Long Roof Poems

Long Roof Poems. Below are the most popular long Roof by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roof poems by poem length and keyword.


A Daughters Promise

I promise I would be a good girl when I go out into the world, I promise to stay out of trouble and return home in a hurry. I promised never to play in the street or walk barefoot, I promise I would stay in school and complete the semester and when the climate changed, I promise to graduate and study at the university. 

It’s seems like yesterday when I utter such word when I was at play. I was thirteen and you were thirty-three and I always looked up to thee. You have always encouraged me to hold my head high and never look into ground that hold the dust of shame to its core, and the molten lava spewing through the hole  and entering the spot where the disgraced soldier, conceptualize the plot.  

I can still hear those words ringing in my  ears as I walk the path that everyone fears, it is the moment of truth that is embedded in my youth and the ordeal I encountered  on life’s journey comes back to remind me. 

I could tell from the start that you are a heart breaker and the season come to remind me that the fault is within me and love is my destiny; when the autumn is done and winter comes along and the snow starts falling, it will fill the lakes and the trees, the ocean and sea and you will come and dance with me. 

We will do the river dance on the roof and do the fire dance in a circle, then we will roll in the snow and touch each other dignity, and Boston and Richmond will come alive, Baltimore and Washington DC will take the dive, but New York and Philadelphia will ride out the snowstorm.

 It seems like yesterday the climate changed and the clouds start fading away. I stood on those very steps and recited the whole chapter, I stood on that step and grasp every living character, I remember how you cast your eyeballs at me and how the mountain shook beneath the sea when you said, “will you marry me?” 

 “I am only thirteen, “she said, and I cannot lie in that big bed, “Yes I will marry you,” she replied, she held breath for a while and look on every side and you were still standing looking at her; then a gust of wind came, and you suddenly disappeared, and I stood on the step gazing at the wind. 

 The daughter's promise was fulfilled, and they walk boldly up the hill after thirty-three years in the making the universe had their blessing, the evidence is in the wind and you can hear it when you are still, winter is chiming in.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member They Were Not Grown

*And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*

After the red sea, after the red sea…
departing from its great depths,
leaving the death of Pharaoh’s men,
well-oiled chariots underneath…
     they're all wet. they’re all wet.

Great sound of Israelites.
Commotion of the sights.
Nostrils of the Creator King;
imagination remains.

The kids in awe,
“Did you see that!? I can’t believe
that happened!” their wrist revolutions
left and right, relive the might.
Their kissers - uttersome wind.

Parents hush them. A bit frightened.
Who is this God…they thought they knew.
This really is the God of their ancestors,
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Still…

They arrived at a place of discomfort.
Thirst suffers…tongue and roof parched.
three days in the desert,
they have not found water…constantly
tested - will they believe…will they believe?

But they, not unlike us, love to complain.
When comfort is outside their brain…
they become most forgetful…they rely
upon their senses — we do too!!!

In Shur, grumbling, rumbling of cries,
“What are we to drink?”
Like little children, they didn’t know.
Like little children, they were not grown.

The water they did find, was bitter -
so were they…they missed the whips
of Egypt- at least they’d get their share
of bread and water. God in His mercy
exchanged bitter for sweet, and his sheep

drank until they hurt no more. There God
tested them with these words:

*“If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God
and do what is right in his eyes,
if you pay attention to his commands
and keep all his decrees,
I will not bring on you
any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians,
for I am the Lord, who heals you.

And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*

9/28/2021
Free verse narrative

*From Exodus 15:22-27 portions directly taken from the NIV
are between asterisks.

Elim is pronounced ay-leem

From Matthew Poole’s commentary:

Palm trees were both pleasant for their shade, and refreshing for their sweet fruit. Thus the Israelites are obliged and encouraged to the obedience commanded, by being put into better circumstances than they were under in their last station.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A Year To Remember Blessings 2021

The year 2020 was a year of adjusting to new realities dealing with the pandemic. A pandemic that affected so many people in many ways.  This year is one of hope that the lessons of yesterday will become our blessings today.  

I am so grateful for my life which includes my loving wife and family. I have also been blessed with two dogs who greet me every day with wagging tails and sparkles in their eyes when I come home from work. They make me smile inside. 

I became more aware and thankful for all the things that surround me because of the pandemic.  This spring, the dandelions were the first flowers to stand out against the green grass, and I found them to be beautiful.  My heart was a bit sad when had to mow the lawn. 

