Long Someone Poems
Long Someone Poems. Below are the most popular long Someone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Someone poems by poem length and keyword.
There are men who deserve to be loved
just because of their eyes,
naked souls which whisper
straight to your heart.
Star dust, soulmate, God's elemt.
Call it whatever you want,
there are no words explaining that bond.
Men you do not need to meet or touch
to offer them all the world's love
right from the moment you first heard them,
or looked into their pure, heavenlish, sad eyes.
Only God knows why we miss them
when they are gone.
Why we feel like if someone
ripped out a piece of us...
A piece we never knew we had.
And probably only God knows why
men who deserve that kind of
unconditional, inexplainable love
decide to give up and leave
while our hearts are broken into pieces
and refuse to accept their absence.
Even wind smells, feels and sounds like them...
In loving memory of Chris Cornell who has touched my soul in a very strange and inexplainable way.
Do you ever think of getting into your RV and heading west and never looking back? I ask my friend.
Her life is a series of woes, and misbegottens, have-tos, and never-wases. Drama, at full tilt.
Every time I see her she has a flat tire, her mother is in the hospital, and someone in her family just died.
Yesterday her car broke down, and none of her free-loading relatives would bring her to work.
Which was okay as she had smallpox anyway.
This morning she showed me that she is missing her face, and her hair fell off.
High drama indeed for 7 a.m.
Do you ever think of getting into your RV and heading west? I ask her.
She smiled.
Every day, she said, and I would leave my phone here.
In Memory of Kerwin Rae - The man with a Mission
In loving memory of Kerwin Rae, who left us unexpectedly just days after celebrating his 50th birthday.
Kerwin was a remarkable figure—a motivational speaker, business coach, and virtually Australia’s own Tony Robbins. He reached millions, both in
Australia and globally with his inspiring guidance, especially those facing ADHD and dyslexia, challenges he knew personally.
This video holds a special meaning, as mystic coincidences unfolded during its creation, including a heartfelt share from Elizabeth Rae, his grieving mother, on her channel. Elizabeth, herself an acclaimed author and coach on ‘Women in Stress’, (womeninstress.com.au), has touched lives through her own journey and work. It is an honor that she reached out.
We are deeply touched to know that this video, with lyrics inspired by Kerwin’s teachings, was played at his funeral a few days ago.
Your comments here and by clicking above on my YouTube channel, where we share a brief of his life, would be a comfort to his mother, family, friends and followers.
Your shares could bring hope to someone in need, when reflecting on Kerwin’s enduring influence through the lyrics, as well as uplift and give people purpose in a world riddled with strife.
Thank you
We grew up in a home of half-spoken things.
Affection lived in chores,
in a plate set on the table,
in someone asking if we already ate
as if it was the only safe way to say they cared.
We never became good at speaking about feelings.
Our voices always seemed to hesitate
when affection was the topic.
So we created a different language,
one made of small gestures,
of someone saving the last piece of food,
of footsteps waiting for another pair
before going to sleep,
of gifts wrapped in simple ways
because giving became our version of saying
I love you.
Maybe that is why I learned to write better than I speak,
why my heart spills easier on paper
than from my own mouth.
We rarely sat at the same table.
One ate in the living room,
another by the counter,
another at the dining chair closest to the door.
Yet there were evenings
when we all ended up in the same place,
talking more than usual, laughing together,
sharing food and future plans,
as if togetherness was something
we only remembered in flashes.
When we hurt each other,
we did not talk about it.
The room would feel heavier,
and we learned to walk around the memory
of the words that cut deeper than we meant,
instead of touching them.
Time became the bandage we depended on
because none of us knew how to unwrap our own hearts.
But distance changes us.
When someone leaves for work,
or stays in another city or province,
or takes even a short trip away,
we suddenly find words we could never say face to face.
We say take care.
We say I miss you and I love you.
We send messages with hearts
we finally feel brave enough to deliver.
It feels strange sometimes.
How miles can soften our mouths
in ways closeness never did.
How we open up more
when no one is there to watch our voices shake.
Maybe that is simply who we are.
A family stitched together
by gestures and distance,
trying to love without shaking,
trying to speak without breaking.
We are closer when we are apart,
not because separation strengthens us,
but because space gives us the courage
to finally say what has lived inside us
for years.
I want to write a poem about one person
- human being
Who?
I don't know
But it is someone I strive to be
Perfection- maybe
Am I going to ever get there?
I make mistakes along the way
What is that person like?
She is not selfish
Think of others first
Generous to a fault
Always giving and look for ways to give
Because she knows that
She would get it from the Lord
Believing in self
Sometimes too much in her
That she would believe
If she thinks it is right
Then it is right
Is it a fault?
Who knows?
But it is usually turned out to be the case
What should I say?
Is this person me?
No
Someone like me?
Yeah
I can't be that perfect
Though I tried to be
What who do I try to be?
Who knows?
Perfection my friend
That is what it does to you
What does it do to you?
Just perfect
Yeah
"Ask not have not"
I am paraphrasing
Didn't the Bible say that?
James 4:2
What other things did the Bible say?
I think you know
Apply it would you?
Now go to the point
Matthew 5:48
"You therefore must be perfect
as your Heavenly Father is perfect"
So there
You got it from the Man
Go get it
What's stopping you?
