Long Talk Poems

Long Talk Poems. Below are the most popular long Talk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Talk poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Living With a Ghost

living with a ghost is easy
sometimes scary
       a bit hard on the nerves
               at times   but lovely too           
I have been doing it for years now    years I tell you
ever since grandma went or should I say     didn't
you see    I inherited all her things   sadly some got sold
but I kept many   including
               her old favorite chair
                     an antique china cabinet
                          with her tea cups and collectibles
oh how she loved her collectibles   now be gentle dear
   I recall her saying to the little girl that was me
      all
        those
            years 
                ago
after grandma's funeral    ( I read the eulogy too) 
I felt a presence in my nest   my home     I really did 
but brushed it off . . . 
   then one day    a friend    who thought herself a physic
            visited
she stood in the center of my living room    eyes closed
  for the longest time.... I wanted to say   are you okay?
turned to me suddenly  and said     you have a ghost   
    I gulped    I DO! . . .  NO, she said    you have TWO
 she walked right over to the grandma's chair
            she is right here watching you     and she has a cat
A CAT? ...   I said       yes, a calico cat
                       I did not know what to say
you see... my cat patches who recently died was calico
     well, I was not that shocked as me     and grandma
                had a special bond     always
now often     I will hear the china cabinet     open (at night)
     and in the morning the tea cups and collectibles have moved
sometimes      the chair will creak    and was that a ghostly meow
but I love my ghosts     both of them     I really do     
and would have it no other way . . .
    sometimes, I bring the chair a cup of tea
          I even talk to it (never sit in it)
                   I know that sounds silly
                              but I swear, she is listening
                                      NOT THE CHAIR    grandma-

_____________________________________
June 5, 2016

Poetry/Narrative/Living With A Ghost
Copyright Protected, ID 16-797-557-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Submitted to the contest, Any HM Ever
Sponsor, Laura Loo

Second Place

____________________
For the contest, 
I Ain't  Afraid Of No Ghost


Honorable Mention
Form: Narrative


The Deceitful Child

All  of my children did come home
One at a time, almost like a metronome.

It made me happy, as I felt needed
Yet, when they wanted advice it was never heeded. 

I love them all with my entire being, 
Yet, not long it felt like they were fleeing.

They are now adults with lives of their own
However, for their past, some refused to let me atone.

My youngest one always acted entitled,
Then when he started working he made me feel vital.

Then one by one, as their lives moved on, it seemed they forgot about me.
Only on holidays or my birthdays did they act around me with glee.

Once festivities  were at an end  they found a reason to flee
They always seemed to prove my fear that they were there out of duty.

Then my youngest started calling me every day to say I love you
I started thinking  I was forgiven for all he had gone through.

I was soon to learn how wrong I was
As he started rumors, making a buzz.

And soon most believed these rumors so heinous
He was showing everyone he was a Janus.

Somehow the others believed him
It left me feeling my future with my kids was grim.

Then one son came to me to talk about my actions
Talking to me and making it look like we were doing transactions.

Yet, he was telling me the things my youngest had said
Then he gave me an ultimatum that led me to feel as if my heart had bled.

The very next day, I woke up to a message from my other mother
Another lie told by my youngest made me feel like he wanted to separate me from his brother.

Now that son and daughter will not returns text or a call
Making me think they believe the lies one and all.

All because I was tired of my youngest using me
Threatening me that in my life he no longer would be.

All because I told him until he could talk to the respect I deserve
Somehow my telling him this must have struck a nerve.

Now he is trying to turn all his siblings against me
Using lies and my fears in order for me to beg and plea.
	
There are two he cannot turn
Oh, how it must make him burn.

He is not being an adult, but a deceitful child.
I am praying my other two can help me get reconciled

To the two who believed their younger  brother
And have them understand what is going on with their mother. 

Until that time comes, I sit here and wait
I have to leave this all to God and to fate.

© Kristy De La Keur Scoville
Form: Rhyme

Jet Lag

I see him stumbling around looking for something to hold on to but there was nothing there except the open thin air and a bunch of bureaucrats wearing thin frocks walking around on wet grass with fake greetings and a forced smile that caught us by surprise. 