The other colors this spring was truly amazing, especially the plants and flowers. There were animals that came to visit us, including raccoons, a mother deer, and her baby.  It was special to witness a skunk and a cat eating side by side from the food dish left by my wife. Yes, we feed all of these animals. 

Although we have a comfortable home, and a roof over our heads, and those creatures outdoors needed some help this year because of a drought. We installed a soaker hose on our fence dripping to the ground.  It was a blessing to witness all the different birds and animals searching for water to quench their thirst.  

We installed several hummingbird feeders and they are everywhere now. The hummingbirds have come to know us so well that they fly in front of our faces to chatter.  We have a water trough for the animals outside the fence around our house with a few feeders.

The drought this year was so severe that the plants were so oh very thirsty.  Thankfully, we are blessed with a well, allowing us to care for those things that needed our help.

Then autumn came, and there was an explosion of color. The leaves seemed to be extra brilliant this year.  The tree leaves chattered in the autumn breeze that ending our drought with rain.  

As Thanksgiving approaches, we experience moments when we feel overwhelmed by the blessings of our relationships, opportunities, and the beauty around us. We tend to express our feelings and share them during Thanksgiving, but we should always remember that this is not just about Thanksgiving day. We need to express these things everyday.

Edward J Ebbs - October 30, 2021

Open Windows

I stayed awake all night listening to the sounds fighting with the night and battle raging in the street erupting my heart beat, one bad news after the other the body lie waiting in the gutter and the morning crowd kept walking on without a music or a song, and I said to myself what on earth is going on?  

It is the question you usually hear when the dogs’ barks late at nights and the stars over your head are shining brightly and hope looks at you from the window. You cannot read it; you cannot understand it and you cannot deny it.  

It looks like a pecan pie rolling sitting on the table with shoes and hat getting ready to connect the dot and the man in the dressing room is walking with a gun strapped to his side and a beach ball bouncing in front of him. 

I am still wrestling with this heavy feeling inside it is not pain or any form of physical aliment, it is the environment and its occupants that is sucking the raw energy out of me and the urgency to tell a prolific story. I can’t tell it alone; I have to tell it in a night gown with incandescent lights around my bed and a bulletproof roof over my head. When the tension fades and morning weight subsides, we will write this story together and it will serve for the next century. 

The temperature is rising and the squirrels are coming out of the ground they have fist like man and sand to cover the entire land. They are running up and down the streets trying to escape the beguiling heat but the sun creates a simple track and mercy is holding on to the rock with the pipers and the minstrel playing a merry tune 

It is not the rhythm that you usually hear or the one that is saturated in the atmosphere, it is not the sound of death that is running the marathon around the track, it is the formula that you dig out of ice and the jewel that is sold at a very high price, it is the type of rhythm that make me feel nice. For one moment the cluttered space around me evaporate in thin air. 

The window is wide open in my face and I can see everyone that entered the race, they are still walking under heavy burden covering grounds and surveying the town, and looking for substance all around but just before 2:00pm the ship will dock in the harbor and you will have fine spices and tea for th rest of your life; the window is open wide and I can see you standing in awe gallivanting with your new bride.
Form: Narrative

Crazy

My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick 
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed
Form: Narrative


Until Blood Is Spilt

when one stands up against injustice
when one spits in the face of those that oppress &
shows not one ounce of fear in their eyes
often, if fortunate, standing amidst others who have come to
the same conclusion,
at first, it is like a joke being told at a comedy club
where there isn’t even a drink minimum---
for the need for customers is so drastic,
the club doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers by 
asking at least that as a price for sitting all night 
under a roof & listening to comedy.

as the plague of convention
spreads like the contagion that it so blatantly is,
more come to the conclusion of the initially brave
(and to many, thought to be the initially “insane”)---
people begin to see that things are being done wrong to them
as well,
and suddenly, because others have already put their lives on the line
in order to lock arms & fight
what they no longer think can be ignored,
this kindling gives way to a larger fire 
which soon spreads on its own,
counteracting the wall of poisonous status-quo, complacence &
all out submission to the will of those that
feel that they are unstoppable,
offering not a crumb to the individuals challenging them &
still, the seriousness of the matter is not fully understood
by those which have become desensitized to any possibility of
actual change in their lifetime.

as the fire continues to grow & spread, becoming fiercer with 
every gust of wind, ever new addition to the flames,
those that felt unstoppable begin to question their own ability 
to crush the fire, 
if they deem it out of hand,
that is, if their kingdom is on the fringe of being
invaded---
and it will come,
the bludgeoning of the spreading fire will be one of never before seen
ferocity,
for examples have to be made,
in order for those in power to prove that they still have power &
blood will be spilt, in fact, 
blood is being spilt as this writer types
(little puddles now, written off as “unruly dissidents,” only foreshadowing a river of blood leading to a vast ocean).

it is the spilling of blood which ignites the last few,
those that thought it would all blow over & 
that their lives could stay pretty much the same,
if they just stuck it out---
when friends, relatives and neighbors begin to bleed,
be it through destruction of property, incarceration, injury or death,
the once comfortable are forced to open their eyes &
decide which side they're on.

