Long Roughly Poems
Long Roughly Poems. Below are the most popular long Roughly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roughly poems by poem length and keyword.
the angel on the mantel
comes from an old wagon road
that cuts from desert brush
into the burnished hills
where creosote breaks up and scatters
at the base of the Chiricahuas
where Fort Bowie Calvary slaughtered
Apache braves
where an old cancerous man treks
miles of primitive trail
into the heart of a sacred mountain
for pure white marble, cut into blocks
and stacked
one hundred years ago
to wait for a truck that never came
it's an arduous journey
for a piece of rock
especially
for a man
half-blinded as a little boy
by that first nuclear blast
in that sneak attack on New Mexico
arduous
for a man riddled with cancer
who could be spending his days
easier
"what behooves you to do it?"
"it's something to do while I'm here," he says
"we all need something to do while we're here
even if you're sitting on your couch, watching t.v.
eating potato chips
it's something to do
this is what I enjoy, so this is what I do"
he finds his chunk of marble
it tells him what it's supposed to be
he sculpts the figure
as he sees it
roughly
and really not rough at all
for he feels
more than he sees
and you feel
what he sees
angel on the mantel
do you feel me
Softly we drown through the gathering whiteness,
we float in splendor on ripples of calm.
Gentleness drawn from the lingering brightness,
shadows anoint us with whispering balms.
Softly, oh so softly, the angels are singing,
the star beams are winging their intricate dance;
and slowly, so slowly, in cadence most holy
the glistening sparkles envelop and entrance.
Softly, so softly they graze us,
rustles of silk in the cushion-blind pall.
Images strange to entrap and amaze us,
shrouds to protect us should ever we fall.
Softly, softly, ever so softly
we drown through the angels that graze us so deep,
and the dance of the stars that entraps us so roughly
propels us with gentleness down into sleep.
Weak and tired I fall on rough cobbled stones.
Blood oozed down my face across my cheekbones.
My knees are bruised and pain spreads from my brain,
The wooden bar hurt my back again.
Man must learn as I accept my bad fall.
The time must come for you to confess all.
I fall but sinless I still bear your sins,
Get up, repent and a new life begins.
Still, I suffer as lashes hit my back,
For soldiers hate and like a wolfish pack
They just wish me to arrive up on the hill
Whilst Pharisaic zealots curse me ill.
Yet I speak not one sole word nor complain.
I suffer pain and pray all are not in vain.
Sturdy hands roughly urge and lift me up.
Gives me my cross, and I drink my bitter cup.
I came to save humanity from hell,
That I might see you all in Heaven dwell.
Haltingly I trudge on the cobbled rocks,
Die on a cross. O happy paradox.
?If The Sidewalk Could Talk?
On July 4, 2022, a?? mass shooting? occurred during the 4??th? of July parade in? Highland Park,?? Illinois??, United States. The shooting occurred at 10:14 am, roughly 15 minutes after the? parade had started. Robert E. Crimo III killed seven people, and 48 others were wounded? by bullets or shrapnel.?
?
The ground shakes beneath my feet.?
?Fireworks? My eyes dart across the crowd,?
?A tiny hand tugs at her mom’s skirt in panic.?
?Cracking sounds split open?
?my brain, trapped in its fortress.?
?
Suddenly, a silence clings to the air,?
?heavy and unmoving, settling in like dust.?
?My mother pulls me back with trembling force,?
?my father walks forward, his figure steady?
?starting to be swallowed by chaos.?
?
The screams explode, thick?
?like the smoke hanging in the distance,?
?it wraps around me, pressing into my chest.?
?I want to scream, to shatter the unbearable sounds,?
?but my voice is buried under the rubble of fear.?
?
Strollers, backpacks, a teddy bear, left behind,?
?the innocent litter of a moment never to be undone.?
?The sudden weight of a world turned fragile,?
?where laughter has fractured into fear.?
?
Mothers with arms flung out,?
?as if reaching can shield the sky.?
?Fathers grasping at the unprotectable.?
?
The sidewalk at 620 central avenue?
?forever stained red with organs?
?painting the sidewalk over smeared chalk?
?of an American Flag.?
?
A nation of storms, I am frayed under the weight of invisible wounds.?
Work in Progress
Mauna Loa Volcano & Kilauea Sister Volcano
The political and spiritual symbolism of Mauna Loa’s historic eruption
“We’re seeing new land, new geographical features being born right in front of our eyes, and there is no power — no human power — that can stop it or can deter it,” one Native Hawaiian scholar said.
“The Native people have been saying this isn’t your place to extract and profit from anymore,” said Kaniela Ing, co-founder of Native Hawaiian-focused organization Our Hawaii and a former state legislator. “You don’t have authority to shape our sacred lands.”
The eruption, Ing said, “is Pelehonuamea saying, ‘They’re right. My people are right.’”
The deity Pele, often referred to as “Tutu Pele,” or Grandmother Pele, has been regarded as an ancestor who “creates new land” as hardened, molten lava adds to the surrounding terrain.
— KU’UALOHA HO’OMANAWANUI, AUTHOR OF “VOICES OF FIRE: REWEAVING THE LITERARY LEI OF PELE AND HI’IAKA.”
Mauna Loa, on the island of Hawai’i and alongside the dormant, snowcapped volcano Mauna Kea, is expected to continue erupting for weeks. Thus far, the lava flow has significantly slowed and does not pose a threat to communities, the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency said. However, authorities expect it to eventually reach Daniel K. Inouye Highway, which is less than four miles away, in roughly a week or more.
