Long Rocky Poems
Long Rocky Poems. Below are the most popular long Rocky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rocky poems by poem length and keyword.
Past psychological development
describes zigzagging mama's yoyo
casually, aye publicize, (asper
mein kampf) personal woe
unpleasant memories indelibly
etched, jagged, scar outlined like ticktacktoe
solitary games invariable resultant
draw between every “x” and each "o"
metaphorical of course for this poetic,
formerly non opportunistic
generic Joe Schmoe,
hoof hound cathartic airing emotionally
rocky terrain, whereby floe
tips of icebergs with poetry I tool
examining, excavating, extracting, et cetera hoe
ping to discover ring visa vis,
why this ordinary fella did not want to grow
up, when on the throes of puberty lugging
"FAKE" nostalgic memories in tow
markedly heavy impossible to shrug
Atlas off (as if yoked with an albatross) also
weighted with Taj Mahal size fountainhead
gushing with emotional phlegm like no
buddies business shockingly deadly toxic
sputum nearly killed me, the only bro
their too hoo (owl right) untwisted sisters
one older, the other younger dough
ting on this then suicidal, impassive, and
ambivalent depressively sullen self burrow
wing boy within my own wormhole unresponsive
to overtures of sincere love - self castrated
particularly social maturation grew
ming this present day subdued chap
still smarting from ravages of anorexia
nervosa, particularly wrought hardy brew
of schizoid personality disorder self
deprivation excruciating frame of mind
as I mercilessly flayed and never grew
to experience ordinary relationships,
hence though married with grown daughters,
nonetheless...pay penance forever rue
man hating price hermetically
sealed wharf from humans,... thus you
cannot reach me, - now adieu!
Walking through the desert,
Scorched by the sun's heat,
Walking through the jungle,
In face with wild and ferocious beasts,
Walking through the mire,
Pushing with zeal and ardour,
Walking in the rain,
Drenched by the heavy downpour,
Walking on a winding road,
No one in sight to aid and abet,
Walking through the waters,
Restrained by its turbulent flow,
Walking on a rocky road,
Taking slow and careful steps,
Walking in the dark,
Stumbling and losing ground,
Walking in the light,
All bright and clear,
The radiant light makes all vivid to see,
Nothing is in obscurity,
All are exposed in its luminance,
I walk with accelerated steps,
I move with swift speed,
I run like a stallion,
I scale over hurdles,
My target in view,
A goal to achieve,
A trophy to receive.
May 23, 2022.
Just Write Me a New Poem Contest
Constance La France.
I've run that masterful marathon called life...
I've learned, grown, laughed, and taken my bits of misery and strife
Oh! In the beginning, it's kinda funny when I think of all the energy I had
To reminisce of the strong legs, vibrant heart, and undying will to press on makes me so glad
The formidable hills, meandering roads, and rocky byways played their part.
I knew I had to keep running, pushing, and digging down because my race wasn't finished I just felt it deep in my heart
I've sweated dutifully, and my body has ached graciously. Now I see no more road ahead.
Kinda tired now; I've crawled, walked, and ran, but I never stopped
I'm at the finish line now; I just want to lay my weary head
Time to rest!
I’m ready
“Walking down this rocky road”
Pebbles stare like boulders
Detouring my thoughts
Blocking motions to feel
Curbed by jagged ridges breathing
“Wondering where my life is leading”
Checking the map for intersections
Wanting to find some sense of truth
Written on an overpass
In graffiti spray paint dreams
“Rolling on to the bitter end”
Following the signs
Watching my sneakers tear
Exposing flesh to the elements
Of wandering longings
“Finding out along the way”
That things don’t last forever
But where the shadows sit
From the lost, the new
Are waiting in the cool shade telling
“What it takes to keep love living”
And I listen, learning which each painful step
Dragging my emotions behind me
In a knapsack of desires
Whispering out of breath
“You should know how it feels, my friend”
It is enlightening, burden lifting
When I finally realized
Someone is waiting at the end of that road
For me because…
“I am ready for love”
**The italicized lines are lyrics from Bad Company’s song “Ready for love”
I tried to write a song like John Denver would have done
Thought the way to do it was to emulate each one
Went to Colorado for a Rocky Mountain High
Found heaven near Shenandoah, but inspiration still not nigh.
Left my wife on a jet plane, didn't tell her what for
She would have disapproved, said get a job, what a bore.
In Wyoming, I camped under the moon
I tried to compose, but didn't like the tune
[chorus]
Channeling Denver, songwriter to emulate
I had the acoustic guitar, just couldn't be great
Searching for lyrics in that mountain space
Found peace, but no words in that quiet place
South wind blew in that East Texas town
Had a momentary idea, but couldn't write it down
At wits end, followed a country road home
disheartened, halfway, I sat on a stone.
I thought of John Denver's last flight, his plane fell to the sea
A tragic snapshot of that image before eternity
Remembered his song about his old guitar
In the music pantheon, I hope forever a star
[outro]
I gave up on the lyric, felt writer's block
Did I have anything worth saying? Tried to take stock
Then looked into my past, found what I had sought
A melody of my own, unpretentious and taut
But don't misunderstand, don't get me wrong
I'll can't wait to see the Wrangell mountains and play a John Denver song.
It’s now a bird sanctuary,
and has been for some decades now,
the trail wanders through the forest,
past the rock walls of an old house.
The trail itself was once a road,
I can tell by the two rock walls,
run parallel for a mile,
but there were no cars here at all.
Maybe carriages way back when,
wood farm carts and things of that like,
but if you’re looking for pasture
not a bit of it is in sight.
It is all second-growth forest,
where once the Holsteins grazed and fed,
on this land families carved a life,
generations were born and bred.
