Long Stepped Poems
Long Stepped Poems. Below are the most popular long Stepped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stepped poems by poem length and keyword.
On a dark, melancholic night,
she sat completely still.
Earnest.
Head up,
eyes frozen,
lips sealed,
breath silenced,
hands crossed,
ankles shackled,
heart blindfolded,
brain screaming nonsense,
occupied with millions of thoughts
Loud and monotonous.
Everybody had told her
to stop listening to her heart;
that emotion,
though fluid, has to be caged;
though wild, has to be tamed.
Her skin cracked in protest,
and a white butterfly
with a damaged wing
fell at her feet,
voiceless,
almost invisible.
She didn't notice
the fluttering butterfly,
for her brain was screaming:
"Run!"
Her brain was racing,
chasing time,
anxious and out of breath,
blurring her vision with illusions.
"Run!"
Her brain screamed again,
and, thus, she stood up
so abruptly she lost herself in vertigo;
and, moving her foot,
she heard
a voice.
"Mind the butterfly!"
the voice echoed,
yet her head was frozen,
her skin was breaking
under the pressure of
heavy, anticipating stares,
twisted and eager to judge;
their lips were, slowly,
breaking into crooked,
predatory smiles:
ready to devour her,
to feed on her innocent mistakes.
"Save the butterfly!"
The muffled voice repeated,
rushed through the air,
to shield the blurred butterfly,
and she almost took a blind step
when his arm spread in time
to shelter the broken butterfly.
She gazed in awe
into his eyes.
His eyes were, cloudless, untamed;
free to flow all over the space,
to submerge the world with
lucid cleansing emotion.
His hands, warm and open,
ready to inhale the universe,
were guarding the delicate butterfly
with the greatest care.
Within the skies of his boundless palms,
the butterfly exhaled the dust of pain.
Elixir of life rushed through its wings,
spreading them to embrace the sky,
and yet he was a king
with a million things to do.
He was a king,
real, adored, and prosperous:
never has he ever
stepped on a broken butterfly.
There is a legend of a cowboy down in Texas
To whom they give the sobriquet of Pecos Bill.
It's said he rooted and he tooted
As across the plains he scooted,
Stetsoned, jeaned, bowlegged, and booted,
Pursuing cows and wooing gals
As was his skill.
The story goes one day while Bill was out romancing,
A cyclone came and rudely whisked the gal away.
He hopped atop the thing to ride it,
Quickly lassoed and hogtied it,
Then none the worse for wear and tear and rough foreplay,
Out stepped the gal,
And Pecos Bill had saved the day.
Now, legends often tend to get a bit inflated,
And this one here is no exception to the rule.
Some say it's too exaggerated,
I say it's well imaginated.
Like alimony oilmen often pay their exes,
Things are always so much bigger down in Texas.
Of course, it's hogwash, rubbish, bunk,
And yet how often have I thunk
That the tale of Pecos Bill is kinda cool.
Before Rick Perry left the race,
They interviewed some fans.
One woman said a vote for him
Was surely in her plans.
The journalist asked why and so
She went on to explain.
She thought Rick Perry’s love of God
Embellished his campaign.
That answer didn’t shock me;
Pious folks want him elected.
Her second reason, though, was not
At all what I expected.
She said, “I like Rick Perry’s wife
Because she’s so submissive.”
Those words were so amazing
My reaction was dismissive.
But then I thought about it and
I reached this sad conclusion:
Equality for women’s still
An out-of-reach illusion.
For there are women, young and old,
Who feel it is their place
To be subservient to men,
Which I find a disgrace.
We’ve come so far and fought so hard
Yet there are those still stuck
With values long-rejected by
Most females filled with pluck.
I’m glad Rick Perry’s given up
And stepped out of the fight.
Unfortunately, he’s got clones
Just waiting on the right.
Please, tell me, for you, it was not a total waste,
Thirty two years of our souls entwining.
Tell me there was warmth and joy you embraced.
Like the love of our lives , our precious two,
morphing four into one, without even trying.
I wish I had their strength but I don't think I do.
Tell me for a time, for at least a short moment
that your heart beat for me and your smile was unerring,
Tell me your words were a fervid investment
not hollow discourse just meant to appease me,
or placatory sentiments of habitual murmuring
expressed without meaning, an embittered plea.
Tell me, please, through our contrived, inane reasons
you must have found cause, at least some simple thing
that kept you next to me, for so many seasons,
for the hope of renewal as the time slipped away,
more than our passion and more than just clinging,
until the feelings faded from fact to cliche.
Tell me it's not true as we sit in this room, without malice or greed,
the judgement is final, dissolution of marriage,
"Best of luck to you, with your divorce," he decreed.
The words yet linger like the executioner's bell.
Fourth floor, section B, room 2, where we were kept hostage,
until we stepped through the door, as our past we expell.
11/26/2022
Cut metal sheet and two rings
in the marrow of comprehended made us
never know why
pulled out
by fluorescent uniforms and sore siren
from wrong side of road already seen was swept out
phone
cognition
answer
finally they began to disappear
someone put the film on
it's rolling
if mercy is constructed from excessive delayed condolences
she doesn't want to be baptised by your stones
stepped in the bathroom
turned the water heater on
there is too much to wash out
people
so many people
pale faces walking
headed boxes slide in silence
she believed
you'll leave one, at least that smallest window
open
they lied
you're not forgotten
RIP is what they wrote above me,
But that hasn't put an end to this thing.
The bugger's still up there happily,
Prancing and dancing,
And I can't get any sleep!