The Escape Route

Down many of the coalmines in Yorkshire , Safety dictated that an alternative means of escape
had to be found just in case anything ever happened to the shafts that raised and lowered miners to their work.
This usually involved keeping a single route open underground to the next nearest colliery .


Old George waiting by the mineshaft 
Spitting his chewing tobacco juice 
Today with his apprentice 
They must survey the mines escape route . 

1000 yards underground  
In darkness as black as pitch 
They reach up to their helmets
Turning on the headlamp switch.

George prodding at the timbers 
That support the roof and sides
His apprentice grows more nervous
With every single stride .

A mile down the escape route 
The roof is seven feet high
They see a little fallen rock
but manage to squeeze by .

The roof is getting lower
George hears the scurrying of mice 
Brought down the mine in bales of hay
When pit ponies and the miners destiny were spliced.

The apprentice is visibly shaking 
but only one more mile to go 
When a piece of falling timber 
Dealt his torch battery a glancing blow.

George could see the boys panic
and as the leader of his team 
He reassured his apprentice
Then they shared the single beam .

Suddenly they hear a crack like thunder
Then the splintering of wood 
George pushes his apprentice 
but a fall of rock stands where George stood.

Young boy on his hands and knee's
Screaming Georges name
More terrified by the second 
When no answers came.

Now in total blackness 
He inhabits the world of the blind 
If he is to help his leader
The boy must use his senses and his mind .

The faintest hint of breezes
He feels on his face 
Air sucked down the mineshaft
Just might be his saving grace 

He crawls along the jagged floor 
Using his sense of touch 
Soon in the distance he hears machinery
A sound he has never loved so much .

He tastes the ever freshening air
Hope inside him grows
Then the tiniest speck of flickering light
His tears overflow. 

Help,  Help,  he's calling 
As the miners come into view
Two men want to hep him to the surface 
Burt he awaits his friends rescue.

Old George didn't make it 
He sacrificed himself to save the boy
Broken hearted the boy had a breakdown 
and had to leave the mines employ.

The boy became a father 
Then a wonderful granddad 
but he never tired of telling the story
of the best friend he ever had.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Who Is Knocking At My Door

It’s Christmas Eve; there’s someone at my door!
But with the horrid sound outside my window,
I wonder who is knocking and what for!
Midst violent wind I see a surreal snow!

Within it’s haze, there is a grotesque sight -
gigantic and so out of place, I quiver!
A snowman leers at me, and frigid fright
goes through my bloodstream like an icy river.

Again, the knock! Whoever could it be?
This morning I wished Christmas would be gone!
A premonition now is telling me
that nothing good is out there on my lawn.

My friend had warned me that I really ought
not curse this season. Oh, what have I done?
More pounding at the door, but I cannot
go near that door; there’s nowhere I can run.

I look out at the snowman. He is more
enormous than a tree, and now I hear
a sound like laughing elves outside the door.
I stand as thought I’m paralyzed by fear.

That movie! There’s a movie I heard of.
A boy hates Christmas, wishing it away.
A storm brews suddenly in skies above,
heralding a deadly Christmas day.

A Shadow Santa comes. This wicked soul
is known as Krampus, and he brings with him
an evil that can swallow people whole.
If I have summoned him, my fate is grim.

The storm keeps wailing; now there’s a new sound
of scratching on my roof, but there is no 
more knocking. Oh, who’s walking all around
my roof? I run out to the blinding snow!

At first I can see nothing till my eyes
are drawn to where a great big bag was put
beside my door.  What’s this? More Santa lies?
Though filled with dread, I push it with my foot.

There jumps out from the bag the strangest thing -
A tiny man; he’s made of gingerbread!
He laughs maliciously, and starts to sing,
“Before the night is over, you’ll be dead.”

Out on my lawn, I see beneath the snow
there’s something creeping fast and right toward me!
What creature slithers underneath the snow?
I can’t escape, so back inside I go!