Bob has been in the news and this has left everyone confused he is running for office again, midths the barrage of criticism running down his spine weakening his legs and making him look like the walking dead. At first, he looks like a robot coming out of a hut, and then it appears like a man in despair. There was no one around to cover him except for gravity and his own sanity. 

Bob is fun to be around but this time his attitude makes me frown, he does some weird things, like walking with his nose pointed in the air and use his finger to show you the clock.  

Sometimes he is agitated and his temper cuts deep causing everyone to proceed with caution while he rolls the dice and shuffles the cards. He is a nice person to be around but the mood swings will drag you down; yesterday I invited him for tea, we had a small talk and it left my aunt weeping in the dark, what is really going on with Bob?  

Bob is a very good man but sometimes he looks very sad; he has a very tight schedule and attends more than ten meeting in a given day, heaven knows how he stands up while going through the gate.

 He knows his work quite well and he can talk up a storm from hell and still remain true. I watched him come and go and how he presents himself while he rides the big ship, and the ceremony he attended with the mercenaries hiding in the bushes and the guard of honor marching every hour to pay their respect to Bob.  

He wasn’t quite in it, he was always looking for something to hold on to but the air propels him along and John, his closest friend, stood next to him and pushes him on. 

I could sense a silent annoyance rising up in john’s emotions, as he reached for support while climbing the steps. He attempts to hold john several times from his back but John shrugs and show him the way with a polite gesture. 

They and had a cup of tea towards the end, and spend some time feeling out each other. What was said, I really don’t know but the cluster bombs exploded and close that chapter. The tennis match was a blessing in disguise, and it is an indication of how the story will end, I love happy endings.

Don'T Offer God Anything That Costs You Nothing

In order for us to redeem the time we need to give God our best 
and be willing to do all He asks as proof of where our faith rests
as it's not about how much you've given but has your faith been consistent
in offering all you have to God with a loving persistence
to be thankful when receiving any and all blessings that come from God
and responsible when you get them and holding them in the highest regards
but to offer anything to God that costs you nothing at all
is the difference between true sacrifice and just giving a lip call
for it's not about just talking the talk, it's about being willing to walk the walk

what motivates us? and what is in our hearts?
are two of the things that most concern our Lord God
to be about giving God your best, as He's the only one whom you need to address
there will be times of difficult instructions when you choose to follow His commands
there will be some hard choices to make that you may never come to understand
yes God will test you to determine your faithful resolve
but if you place your trust in Him some mysteries in your life may be solved
and when making a burnt offering to God it needs to be free and whole
coming from one's heart with the surrendering of one's soul
so never offer God anything that costs you nothing to give
remember it's only by His grace and mercy that you even live

Abraham was so faithful to God he was willing to offer his only son
his hope for the future, his heritage, his legacy now under the gun
about to slay his only son until the Angel of God appeared
and told him, "don't touch that child", for we know of God you now fear
he was willing to make the sacrifice and give all that from him God desired
no matter how hard, no matter how difficult to follow the instructions God inspired
hand God your hands and let Him have control
adhere to God's plans and surrender to Him your soul
trusting in what He instructs you to do
believing His blessings will then rain down on you

God has much in store for us when we follow His instructions
and will supply all our needs with His providential productions
His word is the pathway to promise and the roadway to righteousness
His love is the gateway to glory and the highway to holiness
so don't offer God anything that costs you nothing in life
for He made the greatest offer to you with the crucifixion of His son Jesus Christ

Your Nothing To Me

You're nothing
You're a disgrace
You've been dishonored
You've been unmasked
For the villain
That you are.


You know not
What true love is
You know not
The meaning of family.


All you know is yourself
Self-centered and egotistic
Who deserves the spotlight
Shine upon him
Thinking the world 
Revolves just for you.


I hate to burst your bubble
Of your twisted perfect reality
But the world revolves around nobody
Not even for a scumbag like you.


