Long Seventeen Poems
Long Seventeen Poems. Below are the most popular long Seventeen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seventeen poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Carmena was born in Bolivia
but left that place at seventeen,
after three years of waiting for the chance
to live out an American dream.
When her folks finally got their green cards
they moved up into old Santa Fe,
Carmena finished out her high school years
picking up on all American ways.
She’d known some English before she had come,
but her vocab expanded real quick,
immersed in the tongue every day
her accent softened and became less thick.
This helped a lot in her father’s new shop,
he bought a gas station in a franchise,
Carmena waited on all walks of life,
and the experience opened her eyes.
She’d chat with truckers and travelers
from all over the fifty great states,
lefty Californians, southern good-ol’ boys,
northern Yankees and Texans hauling steaks.
Mid-westerners who were so crazy nice,
New Yorkers who always sounded pissed off,
good-natured rednecks looking for more beer,
even some Yoopers with their funny talk.
Learned more of her new home on that roadside
then she did in any public school,
what would divide and what would unite,
but the one thing that really stuck her as cool
was that Americans, the better ones,
made everything subservient to choice.
Culture and skin, ethnicity and faith,
you had the freedom to ignore and avoid.
These facts struck her as how things should be,
had not every person a claim to these rights?
Here force of law was meant to make free
people to be the driving force in their lives.
And best of all, she heard all sides of things,
good for thought, both the grease and gourmet,
when seven years passed, and she took that oath,
she became American in so many ways.
But then something happened she didn’t expect,
it came about in an election year,
talking with her friend Sue about the vote
she was greeted with anger and fear.
Carmena was confused,"Why the harsh look?
I was just sharing the thoughts on my mind.
I believe in gun rights, and low taxes,
My father’s shop has been having a time—”
Sue interrupted,”Do you hate yourself?!
Don’t you know that you’re a Hispanic?
You’re betraying your own kind, voting this way,
colored people should vote Democratic!”
Carmena was stunned, struggled to reply,
“But I see nothing good in their beliefs.”
Sue just fumed,”You’re a damn race-traitor,
or brain-washed by fascist enemies!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Philippines, my country of birth,
one of the countries in Southeast Asia.
It is an archipelago or group of islands,
with more than seven thousand islands.
Luzon, the largest island in the northern
part of the country, is where I was born
and where Manila, the capital is located.
Manila, the city known as Pearl of the Orient.
Magellan, the Portuguese explorer for Spain
claimed the archipelago in fifteen hundred
twenty one, named the islands Las Felipinas
or The Philippines, after King Phillip II of Spain.
Philippines was colonized more than three
hundred years, from fifteen hundred sixty five
until eighteen hundred ninety eight and ruled
under Mexico-based Viceroyalty of New Spain.
Manila was called Pearl of the Orient Seas
by the historian/Jesuit priest Juan Jose Delgado
in seventeen hundred fifty one for being a way
of sea transactions during Asian trade of goods.
However, in Jose Rizal’s poem “My Last Farewell,”
he wrote before his execution by the Spanish
government for rebellion through his writings,
he stated his country as Pearl of the Orient.
So, Philippines, the country and not Manila,
the city became known as Pearl of the Orient,
upon the discovery of his poem after his execution
in December thirty, eighteen hundred ninety six.
Philippines is known as Pearl of the Orient for
its strategic location in Asia, rich biodiversity or
different kinds of plants and animals, natural
resources and its natural beauty and splendor.
The Spanish Crown called it Pearl of the Orient
for the country was a precious source of spices,
other resources and trade of goods, even prior to
their colonization to acquire a share in spice trade.
Philippines’ natural gem is south sea pearls
and it is renowned for cultivating south sea pearls.
The famous pearl in the country, known as The Pearl
of Lao Tzu, was considered the largest known pearl.
The pearl weighed fourteen pounds, found by a
Filipino diver in nineteen thirty four and later, a giant
pearl, the Pearl of Puerto weighing seventy five pounds,
found by a fisherman, both discovered in Palawan Island.
No doubt why The Philippines is called Pearl of the Orient,
the two biggest pearls were found in Palawan, Philippines.
