Long Shadows Poems
Long Shadows Poems. Below are the most popular long Shadows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shadows poems by poem length and keyword.
The sky breaks into mauve moths,
fluttering against the unlighted bathroom window.
Three minutes ago, it was a solid, stern day,
now the trees rustle and tap with purple rain,
and the sun has been hidden
by a secret mountain that wasn’t there before.
The insect of thought retracts its claws,
wilting in the lavender hour.
Perfume of light hangs heavy in the hallway,
while the tap listens for footsteps that never come.
The horizon bleeds red,
a slow, velvet hemorrhage,
and shadows blend into a silent, watery, inverted sky.
It is all over:
The horses have forgotten how to run,
and the moon is busy hanging glass stars on the pines.
It weaves a new net for the waking dream.
Piece Of A Broken Heart
Reaching through the shadows in search of peace of mind.
Nothing could prepare him for the truth that he would find.
A piece of something still unknown and yet known from the start.
What he now held in his hand is a piece of a broken heart.
As he held it tenderly and touched it with his finger.
He began to see his memories and the place where they all linger.
He was still a little boy in what looked like some old movie.
Riding bikes with all his friends and life seemed almost groovy.
Suddenly the picture fades and goes to black and white.
He was even younger still and it’s very late at night.
Underneath the covers his heart is filled with fear.
He can hear them screaming he knows the monster’s here.
Overwhelmed by his emotion this grown man starts to cry.
Remembering his mother and the bruise beneath her eye.
Holding onto this small piece he can’t watch anymore.
Tears all flow and he lets go and that piece hits the floor.
He watches as it rolls away feeling hopelessness and shame.
As it rolls back to the shadows from where it once had came.
Tears subside but he can’t hide what’s forgotten remains true.
Wishing only for the peace of mind instead of what was true.
Edwin C Hofert
4. Put on the dauntless spirit of resolution. - William Shakespeare
Because He is, because He lives…
I know what it means to love, to give,
To share the light with those who can see,
Past the shadows, past the sorrows,
Into the love that abides through all tomorrows,
Through all the darkest pain, through
All the doubt that tries to complain away,
The beautiful in the soul who can see…
He is the answer to every doubt, all anxiety.
He is the reason that I will always believe…
Without Him beside me, I don’t have the strength.
Without Him inside me, I don’t have the faith,
Without Him providing, I don’t have a chance…
Through whatever I face, I know He is the way.
With Him, I have the strength, the faith, the chance…
To make it past the worst, into a love that assures,
A love that comes from above, a love that silences
Every worry – a love that is mine forevermore…
A love that is mine because He has saved my soul,
Written my name in the Lamb’s book of life,
Sealed my fate, so when I contemplate the truth…
I know that He is the reason for love in each season,
He is the hope, the joy and peace – the music…
God plays through the notes of His sweet grace!
Forever and ever… I’ll always praise Him!
Because He is love, my heart will rise above…
All the sorrows, the struggles and fears,
All the reasons I have for weeping sad tears.
Because He is love, my spirit grows stronger…
Supported by the One who makes my life brighter.
Because He is love, my soul will grow wings,
Flying through the light that reflects all my dreams.
Because He is love, my heart is filled with peace,
Knowing that, with Him, I’ll never need to doubt.
Because He is love… He silences each storm.
Because He is love… He reassures and overcomes.
Because He is love… my heart He has won.
Because He is love…I’ll never need to run.
Because He is love…He’ll always be the One…
Who I’ll praise through every struggle,
Through every sorrow and pain,
Through the darkest night…
Because He holds my heart,
And He truly is my everything!
Beauty and the Beast
In twilight shadows, where moonlight fades,
A maiden fair, with eyes so bright,
Did dwell within a castle tall and white,
Her hair was pure, her spirit free,
But destiny had planned a different fate for thee,
For deep within the forest dark and cold,
Lived a beast most foul, with heart turned old,
His roar echoed through the silent night,
As he searched for beauty's sweet delight,
One fateful eve, their paths did cross,
And through they differed, love took its toll,
The maiden brave, did melt his icy soul,
And with a kiss, their hearts did take control,
Thus began a tale of true love's might...
This flower that gives more than any other
Is sure to be a blessing to those who recover
From illness and blight
Brought from dark shadows to light
To discover its natural gift
Of healing and lift
To those who need most
The beauty of nature's repose
That allows us all to be healthier
Our lives, our hearts, our spirits with less barriers
This intrinsic answer so simply stated
Dear cannabis flower so anciently created
For those whose illness has taken its toll
With the pain and affliction we all know
Relinquishing the suffering of those that need you
This flower that gives more than any other
Is now to be a blessing for those to recover
October 29, 2019
Writing Challenge, October Flower
Sponsored by Wiishkobi Ode
Beneath the palm trees, silence weeps,
Where fields of sorrow hold secrets deep.
Echoes linger, soft yet clear,
The cries of the people that the world wouldn't hear.
Tamils, the people who are proud and strong,
Their voices are lost in history's song.
The government let our history be in blunder,
So let them suffer by a strike of thunder.
In Mullivaikkal's shadowed shore,
Footsteps fade, return no more.
Innocence lost in fury of fire,
Dreams consumed, and hope to expire.
