Long Surround Poems
Long Surround Poems. Below are the most popular long Surround by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Surround poems by poem length and keyword.
Tapestry of Life**
In the intricate tapestry of life, vibrant memories weave their threads, each one shimmering with its own hue. The echoes of past workplaces linger like faint, nostalgic perfume, evoking a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. Seacrest, with its relentless morning shifts and haunting graveyard hours, etched an indelible mark on my soul—a complicated cocktail of disdain and wistful nostalgia. The stench of those long hours, both literal and metaphorical, clings stubbornly to the corridors of my memory like an unwelcome ghost.
Retirement feels like stepping away from a chaotic dance into a tranquil oasis, a serene pond that promises solace after years of turmoil. But as I bask in this newfound peace, self-reflection creeps in uninvited, urging me to take stock of the years lost in an institution where the pursuit of money overshadowed the pursuit of passion. What good remains from that chapter? The ledger of my life seems eerily blank, with joy elusively out of reach.
At sixty, my sanity becomes both a prayer and a quest. A few screws might be loose, but it has yet to shake the foundation of my understanding in a world that often feels absurd. Kindness flows within me, a gentle current that softens the harsh edges of life, yet I am acutely aware that this vulnerability can be both a strength and a weakness in a world that often thrives on sharpness and sting.
And you, a familiar presence, serve as a gentle reminder: “This path, tread cautiously.” In my next life, I envision myself as a poet—a genuine artisan of words, successful and unwavering. A master tinker skillfully weaving language into magical creations that inspire and enlighten. A philosopher delving into the depths of existence, unraveling the mysteries that surround us.
But for now, I embody Annie—the devoted content creator, the nurturing mother, the steadfast friend. And perhaps, in this role, I find that it is enough.
Society's shoreline shifts
with storms
and unpredictable periods of calm,
at times only rocks can be found,
while at others white sand
stretches for miles.
These changes brought on by weather and tide
affect the very elect with private gardens
as well as the tenant on 103rd street.
Perhaps this is why one-third of Americans
consume anti-anxiety medication
and have difficulty sleeping.
Except for me.
I am unaffected by societal abnormalities,
as I have learned to accept who I see in the mirror.
Tides and undertow do not
toss me like flotsam
or sink me like a float with no air.
Greed is who I am.
Money and possessions are my blood,
my sustenance.
Touching my fat wallet each morning
replaces seeds of anxiety
with placid thoughts of retirement.
America's money is green by design
representing harmony, safety and fertility,
that guides the supplicant.
Only one letter separates
greed from green
for a reason.
Nature's lushness is replaced by
nurture's bounties,
rose's leaf by corporation's dividend.
Yes, greed defines me,
and now that I'm wealthy,
many friends surround me.
Can life be any better?
Time has weathered its walls, and nature has claimed it as its own, with vines and foliage covering every surface as if foraging for room. The air is thick with a sense of dejic-mystery and significance depicted overtly by the castle's towering entrance. There are tales and tall tales that surround this place, that ignite one's curiosity even further. If you get the right traveler and enough ale. But never had any of them acquired the knowledge of it's location. Most of them even ending their accounts with, "but all of it but a myth", or it's equivalent.
Is this overgrown castle, that whispers of it's readiness to divulge its secrets and echoes that have been shaded within its walls and forgotten by Time, playing with the imagination or siring a confidant, a worker of its magics.
Graft appeared as a small child in contrast as he pushed open the Great doors. They let out a great shriek from age and unuse, sounding much like a Vulcarn ready to dive, giving battle cry as the last thing one would hear before the black...
On a far off, lonely hillside
a living spectacle awaits
where aspens spin their golden crowns
and sleepy maple trees awake.
A place where winding paths are lined
with multicolored canopies
where gurgling streams are tickling
frogs and fish and buzzing bees.
A swath of pumpkins in a patch
in varied shapes askew appears
a hanging scarecrow’s crooked smile
fails to raise the raven’s fears.
As autumn’s sun fades wistfully
a crisp cool breeze sways branch and leaf
a lone horned owl is hooting low
reminders that fall’s days are brief.
As sun’s soft rays in beams surround
kissing fields in copper tones
stillness comes as dark descends
and hugs warm Autumn’s afterglow.
Written on 10/22/2018
Darn, fleeting her soul life, sitting away.
Rests snug against the wall twixt cabinet.
6 pots on the window sill, stalks daylight cross.
The horizon two windows still six pots.
Views of the apartment across the street.
Minded I am nothing life’s so discreet.
Alone-quiet-gray blue antique surround.
Instilled Look N down as I AM knitting.
Solitude and darning in mine silence.
Just an alone, age lady, sitting in.
My mind solitude knitting in silence
As her blessed quiet time, so in her.
Her subdued time her mind she's so alone.
