Long Starts Poems
Long Starts Poems. Below are the most popular long Starts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Starts poems by poem length and keyword.
Yes I am here: a boy baby,
I bring fond cheer for you to see.
My charming face catches your eyes,
A fond embrace follows your sighs.
I am happy to see you smile,
I want to be a touch worthwhile.
My cute small size calls out to you,
Yes I am nice as much as you.
I see you now cuddle and kiss,
I know just how I bring sweet bliss.
My soul and heart thrill with your touch,
True love now starts to bond so much.
I trust your zest to keep me well,
I live my quest as time will tell.
Each day I grow to make you proud,
Your love I know speaks gently loud.
You treat me good and soothe my fears,
You bear my moods with love sincere.
Dear Mom and Dad, you are my world,
Through good and bad, see my soul swirl.
Thank you so much for love that shows,
Your lovely touch helps me to grow.
Signed with love deep from my sure heart,
As I find sleep where dreams now start.
An ace in hand works well in time,
Love feels so grand in any chime.
Leon Enriquez
06 June 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT
When December drops its load,
as the season starts its march in spite,
I find myself enraptured
by the ice of time.
That was the time for loving,
as our hearts in bliss were plump and ripe,
and life was passed through the lens
of innocent smiles.
The time for strapping on boots,
as the frost released our minds from strife,
and it was nothing but fuel
for pure rejoicing.
That dazzling powder puffs dreams,
of a place where time stopped in spirit,
and signs of sentimental
giving floated free.
Today I’m here and flying
on the wings of the past and soak up
joy as before, but is there
more than just this rush?
After all, pleasure is here
but for a spell and the bell chimes loud
for reality to break
loose in our worn bones.
True, we often ignore plans
which have been spread out for us with care,
but lessons are treasured as
years of childhood prove.
And though we’re figments in dust,
death itself is trampled in its grave,
so pack your heart with this peace;
embrace time’s wisdom.
I look in the mirror and see my reflection there, the person looking back I can no longer bare, my eyes stare back with hidden pain, My smile so lost I just want it back again, A mask on my face to hide my fear, Of life and people I always hear, A scary world that I once enjoyed, Becomes a darkness of worry that I now try to avoid, My hands shake and my heart starts to race, My breathing gets faster in a place I can't face, The fear of fault of being judged and spoken about, makes my life on hedge with so much doubt, I wish this feeling would just go away, the feeling of fear that I get every day, I just want to feel happy in what I see, Being able to look in the mirror and say I'm free
Tiny orange tea lights with miniature pumpkins sprinkle love lights around the tables,
Which have been set probably since 5:30 a.m. with the church’s best china,
Because the fall tea starts at ten.
Small plastic corn cobs and toy cornucopias were
Placed ever so gently, by church ladies who were young when I was a child,
But are in their eighties and nineties now,
I hear them in the kitchen bossing each other and I smile.
It has been forty-five years since I attended this church.
Their faces are the same, except a bit older, their hair a different color, but the same smiles.
They all know me. I know most of them.
Eleven round tables set up by six church ladies
are generously sprinkled with orange, and yellow confetti
I can hear them tittering about something they think is insanely funny.
Probably making fun of a man. That is when they laugh the hardest.
A hand printed place card with a tiny brown turkey –
Sorted in eights, are placed on the crisp white table cloths
I know, because I was instructed to place them.
One of the church ladies comes out, and replaces them all, smiling
At me, as if I am too young to get it right.
I am only a kid, you understand, merely sixty-something-years-young.
What would I know about placing place cards correctly?
I go into the kitchen to see if there is anything they will let me do.
They trust me to clean the sink.
No. Wait.
One comes over to show me
The correct way to do it.
They are a riot.
It doesn’t happen all at once.
There isn’t a moment
where the sky splits open
and hands you clarity
like forgiveness.
It’s quieter than that.
It starts
in the small pauses
between your thoughts—
where something
you’ve been avoiding
finally looks back at you.
And doesn’t blink.
You try to rename it.
Call it stress.
Call it timing.
Call it anything but what it is.
But the truth
is patient.
It waits
in the way your chest tightens
when you’re alone.
In the way silence
starts to feel louder
than noise ever did.
And eventually—
you run out of places to hide.
Not because the world finds you.
But because
you do.