The spotlight shines upon all
It doesn't play favorites
Your not the star of the show
Your just a stage hand playing pretrend.


You talk amongst your blood
But don't praise your offspring
You dont' spare time 
To fix what is broken
You let it all go to ruin.


Your heinous crimes
Can never be forgiven
The lies you spout
Tried to warp my mind
But no more lies 
I'm through with you.


You put yourself before others
You think highly of yourself
You care not for emotions
Not know what they are
Your like a robot 
Without an empathy chip.


You've hurt many people 
Your road is crumbling
Burning bridges behind you
Poisoning the family tree
With your sickening presence.


No more, I say!
I take the axe of change
Chopping the rot 
Right off the tree
Drench it with fresh rain
To bring it back to life.


You're a waste of space
You're a disgrace to the family
You're a disappointment
You're a lazy bum
You have no respect
You have no morals.


I shout from the depths of my soul
I shout for the world to know 
The courageous roar of a dragon
Planting her feet deep in the dirt
To announce her right to say
"YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!"


Be gone, foul demon!
Return to hell from which you came
Away you go from my sight
I wish to never see your face again!


You're a burden
You're a parasite
You're a moocher
You're a sloth
You're a liar!


Ye who dare to bring our family shame
Try to bring ruin to our name
I cast you out of my life!
Your no longer my father
The father I knew
Died a long time ago!


Replaced by a lout
Replaced by a bum
Replaced by an imposter
Replaced by a Jackass!


You mean nothing to me!
You're an embarassment
You're not my father
I've lost all respect for you!


Away with you now
Get the hell out of here
I don't wish to see you
I don't want you in my life
You mean nothing to me
YOU ARE NOTHING!
© Megan Ryan  Create an image from this poem.


Firehouse Blues

When Mortimer Manders collapsed in the street,
his daughter, Muriel, was with him.
Though now seventy-five,
he’d continued to thrive,
in spite of the irregular rhythm

his heart was now keeping.  But this was quite grave.
He hit the hard sidewalk real sudden.
When Muriel knelt
beside him, and felt
to locate where his pulse was, she couldn’t.

Soon, passers-by stopped and gathered around,
but no-one had medical knowledge.
“It’s good, I suppose,
If you loosen his clothes:
I think that’s what they told us in college …”

She looked wildly around, and thought that she’d found
a willing and capable saviour.
A red firehouse lay
thirty metres away –
(might as well have been Outer Moravia!)

When Muriel pounded the firehouse door,
a voice answered back through the panels,
“You make think it inept,
but we’ll only accept
an approach through appropriate channels.”

“But he pays your wages,” she argued with force:
and, pointing to where he was lying,
“You’ve got to come quick –
he’s collapsed on the bricks –
my father is probably dying!”

“You don’t understand how these things are arranged,”
said the voice, from the depths of the station:
“You just call nine-one-one.
If we try to respond,
we are risking adverse litigation.”

Running into the roadway, she flagged down a car,
and the driver agreeably shocked her:
with a white coat and bag
and a hospital tag,
he said, “Yes, you are right, I’m a doctor.”

As the quack pulled away, he turned briefly to say,
in a voice that was suitably gloomy, 
“I will not touch that man,
for if I lend a hand
and he happens to die, you can sue me.”

The ambulance came, but things got more lame,
as Mortimer started to weaken:
though the ambulance crew
looked resplendent in blue,
the responders were all Costa Rican.

“We’ve lived here some time and our English is fine,
but we can’t touch our defibrillator.
To avoid getting screwed,
we must talk to him through
an officially-sanctioned translator.”

“But you sound good to me, and it’s peachy, you see,
for my father speaks German and Spanish.”
“But your ganso is cooked.
No interpreter’s booked.”
And the ambulance packed up and vanished.

