Long Soles Poems
Long Soles Poems. Below are the most popular long Soles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soles poems by poem length and keyword.
Cruel agony!!
The brazen breath of your holy anticipation… writhing…conniving…
I am spent… so, so spent….
Terrified of your superior countenance, I crush these words in the mortar of your eyes closed tight
Good eye, black eye…. averting side to side
Where is this mess taking me next?
Tantalizing fury!!
Your fingers clasp about my throat, astonishing the gods on high
I have never seen the angels so irresolutely fly!
Bite me and let it be over!!!
This pain I have inflicted upon you is far beyond my conception
The ink being squeezed from me in tasty inception
Your teeth sinking in me and pulling….stretching like liquid elastic
The less of me makes certain of my love for you—so drastic
Your breathing mightier, more intentional, strove in the soles that tread for eons!
You have me dancing on your razor-sharp ledge…
The sledgehammer waiting for the moment you make your pledge
Testify!!! Or die…
Cringing, singing, dormant in disparity
My words strive so illusively, vainly for clarity
Smoothing the edge of your lips— two swords that clash
I hasten within the slit to the tongue that dares such confirmation…
You are my only,
Without you, I am so very lonely..
Look at these tears feverishly fall
When truth denies the wretchedness of your livid calls
In futile reserve, it seems I have made my mark
Misery is central in this looming, squirming dark
You devour my mind’s passions until all that remains is yours
And for a moment, I allow the rehabilitation of your force
AGONY…..cruel AGONY….
Hold onto me, again
I have dulled those swords, the entrance to your mouth
So that when they pierce me again,
I will fall to the earth with no doubt…
And you will penetrate me with all of your strength,
You will utter your love to me again,
Then I will close my eyes in peace,
And the gods can again breathe…
I sit rolled in a corner
Almost forgotten
Quietly ignored
Crimson velveteen tufts
Densely packed
Underlay visible
Obscuring the majesty
Only ever ceremoniously unfurled
When dignitaries visit
The streets I cover
Usually covered in dust
Dirty and dank
Freshly cleaned
To impress and fool
In the fetid air
The tang of fresh paint
Dingy corners spruced
The homeless ushered away
Children beautifully laundered
Flowers lavishly garlanded
Overflowing bins emptied
So when I am laid out
And smart soles
Tread on my blushing fibres
The illusion is complete
And with my presence
The bare truth hidden
Fleetingly…
Till they have gone
And I am rolled away
Then in my absence
The putrid decay
Of real life resumes
I’m drunk, but you’re beautiful,
a line I used to rehearse.
The Dreamers’ artistic longing felt noble,
but it came with a curse.
I bought the ticket when I didn’t know better from worse.
Now I’ve got a tale of rebellion,
and I’ll share it in verse,
it all changed one Star Wars Day,
when my thirst reversed.
May the Fourth, and I felt matured.
No Padawan—now Jedi Master,
just a little unmoored.
Met some friends inclined for chilled wine,
drinking enough to feel ruthlessly divine.
That hazy day, glazed in the usual sway.
That familiar vortex, melancholy perturbed.
Soles stained deeply by the absurd,
fermented grapes, chaos,
and the dark side assured.
The dark side calls as we sit with the thirst,
but Skywalker’s force starts thinking first:
“Unlearn what you have learned.”
Yoda’s wisdom, unrehearsed.
I needed a change, something absolute.
Had to break old habits
and reroute my pursuit.
Flip the script, exit the Aristotle loop.
We can still have fun.
Still embrace the absurd.
Someone said, “It’s Star Wars Day,”
and a spark then occurred.
We found a weird café,
celebrating in cosplay,
and somewhere in that moment,
a new hope was incurred.
Arriving at the venue, a little out of town, we found the clan,
Princess Leia sold us tickets on the door deadpan,
no droids allowed, no stormtroopers,
but there was a sandman,
Inside were Wookies at the bar, slamming shots like my mum can.
Han Solo in carbonite poster hanging on the wall,
Kids having lightsaber fights with bar stools, humming bishoooom loudly down the hall.
