Long Seconds Poems
Long Seconds Poems. Below are the most popular long Seconds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seconds poems by poem length and keyword.
Hold me like there is no tomorrow
Like our aching hearts melting beneath weary skins
Will melt an eternity of days waiting ahead
To spin us in a drowning wave of sentiments
Incapable of air that’ll revive us
Hold me like our arms record the seconds they intertwine
To replay over and over in longing minds
that stab a boundless rerun of memories
Repeating themselves endlessly in the quietest of nights
Nights that do not have your arms pulling me
towards shoulders that never tire of my weight
Or kisses stolen quickly on ignorant lips
Distracting you away from the inevitable
And it tires me to not hold you after I have held you
Push my lips away from yours after I have locked an endless forever in them
So come back
And hold me again
And let my lips take back what was lost
Out of Trenches (WW1)
Out of trenches, we met face to face,
A young Soldier, probably about my age.
With rifle in hand we quavered,
My head, urging me to engage.
Our tunics were muddied and damp,
The ground soft and uneasy underfoot.
Gun fire and screams in the distance,
Torn faces, pitted and blackened like soot.
Staring deeply, feeling pain for each other,
Crying inwardly but shedding no tear.
Silent, frozen, entranced and lost in time,
Dear God, please take me away from here.
I recall my Mother’s words, stay safe Son,
Has his Mother would have said to him.
Motionless and numb we stand,
The situation is hopeless and grim.
We stood there about sixty seconds,
Though honestly it felt so much longer.
Do I shoot first, or surrender and die,
Am I the weaker, or am I the stronger?
Rapid fire thoughts, pass through me,
This battle is futile, no one can win.
The Warlords sit safely in command,
Gorging victory with bottles of Gin.
Are you alright Smiffy, a voice shouts?
A shot; the young soldier lies dead.
With intense pain, I fall to my knees,
It’s over now, a bullet hits my forehead.
Standing by the gates as they open,
The Young Soldier and I wait in line.
Neither of us, could have shot the other,
I was killed by his brother, and he by mine.
devastatingly, grievously, inconsolably,
got hexed, issued jilted livingsocial, a less
son learned to late, how maddeningly mess
say yon nick lee infuriated, not accepting press
sing ill fate, nor countenancing fatal injustice,
refusing to curtsy fiendish inxs did piss
her off (poisoned scorpion sting) remiss
cheekily peppering psyche as if Swiss
cheese, a once spunky Arthur Murray shored
dance instructor, who scored
door prize in the guise of thee less torte sured
near nonagenarian papa, where meanness poured
from grim mortal outlook parlayed moored
deadly reaper, quashed, ruined as lord
stole, sacred maternal tribal nurse, unfairly did hoard
final precious seconds unexpectedly meant un explored
positive rapport forever undergirded "door"
closed to resolve ambivalence with venerable bead
did association between
kith and kin, unfairly
dead poet society lettered deed
wrested a vibrant life despite zest that freed
a vibrant gal to coast along dialed up esprit
de corps spirit to live, yet greed
of metastatic cancer upended lead,
where mind over matter, sans power
in positive thinking rubric and plead
ding didst kill last ditch homeopathic screed
ambitions trumped, thus giving up the ghost
wracking sadness, sinking sorrow spilling most
lee tears of loss, among family, fellow Unitarians
of the Thomas Paine Fellowship
included with your obituary post.
In those bleak fields that so quietly lie - stilled as graves,
Between where the thin wind creaks and upwardly heaves,
Unseen feet can sometimes be heard
Shuffling through the old woods discarded leaves.
For i have seen those strange distant lights
That detach themselves from heavens spilling crowds;
When dropping over the blindside of the little ridge
They rise to leap from cloud to cloud.
Impossible angles of inexplicable darting momentum -
Inwardly gyrating wheels now ingeniously turning;
Marvelous these the strange crafts of unknown design...
Yes - I have seen the night skies burning!
For well i remember as a reckless child
How i stole out to ascend that one forbidden hill:
Cast deep plans, set the clock ticking accordingly,
Rose, wrapped myself against Novembers raw chill.
Deep inside the Beech-hanger the Plough was struggling,
And over the despairing holt a devisive breeze...
As, of a sudden, on the edge of swirling darkness -
Showered particles upon vapourous ethers so violently seized!
Oh the hissing bolts of sizzling electrons -
Brilliance of colours like a dying meteors last rites!
Anti-Graviton paradox of mastered equational conundrum
Igniting the latent freeze within winters sharp night.
Radiant orb held aligned by polar-opposites forceful lines,
Spinning upon a singular point with such consummate ease;
Roaring furiously liken fabled dragon of Arthurian legend,
Hot breath licking across lines of illuminated trees.
Momentary seconds that crept alongside an age enraptured
Amidst tumbling thoughts of - "Just another Alien abductee"!
Then, gently tilting starboard, accelerating smoothly away,
Vanishing over the stacks and tiled rooftops of nearby Walton-Lea.
Often have i wistfully pondered in ever hopeful, watchful years:
What was it so witnessed as it hung before me in suspended flight?
And - with many cramming thoughts - groping for answers sought -
Recalling the wondrous moment of such an awe-inspiring sight!
So, here we are again
standing at the gates of time
wondering how, why, where and when
the old clock ticked by without a chime.
Three hundred and sixty five
danced as if to last forever
but the seconds and minutes are alive
as days are weeks and months untethered.
Another year slips by
more easily than each day of laughter
while the joy and tears both, make us cry
and life moves on with little to no happily ever after.
