Long Strangers Poems
Long Strangers Poems. Below are the most popular long Strangers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strangers poems by poem length and keyword.
With the cocking of his gun
I squeezed my eye lids all so narrow
And considered how big a gun can look
When looking down its barrel
But instead of being shot
The Doc ordered me once more
To hop down in the shallow grave
And start digging up the ore
He threw me down a pick axe
And as I grab it with my hands
Saying "Don't get no ideas
Or I'll shoot you where you stand"
So I plunged it in the rock
And as the pieces fell away
I saw that it was gold
And the Doc's plan plain as day
He would seem to rescue strangers
From the crowd, back in the town
And take them here to mine for him
Then shoot the wrangler down
With a coffin filled with ore
Then back to town he'd make his way
"He let the fella go"
At least that is what he'd say
This way Doc could keep the gold
And the secret of his find
And as for missing strangers
no one payed any mind
To be continued in Vol 6 Page 9 soon
In my years of living it's been a dark ride
On more than one occasion I've tried to make it to the darkside
Pain & hurt, my brain overworked
Cutting myself until there was blood stains on my shirt
I swear it was insane, felt sick and ashamed
Cutting deeper & deeper but couldn't hit no vein
I had no one to turn to, alone cuddled on the rug
Damn near lifeless stiff as a stone surrounded by a puddle of blood
Thinking I'm almost home, I can see the linked gates
But in reality I was wondering what's my life come to, lately I've been so messed up I couldn't even think straight
Felt like everybody hates me, can't nobody stand me
Downing pill after pill popping zannies like candy
Klotapins, I had a lot of them
Whatever I did only mattered to me but not to them
I began losing myself, started to rot within
Starting abusing my health, welcomed defeat & watched them lock the win
Not thinking, standing at the bridge up on the top
Lost all feeling inside & was ready to die so I closed my eyes said screw it & dropped
There were strangers around me & bystanders seen it
Head first over 20 feet down face first into the cement
Dead on site at least that's what I hoped
But the lord kept my head on tight so with my latest attempt again I choked
Directly the fall didn't affect me
Had to accept the signs that it wasn't my time so the Lord wouldn't accept me
Apologized for my actions but lied to him
Promised that them days were over but a few years later I tried again
Wrapped the rope around my neck tied it in a knot
Was tired of life & being stuck on the bottom, I wanted to get to the top
Was willing to give up everything, stressed & depressed & all out of jokes & laughs
But as soon as I kicked the chair from under me she appeared in front of me just in time to cut the rope in half
I was letting life get the best of me, allowing my pride to break me
Dying inside wondering why he refused to take me
Making the wrong calls from birth & it's been Hell ever since
Until he came to me in a dream and told me himself that I'm stuck here for the long haul and forever I'm cursed with my failed attempts....
Empty halls, they are hidden in their rooms,
For no family comes to visit,
Halls are decorated with garland, trees stand at the entrance, yet no family comes to see..
Here I am Lord,
Is it I Lord,
Is it I whom you choose to bring them out of their gloom?
Empty halls, no smiles upon their face, Lord give them your undying grace, someone’s father, brother, Son.. a veteran whom gave of HIS life now sits alone in HIS room.
Here I am Lord, is it I who shall bring a moment of your JOY.. to show them someone cares? A smile, laughter, a sparkle of Christ’s Love?
A beloved mom of four boys, who cooked, shared laughter, a cup of coffee with neighbors, strangers, lived her life in faith, obedience, Love in Christ sits alone in her room, a simple gift of a sweater, a visit from her son to lift her day of loneliness.
Here I am Lord, I came to share your Love, in simple form of a Xmas card, yet the smiles on their faces, thank you Lord for choosing me to bring joy and warmth to YOUR children of Vitality Living.. Christmas was brought into their hearts if only for a moment..
“I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was naked and you shared my clothes, I was the stranger and you welcomed in “.