The kids must’ve played in that stream,
where the small waterfall cuts through,
small enough to be no danger,
fast enough to amuse the youth.
Men must’ve ridden through these paths,
stretch legs of their quarter horses,
running them on the rare day off,
preparing for the fair’s races.
Did lovers sneak along the walls,
risking all to just sneak a kiss,
I think they called in ‘pitching woo,’
so many different names for this.
It ends in a rocky ridgeline,
looks across the Hudson Valley,
to the fortress of the Catskills,
where they rise up majestically.
The view is half grown in these days,
can’t imagine in the years past,
when all of this was open field
and the vista was far more vast.
Did some man sit here on this rock
at the end of the Civil War,
drinking in this land’s great beauty,
and seeing the horror no more?
Did this farm bring him some solace?
Did quiet fields let him know peace?
Would he even recognize it
if he were here instead of me?
It is strange strolling through the past
when by all the forest it's drowned,
but it’s a bird sanctuary,
and has been for some decades now.
Majestic White Mountains surround me, I travel the curvy road
They call this road the ‘Kanc’ for short, where panoramic views are sowed
Green valley’s lay beneath me, with rivers in the ravines quite deep
The slate gray rocky cliffs I pass by, look like murals, slopes are steep
A patchwork of color blankets the far reaching, lush, mountainside
Where white puffy clouds circulate around the top, floating to hide
Amidst the pines, the clean air I breathe is cool, refreshing and clear
I pass by turn out spots for viewing and hiking trails everywhere
In the fall you will find the old man who sells apples at his stand
Where you can try different kinds or buy some cider he has on hand
In the winter, the snow paints the mountains and trees a shining white
Where fallen flakes and ice crystalize everything there is in sight
The State Forest is nearby where people visit, the wildlife roam
I view all this with gratitude, to live where mountains are my home
Heidi Sands
8/9/17
*Placed 4th in the contest: Mountains
Seeds do not always yield a crop
when from the sower’s hand they drop.
If on the walking path they drop,
the birds will come and eat them up.
When seeds drop on some rocky soil,
on which the sower failed to toil
the plants that grow up on such soil
sun’s searing heat will scorch and broil.
Seeds that fall on soil with weeds
will sprout and grow like all good seeds,
but lacking all the food they need
will sure grow up, but then recede.
The seeds planted in fertile soil,
on which the sower’s servants toiled,
will sprout and grow, then yield a crop
that far exceeds the seeds that dropped.
Ask God above, to tend your heart,
so that His words, life will impart,
making you wise and truly smart
then let His words your life course chart.
Frozen in time
the years flew by
How many tears were cried
How many truths were lied
So far apart, even side by side
Keep tellin myself
I bought the ticket
Stay on the ride
Where did our Love go to hide?
No way it could've died
As our souls forever collide
I look up at the sky
Confusion fills my lungs
...all I can do is *sigh*
I need him in in my life
Since day one wished to be his wife
Both let so many things slide
Beliefs strain to coincide
Strongest of emotions made our hearts blind
So in love with such ed up minds
How many more mountains must we climb
Before we can rest in our own sublime?
Fought so long, this is our prime
We can't give up, accept defeat and resign
Together we create something so Devine
Can't ignore what was felt when our souls were aligned
Energy so magical WE KNOW it's so far from benign
His vibes brought me back to life
Our Supreme connection cannot be denied
Both deeply felt every single sign
That our hearts n souls were created to intertwine
Worlds came crashing together,
Unknowingly leaving our old lives far behind
Feeling and knowing our hearts had manifested a shrine
Still scared and confused
Hurting eachother was unnecessary & catastrophic combined
It's somethng neither of us can ever erase or rewind
The overwhelming emotions
felt for one another has been so hard define
The roads been so rocky
Still impossible to decline
Each mistep forward Still brought us back to the right line
Until I met him LOVE,HOME AND REALITY could never be defined
Stuck in the past kuz it's hard to describe
I need him so badly, I miss that look in his eyes
He's fading so fast and to my demise
I knew it was coming
Don't get how I'm surprised
He needs to know I'll forever compromise
To fix our universe bc its so one of a kind
She lived beside the old temple that has stood
For years on the rocky bank of the silent river
Flowing all through the lining greenery cover ,
The woods and the arable land rich and good ;
Years ago she was the landlady ruler, across
The several hamlets, who doled out for free
What they asked for -grains, clothes in a spree
And never cared for the end - gain nor the loss
It was an abrupt outbreak, an epidemic dreary,
That effaced the strugglers picking by lot ;
The good landlord was the first to be caught ;
For no cause, nor reason he became weary;
Leaving behind his suffering soul sans a child
And all his countless riches for her to cherish ,
He finished his spell with no joy, so to perish
Alas ! the fate what else could be so ,so wild..!
There were mixed feelings and selfish amity
When the folk got more than what they sought
Coaxing the lady with ease and plea distraught
Soon she was homeless, yet in sound sanity,
Serving unbiasedly, the destitute, needy poor
Beyond all her ability and resource limit
But never was there a lapse nor any null remit
As the noble soul dwelt on healing their sore
Decades elapsed since, but for no change;
A slight cry of suffering reaches her soon :
And she rushes to them be it night or noon ;
None forgets that she is on the eighty range
Oh God! how strange are these facets of life!
While some chase far, the void and the futile,
Ever seeking somehow just their needs vile,
Noble beings but breathe for those in strife.
On the dismal day --- recall the rustics around,
She was carried away by the floods too wild,
As she tried and saved a drowning child ,
But lost her stance to the unsparing ground;
Hue and cry ,and searches wide found her not ;
A lamp is lit on the chosen day on her door sill
And many offer their prayers thereabout still :
More for favours than in memory of the spot.