So the moral is clear.  Clear of medics please steer.
Your best course, if you’re feeling nervous, is
lay on linguists each day
in Magyar and Malay
 – and don’t call emergency services.
Form: Rhyme

Tired

I’m tired.
When I say that,
people ask me,
“How much sleep did you get?”
They tell me,
“Go to bed earlier then!”
I joke and say that I try,
or I lie and say about 6 hours.
But in reality,
I barely get 3,
if I’m lucky.
I’m physically tired,
but when I say “I’m tired”,
I don’t mean it in that way.
I mean I’m exhausted.
I don’t want to get up in the morning.
I want to sleep, but I can’t.
I have no motivation.
I have to fake my smile.
I have to hide my tears,
from the voices in my head.
I have to force myself to work,
so I don’t fail.
When people ask how I am doing,
I tell them “I’m fine!”
and give them the brightest smile I can muster.
I joke about my sadness,
as a way to cope.
I have no motivation.
I have no real happiness.
I play a part,
like my life is a show.
I put on a performance,
for the people to enjoy.
I play the dumb friend,
so I can keep being the “funny” one.
I smile at everyone, and treat everyone nicely,
so I can stay the people pleaser I have always been.
It’s tiring.
It’s ing exhausting.
I have no one to talk to.
I feel nothing.
I feel empty.
There is nothing in my heart.
I care so deeply,
but it hurts when I’m just used.
People like me because I’m kind,
but they don’t know how I really feel.

When someone likes me,
and I don’t reciprocate those feelings,
I pretend, and date them, so I don’t break their heart.
I know they may find out,
but I don’t want people hurt because of my actions.
I’ve hurt people though,
and I hold on to the guilt like a lifeline.
I take it out on myself.
As I drag the blade, and watch the red flow,
it feels so good, and it makes me forget,
for even just a moment,
the mental torment.
I’m so drained,
that I feel as though I’m just…
Numb.
Numb to the happiness.
Numb to the sadness.
Numb to the anger.
“Numb” to the pain.
I want to feel better,
but I don’t know how.
I have lost the one person,
who gave me the motivation.
I have no one.
I’m alone.
I write these poems,
to hopefully feel something.
Though it never works,
it’s the only thing I can do.
Only way I can talk,
only way I can let out the pain.
I need help,
to stop feeling this drained.
But I can’t get help,
and I never ask,
because I will always just be a burden
with my problems, and my thoughts.
I’ll always feel tired,
and nothing will ever change that,
no matter how hard I try.

Guardian Angels

Goodnight my dear boy and what's that you say?
You want me to chase the bad monsters away?
Well, I'll tell you a tale that may just be true
And if it's made up, it is done just for you...

I know you're afraid of the dark and the gloom
When you lie wide awake all alone in your room
'Scardy cats prowl and their tattle-tales pester
Goose bumps may prickle and worry-warts fester

Shadow-ghosts creep up and crawl to your cover
You roll on your side but then you discover
The thump in your pillowcase whispers too loud
So here's what I've done and I know you'll be proud...

I've met with the monster man under your bed
He thinks you will find he is not much to dread
He just needs a friend and to know that you care
So if you reach down he'll shake hands from his lair

I've found where that boogie man hides in the wall
He's cramped and alone and he waits for your call
He believes you're convinced he is ugly and mean
And hold him to blame when you have a bad dream

Your monster man's fierce and has razor-sharp teeth
But he understands things that may stir underneath
Your boogie man knows what you don't want to find
And what's around corners and hidden behind...

They'd like to come out and tell you a story
(Perhaps something scary but nothing too gory)
Sit up and talk with them late into night
Come morning they'll gladly slip back out of sight

But at night they'll grow strong to protect like they should
To face down your fear and show evil what's good
Stand watch while you sleep, they will stay by their mark
If you wake you might catch their eyes glow in the dark...

It's then as you grow you may find you walk bolder
With two fearsome friends striding close by your shoulders
They'll go anyplace as a general rule
(But maybe you'd better not bring them to school)

If witches and dragons can streak through the sky
Then monsters and boogie men surely must fly!
At the edge of your sleep (when you just start to doze)
Whisper the password and wiggle your toes...