If I could get out of this box of oak,
I'd put an end to his nasty little joke.
He would never dance again.
For I would be the means to his end.
The improbable is possible,
Some time or another.
This is one thing I've learned and oft said,
Your dancing is the cause of my pain and torture,
So, get ready for the return of the cranky living dead!
I'll scare the crap out of you,
And send you to an early grave.
Then I will dance to a happy tune,
While you rot unsaved.
Finally, RIP will really mean,
Rest In Peace.
For The Dancing my friend,
Is about to end.
As you become one,
Of the resting deceased!
I threw down the gauntlet,
And said, "Dance your worst!"
He came at me undaunted,
In a terrible burst,
Of speed and flying feet.
But this served to aid me,
In his final defeat.
For one thing he forgot,
The dead travel fast.
I side-stepped his onslaught...
No repeat of the past.
I spun quickly around,
And knocked him to the ground.
I Stepped on the dancing fool,
And disarmed him of sword.
Just the thing for the cause.
No time for a messy duel.
But just then he uttered a few words,
Which gave me reason to pause...
A last request?
I was given none.
Surely you jest,
Your dancing days are done!
I chopped, hacked, and sliced on,
And drove him asunder.
He did not last long,
And no wonder...
I cleaved him open,
From knave to chaps.
Out spilled his blood and organs.
Upon his grave I'll play taps,
And dance...
Perhaps a "Tap Dance".
The time has come for he,
With his head lying at his feet,
To make observations,
Form and express opinions.
To see and watch me,
Dance The Dancing!
My revenge is complete.
The last dance is over.
And it tasts far more sweet,
To know,
In Hell, you shall dance no more,
Forever.
What's that,
I hear?
You want to wear,
The funny little hat,
And use the cane...
Ah, that's a shame.
For you see,
Where your going,
In the world underground,
No Dancing Is Allowed!
While trying to go forward,
I backed up, reassessed,
and
stepped
to
the
side,
nearly...
missing...
the...
BUS!!!
I never mattered to you in your nice little world, not now, not then, not there,
You see, I was only ever mum’s boyfriend to you, no idea, I was so unaware,
I was free time, free change, free stain on the wall, someone to yell at when mad,
Always the guy that stepped up just for you, free photos, free food, a free dad.
And for ten straight years I gave you my love, to my chest three names I held tight,
I would fight for these names, die for these names, then Julie, she said, “It’s not right”,
So, you burnt what you wanted; my honest, my heart, for a lie I can now clearly see,
I embarrass you, Steph, and I know what to do: no emotional truth, no more me.
No happy, no sad, no feelings at all as shallow’s my word of the day,
Because that is how you want me to be, just a smile is how I will stay.
And today there’s not never no time, no chat, no nothing about thoughts in our head,
You’re never the first to reach out and say “hi”, you believe the words that she said,
In fact, I don’t think I was ever someone to you, my love you never wanted at all,
I was always the first text message or snap- But from you, not even a call,
Getting what you want is this paper-thin man, a smile for a pic has been drawn,
And the emotional dad, open for you, he packed up, disappeared, he is gone.
THEY OFTEN SAW OTHERS AND OTHERS WAYS
KEEPING THEIR DISTANCE TO OBSERVE AND CRITIC
WHEN THEY UNDERSTOOD WHAT WAS GOING ON
THEY BEGINNING PUTTING FACE TO NAMES
UNDERSTANDING AND RECOGNIZING
CREATING HEROS AND JEERING THOSE
WHO THEY SAW AS OBSTACLES TO WHAT THOSE
THEY FAVORED WISHED TO ACHIEVE.
SPREADING THE SUNSHINE OF NEWNESS
THEY FOUND FAULT AND WAYS TO DISAGREE WITH
WHAT THEY KNEW WAS RIGHT
AND BOUGHT WORDS AS TRUTHS TO SPEAK IN
THEIR LIMITED UNDERSTANDING OF THE HAPPENINGS BEFORE THEM.
MIGHT HIS COMPETITION DISAGREE WITH WHAT WE ARE DOING
THEY MIGHT PRAY FOR OUR DESTRUCTION
AND MAKE OUR WELL-BEING UNCERTAIN AND AT RISK.
PEOPLE WHO OPPOSE THE MONSTER OFTEN GETS STEPPED ON.
CAN WE STAND BEFORE THE MONSTER AND ANGER HIM
ONLY TO IND THAT HIS RETALIATION IS FAR GREATER THAN OUR RESISTANCE.
Thou art God's Gift: thou wert born by HIS Grace,
He hath been with thee while growing in life,
Though thou walked thro' thorns and spikes, He hath been with thee.
Thou wert a tiny-tot when entered a play school,
Thou uttered alphabet and numbers, and were taught rhymes,
Thou hadst slept in thy tiny snug couch,
Thy eyelids winked that pronounced infantile babblings.
Thou entered class One and learnt child-like language,
God in Christ JESUS showed a ladder unto thee to soar high,
Each step thou climbed up hath been fruitful,
Thou learnt God’s Grace while soaring high.
Having reached the milestone of school learning, thou prayed unto HIM with Thanksgiving.
Thou stepped onto the milestone of college learning for Biotechnology,
Thy travel for four years taught thee what life is,
Thy efforts begot fruit to soar high above,
And He hath lifted thee high above the pedestal of life,
And yet thou hast to grow in His Plan and glorify Him.
Now thou art crowned with B.Tech.graduate degree,
And it's His design in thy life on earth and cross more milestones.
Thou will step up the ladder with His Guidance only to glorify Him.
And it's every good soul's prayer unto HIM.