Long Rock Poems
Long Rock Poems. Below are the most popular long Rock by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rock poems by poem length and keyword.
We stand still as stone, hold our shape over time
Watchers of the mosque, we watch as masks walk
Each passing stride a new universe of re-re-redesign
Every step under us, on the same curve of cold rock
Carved from the whole, statues with earth-turning toes
Clay feet on a cobbled road, yet we continue
Seeing the still-captured unease of being alone
Static herd, sighing hive, we eye worlds within you
Still, we'll spill your secrets when a wrong wind hits us
Whether from heaven's breath or heathen sent
Neither faith nor time nor bombs colliding play favorites,
All of it razes all of us, to a gatherless disorientation
Mere dust, trading memories of your faces from the belly of what's left,
The plastic bottle; an eternal hourglass, immune to time’s theft
Another Day’s Rhyme
I’ve seen majestic mountains on a celestial plain,
beautiful valleys with waving fields of grain.
I have marked buttes of red rock scraping the clear blue sky,
a view of the Grand Canyon that brought a tear to my eye.
I’ve seen the desert in New Mexico covered in snow,
the salt flats of Utah, and felt the cool breeze blow.
I have witnessed God’s beauty, naturally first hand,
and seen his many wonders that cover this great land.
I’ve discovered the true form of art with colors so bright,
and stars far away in the darkness of night.
We are surrounded by beauty and touched by true love.
None of this would be here, without help from above.
I’ve heard beautiful words that made me smile.
We each get our turn for just a short while.
Appreciate these gifts and enjoy your time.
I’m thankful for all and another day’s rhyme.
My mom loved to mix her imagination with reality
which meant her stories had a few twists
I called her world Dreamality…making her a dreamalist.
I remember one night when I was young
We were sitting outside…just her…and me
“Close your eyes.” She said, “and when you open them
your star will be the first one that you see."
“That star was created when you were born…
when you became my son
It was placed up in the heavens to announce
a new life has begun.”
“See how it is beating…it matches the beating of your heart…
Those stars beating brightest are the new ones
while those whose beats are fading are preparing to depart.
“Your star remains aglow until the day you die.” She said.
“for our stars are nothing if not precise
at which point it will swoop down and carry your soul to paradise?”
I imagine Mom was wise enough to understand the science of light diffusion
how the brightness and the beating of the stars is just an optical illusion…
I imagine she understood how meteoroids
are just burning bits of dust and rock…quite small
And, scientifically speaking, are not shooting stars at all.
But that did not deter her from believing her story in totality
(now you begin to understand my mom’s world of Dreamality).
Mom’s star burned out years ago and, yes, I consider it quite nice
to think it swooped down from above and carried her soul to paradise.
Many nights I still greet my star…
it’s something I can’t resist.
I regard it as a gift...given to me long ago,
by my Mom, the dreamalist.
Daylight breaks with a shout, I had no clue what the commotion was about, people were running to and fro and others were wondering which way to go. It’s like a monster was walking down the street trampling everything that it sees and some people fell on the ground and the sound of boots march heavily in the town.
An old man sitting on the sidewalk, extend his cup to the passersby his wary eye lids drooped at the front and tears were flowing from his eyes what had befall him I could not tell but a big rock stone landed at the back of his head his money cup fell from his hand and the coin spilled on the ground and scatter in different direction. He tried to clear the middle of the world but a car came out of nowhere and run him over in the middle of the road.
The crowd starts gathering around and screams and shouts penetrates the town and the sounds of the boots gets closer. The ambulance came right on time to save the old man’s life. I could feel the tension in the air as the ambulance speed through the street and curious bystanders lined the street with frightened eyes wondering what will happen next.
The howling wind lashes through the street tearing down tree limbs and utility poles, the temperature suddenly changed and the wind starts whistle all over the place and the boots gets closer. The clouds suddenly gets dark and birds start flying out of the trees seeking shelter on lower grounds and the people starts moving out of the town hail start dropping from the sky and the sun embraces winter with a healthy goodbye and sound of the boots gets closer.
Winter boots is on the run, winter boots are loaded with guns, big guns strapped on their side and dignity wrapped up inside ten thousand of them march into the town and pitch their tents and winter finally sets in with a little chill. Winter boots are marching around surveying the contour of the little town.
They are trying to get rid of the "original"
Woman. [For that old Serpent hath enmity with the Woman].
They have recently judged in favor of
non biological mind induced femality over you.
While in dressing room and child scared in a corner.
I will show documents, later proving that they know full well what they are doing.
Thank Barack Obama, (he is into more than you think),
for understanding that a Woman is the rock and cornerstone of the family.
That society cannot be controlled if you have
the nuclear family.
Take the woman away from being a true woman and take her role and you have a dried out shell and empty family.
They know about false feminism, because that is what they tricked everyone with, the documents admit.
They want to mute your former self from society.
Talk about fear.
They do not want society to have anything to do with a whole Woman.
What I will show is their own words
they thought would not be found
Isn't life funny?
You spend hours and hours writing and revising
re-revising and rewriting
and then starting almost from scratch again
making sure each line sounds right
each and every word fits,
does what it's supposed to do,
and then of course making sure there's enough
imagery, symbolism, metaphor, and all that there gobbledy-gook
Finally (!) you post your poem
and then you have to edit it three or even four more times
anyway, because you saw something else that didn't quite
work right when you viewed it again...and again...and again...