Isn’t that the most obvious, sensible reason? I wonder……
Well, what do you think?...... Just asking……
I have tried to teach people
that saving ten dollars per week
together, as a group of people
can create wealth
If you invest each week
and help it grow,
you could buy off the internet
and sell through garage sales,
watch television
you could go to
secondhand markets
and sell at auctions
You can buy equipment
and start your own cleaning service
thousand of people could add to my ideas
one hundred people saving ten dollars per week
Could be used to buy houses
one thousand dollars per week
fifty-two thousand dollars per year
the deposit every year for a house
the planet has six billion people
six billion people times ten dollars per week
is sixty billion times fifty-two
the money to build anything
Desalination plants
factories
anything you can imagine
granted there would be problems
people buy houses
sometimes tenants won't pay rent
people buy, franchises
and some lose thousands
We can all watch the news
and see the risks of small business
five of six small shops
shut down, across the road from us
I presume, they could have made a profit
but some shops, never have customers
with rents wages and running cost
going into business is hard
yet if people don't go into business
nobody would have jobs
the word on the street, people say
companies get away
with not paying tax
maybe that's the truth
but companies pay wages
and workers pay tax from those wages
So indirectly companies do pay tax
I watched a female manager
who owned a coffee shop saying
it's not fair, the wages a too high
I can't take time off I can't afford the costs
every day she worked and struggled
to make a profit, business is hard
but growing small business
is what builds your economy
Mr Bill Gates started micro soft
from his back yard
now it makes
thousands of dollars per second
Imagine what he could do
with an investment
of sixty billion dollars per week
But I can't afford ten dollars per week
well that's true when people get only
seventeen cents an hour
when people live in poverty
Watching their children die
ten dollars per week
would be more than they could afford
That why I suggested
Encouraging Industrialized nations
employees to become investors first
ten dollars per week is just half a pack of smokes
you spend more going out to the pictures
Sophie, a fragile gentle soul,
In Freedom saw the greatest virtue,
The spring of love, the dawn of all
Destined to be the end of torture.
For her it was not quite the same,
It was the person's inner power.
That till the end would pave their way
And fill with sense each minute an hour.
...Sophie was only seventeen,
But life had left her all alone.
She'd disallowed all her kin,
She had no one to call her own.
She had just one but faithful friend -
Her own reflection in the mirror.
All people failed to understand
Her open mind, so pure and clear.
She used to gain the strength inside
From melancholy, never-ending.
Her sorrow she could not hide,
She was so helpless at pretending.
She didn't want to be the one
Of monochrome and deadly crowd;
Her solitude just let her run
From those she knew nothing about.
It was the Freedom of her choice -
Sophie had nothing more to treasure...
Each time she heard a ghostly voice
It brought her pain that couldn't be measured.
Her memories aroused tears,
She knew the good would've never happened.
She knew her Only One was near...
But only in her heart, so shattered.
She'd promised Him she'd live through that
When seeing Him die. She couldn't follow.
She wished she'd been with Him, but dead.
Her life seemed then so dim and hollow.
She wanted so much to die,
But couldn't break the promise, faithful,
For death would've meant just having lied.
Her consciousness she had to face. It
Hurt Sophie so much to breathe,
The time did pass - her grief did grow.
And every day was like the last
In all her life, for she did know
That life, destined to bring just pain,
Was no sign of Freedom, inner.
She, listening to the falling rain,
Made up her mind... to be a sinner,
With no regrets to leave the world -
No one would cry a single tear.
"Forgive me, Love, - were her last words, -
Again we'll be together, dear."
She longed to be forever free,
Forever young, forever charming.
It was her own choice to be
For always loved, for always loving.
...Her body, lifeless and supine
Was found in the lake next morning.
No one felt sympathy or cried,
Still no one showed a sign of mourning.
Sophie, forever young, and He
From shards and ashes built a kingdom.
The life was going on, still dim,
But she had chosen endless Freedom.
I am almost seventeen years old,
It is almost summer, and
My boyfriend and I are
Kissing with the
Lights off...
I tell him I don't want sex.
I wonder if this will be like
The time-
I am sixteen years old;
It's cold outside but
My boyfriend and I are
Kissing with the
Lights off-
He asks me if I want
To have sex...
When I say no, he tells me
It's okay- but his hands
Move to my body-
I still don't say yes,
But after a while,
He doesn't want to
See me as much anymore,
And I guess some other girl
Finally told him what
He wanted to hear
Because it turns out that
He's been cheating on me...
Then I am fifteen years old,
Being asked my age
And receiving disappointment
From the hands of the
Asker- always male-
Because my answer is
Three years less than
What he's asking for-
I am fourteen years old
And I stay home because
I have decided that
Boys are not worth
My time;
Not since-
I am thirteen years old,
And the same boy
That kissed me first time
Asks me to have sex.