Glass cabinets with falcons and dioramas were neat.
Cantina soundtrack playing curiously on repeat,
Grabbed snacks, Empires on screen, so we found a seat.
We wandered deeper past merch and collector cases,
through aisles of toys and cosplayed faces.
The type of folk draw to these kind of conventions,
You know the type without me having to mention,
They filled the room with joy beyond pretension,
I watched them just be, and I wanted that,
but I found I had to be patient.
I don’t have to keep falling for the trap,
it’s not just escape, it must be more pure.
I lost a friend that day, and yeah, it’s still sore.
He bowed out—boozehound chasing the score,
while I found experience, absurdity, and something more secure.
I.
Come my son, sit
Join this party in a remembrance feast
Take part in our holy communion
Come, take part in our joyful tears of merry union
Sit with us and speak as one mouthpiece of the spirit
And pray against the times of ill
For the sake of your days of youth not yet lived
II.
The strength of the farmer is the maker of the elements
And the soldier's companion is his sword
For you my child, your greatest gift is the fruit of the spirit
It is of the Vine of God
The light of his word will guide you away from evil
It'll bring you to wealth and bring wealth to your banks
Like precious metals in merchant ships
It'll bring you wisdom like the bloom of cedars
Your pleasures will be hard to number as the stars
III.
I challenge you to speak with God's spirit
And see whether his still small voice be as many waters
For with him, there's nothing impossible
See how he summons mighty thunderstorms
And see how he calls forth fire and smoke from the Earth's core
He is one with the power of all
By him are my generations blessed
They walk and possess wherever the soles of their feet shall tread
IV.
Come my son
Sit with the elders and learn
Learn of the stages and cycles, and even how to be a man
Learn of our moral codes and rites
To be carried by his spirit great warrior prince, yield to his plan
Learn to defeat the wiles of she all men should flee
Learn how to live, love and laugh
Hunt, grow, eat and drink, you must
Work harder than your peers, even till the dust
V.
Learn the mysteries of the lamb's shed blood poured out for us
And his flesh broken up on a cross
Learn of those who battle you, uneven friends
And though our lives become hardened
You must learn to ease it with Yahweh's love
Learn how to win without your might
Without chase, learn to give flight
Learn to dwell in the house of the Lord
And to esteem his shelter above all others
I’m suffocating in here
I’m the one I have to fear.
Broken glass pierces through the soles of my feet
Yet somehow I can’t accept defeat.
Someone call the surgeon
The surgeon to my soul.
I feel like I’m about to fall
I feel like I’m about to fall!
Someone call the FBI
I have a case that’s files are miles high
Photos of the suspects keep flashing through my mind
Day and night…night and day
Why can’t anyone seem to find
The murder weapon
It’s my heart
It’s been violated all the pieces
And every part
The anesthesia just wore off and I’m in excruciating pain
Look at all I loss…was it all in vain?
I’m vexed with questions I’m frozen with lies
I walk a road with my hands tied
Gasping for air
But you’re not there
Gasping for air
But you don’t care!
Faint smells of metal linger on my tongue
I was so young
We were too young!
The sun blisters my skin
Exposing the poison that dwells with in.
Regenerated but still a degenerate
Born again but still being born
Forgiven but still forgiving
Fighting but still in the fight.
Galaxies of possibilities swirl in the wind
How did I get here again?
Have I lost the will to win?
By: Sabina Nicole
My new shoes came in today.
After what felt like a hundred months of waiting.
They were just sitting there, anticipating—
looking forward to all the new adventures
and traveling.
I could not wait to put them on.
But first, I had to
stop escaping.
From my past.
From certain people and places.
So I walked barefoot for a bit—
felt the grass and dirt between my toes
while stretching.
I kept going until I saw something.
There were my old pair of shoes
at the side of this bridge.
Never realized how torn and tattered
they had become.
Why did I wear those for so long?
They had holes in the soles,
and the rest was barely staying in place.
I was glad to say farewell
as I tossed them in a nearby trash bin.
I then washed my feet
in the pond underneath the bridge,
then happily ran across
to meet my new pair.
