Long Shouts Poems
Long Shouts Poems. Below are the most popular long Shouts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shouts poems by poem length and keyword.
When the sh*t hits the fan and the plates hit the walls
And Mummy’s voice screeches, “You ain’t got the balls”
The sound of wood splintering leaves kids with hunches
That once again Daddy ain’t pulling his punches
At least it was wood this time - unlike before
When what Daddy fractured was not just a door
And Daddy’s voice shouts, ‘I work all that I’m able
but when I come home, I want food on the table!”
Upstairs, the children cannot speak their fears
Three kids on their beds with their hands on their ears
While five year old Lucy is wiping her tears
And Tommy chants ‘La La’ to drown what he hears
But ten year old Gerry, wise, for a young lad
Has a best friend with a Saturday Dad
He seems to get by, and he states with a sigh
“I get to go places… and Mum doesn’t cry.”
With siblings sent ‘up’ with no food in their tummy
Because Daddy had to, “Have words with your Mummy.”
Gerry, would get them the food they were lacking
He wasn’t surprised to find Daddy was packing
He’d taken a chance when the rows turned to silence
Which had to be better than out and out violence
Daddy said, “Don’t creep about like a mouse…
from now on, Son… you are the man of the house.”
Lucy was young and she idolised Dad
Tommy was older and, for a while, bad
But Gerry now charged with his own father’s plan
At just ten years old… became a young man
And with Daddy gone to a town far away
Gerry stayed home till his mum had gone grey
But one day she had a new man on her hand
And Gerry was happy to make his own stand
Twas eighteen months later this very deep thinker
Let a girl get to him, hook, line and sinker
He hugged her and kissed her the day she miscarried
Yet he and the woman he loved… never married
In the beginning was the WORD
And the WORD was ALL –
No sights no sounds
No memory to recall.
It filled the void
From no-thing to no-where
Through eons of time
Before time was there.
When out of the blackness
Soup of the stars,
The WORD spoke forth
Saying here I AM and
Here WE ARE.
Spewing forth goodness
From ITS sub-atomic being
Outward bound expanding, far
Beyond our human seeing.
Collating and collecting
Attracting, intercepting
Each morsel of matter IT made;
Creating the suns, swirling
Constellations on the run
Mother Earth, Her gardens, trees and shade.
Then along came man
To understand
We’re not accidental, inconsequential
Intergalactic dust!
We’re made from the WORD
And the WORD’s within
Everything we see, feel, dream inside
Of US.
And the WORD still flows
In the wind that blows
And flowers that grow
And every thought
From our deep inner spaces;
Every work of art,
Every stop and start
Of monuments, buildings, races.
Every song ever sung and bell ever rung,
Every sunset that mystified,
Each symbol, scroll, letter
That en-lightened US better
Every laugh, smile, tear ever cried.
The WORD still lingers
On the tips of our fingers from
Consciousness below and above.
There’s simply no doubt
This universe shouts:
It’s all about BEING
In love.
