil to the research
station, a trip that I took every month,
our haulage firm called it the 'Hades run'.
The forecast was 129°f for that day,
all was going well when disaster struck,
a front tyre had blown and I swerved off
the road, Blast it I thought It’s all I need.
I reached for the cab radio that crackled
and then went dead and I cursed my luck.
An hour went by then two, I was beginning
to panic, no other soul on that lonely road.
Then the air-conditioning packed up and
the temperature rose in the cab and I got
out quick and into the shade under the truck,
and drank the two bottles of water that I had.
Six hours had now passed and I was struggling,
the heat was unbearable and I realised I’d
probably die.I thought I was dreaming when I
heard a voice shout, "Hey Buddy you okay there".
”Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler...” — Robert Frost THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
YELLOW WOOD
there was the coworker’s hangup,
the incessant line,
the deathroom imagery —
i did not see the ugly parts
but i live the yellow wood,
not only my facts.
lately my face in the mirror morphs into relatives,
even in my dreams, as if it was all natural.
the eyes, cheeks sunken in, sharp chin of a heart
— i’m seeing the dead
and the sick,
also me with my wrinkles and grays.
i look outside my blue windows,
wanting the life that was so lively last year.
i see the same leaves, crisp and broken
but there’s a sadness this Fall
and a wondering —
will life restart…
i live for what energizes me —
the communion of song in the sanctuary.
i cling to every note that touches
the hem of Jesus
and mercy of his cross,
salvation and life everlasting.
my husband and i, side by side,
the apples of our eyes — our children;
and grandchildren on my lap,
on the phone or perpetually on my mind,
in my prayers
in my hope and blessing;
their voices and snapshots, gold.
longing for the retelling of the past.
i see it, within my grasp —
to tell me who or what i am.
this generation may not care,
but i care, with a deep longing
to share, not living in the past
but coloring the present;
the mind has unlimited fare.
11/16/2020
I walked over the autumn’s leaves
and borrowed a fruit
from a bony tree’s branch.
I rested under a shadow –
where no shadow I could see -
and opened a book to read with serenity.
I will borrow from the rose
the color for me to dress
when I met night’s eyes gazing me afar.
Leaves and pages are mixed,
The path I came vanishes in the night,
and the road ahead ends with the next step.
If I had no cause to move
I would have to invent some,
be God, be fame, be hunger or thirsty.
Yet, here I am walking by the grass,
hearing the owl whispering in the dark
names I better never forget.
I may have left the windows and doors open.
If the wind brings rain and thunder
I will not return to my old house again.
A slope invites me to slide on the lawn,
fast and also careless,
down by the hillside…
And now?
I hold the book in one hand
and the hat with the another.
Jump on the meadow content,
hoping bellow there is a road
to follow after eve’s greeting.
I could have done this
But I went and did that
Had a chance to keep my mouth shut
Couldn't stop myself from
Saying what I said
Went out and challenged fate
When I should have stayed in bed
If I had a chance to do it all over
Nothing would be any different
I'd do the same damn thing again
I try to fool my conscience
Into believing
I'm a victim of circumstance
I promise to travel a different highway
Knowing there's not a chance.
Because this road to ruin I'm on
Has no place to turn around
No exits no rest stops no roadside attractions
Just ghost towns filled with
dreams and promises I've abandoned
Running on fumes my tank of resolve almost empty
The arrow pointing to E
Remnants of habit still holding me hostage
My life a Karmic Comedy
I'm the only one laughing
I found out the joke is on me.
Hiking a dry creek bed, at the mountain's base
I happened on an old grist mill, a prisoner
of time, serving life in isolation.
A few rotten boards scattered about
was all that remained of it's dilapidated Norse wheel
The broken millstone lay silent on it's bed
the thick green ivy walls, closing in.
Guarded by giant pin oaks and river ash,
yet one could easily see evidence of visitors.
I was trespassing, not on land
but on another time, another's dream.
What was most likely, once a busy road
for horse drawn wagons had become
a clearing for utility poles and wires
I did not enter but I stood there
envisioning yesterday. mountains on both sides,
creek of fresh running water and the
serenity of this lush mountain valley.
Then cynically muttered,..."Progress"
5/27/2018
On a starless night, when the sky retreated like an old cloak,
I found myself floating on the river of melancholy,
memories intertwined in the fabric of a dream,
a fabric woven by unseen hands,
where the steps of those who climb the mountains of success
are steps of shadows, shadows dancing at the fire of illusions,
hiding their faces under masks of gold and silver,
but their eyes, oh, their eyes,
carried the flames of another world,
flames that consumed everything they touched,
for they were children of the fallen light,
Lucifers who only partially knew their origin.
In a sea of silence, where thoughts swirled
like dried leaves in an autumn whirlwind,
I understood that the path to heights
is paved with lost souls,
souls that sold a part of themselves
for a moment of glory,
for a moment to feel
that the world is theirs,
but in the darkness of night,
when the stars seem to fade one by one,
the truth reveals itself like an open wound,
and the shadows show their true face,
the face of children of chaos,
psychopaths building temples of illusions.
Under the pale moon, silently watching,
I felt the waves of time
crash against the shores of memories,
and each drop of water
carried a fragment of the story of those who ascend,
of those who look into the mirror of success
and see only the reflection of a hidden demon,
a demon that knows how to smile,
but behind that smile
hides a profound pain,
a pain intertwined with desire,
the desire to be more than human,
more than a mere being
wandering through the darkness of destiny.
And on that night, when everything seemed lost,
when the shadows danced around the fire,
I understood that the magic of success
is just another face of melancholy,
another face of a dream that unravels
in the light of the first rays of the sun,
and that, deep in our souls,
we are all children of the same night,
children who look towards the stars
with eyes full of hope,
even when the stars seem to fade,
and we are left with only the illusion,
the illusion of a road leading to heights,
but in fact, it is just another labyrinth
in which we lose ourselves,
seeking the light that will set us free.
Not missing love’s beat . . . .
Sails to you this golden bright morning rising so high
Sails waving with light, joy, and such promise and hope
One smile gasping breathless always for you my love
As you walk with me deeply into Eden’s very paradise
Dancing my heart love on that yellow brick road of dreams
Dying to be with you my love forever and ever and ever
Dreams inside of eternal youth with my heart pounding so
Awaiting the very day to come when I stand before you
Down on bended knee holding your hands warmly smiling
Kissing each and every single fingertip so exquisitely
I shall ask you to be forever and always with me my love
You will be my Queen with dazzling jewels of an ocean wide
The other heartbeat echoing as two becomes one complete
Our thirst for love and passion is almost unquenchable
And my very psyche is afire with excitement when we caress
Sleeping at night my love brings me into your dream world
Where it’s me and you and you and me together floating
Through the very ether of time breathing rarefied air so
Deliciously as we’re hopelessly mesmerized in true love
When I awake from our nocturnal dream trance so joyously
We hold one another so lovingly and caress so warmly at once
We kiss passionately and longingly in a most sublime spirit while
Not missing love’s beat . . . .
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 24, 2014)
(Free Verse)