Yet getting into the conversation
10/18/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Placement in Contest 1st place
For Get into the Conversation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Contest Judged: 10/20/2023 6:54:00 PM
Shine on summer sun shine
Oh, oh, oh shine on, shine on sun, sun ah!, Oh shine
He gives me all his warm and tender love
He shines light through my window
And he’s such a amazing fellow, I know
Like a angel with his halo
Ooh, ooh this guy is so, so, bright he’s out of sight
Sonny
Sonny James, Sonny James
You shine and you amaze your heart is burning bright
Your soul gives off light
And your spirit out of sight, and you’re All, alright
O, Oh, oh, oh shine on
Shine on summer sun shine
Oh, oh, oh shine on, shine on sun, sun ah!, Oh shine
h, oh, oh shine on, shine on sun, sun ah!, Oh shine
Sonny James
Sonny James you make my life so right
You make my life shine bright
You’re the only one shines like the sun
Sonny, honey, honey I love you yea, yes I do I love you so
And like a cloud I’ll surround you and never, never, ever let you go
And sun shines is your name
Sun, Sun, Sun, Sunny, Sun, Sun Sunny James
Sonny
Sonny James, Sonny James
You shine and you amaze your heart is burning bright
Your soul gives off light
And your spirit out of sight, and you’re All, alright
O, Oh, oh, oh shine on
Shine on summer sun shine
Oh, oh, oh shine on, shine on sun, sun ah!, Oh shine
h, oh, oh shine on, shine on sun, sun ah!, Oh shine
Sonny James
9/11/70
Written words by James Edward Lee©1970, 2019
Written @ North High School 1970 for Class assignment
Write a R & B Female Lead Song/Lyric receive a grade 1
Black is the color of the ground
Which encircles the placid lake.
Volcanic cinders now surround
Desolate earth formed by raging quake.
Large rocks, silhouettes on the shore,
Provide shelter for small critters.
A place for winter's yearly store.
A place where pikas raise their litters
Lassen Park, a home for pikas
Who run around all summer long
Gathering supplies as fast as
The warm rays of the sun remain strong.
The extensive snows of winter
Trap the pikas safe in the den,
Where stored food is now their center.
When snow melts, an escape will open.
Though forced beneath the rocks to dwell,
The pika plans his life quite well.
*the pika is a very small lagomorph that is related to a rabbit.
For one full year I have been thrown in the lion`s den
And the lion has been running and jumping
And pulling savagely at my leg
The philistines also surround me
with a hidden weapon dancing beneath me
And the church with all it`s hyprocrasy and
white hats barking down the hill
looked at me in dismay as I ran virougsly up the hill
If I am hungry no one knows, if I am sick no one knows
If I am sad, no one knows and when I am at peace with them
They throw tissue paper in my face and called me the Devil from hell
They call me names but I stand looking at them without shame
If only I could get through this day,
I would hold up my hands and say
This is just another day.
Yes this is just another day and you have
to embrace it before your heart goes astray
The meeting and the dealing
The cheating and the underlined feelings,
The signiture on top of the dollar
And the hour that dosn`t look proper
And when the day is done
This is the place where they shout Amen Alleluia
This is the place where the devil is enraged
My spirit is flaming inside me
And the birds are flying about me
Oh what profanity,
Oh what desolution when the windows of heaven breaks loose
And you have no one to bend down and lace your shoes
And when you cannot minister to my innate cry the earth will open
its guts and penetrate all the rust with the passing of time
I cannot release this welled up tears that has been
watering my eyes for over one year
It is the daily despositon that make me sigh and
the lack of understanding that they cannot deny
A gang of men and a pack of wolves speaking
above their voices with no vision or insight they
are just working daily for a bligh, and when
the evening is done they go to bed with saw dust on their front
I still cannot feel at peace here, and I will not live in fear
I am going to get up and just walk out of here
No finger to burn and no message to return
It feels like a wilderness surrounds me
And a fire is raging above me
And just around the bend,
It feels like the lion is grinding in the den
The month is coming to an end when
And I wish that the sorrows will go away
The day is absorbed in its own horror
And I wish for a better tomorrow
When knowledge will clothe the face
And wisdom will prevail over the race
Remove the covers off your face and strike
a deal before it is too late.
Still not done with our kingdom
Ours is peopled by the low, the high
With abundant wealth that surround us
We still munch the stench of poverty
Like we swallow our daily ”Garri”
Though still in our Master’s Garrison.
Taken aback became my ordeal
When I saw the boys in the area
I wept for them the “Area Boys”
They are the condemned, the hopeless
The wretched, poverty-stricken, the destitute
Turned hoodlums and Tax Collectors
How do we say of them the forceful Tax Collectors?
The ones that saw a laptop for the first time
I was besieged by them as they sight the box in my hand
Shocked, as they told me not to camera them again
For people “camera us” with it for registration
Still in our kingdom,
Millions still dines with illiteracy
Ignorance has eaten deep into our fabrics
Fourty-seven years after cutting our teeth
Our senses still blurred with poverty
We can hardly drink “Garri” twice a day
Hunger they made our friend without our consent
Starvation they made our life-long companion
Misery, they made the daily toga of old and young
Shall we still stand akimbo watching helpless?
Alayande Stephen T.
02.29am
3rd February 2007
NB-For Area Boys at Mile 12 depicting the high level
Of educational degneracy of the Nigerian populace.
Inspired by a storyline from a show. But absolutely applicable to all parents. Let's remember that we love people more than we love things.
Saved from the fire
By Michelle Morris
19/07/2023
You surround yourself
With opulence and ego
Beautiful paintings by the masters
Making you feel that you have no equal
You forget that class
Is not defined by the things you own
It's reflected in your character
The way you treat everyone you know
When you focus on your possessions
Love things more than people
Your loved ones will feel hurt
Hearts bruised and minds reeling
It's a difficult situation
No one should have to compete
Against inanimate objects
That make your life complete
But when you care way more
About saving a painting from the fire
You risk alienating affection
Putting relationships on a pyre
Things saved from the fire
Cannot replace love and affection
And relationships destroyed by desires
Cannot be fixed by your obfuscation
Take time to evaluate
How you're treating those you claim to care for
And remember that love is in our actions
Not just pretty words we say for point scoring
Surround yourself with love and joy
For real people who share your world
Don't focus on wealth and prestige
For their power won't save your soul's turmoil
© Michelle Morris, 2023