Long Song old Poems
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On comes a traveler from lands that I have not wandered only visited
Bringing with him memories of the pains I have borne through my life
Like the desert whose dunes I dared only once to climb when youth held me fast
A fleeting grasp, a tentative hold that was as it must be for us all I have come to see
In those valleys of sand where the sun drank from my body ravenously to crack my skin
I saw only once the whispering vision of life in the distance
Shimmering in the heat of the burning sands stood an oasis many miles deeper
So I set out with that vision hardly in my mind across the desert
Over mountainous dunes and into abyssal valleys with the sun raking my back
I walked and then I crawled when my feet became blistered stumps rubbed raw
I crawled until my hands and knees bled
I crawled until I held my head high no longer
Still I wandered, still I moved despite the sand choking my eyes closed
I crawled my body burned and my eyes blinded by sun and sand
Only to find my way back to this shack on the Desert’s edge
My journey had betrayed me I believed
My journey had twisted me all around I thought
Until today when came a wanderer through the desert forge
To sit down and rest with heavy sigh and cloud of slowly settling sands
On his shoulder sat a grey old owl watching me silently with eyes of tired wisdom
In his arms the man carried his second friend a satyr with ivory pipes to match his horns
I nodded in quiet solitude rocking back and forth in my old wooden chair
So it was that we listened to the gentle creaking of the wood
Listened to thunder rolling in off the great Blue Divide
Listened to wind shushing through the leaves of Heaven’s Gate
Felt the heat wafting over us from the Desert’s edge
Neither of we two speaking, only listening until at long last with the sun beginning to set
The satyr stirred just enough to lift the pipes to his lips and then to play
A hauntingly sweet song of blissful sorrow like age-old memories of lost youth
And we listened to him play his song long into the night
Until the stars failed to shine and the curtain of day touched the veil of dreams
“Time to leave, time to go, time to say farewell
For there are roads still to travel and I have yet much to see
And so long a way to go,” he said with a quiet voice of strength
Will this song be instilling in me some peace
That has only been felt by the deceased
Or is this just another disaster of clumsy chords
And am I just screaming redeeming my place
On top of the pedestal of fools
Again this isn’t what I had in mind
This falls just short of my goal
In truth my mind’s a black hole
Sucking me in with every single thought
Give it a round of applause because from it this song was brought
It has sought to be heard and finally it has took the form of word
Has it also infected you with some cryptic thoughts
That have been jumbled together and rumbled through my lips
I know I am just the vessel and I’ve already crossed the threshold
But o was bold and sold my soul
In order to the words that I hold
Some of us are just cast from a different mold
Now I gasp to find the last few words
And I hope it’s silent as you drive towards home, where ever that maybe
Because there is a new voice in your head and it sounds similar to me
It’s singing loud and out of key
Instilling in you some residual feelings
The you begin thinking “If he did it why can’t I”
But then you realize there’s that girl by your side
Staring intently with eyes wide
Unlike me your heart has a place to confide
And to cry in and hide until the pain subsides
As for me I will ride home with my mind
And some stranger that I find
We will sip our wine she will slip off her dress
She will soon learn she was just to help pass the time
Her name will soon slip my mind
I just wish for the warmth of a whisper
In these freezing months that have eclipsed us
I guess I’ll settle for this old stage which is my display case
I try, I try to make my case
But the lies I sing are just some old parlor tricks
I hope they will suffice for all of the apologies I missed or forgot to give
So now I’ll just scream with blackened lungs
In some old forgotten tongues about my misery
Please save your sympathy because it will be wasted on me
Form:
The jazz men of Grand Central Terminal
Gathered on the dirty edge of Park Avenue
Wearing the green-white guayaberas and some honeymoon sombreros.
Suddenly we have been interrupted at the last minutes our jokes
Because an old scholar of ours has asked to do so;
He wishes to sing a song he has written 90 years ago!
For a while we stood there watching his face.
The small eyes not even the shadow of a failure.
As far as I could see it he was right.
We're no longer young anymore!
But they shake their heads. "This our last chance
And you aren't sure what it was. The line of Living
And the line of being dead." As they're gazing over the bush land
With my old blue guitar who's gazing the Speaker
With whom they came to raise a question from a past with the tune
Of "Green Bridge where I go to die
Either I'll cry or flame myself by rage!"