So, for the New Year 2018 arriving
greet the hour and its promises in hand
with open arms and sincere striving
to make democracy and freedom law of the land.
Dear Love
Today was beautiful
I sipped coffee
Steam
Winds above
My cup
Over my head
and
i got lost in space
in my happy place
Dear love
Today I ran
through fall leaves
as
colors changed
I stood in awe
and wished
you
could
be here
I want to roll
in
big leaf piles with you
tossing them so they float above us
even if its for a few seconds
in this
haven
Do you believe in this life
Because one day I dream of being your wife
Dear love,
There is so much left for me to do
I want
to
protect the unprotected
I want to fight
for
Justice
because there is nothing
like it
I know I am meant for something much bigger
but I know
that I am meant
only for you
I know it is unexpected,
But isn't this what life was meant for
A Series of
Excitement.
not today, not tomorrow
BUT
in the end i want to save you from life's sorrows.
Dear love,
I am not asking for much
Your fast intake of breath
makes me spin
But dear love
its clear
that
Experiencing
Lifes unanticipated pleasures
Its just completely mind boggling
To picture anyone else
being there.
Time is not justly counted by increments...
like a pie all crust can have space without filling
it disappoints –
too much wasted by reluctant planning –
few visions of living ever leaving the station of
Excursion – like a dynasty of tempting brochures culminating in
tenure, that far more brave and less credentialed travel faithfully
outright...
Triumph's Reckless Youth vs Pompous Charted Night
such licensed surveyors expose dark by tiny bits called
stars, seeing only seconds, oblivious to stuffed longer
gigantic days' leaps packed into uncharted universes
time shallowly used is soul
and spirit only outside basted,
exterior roast__toast
while the bloody inside
left yearning release,
for its surface~ burning!
when time is too contemplated,
measured, set in plates of orderly
rations – seasoned but only tasted
(a belly denied lumps of glutenous
impulsive passions)
it is a written novel
with no real claims
to glory....
Time then...is only Time
dimly expressing God's timeless
true story
Life Of The Imagination
Imagination has never had a bath or shower
It does not know of soap
Plays with itself for hours
Hanging from a rope
Hopes for handouts
There are no places it can’t go
In dirty crevasses in dark shadows
It takes chances with glass and wire
Wine becomes expired in its mind
Meandering with tigers, gliding off of stars, where parsecs spark
Falls back into dark matter of inner space
Imagination visits here on Earth for merely seconds
Swings out to a nova blast without its nova cane
And again comes here to the home planet to drink square particles of rain
It named its first 10 children candy
None of them were sweet
The next 10 he called Mortimer
Bought them homes by buffer zones near Kansas
On Christmas it lays Easter eggs on pine needles
Pine trees are used as tooth picks in all seasons
At Thanksgiving it pitches forks
Imagination has no fear of anything accept divorce
It writes the laws in crayon while dancing through the canyons
There are fleeting moments that can never pass beyond its grasp
There are things in space and time that even chance can’t handle
Sometimes Imagination takes me places
I really don’t want to go, without my sandals on
He is my friend but wakes me up at midnight
Places pen and paper in my hand and makes me work
While he just sits there counting sheep and eating candy
Remembering they were his children
None of them were sweet
I wish sometimes imagination would fall right off the Earth
After all, he’s the one who calls it flat
For what that’s worth
“50 Words for Poe: dactyl”
When Terror Fell came
he had no complaints
the joint was jumping
it was do or dare
he offered Her his old pear
the porridge here was so glum
She closed the door
to the window of his cell
and sucked on Her plum
She was thinking, a dangerous thing in itself, indeed,
that next time peaches, not pears would be fun
She’d tighten his straight jacket some
fingers and toes to be free
She’d observe him for a while
there was the pressing issue
of The Others let loose on the run
joie de vivre, gone all bat**** wild
there was still the report to write
an extra dose of Laudanum prescribed
She’d blindfold him and buzz him electric
then instruct him to write poems didactic
delusions of grandeur
fingers and toes playing piano
with the other dementors to be denied
he was manic - full of too much ego and arrogant hurt pride
All in a day’s work
He was safe in his cell
or so he thought ...
counting numbers
the seconds tick by
he'd gladly wait
for Hell's Bride
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/mGYUV76Lhic
“In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.”
https://youtu.be/CoA4goulmMo
“Silver dust
lifted from the earth
higher than my arms reach,
you have mounted.
O silver,
higher than my arms reach
you front us with great mass;
no flower ever opened
so staunch a white leaf
no flower ever parted silver
from such rare silver;
O white pear
your flower-tufts,
thick on the branch,
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.”
(H.S. 1886 - 1961, The Pear Tree)
https://youtu.be/PgqHi5HkBRk
"before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass"
For the Lost, out of their cell still serving time in Hell.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d#tab-poems
Digital fuzz in my ears
And I'm blowing bubbles
Watching them burst
In mirrored sunlight
This is what you get
Take it from the bottom
And tear it up to the top
Such fractured intellectualism
They call me a whore
Because I inject dictionary entries
They call me pissant
Because I'm too idealist
Paint streaks of black
In the midday sky
Corruption bred from innocence
And innocence bred from naivety
Ridicule my visage
Insult my scientific method
Reject my joy
Inebriate my passion
Deconstruct a lifetime
Within mere seconds
And it hurts so bad
It hurts so bad
Everything up is down
Everything east is west
Everything inside is out
Everything so vile
Drill holes in my head
Let the demons out to play
If it makes you happy
Just watch me cry