Long Swifter Poems
Long Swifter Poems. Below are the most popular long Swifter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swifter poems by poem length and keyword.
Although nothing is wrong when we spend our time alone, dreaming,
but when we are done dreaming, or when we awake thinking, we must
become aware that there can be no dream-fulfilling unless there is
team-building. Together united, we can build the most beautiful edifices
and the tallest strappers, saying "Hi" to the clouds in the skies.
But alone, self-endulged, self-absorbed, self-deluded, and selfishly motivated,
we are destined to become like sand on the sea shores, washed away by
by the high tides. We may soar like the eagle, be swifter than the chetah,
wiser than the ader, more enduring than the tortoss; but in a relay, we will dream alone if we cannot pass the paton. So let us dream on my friend, but may we never forget to 'team on'.
082821PS
The way he’s come seems now so long and winding
Tramping through the rugged hills of time
His footfalls, once so full of purpose, begin to falter
As if the destination is now further off
And the path no longer for the finding.
His will to walk is undiminished
(Please God let that be true)
The will to strive, to climb, to go the umpteenth second mile
The will to gather other pilgrims too.
But this dark place is littered with conflicting signposts
With other walkers passing by too sure
“This is the path and this the way to walk”
“This is the marching song to sing and this the way to talk”
As striding by on different paths they leave his questioning unfinished.
The questions dance inside his head, whilst answers walk with leaden feet
That stumble slowly to the place where ask and answer meet.
Then meeting, change to swifter,
Spin-blurred dancing feet
That turn and mock his efforts to be sure
And shriek instead to trust
And thus to know far more.
Yet in it all he knows
Beyond the fog
The sun still shines
The Son still reigns
As
Head down
Stumbling
Sometimes falling
Wondering
Step-by-step
By step
He makes his way to higher ground.
These days, when He watches her, she unconsciously moves
a fringe of hair to veil her eyes,
and even that is cause for His chagrin.
The nights He comes home wasted, smelling of beer,
He minces her with vile slurring words, incoherent bile
that slices holes and seeps into her soul
until she feels her entrails quiver.
If she dares to speak, He seizes that moment to play Lord and Master
and put her in her serfage place (though ironically, the plebian is He).
He screams at her, “What is that? What’s that you say?”
She yearns to know the shibboleth He seeks from her,
that magic utterance to take His wrath away.
But they are words not granted her.
Remission is not hers inside His house. And when the beatings begin,
she bows on knees enfeebled, soundlessly submitting.
From this she has learned she will receive a swifter castigation.
Afterwards - through the rumbling of His stirring in the bed beside her,
she lies stone-like, replaying in her mind
what has become a more and more familiar fantasy:
A young man, debonair and kind, touches sandy locks and moves them gently
to the side. He holds her face and smiles into her eyes.
Life with such a man, she thinks, will be for her one day,
exoneration.
Written March 18, 2014 /
for Shadow Hamilton's The Dark Side of Love Poetry Contest
We've got a short time to make it to the top.
To climb the neck bones of our elusive God.
A short time to scribe, knead, travel, paint.
Crash land into a true soul mate.
Elevate to the next consciousness.
Build your own rose petal nest.
Life is a fiery sprint,
a taste of earth, a splash of mint.
Where's the synergy of heart + soul?
The silver sheen of youthful shoals.
The antidote for hopelessness
The patch over the sinkhole of the mind.
The neck bone staircase has vanished into the clouds.
We've a short time to unstitch the light from the shroud.
To leave something profound, everlasting, behind.
Something more than selfies and a jar of forgotten ashes.
Such a short time to escape from the stall
The dream is swifter than the dreamer after all.
LEAVES
My mind wanders, as I sit at my cluttered desk, trying desperately to contact our clients. Working from home during the Covid-19 Lock down, is a challenge with no staff.
I imagine myself sitting in a field of abundant green grass with cosmos flowers surrounding me. The old oak tree has lost some of it’s leaves, we are half way into Autumn. I see a bird’s nest not too far out of reach, but I am not quite tall enough to peep in. I hear tiny chirps, hungry fledglings awaiting their mothers return. A winding but strong stream, trickles beside me and I am mesmerised by the sound. It makes me sleepy, but my golden retriever Plato keeps barking at me to throw a stick into the stream. I lazily pat him and lay down on the grass. A fresh Easterly breeze is blowing gently caressing me, and rustling the leaves in this old oak tree that could tell me more than a lifetime of stories. A leaf falls into the trickling stream, and I hear the water running swifter. I suddenly see a fast flowing river that leads to rocks and rapids, but I still see the leaf flowing and churning and dipping and diving. I am so engrossed in its misfortune flowing towards a waterfall, that I become the leaf, and the waterfall roars as I drift closer to its thunder. I no longer feel peaceful as I struggle to not fall over the edge – but I am a tiny leaf in a vast world.
The phone rings, and confused, still in my daydream, I reach to answer it. As I say Hello?’ the headline “Latest Covid-19 news” scrolls across the TV above my desk. Reality takes over, we must survive!