They were so soft and comfortable
as I put them on.
Perfect balance—
I even felt taller.
Amazing what happens
when shoes come in at the right moment.
Like a guide through the journey
of life,
love,
and every transition.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winter’s bite clings to the air,
each footfall breaking the thin ice of morning.
My breath unravels in ragged ghosts,
disappearing into the gray dawn.
Spring arrives—moist ground, and
mud splattering on my calves.
The ache in my lungs is suddenly green,
filled with pollen and carefree birdsong.
Summer sears the asphalt,
melting the soles of my shoes.
Rivers of sweat run down my spine.
I spring through the fevered world,
chasing the horizon and blue sky.
Autumn arrives quietly;
leaves are brittle underfoot.
The wind tugs at my clothes
like a lover who knows I’m leaving.
I slow down, not because I'm tired
but because the light is disappearing.
Even the longest roads
must turn homeward.
If you enjoyed this poem, you may want to read its memoir vignette companion, Season to Season, posted here on Poetry Soup: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/season_to_season_13582
Old Hobo ain't got no plans
Thumbing down the road to the Promised Land
He ain't looking back from where he's been
Gonna rest a little while off Exit 10
Old Hobo's just got the news
Front page paper in the soles of his shoes
Says times are bad and it's getting worse
They still got the Good News at the Vision Church
Something's going on down in Alabam
We got knees on the ground, hands on the plows
Never seen clearer than I see right now
Rain's rolling in down Exit 10
The Lemon Man down a one way street
Gives lemons to his womens 'cause his love's bittersweet
Well, I don't know but I've heard tell
Before you get to Heaven got to get through Hell
Something's going on down in Alabam
We got knees on the ground, hands on the plows
Never seen clearer than I see right now
Rain's rolling in down Exit 10
Never been one for singing the blues
Living on a prayer you got nothing to lose
I walk the Gulf of Mexico
Seagulls trolling shrimpboats heading home
Something's going on down in Alabam
We got knees on the ground, hands on the plows
Never seen clearer than I see right now
Rain's rolling in down Exit 10
Something's going on down in Alabam
Down in Chickasaw, down in Saraland
Never seen clearer than I see right now
Rain's rolling in down Exit 10
Rain's rolling in down Exit 10
©2020
He never loved her and yet her breath of life is gone she laid there yes he kissed her yet he still had his life but yet put asunder he did wonder Could have been different can he have not been put to shame yet he didn't even know her spiritual name
She is still not breathing yet she lays there covered in her Daddy's dress this man yet still stands he sheds a tear he believes in her but yet she lays there at rest
Due somber times yet in summertime he awakens in the heat he looks around him and he finds that the soles of his feet grass covered grounds he realizes now she's below but that's not her true essence for her Spirit Soul has risen and now in the presents of the Lord
She was only known to him let it be who's him yet through pain and grief he sighs he cries he says goodbye to the one who took on his name
Yet lastly is it truly over because his breath is still his he can't even remember the last time he felt her breath caressing surrounding him so he endeavors do not remember her sweet message but this is my message to the widowers you must confess this God has taken his daughter back and she's awake in his arms not asleep nor at rest she is with her father now for eternity and she leaves with you God bless
2/6/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Old Man (Splintered)
On the walk, the one with wood, along the dunes, a time to saunter
Shoes with old holes on soles now prehistoric
Clip and clop along the winter boardwalk
In the shoes is slender Sam who slides along the boards
Footwear held together with some threads and prayer
Feet too heavy to lift, due to gravity or perhaps a gentler nature
The old man sits to smell the ocean salt and pelican mist
He sits to feed the pigeons some stale official bread from his own kitchen
Rising from the bench becomes a task for cranes and tractors
Bulldozers are needed to lift the spirits
Sam holds on against the winter wind, filled with concrete hollows
Holds on to rails provided there
He retreats into his shell he calls his life
Picks up a splinter with an ouch along the way
Through his unholy holes exposed to nature and the wood
Perhaps it is prime time to buy new shoes or soles