“It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.” - Sarah Addison Allen, First Frost
September speaks of light and love, everlasting
Kindled by a heartbeat, breathing praise, adoring
His still, small voice, in the wind, autographing
Autumn’s glory, all the leaves falling, transforming
Kindled by a heartbeat, breathing praise, adoring
Shuffling through the silence in brave colors, pouring
Autumn’s glory, all the leaves falling, transforming
Gentle flames of lasting grace reach the soul, warming
Shuffling through the silence in brave colors, pouring
Lasting beyond the rustling, murmuring heart flowing
Gentle flames of lasting grace reach the soul, warming
As the stars fill the cobalt skies, moaning and groaning
Lasting beyond the rustling, murmuring heart flowing
Beats of light, filling the darkest night, shadows roaring
As the stars fill the cobalt skies, moaning and groaning
Erasing the mindless seas of lasting winds, scorning
Beats of light, filling the darkest night, shadows roaring
Original sin, from Eve’s flaw, shouts, still grieving
Erasing the mindless seas of lasting winds, scorning
Forest’s ensue with October’s mind, endlessly screaming
Original sin, from Eve’s flaw, shouts, still grieving
Resting on the echo of a mindless beauty, so soothing
Forest’s ensue with October’s mind, endlessly screaming
Winsome kiss of the heaven’s light flowing down, musing
Resting on the echo of a mindless beauty, so soothing
His still, small voice, in the wind, autographing
Winsome kiss of the heaven’s light flowing down, musing
September speaks of light and love, everlasting
To hear of a dear friend’s medicinal plight
Doth keep me awake throughout the night
My friend she has cancer
All over ~ throughout
Inside my heart screams
Inside my heart shouts
How cruel
As I ask ~ what’s life all about
For her
More chemo
For her
More drugs
For me
I want to give her
More hugs
I pray for a real and a positive solution
Despite her consultant’s final conclusion
In the end
‘twill depend
if it be her time
Time for her Mother
Time for her Father
To come meet her
To come greet her
To lead her to a special place
To where all around have a smile on their face
To where she’s no longer in agony
Her soul now doth roam
In a place she calls home
In this place she is free
And with her long lost family
Together ~ Forever ~ Eternally
Written 9th October 2022 - A true story...
Contest BRIAN STRAND'S PREMIERE CONTEST
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Up on our old tar roof, Friday night, I watched football
the high school was about a mile from my house.
You could always hear it at night.
I could see everything and nothing at the same time
Score: 20-21, hurrahs, screams of young kids, and older kids.
It was all a roar, a mixture of shouts and screams
the stadium lights glowed like Hollywood lights
and then my mind began to wander
Hollywood California, zip code 90210
I always imagined I lived in California – the climate there was basically the same as Florida.
California was where everyone on every television show had ever lived
In the mind of a 10-year-old, anyway.
it’s a fun way to pass time. Imagining places that could be home, when you’re an adult.
I swat at my one-hundredth mosquito that moment
More importantly it is where Justina Saurez did not live – a bully to my mind and soul
I contemplated what kind of actress I would be if suddenly discovered
A Marilyn? Or Lucille Ball?
The stars stared down at me, unflinching – unbroken by the night
As I wished to be
Another touchdown
I was on the verge of something big - I could feel it
The stars were telling me
“There is something hidden away only to be shown to you on a very special day”
What was out there? That's what I wanted to know.
FLYING SWINGS*
Flying swings,
Built on the thrill of gravity’s gentle hand,
Lift us up, strange birds
Into the turning sky
Where joy sways with the breeze,
Childhood's dance suspended in the air.
Hands raised high,
We chase the cloud-choked horizons
Each swing weaving stories,
Where freedom tastes like cotton candy,
A dash of courage,
In every soaring arc.
For just a while,
The earth holds its breath,
And we are weightless, drifting
Lost in the echo of shouts and bells,
The world below a mere blur—
In the carnival's embrace
We learn to fly.
*This poem was featured and published on Writer Monk’s Facebook page in July 2025. This is my original poem.
The ones who would soak
the mother who drowned
her children in serpentine
seas never floated a child.
When splashed amongst
the horror-stricken,
we too feign revulsion.
Evoke higher powers and
baptismal pools: the fluidity
in the womb. The commingled bond.
But single us out, and buoys
snare our feet as we swim for
shore. Weighted down and engulfed
with load in tow – bondage.
Admit it!
Not a one hasn’t considered
suffocating that incessant
whining beneath the softness
of a comforting wave or lifejacket –
has not wished we could hurl the
wailing one at a shoreline just to make it
Stop.
That shrill that turns all heads at
a pool party where somehow
every 4-year-old but yours is
peacefully partaking in cake –
But yours must splash the dry.
Or don another’s pink towel.
Or dive off the high board.
Just five more minutes.
Drown.