Oh my Beloved Come fetch me home
my desire is only for you alone
descend from the Mountain upon your white steed
for my heart is burning you only I need
So long have I waited planted like trees
in earthly places by temporal seas
my heart is driven to seek out your face
the visions of you I wish not to erase
My Beloved comes riding upon a War Horse
none can exceed him none can change his course
fully he's armoured prepared for War
Light goes before him and darkness no more
I'll come to greet you my lamp full of oil
White is my gown cleansed completely of soil
I have made myself ready for you I'm awake
One love have I only no err or mistake
My Torch and my beacon Who walks in the Flame
A River of Fire proceeds his New Name
his followers many in heaven and earth
upon his arrival a new heaven new earth
Swifter than eagles his visions are true
He will expose the things men hidden do
Instructed was he in war he was taught
to destroy strongholds the fortresses of thought
Dan 3:35 , 7:10 Rev 19:12 Matt 25:1-13
COPYRIGHT © 2014 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Happy (dead) Mother's Day.
Here's a fistful of wildflowers for your final resting place.
Your demise was far swifter than your time.
I wasn't old enough to get to know you.
Just a few matted memories and some 8mm film clips
Your smile was sweet and wide.
You gave me a naked cowboy piggyback ride.
We had a cat named Blue and a short, wide bulldog.
I'm guessing by the small room smiles
these were the best of our times.
Dad got rid of Blue because she couldn't break the habit of crapping in the bathtub.
One day a kid split my lip with a tin can.
I went balling into mother.
Another time I opened the farmer's gate so the cows could escape,
For punishment, he gave me a dead corn snake necklace.
Black crows surrounded mother's final bloody bed.
A little silver music box reminded me of her
It gave me some sad sort of comfort.
Time graciously swept most of the rot from inside this head.
A woman's love, so soft and enveloping,
the dearest balm, the cherished bond;
fruitless for so long I searched,
for affection and companionship;
and she was the answer in the dark.
My heart returned, my purpose reborn,
I was the finished man;
my pursuit complete, I could rest in her light -
happy upon her smile,
joyful upon her laugh,
blessed to gaze into her eyes.
But earthly heaven cannot long last,
nor hardship be appeased;
one cannot remain ensorcelled by the angels
and hope to escape unscathed.
The fire dimmed, the light receded,
and only suffering glowed;
the loneliness now cast down upon me
a greater burden than ever before -
greater than I've proven able to bear.
All memories of her, of the way she was,
the things and feelings she caused,
linger, taunting and tormenting;
every one a portal, a mirror to our past -
vivid as the day they were upon me.
The memory of when my eyes first fell upon her
instantly, swifter than even thought allows,
hurtles me back, brings everything to my mind;
I recall my nervousness, the magic,
her elegance.
I stumble to the window and stare out
upon the spot where we first kissed,
out in the pouring rain;
I watch, again and again, as my life passes me by.
I watch as the whole world crumbles
to dust and ash, forgotten remnants
of a love gone awry.
My cheeks stain, yet once more,
with those carriers of grief and mourning
that trace their way out of my trembling eyes;
their tracks forever stain my cheeks,
their sorrow forever stains my soul.
I fear the faint, far-off sounds of movement,
not wanting to be seen;
but nay, I think, let them chance upon me,
and see the depths where I now dwell;
let them see me for who I am.
For I am become sundered.
I wipe the teardrops off the floor;
I stare into my own eyes, in a mirror,
and I don't recognize the being within;
I take a sharp breath and wonder,
ever, will it ever end.
RAGE
A smolder, a flicker into being it’s born
It’s not a process for time is obsolete
A true ‘’pop out of the blue’’ like the saying goes
It’s trigger at the ready deep in our emotions
Rage we call it
Give it a thought; you could predict its path
A half baked prediction you will reach at
That I can promise you
You expect it but never know its true form
Like a smoke it smolders with no permanent form
For that’s its true toxic nature…unpredictability
Rage we call that toxin, a most suitable name indeed
I embraced it myself once or twice
It was truly a bitter creation
Oh I still feel it; I still feel the poison ravage through me
Contemplating, I can’t help but feel a presence
The presence of a demon in us all
A demon of spontaneous rage
The victims a fleshy bulls eye they are
Invisible the damages appears
Yet deep the toxin runs
By it a man gets unmanned savagely
A woman left with nothing but shredded emotions
A child left looking towards a sorrowful future
Oh rage humanity’s self doom
So swift it comes and even swifter it leaves
An everlasting mark it leaves
A mark so deep, it’s a passionate hate
Such power there is no escape from it
The best of us have crumbled before it
And crumble more will
For that’s rage, a distasteful part of the human equation
An Original Composition by O. Aaron
Inspired by my father’s rage
Form:
Lovely lady you know I am a drifter
Life didn’t need to move any swifter,
So many tales over the years,
A drifters life doesn’t consist of fears.
When I told you all about my days,
I’d hoped that in so many ways,
I could take your hand and sing to you.
Caress you with my songs with a view,
You asking me not any more to wander.
And having you grow so much fonder.
That didn’t happen as I hoped it would.
My wanderlust held me as only it could.
Now I am older, my songs echo the sound.
Of perpetual wind turbines going round.
I guess a soldier of fortune I will always be.
A weary traveler, wandering aimlessly.
So many times I looked for something new,
In reality I was just wandering without you.
Days n nights were cold, you weren’t here.
Songs echoed but were no longer clear.
My heart jumped when I saw you near.
My mind played tricks you were not here.
Now I have grown old, nights still cold.
I lament as I see now my life unfold.
In reality, I just wandered without you.
The songs echo in the distance so blue.
A soldier of fortune I will always be.
If only you had agreed to lay with me.
If only you had agreed to stay with me.
Now a soldier of fortune I will always be.