Empty halls with cards of HOPE in their rooms, ti read and hold through thus new year” .
Jesus please be their light in their hearts as I leave, .
One day herding my animals
The other, tending our crop
Strangers out of the distance
To them, we knew not
The colour of our skin
Is with these distant men
On arrival at my village
We are herded into a pen
Our women and children screaming
Warriors manacled and chained
Treated like this in our homeland
Degraded mistreated, unexplained
The next day we witness our nightmare
Our village ransacked and burned
Six hundred marched to the coastline
Our existence overturned
The coast we eventually reach
A ship, The Brooke's sits offshore
Ferried out on their longboats
For our future, remains unsure
Many weeks at sea
Grown men cower in corners
In the bowels of this infested ship
Families have become mourners
Tilbury Docks we berth
As i look around and see
From over 600 villagers
Around 300 left and me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/slavery.php
In the night when the moon shakes its silver over waves of dreams,
A woman opens the gate to her heart, feeling too much, too deeply,
In the trance of words that turn into butterflies of light and shadows of omens,
As if the cycles of life and children of glass and islands of emerald could not fill the sea of her soul;
As if the mourners of mists and the whispers of wind and the vegetables of the earth could not fill the cosmic void.
She imagines she can whisper to the stars the secrets of the night,
To bathe them in the light of destiny, to write their fate with an eternal verse.
My love, I am that girl, lost in the whispers of the universe.
A man writes, knowing too much, too painfully,
Spells that transform into birds of night, fetishes that become amulets of time,
As if the erections of desire and the congresses of thoughts and the products of dreams were not enough;
As if the machines of time and the galleons of stars and the wars of shadows could not fill the eternal silence.
With the old furniture of memories, he builds a tree of wisdom,
A refuge in the cosmic chaos, where he hides the treasures of his mind.
My love, you are that man, a thief of falling stars.
In the deep night, when the moon shakes its stardust over our dreams,
We love each other in eternal silence, we love in the absence of our own shadows,
Never loving ourselves, like two strangers in a mirror,
We hate even the shoes of dreams that carry us to forgotten realms,
And the hats of memories that hide untold stories, dusted by time.
But we love each other, precious, with a love that burns silently,
Our hands are light blue, delicate like dragonfly wings,
Our gazes are full of terrible confessions, like mirrors of deep water,
Where all our desires, all our fears, all our unfulfilled dreams are reflected.
And when we marry, our vow is made under a sky full of enigmas,
The children of light leave in disgust, leaving behind a strange abundance,
A cosmic banquet, full of unconsumed dreams and unpicked stars,
Like fruits hanging heavy on the branches of time, waiting to be harvested.
They stand on the pointy end
of compass arrows,
friends and strangers
scattering, flickering now
like fireflies in a jar someone else
is carrying yet further away.
The young are born
on the far side of the moon
where nobody looks
for the earth.
Of course the dead have left,
but you still have their business cards,
debts. owed to you or to them
not money, but hand-me-down memories
those 'post-its' once pinned to the hope
of a shared journey.
You suddenly know you are alone,
the only fish in a shrinking pond;
rooted now by the very long roads
that brought you here.
Will you follow the calling winds,
will you backpack up to another peak
that goes nowhere?
Your are a veteran of foreign engagements,
time has so slowly
placed your heart in a box of pressed flowers,
a box muffled by plush and velveteen
one as large as any coffin
its four walls marked
'Do not open until the last train
leaves forever.'
Cold was the winter night as the snow fell,
drifting and piling on the streets and paths;
where a wandering girl struggled to walk,
weary and homeless, sleepwalking.
Oh, she was lost, a runaway of abuse,
cold was the night but colder was her fear;
she was sleepwalking to nowhere in the snow,
she had no shelter from the winter.
Fast the people walked past not seeing her,
help me, feeble the poor girl cried out;
help me please, I am so cold and hungry,
sleepwalking, she struggled on and on.