The Artist: The Later Years
by Edmund Siejka
(companion piece to The Artist published March 28, 2013)
He hadn’t sold anything
In a long time
Arms crossed
He scrutinized the paintings
Displayed in the
Most modern of modern Chelsea galleries.
Behind him
A small group of artists
Discussed art
Glasses of wine held subtly in their animated hands
He nodded
Only one in the group
Nodded back.
Something bothered him
Pressing down on his shoulders
It was then he left
As quietly as he came.
Walking downtown
Collar up
The wind whipped through his jacket
At 8th Avenue
Along a row
Of cheap buildings
Off 14th Street
He found a coffee shop
Not wanting coffee he walked in anyway
Hoping that since he didn’t know anyone
He would be in a public place
But would have all the privacy he needed.
Sitting at the counter
He felt someone touching his shoulder
He turned
To face a Kid
In his early twenties
Tall
Brown hair
Even features
Good bone structure
Curious eyes
Strong hands
Paint splattered jeans.
Are you an artist? The Kid asked
He was tempted to tell the Kid to go out and play in traffic
But the honesty in the voice
Was convincing
“I thought so” the Kid said
The Times did a retro on artists of the 70’s”
The Kid looked closer
“Except for the white hair you haven’t changed that much
In my art class they still mention you”.
There was something bold
Yet real about the Kid
Grabbing a corner booth
They discussed art
He giving pointers
About the New York art scene.
Returning home
The Artist passed under the Dome of St. George
Strong and defiant in the afternoon sun
Taking a deep breathe
He went upstairs to his studio slash apartment
There was an empty canvas
Waiting
A north light
Beckoned
Holding brushes in his hand
He was an artist once again.
Ever since Adam and Eve were a thing
The sins of the world seem to be in full swing
Making us wonder if there’s saints to go around
To find those in need that need to be found
Do we have more sinners than we did before?
Or are we so connected it’s hard to ignore?
In this big old world there's evil going on
Making us all wonder if we’re too far-gone
Ohh Whoa is me, Ohh Whoa is me
Yeah help is needed let’s all agree
But each act of kindness you see… is free
Yeah, kindness is free
There’s eight billion of us just walking around
On this planet that’s just one big ‘ole town
So be thankful for being alive
And help someone do more than survive
Ohh Whoa is me, Ohh Whoa is me
Yeah help is needed let’s all agree
But each act of kindness you see… is free
Yeah, kindness is free
Yeah, I know it may seem hard to find
But there’s good in all so let’s all be kind
Ohh Whoa is me, Ohh Whoa is me
Yeah help is needed let’s all agree
But each act of kindness you see… is free
Yeah, kindness is free
Yeah it’s free
Yeah, it’s free
Without the love of another human being
The world is a lifeless place
The path to happiness is lined with pitfalls
Making it difficult to keep pace
But the undying love of a special someone
Helps us to make it through
The pitfalls all seem much less daunting
A much clearer path ensues
Why is it so difficult to get through our heads
Seems very simple to me
I'm not a brilliant philosopher or thinker
Just a simple minded S.O.B.
Us humans were always meant to find love
Or keep searching until we do
It's all a part of the great master blueprint
Love will always see us through
Without the love of another human being
The world is a lifeless place
Resembling a landscape of a distant planet
Best leave it without a trace
© Jack Ellison 2014
is time for the people
I want to talk to someone
yes out there somewhere
I know life is unbearable
I want to know
what is wrong with mankind
are we humans here
to be unhuman
no some one should tell me
why we cant have peace
yes why we can't live as human
or is humanity forbidden today
is time for the people
some one please tell me
are we born to live a while
and die so quickly in our ignorance
are we that short sighted
that all we care are not what we need
are we so fooled that
we can't even live to live in love
what are we up to
no I need someone to explain this
where are we heading to
with all this vapours and rumours
of wars
if this is civilisation
then human are madly insane
is time for the people
what could be more worst
when we turn a beautiful world
to a jungle of wild human animals
what is the worth of living
when we live to live in hardship
I guess is time we start thinking
I know this thinking process
will Benefit us
if we are not ignorance of the truth
it hurts to see how too many souls
are hungry and in abject poverty
it hurts to go sleep hungry
every night in midst of plenty globally
it hurts when darkness is in trend
over our good
is time for the people
to every leader world wide
as a youth from the third world
I write this poem with
an heavy clear heart
where all your hard ship
creates words like now you read
I chant change oh change your ways
we the People we the citizens
of this planet are tired
we need all leader to ask themselves
just this one question
what could we do
with out the people
a simple question
The mouse
My wife was opening the door to the verandah
when she spotted a mouse and fled to the kitchen
and shouted, “Kill it, kill it!”
I picked up the small animal hiding under a dry leaf
that had yet to be blown away, careful not to be bitten
soon the mouse relaxed in the palm of my hand.
I marvelled about this tiny thing; how did it get on
the seventh floor must have been climbing up at night
got lost or tired and rested on our terrace
There was no way I was going to kill it if there had
been hundreds of them on the terrace, I would have been
less friendly, seen them as vermin
Looked over the railing under me on another terrace, dropped
the mouse there, it landed softly alive and well, quickly shut
the door, now the mouse was no longer my problem.
At lunch, in the café on the first floor, there was talk
about someone finding a mouse, “infestation?” she said
No, darling, there is only one little mouse.