The cries of the people are unheard and unseen,
Echo-like shadows where peace had been.
Our expressions have been gloomy and blue,
As this gruesome genocide had been a taboo.
Children's laughter stilled by war,
Mothers and wives waiting by an empty door.
An ancient language, a culture so bright,
Bore to witness to the darkest night.
A resilient culture, where hearts bled,
In every grain, are the tears we shed.
Our tears pour down like a waterfall,
As we are under the government's horrific thrall.
Bullets and voices drowned,
Yet the heart of the people beat unbound.
In the ashes, stories breathe,
Of love, of loss, of grief.
A genocide veiled by silent vast,
Wounds that live in the echoes of the past.
A woman wails like a banshee,
To hope to find an end to this grievous genocide.
We remember forgetting is a sin,
The lives that ended, the truth within.
Justice calls from distant cries,
Where the spirit of the people never dies.
Their spirit, broken and defiant,
Bearing the truth like a roaring giant.
The place where the tigers used to rule,
Is now the place where we are used as mules.
Tamils endure; their spirit is strong,
In every tear in every song.
The world may turn its face away,
But the memories rise within the dawn each day.
For justice, for peace, let us strive,
To keep their memory, their spirit alive.
Oh, let a saviour be born to protect and serve,
So could you help us be in peace and preserve?
A beggar has got bread from a door
The thread of survival
A slice of sky smiling on a pink petal
And for me
In the void, appears a boundless sea
And the bard is impatient
Till the buzz from his word-paint
Versifies the lyrically human moment
Poetry is fomented by arousal and associations
A graceful process of
Deconstruction and reconstruction
Of the dancing shadows
A concentrated illumination
Of your reality
With my lamps of desire and imagination
Wearing a shirt of rustling dry leaves
There stands
A story of weeping wounds
Shards of tears and trauma
In my nostril a human aroma
Shaping out fond filigree of emotion
Warm and cold
Stroke in the folds
And when you look intense
Craving the chocolate words of my pen
Provoking a tomato like glow
In my bone marrow
Instantly arrives the bird
And stirred is the light in the gem
A sure poem
Like the meandering river
In the falling leaves
In the painting brush of the sun and cloud
Silent as well as loud
Sit the metaphors
Waiting merrily to be caressed in a poem
Or else
To what end are they born?
Guitar of golden corn
And when an irresistible leaf
From your trembling window
Falls on my thirsty grass
Alphabets sparkle and spontaneously combine
In valentine
Boats from the river sail in
Into the passionate hemoglobin
Life is always ready
With stupendous recipes
For our poetry
Provided the quick chemistry is there
In profound red and sky blue
Between me and you
A crimson brew
____________________________________
21/01/2017
While checking out a supposedly haunted house
I made my way down into a crypt-like cellar.
All I could hear was the scurrying of a mouse,
but it felt spooky, as though the shadows had eyes.
And I wasn't so sure my being here was wise,
this decrepit old house might still have a dweller.
All the other kids warned me to stay far away,
vehemently swearing screams were heard late at night.
I thought I'd be safe in the middle of the day,
but I can sense an evil presence lurking here.
And my pounding heart's pumping fast, fueled by fear
as I run and don't stop till it's well out of sight.
(Rhyme)
3/30/2018
“He Is There in the Dark”
When shadows fall and hope feels thin,
And silence echoes deep within,
When answers hide and strength runs low,
There is a Light you still can know.
Though night may veil the path ahead,
And dreams lie still or filled with dread,
The Lord is near—He does not sleep,
His watchful love is strong and deep.
He dwells not just in skies so bright,
But in the folds of deepest night.
The cloud by day, the fire by flame,
Both whisper softly: He’s the same.
In Sinai’s dark, where Moses stood,
God met him there, and called it good.
In hidden wombs, in silent cries,
His sovereign hand still sanctifies.
When grief surrounds and tears descend,
He does not leave, He does not bend.
His lamp will light your darkest place,
His arms will hold you in His grace.
No realm too far, no soul too lost,
No storm too fierce, no pain too cost.
For Christ, the Light, has pierced the gloom,
And turned the grave into a womb.
So trust Him now, though skies are gray,
He walks beside you all the way.
The night may linger, but not win—
His morning mercy breaks within.
Mother, if I hadn't been your daughter, you would have run free like the wind,
a dandelion flower dancing carefree, without the burden of tomorrow,
without chains and labels, just you and a clear sky.
Mother, if I hadn't been your daughter, you would have traveled on the train of tranquility,
an endless journey just for you, without obligations and worries,
only the sweet murmur of your own happiness, without the noise of the world.
Mother, if I hadn't been your daughter, you would have been a butterfly in the gentle breeze,
without the rush of mornings and the fatigue of unfinished dreams,
a light dream carried by the wind, untouched by time and space.
Mother, if I hadn't been your daughter, you would have surpassed these silent walls,
your sacrifices would have been just shadows of the past,
and you would have been the pure light beyond the hurried mornings.
Mother, I see the burden of silence and the weight behind your smile,
the dreams you buried for love, the unspoken secrets,
but I will live for you, I will follow the paths you left.
And I know, when I do, you will be the happiest among us,
but in any world, in any time, I will always choose to be your daughter.