Long Standing Poems
Long Standing Poems. Below are the most popular long Standing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Standing poems by poem length and keyword.
Staring up to the star lit sky
wondering why
time seems like
it is standing still
my heart is playing violins
every interval
dying crossed my mind
I vaguely recall any fear of it
never seriously considered
what I be leaving behind
always taken out
to the woodshed
by those closest to me
how long am I gonna stand
with my head in the sand
good self question
does it really heal
this self reflection
the orchestra of grief has past
it took five years
for the sad song to pass
before the melody set in
a sweet rhapsody was let in
while a solo harmonica
plays softly in the background
allowing inviting emotions...
Form:
To the right
Is where I slept every night
Welcoming tomorrow’s knowledge might
Shining bright
Illuminating intellectual light
Using my sight
To see
Me
And you together
Braving life’s tumultuous weather
Navigating thunderbolt-fast spears
Not showing, any fears
Since I am a trained, in how to communicate
Say what I need to state
Keeping our romantic conversation going
As we perform our daily rowing
Through debatable wakes
Healthy dialogue we make
To the left
I act like a ref
Hardly, judging many wrongs
From those suffering a long
After performing a miscue
Maybe being a fool
Heal is what I do
Not knowing who
The stranger I just met
Stomach said was upset
Prescription I scripted, ‘a hug’
Spread rapidly, diagnosed family bug
Grounded love
Delivered by, Almighty above
Chapel sunset
Is now what we get
Towering over us all
As we studied on the mall
Removing an international wall
Thoughtful kindness, strategy is the call
Standing tall
Keeping alive
Moral beehive
Buzz created
Attitude seeded
And kneaded
Baked with flour
Giving us the power
Kelly, Farrel and Weigand
Are the building we had our social academic meetings
Strength, we each other gave
And at times we did misbehave
Claiming lesson learned
Always concerned
Being firm
Completing the eight terms
Graduating at the end
Message we did send
‘It is our honest, truth
Raising the roof
Proclaiming degree proof
Future is ours
And direct us to the Holy Spirit bar’
seeing from the outside of your story, hearing the words you use,
only knowing what you tell me, only seeing your point of view,
the hearts exaggeration without acknowledging our part,
you know, the part of the story from the others view, and how your words affected their heart,
this is the part where it gets twisted and influences the outsiders view,
because they don't know the other person, they only just know you,
i've seen the selling argument that wants you to sympathize,
please justify these feelings, understand me, and take my side,
i can't stand standing in the middle when it wasn't my experience with you,
i will erase in my mind what you told me, and start out with you brand new,
where your heart was at in that moment is not where it is now,
your in a different time and place, with new experiences to be found,
shift your concentration and live your life to be,
experience new experiences.....experience them with me.
Standing among a crowd of silent souls,
treading over remains of lives once whole.
Peering at chiseled dates, stories untold,
vases with beautiful flowers to hold.
What had once felt warm now seems deathly cold,
all that was young has been deemed now the old.
Death has crossed Life's invisible threshold
and its breath this thief has brazenly stole.
Promises of latter years, would be gold,
now appear to be a bit oversold.
Leaving the once carefree and ever so bold,
to be froze in Decay's total control.
A thought has rooted and taken a hold,
on every man time will take a great toll.
11/19/18
2.
Off into the distance, total darkness,
to the right where all was light
Divinity thy beast is coming
from his land of endless night.
The thunder and the lightning playing
terrors own sweet symphony.
Darkness, which is soul destroying,
brings the man of dark to thee.
And then the beasts do scream in anger,
for the vengeance of the light is near,
summoned by an angel cry,
many of the night shall sing death's song.
As God's anger strikes the earth,
upon lightning bolt Unicorn falls,
black as night, horn ivory,
upon its back, a figure of black.
The Arlaghs, they who never fear,
kin to wolf, they never run,
head of wolf, body of man,
legs of wolf to speed them on.
Always toward enemy, ne'er retreat,
kill all mortals, eat of meat.
Red the day when Arlagh strikes,
blood, their nutriential drink.
Fear spread through the mortals that fled,
they saw the signs, all was lost.
A master of the darkest night,
now come to earth but what the cost?
Would womanhood pine away,
at the closing of the day?
Would man be done, ne'er to return?
Would their flame finally blow out?
Riding forth across Badicha's plain,
unicorn and man of night.
Straight as the errant flame,
they both do come into the light.
Sword, Utamol in his right hand,
held aloft to the child of light,
in salute to beauty's all,
in salute to woman's power.
They do turn to face a foe,
the Arlaghs they begin to come,
ground will shake where e'er they go
they do come upon the run.
Come then forth to meet thy fate,
Hounds of Hell, no hesitation,
for Utamol does softly call,
the sword of blood will have you all.
"Stand alone and you shall die."
an Angel cries from way up high.
"I stand here, let any come,"
The dark man said, before the gates.
No man came, he stood alone,
Arlaghs forming as they ran.
The charge was coming, the blood red noon,
A Dark Man did await his fate.
With slavering and gnashing teeth they came,
the Arlaghs on their deathly charge.
Both Unicorn and man of night,
Moved not from where they stood.
Silent as statues standing there
both ready for the blood-letting to come.
Man and Unicorn, single heart, single brain,
standing under a now darkening sun
To Be Continued..........
Jesse Forbes
1893 – 1911
Black Canyon.
Now, there was a place to be!
It is true I was born a brute in a Quaker Town.
Born a bad-tempered brute of a boy
In the two-room digs on Bailey Street and Comstock..