And they'll sweep you away to soar like a dove
Over the rooftops to heavens above!
Up into orbit to your own private place
High on a mountaintop floating in space

Sit back and relax with a satisfied grin
Laughing and singing as you watch the earth spin
Hum along while your boogie man growls a brave tune
Count stars while your monster man howls at the moon
Form: Rhyme

There's a Whole Lot of Shaking Going On

there's a whole lot of shaking going on and you're all shook up
but that is how life is when you drink from God's cup
life can take unexpected turns and have you all spun around
just remember who's in control and has the power to settle life down
now Paul and Silas were in prison for simply preaching the gospel
but after praying to God He then did the impossible
 
when life has you all shook up you need to stand back and sit still
don't be negative, have a little talk with God and then wait on His will
continue to do what is required of you and trust in God to show you a plan
for God can open new doors in a way you might not even understand
but that's okay as the word of God says to lean not towards your own understanding
but to wait for the will of God to intercede and to do what the Spirit is demanding

if you have a relationship with God He might shake up your normal routine
to take you out of your comfort zone and into a place you've never seen
it might not make much sense to you and you might even disagree
but God knows what is best when it comes to your destiny

accepted beliefs, traditional concepts and that's how it's always been done
but a whole lot of shaking will be going on and your faith may be under the gun
sop forget those accepted beliefs and let God guide you along
allow Him to shake things up and put you where He knows you belong 
as no weapon formed against you will prosper nor come to fruition
allow the will of God to shake things up and put you in a better position

now the adversary also has the power to shake things up in your life
just recognize the enemy for what he is and then call on the power of Christ
a young girl who was demon possessed had caused a riot to manifest
with lies told against Paul and Silas they found themselves under arrest
but Paul and Silas did not possess the spirit of fear
for they knew that the Lord God would always be there

so at the midnight hour when all hell tends to break out
that's when to the Lord our God Paul and Silas did pray and shout
and lo and behold God answered their call
an earthquake occured and shook the prison walls
then all the cell doors flew open 
and all the shackles were then broken

for when the praises to God go up the blessings of the Lord come down
and there will be a whole lot of shaking going on 
but that's okay you're on sacred ground
Form: Epic

False Accusations, Part Ii

...His starting point, after much hustling,
was a diner at the edge of the town,
the man who had once built massive bridges
now spent his days at work frying hash browns.
Working for a pittance, day after day,
the only place that would dare give him pay.

About three months into doing such work,
just after the breakfast rush was complete,
he saw a woman enter the diner,
with two young boys, she looked about forty.
Time had done little to Alan’s ex-wife,
Whitney was a queen, hallowed in his sight.

He tried to hide, but Whitney caught a glimpse,
a flabbergasted look clear on her face,
but he made no move to go talk with her,
and she had two kids, could not leave her place.
His heart pounded until Whitney had left,
seeing her moved over felt much worse than death.

She had proclaimed that she would stand with him
when the accusations first had been made,
but the media had taken its toll,
he had watched her resolve drain, day by day,
until the day that the verdict had come,
when he’d been locked up, then it had been done.

She’d started divorce, he didn’t contest,
it was something he could not do to her,
she’d wanted children, normal existence,
all the things that a good woman deserved.
With him in prison, that would be denied,
so he’d signed the papers, and said goodbye.

It had been simple, before he’d been freed,
when he had not had a reason to hope,
now, seeing her, with some other man’s kids,
seemed beyond his ability to cope,
a wound that wouldn’t heal, slowly bleeding,
making him question the point of being.

But the next day, when his shift was over,
and he was walking slowly for the bus,
he saw a G-wagon, and his Whitney,
and his heart started racing then because
there were no kids there, no shield she could use,
confronting this was what he could not do.

But she came forwards, her face fresh with tears,
struggling hard to keep herself composed,
until she broke down, and embraced Alan,
saying, “I’m sorry…how-how could I know?
I’m not sure how to deal with this because
I don’t know why she would do this to us!

“Now I’m left looking at a man I love,
that I abandoned, I’m ashamed it’s true…
We were so happy, but now all I see
is all the things that I’ve taken from you.
The life you deserved, that I thought we’d build,
her lies and my weakness…it’s all been killed.”

CONTINUES IN PART III.
Form: Epic

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