—to be continued—
On Interstate 5 In A Greyhound Bus
mother pauline boards the big greyhound double decker
her freckled son goes before her wearing a cub scout cap
hurry up she says as they climb the stairs to the upper deck
the bus driver tips his cap and starts the greyhound engine
mother pauline tells the little boy they are going to redding
she gives him a batman comic book and a box of milk duds
nighttime is coming as stout pauline flips on the ceiling lamp
euthanizing elevator music seeps from an overhead speaker
jodi sands sings ‘kiss by kiss’ as the bus driver grips the wheel
the double decker dashes down alameda with taillights on fire
flashing by foggy neon cocktail dives drinking in the darkness
rushing now on life’s dream highway like an insane eel dancing
now rushing at 65 mph they ride on interstate 5’s scarred back
freckled boy tiredly yawns and lies upon the soft lap of pauline
tired mother peers out the window and sees the fast blur of life
she focuses her sight and sees her mountain of love sleeping
an hour of fast driving leads to closed eyes and driveling yawns
old men snore in the back as erect streetlights pass by unseen
mother pauline thinks of husband fred back home being alone
she wonders if fred misses her as much as she now misses him
wonders if he’s snoring in bed right now as loud as the old men
soon she will be in redding to find a house and to scout the town
soon the sun will rise when the yuba street bus depot is reached
freckled boy continues to sleep and dream in pauline’s soft lap
the greyhound speeds up interstate 5 like an insane eel dancing
November rains
Monsoon starts wet;
Nature redecorates
~~~~~~~~~
Orchard Road stretch
Decked for Christmas;
Good for business
~~~~~~~~~
So sad this scandal
Funds embezzled;
Ego versus love
~~~~~~~~~
Love works well
Yes you can tell;
Cash now casts spells
~~~~~~~~~
Sound song and dance
Can mesmerise;
Glitzy paradise
~~~~~~~~~
Once upon a tale
That gospel sway;
Now corruption steals
~~~~~~~~~
Sad, sad refrains
Pain comes to snort;
Empty counts gain
~~~~~~~~~
Hollywood cheer
Baubles at Christmas;
Weary world in tears
~~~~~~~~~
Write words
Wave wins;
Wrong works
~~~~~~~~~
No matter what
Happens right now;
Love keeps loving
~~~~~~~~~
Jolly greets holly
Year-end reasons;
Joyful blessings greet
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 November 2014
Singapore
Heal the haunting shallowness inside
Steal away the taunting distress so wide
Shards of the rusty chains that severely pulled me down once…
Has disappeared into ash and dust — thanks to Your response
Always waiting for what lies beneath
I can’t even breathe, can’t even breathe
Through the flames of uncertainty, uncertainty
Through the blames thrown at each other thoughtlessly
Wanting more than I get
Sick of sinking in regret
Haunting is your voice within and there’s no going back
It’s a single needle in a haystack, needle in a haystack
You pierced me with pridefulness
I’m in this horrid bewildering mess
You assume that your lies can cradle you to safety
You are doomed from the start; it won’t set you free!
You fiercefully forced me to make love to you
The healing process begins with hurting — true
It starts with you and I with or without wings
Play me like glimmering, sacred guitar strings
Shards of the rusty chains that severely pulled me down once…
Has disappeared into ash and dust — thanks to Your response
The healing process begins with hurting — true
It’s the harm and charm that you have I can’t undo
Shards of the rusty chains that severely pulled me down once…
Has disappeared into ash and dust — thanks to Your response
The healing process begins with hurting — true
It’s the weight of your embracing arms and what they do
Hold me in your heart,
when the morning starts to glow,
when the soft winds begin to flow,
between you and me, my sweet beau,
to and fro, and fro, like an echo.
Hold me tight once again,
when our stars drift far apart;
breaking what binds us heart-to-heart,
when we must go far away and depart,
to make amends, back with a fresh start.
Your laugh is like a doubloon,
a gift of gold, a little tune,
turning a drab, rainy afternoon,
into a swooning croon, a balloon,
replaying our much loved honeymoon.
So hold me in your heart,
where the sweetest dreams belong;
where our every word becomes a song;
so true, so deeply, ever so strong,
that nothing can ever ever go wrong.
Hold me like a gleaming star
showing everyone who we are—
true blue lovers, near and far,
softly strumming the one guitar,
singing karaoke, like a mega-star.
The ribbon is cut
The die is cast
The cement is dry
Yet nothing lasts
The brazen rewarded
The hero a fool
All reason outdated
New fury the tool
A journey presented
Your ship to go far
With doldrums eclipsed
By the light of new stars
The lands will seem foreign
The people most strange
But they’ll smile as you pass
And call you by name
You run and you run
And you run from it all
With no map to guide you
The albatross calls
And then sweet intention
Returns from respite
Rephrasing the unmentioned
Where maybe you might
In fear of the tonic
All healing disdained
Right, left-side disjointed
The cork from the drain
The covers pull back
Your bones are now bare
The tiller is slack
And there’s nobody there
So you take to the helm
Hands firmly in place
And you care not a whit
If it’s all empty space
As a raven is perched
On the yardarm so high
A land bird that lurches
Cawing all truth a lie
And you wonder then maybe
Have you wandered too far
As you ladle the future
From a long empty jar
The wind starts to move
A gift from the moon
What’s whole has been halved
And the sun almost noon
The rigging is creaking
The mast ever tall
The wind has died down
With no new ports of call
The feeling still burns
In the fire within
To find that one thing
That unfound—to you sings
The ocean is flat
The seas become calm
The seasons repeat
From reflection embalmed
The night sky is clearest
The darkest the days
The winds have escaped you
Adrift you now stay
But then just a wisp
Of a breeze on your cheek
Portends of a magic
And the vision you seek
It strengthens and gushes
Throughout all the night
As the red sky last evening
Had hinted it might
As the headsails go up
The big linen comes down
And you climb up the mast
Stepping over a frown
The creak of the lapstrake
Splashes over the bow
The present’s in sight
Incarnate right now
You look down on a lifetime
In this moment of joy
As the smell of the brine
Covers anything coy
And an Island approaches
From the mist up ahead
As the stillness reproaches
And retreats to its bed
The wonder returns
All speculation begins
Of the magic you’ll find
In this newness again
At the top of a mountain
Strange trees then appear
In a shape that’s uncertain
Neither familiar nor clear
(continued in part two)