Long Tall(a) Poems
Long Tall(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Tall(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tall(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
I stand tall, a champion of unyielding might,
A winner, not a quitter, in the arena of life's plight.
A victor, not a victim, with a heart that beats like gold,
A conqueror, not conquered, with a spirit that never grows old.
I'm blessed, not cursed, with favor that overflows,
The first, not the last, with a destiny that forever glows.
A hero, not a zero, with a story to be told,
A disciple, not a deceiver, with a heart that's pure and bold.
I'm a fighter, a warrior, with a will that's unbroken,
A champion of hope, with a spirit that's unspoken.
I'm wise, not dull, with insight that shines like the sun,
A master of my fate, with a future that's just begun.
I'm the head, not the tail, with a vision that leads the way,
A trailblazer, not a follower, with a path that's lit by day.
I'm a game-changer, a history-maker, with a story to unfold,
A legend in my own right, with a legacy that's yet to be told.
I'm a force of nature, unstoppable and strong,
A wave of positivity, that never goes wrong.
I'm a light in the darkness, a beacon that shines so bright,
A warrior of hope, with a heart that beats with all my might.
I'll rise above the noise, I'll shine like the morning sun,
I'll conquer every challenge, and my victory will be won.
For I am the head, not the tail, with a destiny that's divine,
I'll walk in victory, with a heart that's full of joy and peace that's mine.
Once I was the lying kind
Whatever lie came across my mind
I'd stick rock solid hard with it
To the point of going down with the ship
If there was a chance that I'd get caught
I'd double down on that thought
Fabricate till my lips turned blue
Swear up and down that it was true
I would build so tall a tale
Twice the size of the Eiffel Tower
Having most there wondering
If it was French that I was spewing
Keeping people all confused
On if the lie was really true
Giving me more of a chance
To add a few more lies to it
You might up and wonder why
I would tell so many lies
Was the truth not good enough
Was it the thrill inside the bluff
The older now I seem to get
My mind slides as much as slips
Making it harder to misconstrue
So now I only tell the truth
You do believe that too...don't you
Eleven years have spun like cotton thread,
Since the day they told us Grandpa was dead.
The fields of summer turned a mournful brown,
And a piece of my heart went six feet down.
I was just a boy, knee-high to a plow,
Clinging to his hand, wondering how,
Life could ever be right, or skies so blue,
When the best man I knew was suddenly through.
Now I stand tall, a man in my own right,
But Grandpa's not here to see my light.
He missed my first shave, my awkward first date,
The victories won, the stumbles of fate.
I often wonder, with a tear in my eye,
Would he recognize the man passing by?
Would he see his grit, his love, his gentle soul,
Reflected in the dreams that make me whole?
But there's solace in the scent of gasoline,
A comfort in the engine's powerful sheen.
I'm building a derby car, Grandpa, it's true,
Just like you taught me, with bolts shining and new.
You loved the rumble, the roar, and the speed,
The thrill of the race, planting a winning seed.
I feel you beside me, your hand on the wrench,
Guiding my fingers, helping me clench.
This car ain't just metal, it's memory and might,
A tribute to you, burning ever so bright.
Each car I smash, each victory I claim,
I whisper your name, carrying on your flame.
So though you're not here to watch me grow,
Your love's in my heart, a steady, warm glow.
And as I cross that finish line, fast and free,
I know you'll be cheering, right there with me.
The sun dips low, painting the sky with hues of gold and rust,
much like the memories
that time cannot fully erase.
Sometimes,
in the quiet of the evening, I swear I can hear his laughter
carried on the wind, a gentle reminder that even in absence,
love endures.
Building this derby car has become more than just a hobby;
it's a bridge across the years,
a tangible connection to the man who taught me the value of hard work and the thrill of the open road.
Each piece I fit, each adjustment I make,
is a testament to his enduring influence.
And so, I press on, fueled by love and remembrance,
knowing that though he may not be here in body,
his spirit rides shotgun, guiding me toward the finish line and beyond.
In my great room I relax
Staring at my surroundings
The lighten curio shelters
Trinkets of horses and dolphins
Atop the curio
A Brazilian lady of porcelain
Sitting shirtless, her head rests in her palm
Beside her on center wall
Painted charcoal black, the family tree
Pictures dangle on leafless branches
Standing tall, a teepee shaped lamppost
Brightening and complimenting the oriental carpet
The twenty year sentimental object in the corner
Is Patrick, the fluffy dog beanbag
Shylo, the go-happy Malti-poo on her lap
She barks at the sighting of a Golden Retriever
Sipping my scotch from my crystal, I comfortably rest
My feet upon the ottoman and my buttocks in my dad's chair
Shylo speaks at a passer-bye
Excitingly, she jumps on my jewels...Ouch !