Today as we traveled from Michigan into Canada
across the twin cities of Salt Ste. Marie….
on the 300 miles of this journey…we learned a little more history….
The name Canada most likely came from the Huron-Iroquois word Kanata
meaning village or settlement…
A frenchmen used it to name the entire country
before the Hurons could tell him exactly what it meant.
We are currently near Lake Ontario which also got it’s name from the Iroquois.
The legend says from an Iroquois chief’s daughter
who when she saw the lake said kandario…which means sparkling water.
We have been on Lake Superior…named Gitchi-Gami by the Ojibwe
this means Big Sea Water…and she is a beautiful lake
In Longfellow’s poem Hiawatha…he called it Gitchi-Gumi by mistake.
We have felt the waters of Lake Michigan…a little boat trip we did take….
the Anishinabe called it mishigami …which simply means…big lake
We have driven my Lake Huron another beautiful place to be.
The Wyandot called it karegnondi which roughly translated means
freshwater sea
.
And we spend the next 2 days on Nipissing Lake…meaning little water
A name the Ojibwe chose to keep
because the crystal clear waters of this lake are not so very deep
It seems all around us on this trip…we’ve seen and tried to understand
how we travel over the footprints or on the shoulders
of those who first walked this land.
We have gained a new appreciation…of all they saw
the mountains, the rivers, the lakes…the plains and the buffalo too
of how they lived…of their philosophy…and of all they have gone through,
We offer them our thanks
we only wish we could go back in time…and change our history….
and we wonder if things had played out differently….
what kind of beauty in our world the would see.
Oh my Love! The throb and thrill of my life!
Why remain so elusive like will-o’- the- wisp?
Why vanish quickly like a delightful dream
Why fade out like a symphony sweet?
Won’t you come to me to ease my pain
To herald for me a new dawn
To transport me to worlds intangible
To be ever with me as my guardian angel
Hold my hand when I am about to fall
Help me set new goals when I am lost
Make me laugh when I am low
Infuse courage when I develop cold feet
Show me dew drops that I can see diamonds
Feed me with home fare that I may taste Ambrosia
Gift me a rose that a thousand blooms instantly burst open
Talk high of me that rainbows may arch around my sky
Why take your glance off, if you do so, I will wither like a flower
If you show a cold shoulder, I am sure to grow frozen inside
If you speak roughly, I would hear rumblings of thunder in my ear
If you turn your back, my heart will break into shards
Like the setting sun nose diving into the depths,
Like two streams that flow and merge as one,
And travel miles to run down to the sea
Let us plunge into eternity to be in love ever and anon!
Placed Third
10, December 2021
My Significant 2021 Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Beta Agustin
As coffee cups go mine's very pretty
With butterflies and flowers thereon
Not very masculine I must admit
But welcome at the crack of dawn
Stumbling my way down to the kitchen
At six o'clock on the dot
Dragging my body bumping into things
Arms flailing reaching for the pot
The first sip goes down kinda roughly
I shake and shudder giving thanks
My body tingles right down to my tootsies
That stuff can sure turn my crank
Been thinking of taking it intravenously
That's when there's no turning back
When you fall headlong over the precipice
And have serious withdrawal attacks
But to top it all off this substance is legal
How cool is that my good friends
When stuff can give you this much of a buzz
It's bound to be illegal in the end
So far so good and until further notice
You can drink it openly if you wish
But as soon as it goes the way of marijuana
That's a whole different kettle of fish
I sat on the floor of the pavement,
Sun shining on my face.
It had been ages since I saw the sun.
It always evoked a feeling of pure pleasure,
Though the one I always remember
It was the rising of the sun from behind purple hills.
There was so much beauty in the world.
But not for me. Everybody forsook me.
People came, and people went. Neglected by all.
It was never a good morning for me.
Someone gave me a paper plate with something on it.
I knew there was nothing but mud on it.
I put it on the ground and heard the laughter
Of some youths who had dared.
I said nothing but felt the rumbling in my stomach.
I had not eaten the day before, and I felt weak.
Then another plate came—a piping hot dog.
At last, someone remembered. I ate it slowly.
It was all covered with chilli that was too hot to taste.
I was hungry and ate it slowly, trying unsuccessfully
Remove the chilli and hope for some water.
But no one offered.
Nothing else happened that day till I felt the sunset.
Some policemen roughly told me to go home to my wife.
But did I have a home? Did I have a wife?
Both had long disappeared when I lost my sight.
I hobbled to a lonely low bridge, tapping my white stick
And rested there forsaken by all until the next morn.
Note: This did happen, but not to me.
FLASH FLOOD- -
The rain drops like a flashy door;
Drivers walk like dead cars waters everywhere
Misty, dead trucks loudly drive a dark, dry rain.
Dusty, grimy streets roughly desire a dusty, grimy driver
To each his own, to own his each waters everywhere;
All girls drive grimy, those dry workers
Misty, dead trucks loudly drive a dark, dry rain
Dusty, grimy streets roughly desire a dusty, grimy driver
Whom are still in placed in doors?
Faith is a dark corner waters everywhere
Misty, dead trucks loudly drive a dark, dry rain
Dusty, grimy streets roughly desire a dusty, grimy driver
Despair is a hidden light;
Eat calmly like a grimy toddler out of sight;
Misty, dead trucks loudly drive a dark, dry rain
Waters rising everywhere
Dusty, grimy streets roughly desire a dusty, grimy driver
Mustn’t get wet, in this soaked process… waters everywhere
Flashflood…
7/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.