We break up after
I say no.
I am twelve years old
And my first boyfriend
Kisses me for the first time
On my birthday...
He tells me that he will
Love me forever.
I am eleven years old
And sometimes I wish
I had a boyfriend.
I am ten years old-
Sometimes I wish
I was a grown-up.
I am nine years old-
I am eight years old-
I am seven years old
And playing with Barbies;
Barbie is on top of Ken
Because that's what
Grown-ups do
On television...
I am six years old-
I am five years old-
I throw a fit because
I am informed that
I will have to grow up
One day...
I am four years old
And Mommy and Daddy
No longer sleep in the
Same bed, now don't live
In the same house;
They explain to me and
The other kids that they
Are never getting back
Together, but it's not
Because they don't
Love us, they just
Have grown-up
Problems-
I am three years old-
When I have nightmares,
I crawl into bed
With Mommy and Daddy...
I don't know why they
Share a bed, but I guess
It's because they always
Want to be together-
I am two years old-
I am one year old-
I am a summer baby
Because my parents
Made me on Christmas,
And that's way more
Than a sixteen-year-old
Needs to hear...
I am almost seventeen years old,
It is almost summer, and
My boyfriend and I are
Kissing with the
Lights off...
I tell him I don't want sex.
He says okay...
It doesn't matter.
His hands move to
My face.
Arthur was 16 when he entered the system
i could never ask him why
he was too old when i met him
he was on soo many pills
and not very pleasant to talk to
he heard voices
he would sometimes get up and punch someone
but who knows if they deserved it
or not
after being in a mental institute
from the age of 16 until the day you die
wouldn't you go crazy
the first real guinea pig
i met him
i never cried for him and his pain
but he always wanted to check my shave,
perhaps a victim from some sick war crime
I'll never know
Graham is not from our country
and I've written amnesty international concerning his welfare
they say its not any of their concern
as he wears shackles and chains on a daily basis
and goes to the bathroom in a diaper and eats cold food like sandwiches
because he hits people
mainly his doctor who lies to him
in my opinion
just like the doctor lied to my dad about me trying to bite him,
but i have no proof
just lucky I'm not in chains
going to the bathroom in a diaper
I know he committed a crime but two years locked in one room
alone with a window curtain opening and closing to spy on you
is enough psychological insanity to inspire mania if you ask me
Andrew was a crack head
and held up some convenience stores for some money
so he could get drugs
now hes been in the funny farm for like twelve years
still trying to get a hold of his next hit
watching his youth disappear
watching his life fade away
jumping through the hoops of a system that holds your freedom above you
that may or may not ever grant it
Andrew ran away
gave it all he got
saw people chained to the wall
people dieing there from the age of 16 for ridiculous crud
and knew they were toying with him
so he ran away
now he on a unit where god only knows
what mind hell they're putting him through
what rainbows hes swallowing down
Shelley was the meanest woman i had ever met
but it was always worth seeing her smile
don't know haven't figured out if the drugs really helped her
but she was in that place since she was seventeen
and died in a group home from some sickness
they claim wasn't related to her meds
I'm no fool, the stuff they pump us full of is deadly and toxic
i never made it to Shelly's funeral to see her murderers
there crying fake tears
for someone they would never really miss
Contained within a simple poem, a few words could never describe my mother.
A child bride at seventeen; a city girl became a farmer's wife.
She never complained about tending the fields, one row after another.
My mom loved her new husband and her new way of life.
A mother at nineteen, thank goodness for my Aunt Chloe.
"No hospital for me," my young mother said. "I will not go!"
Delivered by my granny, I was told Mom kissed my head to show
she loved me though I'd caused her cries of pain and woe.
Cooking was not Mom's forte'. She burned so many meals,
but Dad loved her anyway for giving him two girls and a boy.
Times were often rough but to us it was not a big deal.
We were happy to be loved, a gift better than any game or toy.
Mom was always cheerful, except when we did something wrong.
A spanking was on the agenda, and we knew it was deserved.
A smack or two was all she delivered, then she sang us a song.
No lack of love did mom have for me, it was never reserved.
Farming was not an easy life...crops ruined by summer hail.
In just a few minutes everything was lost, but Mom wore a smile.
"Don't worry. It'll be okay. I'm getting a job delivering the mail."
She left early in the morning, walking to mail boxes mile after mile.
Bereaved as a widow, my mother cried softly upon my shoulder.
I gave her comfort as she did me for the loss of husband and dad.