My father fathered two other families,
Unbeknownst to his wife..
And I was the first one disowned.
But my father was a great believer,
And I loved the man like a fool.
I took up the milkin’ business at fourteen,
And made my morning way from Orange Drive down to Penn Street.
Delivering the dozens of clinking milk bottles.
Delivering the dozens of morning salutations,
To neighbors and friends in the glad and dismal days.
I had but one romantic interlude in my short stay,
Just one futile attempt at Carpe Diem.
But was left slapped and standing by a disheveled Ethel Hurst
There in the dark shade of Black Canyon
That inauspicious August day in 1910.
Ethel Hurst did not accept the entreaties of a 17 year old brute.
Did not accept my wild stares
Or my insanely puckered lips.
It was to my surprise that I died.
Died so young and so unready.
Still desiring the perfumed kisses of Ethel Hurst,
Still desiring her heart-quenching embraces,
There, in the dark shade of Black Canyon.
Hello, how are you today?
Are you still standing still,
Or running away, for thrill?
Do you have a clean slate?
Oh, what is the message,
You are trying to convey?
I’m here to repair your wreckage,
And consecrate your sufferings this day.
All along your pathway,
I have sent you my rain,
To soak you with My grace,
And shelter, to ease your pain.
What do you have to say,
In lieu of this stormy race?
Do you fly with hope today,
Or feel remorse for entering this sordid place?
Do you show no signs of waking,
When Heaven’s very foundations are shaking?
Do you in faith see how this war will end,
As the righteous abolish all evil, who in darkness contend?
Is there a safe place and way, to remove these multi layered stains?
An absolute way, to restore my soul’s system, which was Satanically broken?
To return to full sanity, from within and outside my brain?
I’m left as a heart attacked, maimed with many strokes therein.
In this life, I need to find out who I need to be.
Discovering within the lines I’ve drawn, the places of uncertainty.
I write to discover what lies, in the chasms in-between.
I find hope and healing, one phrase at a time, through each hallowed rhyme.
There was a house at the end of my street
No-one lived there for very long
During the war, an entire family wiped out
When an aeroplane dropped a bomb
The family living there at the time
Amounted to unlucky thirteen
Mother, father, baby Mary
And ten children in between
They were a lovely family
Liked by everyone
Janet Smithson who was a nurse
And her hard-working husband John
They were in the front room having tea
On that fateful day
When an aeroplane scored a direct hit
And God took them all away
The whole town was in mourning
For the Smithson family
Mother, father and eleven children
The youngest baby Mary who was three
What was left of the house was boarded up
Then the tenants would move in
Off would come the boards
The walls they were so thin
We'd hear their every movement
If they slammed a door, the walls would shake
Wild parties held by young teenagers
Would keep us all awake
A tenant would live there for a couple of months
Then they’d go on their way
We'd ask them why they were moving out
But none of them would say
This went on for many years
Tenants would come and go
I asked the landlord what was wrong
He said that he didn't know
One day I plucked up the courage
To question a tenant as they were about to leave
She said “I’m almost scared to tell you
I’ve never been one to believe
But there is something supernatural
Going on in the hall
When everything is quiet
We can hear screaming coming from the wall”
She said she'd looked on the internet
In the local branch library
And read up on the house's history
And the sad fate of the Smithson family
After years of squatters and standing empty
The house it was pulled down
But what happened to the Smithson’s
Is still remembered in my home town
I will always love you, when you're smiling or sad
And in all that you do I shall forever be glad
Even at our worst I will think of only our best
Never rehearsed but just another simple test
And as I turn and see you standing by my side
For love you earn as by each other you abide
With a smile on my face and warmth in my heart
I knew this was my place right from the start
Hand and hand walking down that never ending beach
To know and understand and practice what you preach
And when the day ends and the night soon begins
As for the message I send can only be sent in grins
And as the sun will rise and a new day will soon start
You can easily see in my eyes you complete my heart
Soon to part in our ways in fulfilling our daily role
But it will never cease to amaze how only you can fill my soul
It's a beautiful game.
To many of us, it's a field of dreams,
Especially if we have a winning team.
It's a beautiful game.
It's a game of life and love
That feels like a well-fitting glove.
It's a beautiful game.
No two games are the same.
It has boarders and foul lines,
And one never knows about times.
It's a beautiful game.
It can also cause heartaches and pain.
It''s a 'shutout' if losing team has no runs.
One is called 'out' without 'time outs'.
It's a beautiful game.
It's a 'no hitter' if losing team has no hits.
A single hit has the power to cause shouts.
But a 'strike out'' may cause many to pout.
It's a beautiful game.
It loves sunshine but not rain.
Some walking, running, and lots of standing.
Some stealing is legal but very demanding.
It's a beautiful game
That could bring fortune and fame.
There are a few great ones and haller famers,
But everyone who qualifies is a real gamer.
Yes, it's a beautiful game.
One of my father's friends was a Dodger fan.
Another one of his Friends was a Yankee man.
My father rooted for a Cardinal named Stan.
It's a beautiful game.
In my childhood, we often played
With sticks for bats and rubber balls,
Pretending to be Mr. Mantle or Mr. Mays.
It's a beautiful game.
So take me out to the ball game;
Where the strikes are three;
Where the walks are free.
Where the end is nine,
But it could go longer.
It's a beautiful game.
For 60 plus years, my love has remained.
In my childhood, it was a great love in my life,
And I dreamed of being able to pay the price.