Once I had friends- but they are gone now,
once I had parents- but they betrayed me;
once I had a home- once I had a man to love,
oh, please pity me strangers walking by.
I had a life before- I had a baby boy,
yes, a baby- he is in Heaven above now;
Loud is the wind blowing her down and down,
as the people walk on and on.
And when she could not walk she lay down,
from the gathering snow she called out, help me;
so loud was the wind that her voice drifted.
so, she closed her eyes, and slept.
Worn out from sleepwalking and hopelessness,
down she sank into her bed of cold soft snow;
there did a walker find her in the morning,
God, had given her a home.
_________________________
July 25, 2018
Poetry/Verse/Sleepwalking, as the Snow Falls
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1045-906-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Sleepwalking
sponsor, John Lawless
Third Place
(this pastiche promulgated many moons ago from those screaming bloody thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend). My gut reaction that zero apr guilt linkedin with lovely looking lass, who may very well bear the burden of culpable guilt for the rest of (what this totally tubular unknown guy no war) a fulfilling life.
with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers
brought sought after fruition of freedom
per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass
whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail
to her home within Seattle, Washington
whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation
breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief
when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC
aswarm with frenzied television camera crews
scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises
to land this once anonymous cell bait
an undisclosed amount of lucre
which many on the other side of the pond
find mind boggling if not downright objectionable
moreso livid with rage
against the Machiavellian machine
on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend
accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)
sans homicide of college roommate
now sought after garnering this fawning female
(salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf”
now faces a future replete with riches aplenty
allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of murder
to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller
not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster
with subsequent royal carpet treatment
to compensate for guilty judgment decreed
without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
When the mama doesn't cry
She smiles and kisses her child goodbye,
I see the tears behind her eyes,
Sparkling like sunshine:
"Baby..come back soon"
She says,
But her baby was gone.
Baby Jane had left the world
Hung like the mobile above her cot,
As her mama stood beside
She soaked in the scent of freedom..
The bars of the window that separated them
Spilled assurance from the vacuum
That dwelt within her gullible mind:
Mama smiled again..
"Bye my Baby, Be good my child
Homely charms call me...
Back to my village I shall return,
Before the clouds go wild.."
She waved her hand by the turn,
And Baby Jane was happy..
The eyes she had, had the curious gait
Wandered deep and innocence, bait
The dabblers that didn't notice
Had died her living death.
Rosy cheeks and sultry hair
Doe-eyed beauty, thorough fair..
The novelties of charm for her
Had been mere indulgence of ardor,
She saw the dads and the mums,
The beggars with their deceptions,
Families with happiness strewn
Like flowers on Heaven's doors..
Lone warriors with baggage demeaning
The pursuit of happiness,
She wondered if her quest for life
Had been an oblivion..
Nirvana had led her to..
Baby Jane looked by the turn,
Strangers fluttered like wild butterflies...
The waving hand was just a vision
She sat quietly by the window,
On the leaving train.
Sacrifice
I was one of many on the Mount of Olives and
every year produced batches of black olives.
Sweet and black, my olives were prized near and far and
my owner would always brag about his favorite tree.
I was one of the first to be planted and was king of the grove.
Till one day some strange men in strange clothes came
speaking in a language I did not understand.
Next thing I knew, they took an axe and started cutting me.
I was in pain but could not scream as I had no voice and
fell to the ground helpless as I couldn’t move.
They cut me into two long pieces and carried me away.
Part of me was taken to a rocky hill outside the city and
part of me was given to a man who was beaten and bloody.
He was forced to carry me through the crowd thronged streets
being yelled out and whipped by these strangers each time he fell.
He finally brought me to the hill and I was nailed together
in a strange shape and he was nailed to me.
I watched as hid blood stained my fibers and saw him
slowly die, cursed by those who watched.
My last crop was the greatest as this humble tree gave
all for the Son of God.