Always close in times of need, I took care of Mom when I was older.
Hurricane Katrina took her house, but not the memories she had.
I moved away for several years but came home to visit in June.
Mom's hazel eyes reflected her love for me and the man I married.
Six months later, I sat on the porch gazing at the full moon.
My sister called, but her voice was sad. I knew why she tarried.
I knew what she couldn't put into words. Mom had passed away.
Oh, the agony of not being there... my tears fall as I write.
To my mom, the beautiful young wife and mother, I'd say,
I pray you knew how much I loved you...
A star fell from the sky tonight.
_______________________
December 25th, 2015
About My Mom Contest
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Sophie, a fragile gentle soul,
In Freedom saw the greatest virtue,
The spring of love, the dawn of all
Destined to be the end of torture.
For all it was not quite the same,
It was the person's inner power.
That till the end would pave their way
And fill with sense each minute an hour.
...Sophie was only seventeen,
But life had left her all alone.
She'd disallowed all her kin,
She had no one to call her own.
She had just one but faithful friend -
Her own reflection in the mirror.
All people failed to understand
Her open mind, so pure and clear.
She used to gain the strength inside
From melancholy, never-ending.
Her sorrow she could not hide,
She was so helpless at pretending.
She didn't want to be the one
Of monochrome and deadly crowd;
Her solitude just let her run
From those she knew nothing about.
It was the Freedom of her choice -
Sophie had nothing more to treasure...
Each time she heard a ghostly voice
It brought her pain that couldn't be measured.
Her memories aroused tears,
She knew the good would've never happened.
She knew her Only One was near...
But only in her heart, so shattered.
She'd promised Him she'd live through that
When seeing Him die. She couldn't follow.
She wished she'd been with Him, but dead.
Her life seemed then so dim and hollow.
She wanted so much to die,
But couldn't break the promise, faithful,
For death would've meant just having lied.
Her consciousness she had to face. It
Hurt Sophie so much to breathe,
The time did pass - her grief did grow.
And every day was like the last
In all her life, for she did know
That life, destined to bring just pain,
Was no sign of Freedom, inner.
She, listening to the falling rain,
Made up her mind... to be a sinner,
With no regrets to leave the world -
No one would cry a single tear.
"Forgive me, Love, - were her last words, -
Again we'll be together, dear."
She longed to be forever free,
Forever young, forever charming.
It was her own choice to be
For always loved, for always loving.
...Her body, lifeless and supine
Was found in the lake next morning.
No one felt sympathy or cried,
Still no one showed a sign of mourning.
Sophie, forever young, and He
From shards and ashes built a kingdom.
The life was going on, still dim,
But she had chosen endless Freedom.
I just read the poem that you e-mailed to me,
and I never knew just how painful this would be.
There are so many words that I'm wanting to say
to you, so many feelings I've kept locked away.
It started off fine with just talking online,
now I'm starting to find that I can't leave behind
all these feelings I've tried all these years to erase.
They came flooding back in when your beautiful face
was before me again in that picture you sent;
and I just can't believe all these years that I've spent
trying just to forget, wanting just to believe
it was over, but God, I just cannot decieve
my own heart. And i need you to please understand
that I'm trying my best to do all that I can
to let go, be your friend,I just don't want to hurt you,
but holding it in is not one of my virtues.
I'm telling you this, and you don't need to listen;
but I do love you, and I know I've been missing
that peice of my heart that you took as you drove away,
knowing damned well we both had so much more to say.
I never thought that I'd say this again,
but I miss you so much, and I just can't pretend
through these long conversations, these feelings were sharing
that I'm over you while the memories are tearing
my conscience apart, wishing you were here with me.
My heart doesn't lie..for these words...please forgive me.
Seventeen years ago, December fifth,
we stood in your doorway and shared our first kiss.
If i would have known then the things I know now,
you'd be here by my side; i just didn't know how
to be everything that you needed me to be,
and it hurts to know now how i just couldn't see
that it just didn't matter, you loved me because
not who I had become, only for who I WAS
before taking a drink, before losing myself,
before alcohol turned me into someone else.
So I'm looking back now, as the memories reveal
it was never your fault,so you don't have to feel
that you failed me, in truth you did all that you could,
and if I could change everything, trust me, I would.
Writing this poem's one last effort to say
I'll continue to love you through every day.
I'll always look back on us without regret,
and it's good to know now that YOU didn't forget.
Ten years ago, you gave birth to our son.
And now that he knows me, my life's just begun.
THANK YOU