I shut the door and bolt it, then collapse
Upon my sofa near the fireplace, when
I hear an eerie sound above. It taps,
taps, taps.  It’s something on the roof again!

Past Christmases with family go through
my frantic mind; I cower there and wait.
It’s Krampus, and he’s up there in the flue,
and soon to be delivering my fate!


Written Dec. 24, 2015/ Inspired by the contest of TAMMY REAMS
and the current Christmas horror movie Krampus.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Dragon Slayer, No

Dragon Slayer! Dragon Slayer! Just say it isn’t so! Just Look at that cutesy face! 
Behind the scary teeth, fire, and smoke… Choke…Ah… he’s gentle to embrace!
Moody, sulky, get even-ish, is truly he. But to have him, is so cool… and so hot!
And, I truly do mean Hot! Fire retardant suit’s a must, as there’s fire… often, a lot!

He’s just a baby, waiting to be taught. I tried to teach him, how to fly me thru the air.
Instead, he dumped me in a treetop, it took all day to get down, until I despaired.
To help me down, he lit the tree afire, as his wings errantly fanned the roaring flames.
I jumped, and he smiled a toothy grin, because I was safe, he steadfastly claims.

I’m on crutches, nearly bent his tail. But he loves me, you can tell, see he puffs at me!
Grandpa Troll gives us time out, when there’s a tiff, as my dragon, is petulant, you see.
At times, he sits across the lake from me, blowing fire and smoke ¾ across the lake.
He’s such a sensitive thing, he took my couch to the lake, upon sitting, it did break.

I got upset and called him fat…he tried to steam me, as fire is such, a No- No.
For, he had learned to not throw fire… at least when Grandpa Troll is, there, tho…
He needs to be first, the center of attention, seen in his cunning life’s plots, galore!
He taught my Trolls a happy dance, while waiting their first boat ride. Silly Dragon!

They sunk my boat! It's believed, he was getting even for being last in line, you think?
And he stomped off, perturbed, when told no more rides until the boat is unsink-ed.
He’d been last, for breaking my roof for another (fourth) time, but it will soon be fixed.
You see, he gets lonely, while waiting for me, to come outside to play, the little minx!

He CAN be hard on insurance, as I got cancelled and my bills are higher than a kite!
And when the Supreme Leader of the Universe, came to our picnic on a motorbike…
Dragon, accidentally, released his Dogs of War, while sitting on his Harley Bike.
Honestly, the flat tires can be fixed, the body unbent, and the spokes were given back.

I explained they weren’t HIS toothpicks… he truly looked sad as sad can be, at that.
Never fear, we caught the Dogs of War before they had time to… do great harm.
You can just imagine how great this dragon will eventually be, when all grown up.
Dragon Slayer, indeed! Grandpa Troll gave him to me. He’s sweet as sweet can be!

The Agony

Why do we have such trouble
          trying to explain
the height of ecstasy 
          and the depth of pain
when to you I am connected
          the blossoming of joy
where upon it being severed
          hollow emptiness deploy
 
 
I hear your cries in the vagaries of night
but your distance           prevents the healing of your plight
your pain has saturated     every cell in my soul
but only can the embrace           of Love make you whole
 
My heart aches          to hold you to my breast
to see you lifted          like a kings treasure chest
wish you could see          in mine eyes your own reflection
and take away that you aren't precious          misconception
 
I have never spent my time          tearing you apart
but sought those qualities         shining in your heart
who keeps telling you         with a derogatory voice
that you're valued less           than any other choice
 
I have loved you            from the day we first met
my promise until the end       I'll you not forget
I exerted to support you           every drop of energy
though would have rather     had you very close to me
 
There is no treasure           over you I cherish
count them as nothing    that my Love should perish
an espoused sentiment          will not a tummy feed
I had to work          to roof and clothe your need
 
The only family at the time          that cared for you
two grandparents          who tried to help me through
they saw to it       every school year you had clothes
and when I lost them          how my sanity then froze
 
I'm required to forgive          those who threw us away
and the father           who never supported you in anyway
also the men   who hide those who violate
until our God by Christ          does away with hate
 
Sometimes in Life          there is no indication
the path required                 will receive its vindication
I already know every place         that I have failed
and my own inadequacy    which upon I've railed
 
Someday perhaps          You will understand
Gods requirement     to care your needs demand
if I hadn't been alone          might've been easier to stand
and in myself          what I've lacked not to reprimand 
 
1 Timothy 5:8
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith
 and is worse than an infidel
 
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C Michael Miller
Form: Rhyme

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