Even as now I talk, in shake hands too, they do not listen.
And now and then, I see the reason, the handsome gull is growing
Old too but not the fight their own
And his voice was still sharp. Oh what a song!
Moment by moment, I look at him. Look strong,
Following each word well under the cloudless heart of ours.
"Who is singing the Guantanamera's song in English?"
Rise, manhood, for full grace, with fire in his eyes
Once were waved with age-tears. "I am, with the birds!"
He gazes at us, fascinated. Making a sound, when,
just as we are ready to explain this is not for him,
he turns back. Since we try to understand what happen,
I can see him walking away to 42nd Street, untouchable
by the wind. While us, like a group of kids
We are still playing on the mug.
PeoplePleaseTheyDiffer
PeoplePleaseTheyDiffer
a differ song
Salt And Peepers Yin and Yankee...
all of us are just too many people suffer in the shaded oasises while long knives
wait as ninjas making promises to GOD.
One man smiles his KNOWING at me another shoots them daggers in me they
both make promises that they can't keep me with the horror of they lust. Eye like
children best at how they trust us. A little girl is singsonging and her mother is in
horror at the man for he must HATE the little girl for making noises WAIT this old
man loved it he was never very mean about it but secretly he hummed his
breathe to match the song the little one has hummed. Thinking now only good
thoughts of his GOD and how some people are just young and how they have
that innocence of youth just keep the little girl from growing old OH WENDY
WENDY WENDY please just learn to fly to never ever land with peter pan
and she is making every word she speaks into a rhyme for she is the offspring of
the wine the very poese and this poet the loving daughter of mye mamsie she is
so very in mye heart a world apart but ever near me sometimes she seems to be
left in me in the places next to mother held so dearly one man HARD as stone
another yeilding growing older in the recess of the conquest of his time.
Sometimes it seems this poem could go on forever for this poet would just stay
and type these words forever and hum a differ song. ...yes ewe its for MARY.
I had been in town about a month or so
And I was thinking ‘bout settling down
After fifty years of always on the go
This was as good as any place that I had found
I’ve had a lifetime full of one night stands
And dates I bought working on the street
The longest relationship I have ever been in
Would be with the next girl that I meet
I met this widowed lady
She seemed to be real nice
After years of grieving her long lost husband
She was ready to end her lonely nights
Then her twenty-five year old daughter
Came to my room that day
She said, “I’d really appreciate it Mister
If you’d listen to what I have to say”
She said, “I think my Momma loves you
And I think I can see why
But I think you’re nothing but trouble
And I don’t want to see my Momma cry
“So, I’d like to make you an offer
To keep you out of my Momma’s bed
If you promise to be on your way again
I’ll offer you me instead”
I’d like to say that I grew a conscience
I’d like to say I found my mortal soul
But to a fifty year old withered man
Her body was like a big pot of gold
We made love in the early evening
We made love again at midnight
We made love when the morning sunshine
Provided the first rays of light
We made love again in the afternoon
We stayed in bed all day
But at the end of twenty-four hours
Again I was on my way
So, I might be headed to your home town
I might be looking to settle down
I might be hoping that the next place I find
Is as good as any place that I have found
The music plays hauntingly
As he sings quietly along
Just another sad and very lonely song
For in his world, melodies
Are all filled with great pain
Tiny heart full of nothing but aching blame
Maybe if he could be better
Then he'd be truly loved
Every night he prays to the Lord up above
But every morning he wakes
To the same old tired song
Wondering what he did that was so very wrong
Only six years old now
Already he'd seen too much fear
Felt no smiles, but cried rivers of tears
He doesn't remember anything
Except this very sad refrain
It seems to reach out and call him by name
Someone should have noticed
He had the bruises and broken bones
It should have told them what was happening at home
But the music keeps on playing
As people just quickly walk by
Each day he wonders, if it's his day to die
His dad is always angry
He doesn't know what he's done
All he wants is to be a very good son
His Mom seems oblivious to his suffering
Lost in her own music filled with shame
Dreaming of better days, casting away her blame
With no love on the outside
Little boy quietly climbs inside
Looking for safety and a place to hide
While he waits he sings
This painful little tune
Praying that help, will find him soon
See the sadness behind his eyes
It's where he's gone to dwell
Lost inside himself, away from his living hell!
Verse one:
This old world gets awful lonesome and cold.