This is not a topic a mother can
bring up casually over coffee.
Too fierce for me, possibility bobs to the surface.
Since the time her sucking
rubbed my areolas raw, we’ve had
our moments – times when I could’ve
river rafted her
perhaps reclaiming her upon maturity.
I need alone time, I explain
inexplicably to the baby blues
locked on with innocent revulsion.
I have drowned her out with work,
and she notes the behavior –
will avert her own children’s guilt-
provoking glare when she
demands alone time.
Craves it.
Even as I type, the whine is still there,
abutting my every keystroke,
pushing my buttons until I wish to
gurgle deep and low, like a wave that comes
up crashing then subsumed by the next
and next until their edges blur.
Toni got the blues. Allowed herself
the chance to drown one out in fiction.
She was a mother after all.
Right now, a single drop at the surface
might take hold and pull me under.
Please abandon this line
before you immerse your baby
for a poem.
Coach shouts out:
Slow your stroke and focus on form…
and try to remember: breathe.
But despite that advice,
I gurgle like she did.
And then I remember
to love.
Finally relaxing
on my high-rise roof
I notice you across the street on
your balcony seemingly aloof
listening to vintage Carly Simon,
"That’s the Way I’ve Always Heard it Should Be"
You stare my way and energetically waive
I hesitate, smile and then return the gesture
As if on cue you stand and press against the railing
Still smiling as my heart beats faster
"What's your name?" you playfully cry out
"Who wants to know?" is my surprising reply
Who really am I?
Sudden flashbacks hijack my thinking
Song lyrics dredging up buried memories…
Why is this happening? Why am I sinking?
Triggered
I hear your beseeching, unintelligible shouts as I retreat
Painful memories open like an oubliette under my feet—
p
l
u
n
g
i
n
g
Lost and languishing in isolation's labyrinth
The yellow rose is filled with sunshine and joy,
she says welcome back or good luck.
The red rose tells a story of love and romance,
the best way to say I Love You on a very special day.
The white rose shows herself as innocence and pure,
spirituality she will stand tall.
The ivory rose will turn on her charm and thoughtfulness,
she will tell you she cares without being too romantic.
The purple rose shouts lasting love,
let her come out on your very special romantic occasions.
The green rose jumps out with life and abundance,
the air will be filled with energy and richness.
The blue rose holds onto a mystery,
she likes to say~dream big or add me as the blue needed
on your wedding day.
The orange rose is filled with energy and desire,
I like showing how proud I am of you
or if you need some extra motivation.
The black rose may show up at your funeral,
yet she can be positive and bring some
confidence~hope~courage.
The peach rose loves to show off her gratitude,
saying thank you.
The lavender rose tells of mystery and enchantment,
my whimsical color says love or enchantment
and you have caught my attention.
The pink rose speaks of sweetness and femininity
in her different shades,
I have grace~joy~gratitude and I am even fit for royalty.
The pink rose is my favorite,
it is "the rose inside my heart."
Like the dreams in your daily horoscope
that come alive within the pages of an astrology' book...
written by someone who reads into the distant stars:
the roar of a departing airplane, disappearing into clouds,
is your crude awakening to reality...
finding everything else, but me!
I booked my flight in a hurry last night,
everything we secretly shared lost its sense of delight;
I shouldn't remember when the times
when I came to you and brought you roses!
Like all the words that sound too sweet,
I let them go inside me so true and deep;
another destination, another lonely city...
where I'll settle down and face a clueless destiny!
There I'll find more women easy to love,
making no demands, pretenting to give;
in their arms,with skin smelling of perfume,
I'll dream of you...when those roses bloom!
Nothing can keep me here,
even pity can't move me;
we started a passion full of flames,
forgetting about our tender ways!
Everything seemed everlasting...
never thinking of a sad ending!
The loud road of a departing airplane
shouts off the sound of this voice;
I ask for forgiveness with my tears,
but you can't be found anywhere!