On the proverbial other hand
You decide that you can't go to sleep without doing one more
so you dash something off in 7 minutes or less
you don't even check it for typos, errors, or omissions
and you figure, "What the H," at least I published another
one before I hit the hay...btw, you sleep like a rock that night...
The next morn you wake up with the nagging feeling that your magnum opus
is mediocre poetry at best, humdrum stuff:
Hmmmmmm
As for your 7-minute rush job -- Ehhhh, Phoooey! Fugettaboutit!
You regret posting it, and vow never to act so rashly again
At work though you reverse course and suddenly can't wait to see how many comments your masterpiece got..
So, after work when you get a chance to check
you find no comments on your you-know-what
and a dozen or so on your hack job.
Form:
Warm soft comfortable surrounded here
Splish, splash bouncing rock and roll good good life
Then fast change being forced into a tear
What happened, has into great life come strife
Baby died before it had chance to live
That is when I left her young tender head
Roll down her gentle cheek emotions sieve
Caught by angel in flight placed in bottle instead
Flown into the heavens to live with God
He gives me place to stay until some day
For some disbelievers they'll just give nod
Saying there are no tears in jars to stay
Every sad event in life when one cries
Shed tears down one's face come here to reside
Contest: "Personify A Tear"
Sponsor: HGarvey Esquire
Written by: Sara Kendrick
Wherever we lived, summer meant
riding in the car ~
red clay, Georgia bound
My excitement grew with each state
trapped in Daddy’s rearview mirror.
Macon was relative love ground
where smiles were not lost but found.
I always sat in the back seat, heart viewing you,
knowing before dark came
I would hear your dear accent say my name.
After dark, I knew I would stay with you ~
not brother, or little sister, Pooh,
but me, snuggle loved in your bed
and you would care about all I thought and said.
Sweet, Grannie, for decades now I have missed you
I can still hear your voice, see your eyes twinkle
and
tonight I embrace space
seeking your dear, fresh powder presence
gentle words of love’s selfless attention
turned to silence way too soon ...
in my heart we still share love
Grannie, you were the softest light in my youth
Could you but rock me secure once more this night –
sing your comfort songs – gently hush my grown fright -
safe, sweet Grannie arms would shield me in love’s truth
I still talk to her
close my eyes with hopes she hears
~~ she believed in me ~ ~
her image never leaves me
my adult still craves her - here
Never underestimate the power of nature, it can have devastating consequences.
Quote by poet.
Lucius Gauis Viaggi was a centurion in the Roman army
Lived in the city of Pompei with his wife and family
The city lay at the foot of the majestic Mount Vesuvius
It was the year 79 AD in the reign of the Emperor Titus.
Lucius was home on leave from the campaign in Brittania
And was enjoying his time away in his luxurious villa
He got up late one October morning to go for a walk
To meet with friends, drink wine and to catch up on talk.
It had just gone noon when the ground started shaking violently
Many rushed out onto the streets to escape the falling masonry
Above the city Mount Vesuvius was spewing ash, smoke and fire
Lucius, no stranger to danger knew the situation was dire.
Huge white clouds were forming in the sky and ash fell like snow
He rushed back to his villa and told everyone "Save yourselves, go"
Then he got two horses ready for himself and his wife Ameili
And he put his son on his horse and rode quickly towards Napoli.
Thousands were scrambling down the rocky hillside to get far away
Lucius could hear the screams of those poor souls who chose to stay
Then came the molten rock, ash and gas known as the pyroclastic flow
Pompei was buried in minutes, and the living had nowhere to go.
Those who'd taken shelter in buildings were gasping for their breath
Their lungs filled with gas and ash and it's how they met their death
Those who had escaped were making the long journey to Napoli
Some had walked, many on horseback and some arrived by sea.
Four other towns were destroyed by the eruption of Mt Vesuvius
Hercanaleum, Stabiae, Boscoreale and Oplontis
Gaius Plinius Secundus a commander in the Roman navy
Died trying to rescue people and is remembered for his bravery.
The streets of Napoli were crowded with the thousands who'd fled
Those who had decided to stay in Pompei were already dead
In Napoli Lucius had a friend with a large villa, Luigi Maven
Who welcomed them saying , "Let my home be your safe haven".
A week later Lucius rode back to see what had become of Pompei
It was now just a white wasteland where thousands underneath lay
Smoke and dust continued to rise from the top of the mountain
The winds had saved the city of Napoli of that Lucius was certain.
Your soul is made from black earth.
That's why you're wrestling with loneliness.
Because they're afraid of earth's truths.
They don't want to soil their perfect hands.
They think everything must be pristine.
Perfectly stated, nothing jaded or misplaced.
They exist for the roses and champagne.
Instantaneous, perfumed gratification.
They're afraid of earth and its heaviness.
Earth flourishes with a rock-steady pace.
Making slow love like a glacier grinding stone.
Prefers a turquoise pool of silent thought
Earth has always preferred to be alone.
Your soul is like black earth, strong.
Be proud that you're not like them...
You tote the weight of absolute truth.
Never souls that curl back upon themselves.