And some days it leaves me feeling broken down and old.
And since I’ve spent the better part of my life alone,
I guess I’ll just live out the rest of it on my own.
So I just hum out an old familiar tune.
I sing to my self, myself and the man in the moon.
Chorus:
It’s the sound of a whiperwill, singin from a willow tree.
It’s the wind a blowin, across the plain wild and free.
That’s my song and it’s playin just for me.
I never wrote down the words, but I’ve been singin it all my life long.
It’s carried me down the road, and onto my way home.
So I sing to my self, when this old world leaves me feeling all alone.
Verse Two:
It’s the song I’ve been writing all my life,
And it carries with it, all my pain and strife.
It’s the one thing I have when there’s nothing left to hold.
And the music comes together as the story is told.
Even though it’s a sad lonesome sound.
It keeps my feet standing when there’s no one around.
Verse Three:
I’ve known for a while the only thing I’ll ever have is m.
I guess that’s the way the Maker, intended it to be.
No one to hold onto but no one to hold me down.
This is the life that I have found.
So I just keep on singin my song
And it keeps me going, so I can stay strong.
Sarah Comstock
3/16/2010
Form:
Tripping thru the cosmos
just the other afternoon
I saw Cleopatra dancing
on the dark side of the moon
I stopped by just to say hi
and she met me with a smile
and we rode cross the Sea of Tranquility
on her favorite crocodile
I told her it was getting late
and I really had to fly
Then I floated off to Jupiter
when Europa caught my eye
She's looking especially bright tonight
as she crosses Callisto's path
magnificently steller
at four billion and a half
The power of the universe
the secret of the grail
the mystery of all life itself
it's all there in your head
everything is everything
and everything is one
we're just billion year old carbon floaties
dancin in the sun
I nod my head and tip my hat
and bid to them adieu
so many things to see and do
before this trip is thru
I'll skate on the rings of Saturn
I will swim in Neptune"s seas
I'll sip champagne from the Big Dipper
as I dance with Pleiades
and when this trip is over
and I come down way too soon
I'll kneel beside Lon Chaney Jr.
and we'll both howl at the moon
The power of the universe
the secret of the grail
the mystery and the majesty
it's right there in your head
everything is everything
and everything is one
we're just billion year old carbon floaties
dancin in the sun
Form:
While cleaning up my dark attic
which hasn't seen sunlight for ages,
I expected to get an unusual headache
from dragging out dusty items like picture frames
hidden in boxes or stacked up as old books...
and my awesome discover was: Bing Crosby's Decca Album;
yes, something told me to open up that neglected room!
Wasn't I thrilled by his youthful looks?
On an old Motorola record player never used,
I play all of his songs, but imitate him
with , " My Isle Of Golden Dreams " and be immensely amused...
could it be more real than a dream?
If he could come back to life, we would do a duet...
a well-performed song we could never forget!
Sing, Bing Crosby and entertain me for an hour or so...
until your last song fades away, not leaving me yearning for more!
Before dust covered this precious album, hiding his smooth face never getting old;
now, it is clear as day brightening up my dull living room
as it once refused to let sunlight in, only shaded by doom!
Oh, this unique musical treasure I've found is as genuine as gold,
on my book shelf it will lay and as its keeper, nobody will get close to it;
I will allow others to stare at it from distance...forbidding them to ever touch it!
The most beautiful and the saddest song I’ve ever heard,
Was the Old Rugged Cross as I hung on to every word.
It brought sadness the brutal way our Savior died,
And the way He was mocked, and so viciously crucified.
But His death was short lived,
His prophecy He fulfilled.
He suffered His death like any mortal man,
Succumbing to the pain that was part of the plan.
Beaten and bruised before being nailed on that cross,
The day the world experienced it’s greatest ever loss.
And, yes I do I cherish that old rugged cross with all my heart.
Knowing that He died for me helps me to play my part.
And the beauty part of the song is where I lay my worldly trophies down,
Knowing that the Lord Himself holds for me my crown.
Sometimes I see visions of those crosses on that hill of so long ago.
And I feel like crying out, Stop this madness, Stop it don’t you know?
Then reality awakens me to thought that this deed has already been done.
Nailed on that cross, Jesus Christ, God’s only son
What He Gave,
Was probably our only way for us to be saved
So yes I will cling to that old rugged cross,
For without what it stands for we all would be lost.