She spills the half full glass of fine scotch, clenched to my fingers
With her moistened tongue she licks my nose
I rest no more
Father Drinan took his class to Coney Island Beach,
He thought the sand and ocean could also teach.
They ran to Nathan's hot dogs, then sunk in deck chairs,
Until a hungry seagull took them unawares.
(bridge)
The seagull grabbed a hotdog from poor Joey McBride,
A clever attack, swooping in from the side.
The kids all laughed, Joey let out a wail,
As off into the sky, his hotdog did sail.
(chorus)
Oh, it’s a lesson in the air, a lesson in the sea,
Life’s got twists and turns, live long and you will see.
Look up at the sky, a hot dog flies away
In this sad world, it’s the sneaky bird that wins the day.
Drinan stood up tall, a different lesson to preach,
But then a bird dive-bombed him, screeching with a screech.
He lifted his umbrella, the bird latched on to it tight,
Stupid Willie Conlon grabbed a bat, hit with all of his might.
(bridge)
A whack and a thud, the bird fell to the ground,
The kids all stood still, in silence profound.
Father Drinan rubbed his head, now sporting a big bruise,
He thought of leaving teaching, it seemed he had to lose.
But Joey stood there, wiping away his tears,
With a smile and a sigh, he faced his fears.
“It's just a hotdog,” he said, “there's more to life to seek.”
Drinan smiled and nodded, "Blessed are the meek."
Father Drinan never took his class back to the shore,
But they learned something deeper than they’d ever known before.
Not the lesson he wanted to teach, they learned distrust instead
Never relax, every moment must be full of dread.
And don't whack a seagull, if it sits on someone's head.
In a world of wandering souls, I seek the man of kind,
A beacon of wisdom, steady and whole, unbound by time.
Unshackled from the chains of doubt and fear,
He stands tall, a guiding light, year after year.
A man who strays but finds his way, back to the heart,
Where love and compassion never depart.
Serene and still, he faces life's design,
Resisting temptations that would make him decline.
Imagine a man standing tall, amidst the chaos and strife,
Refusing to succumb to the darkness of life.
Choosing the righteous path, each day and night,
He shines like a star, a beacon in flight.
I yearn for a man of sense, a father to nations true,
A guide who leads with wisdom, and a heart that's new.
Respecting women without pretense or guile,
Raising children with love, and a gentle smile.
In the midst of turmoil, he finds his peaceful place,
Where love and kindness fill the space.
A refuge from the storm, a shelter from the rain,
He stands as a rock, unbroken and sustained.
His words are honey, sweet and pure of heart,
His actions speak louder, a work of art.
In a world of wandering souls, he's a guiding light,
A beacon of hope, shining through the dark of night.
His presence is a gift, a treasure to behold,
A treasure that's rare, and worth more than gold.
For in his company, we find our peaceful nest,
A place where love and kindness are the greatest quest.
So let us seek this man, with hearts full of cheer,
And follow his example, year after year.
For in his footsteps, we'll find our way to peace,
And a world of love and kindness, will forever release.
Form:
The Peak
Nothing easy in life to achieve
But only failure is achievable stress less
The road to success is full of obstreperous
I latter discovered that
End of a war is the beginning of another
No matter how the hindrance
Termites built their house
No matter how obstacles
They keep destroying their target
As tall a tree may
Squirrel pursuit until it reaches the top
Continue doing your worth
Thee will reach the peak
For thee to get thy want
You must be confident
Shakespeare has became a mirror
Wole Soyinka symbolize Africa
They both encounter challenge
They keep pursuing
Till their names are shining like a daily sun
and like a rounded moon
Captured by the nature vision, I made it my discission
to embark on a mission!
To feed the Adamic tribe, those the animals Our Father God has made. I was at my jobs parking lot. A place surrounded by many, many, many trees.
After clocking out, I was walking to my van. As I spied north within my parking stall. Standing straight ever tall--- a sparse rainbowed light black and brown tailed squirrel mildly thin. Standing he was like a question mark, standing like a general in the Army, Special Services...
His face was stern like a mother catching her child being bad in a mischievous act. About 100 feet away closer I walk. The little squirrel just would not run nor walk away. He literally just stayed standing, sitting still.
Approximately closer stilled closer 75, 50, 25, feet 3 feet. Still-Still He didn't move but yet he "LOOKS". Face to face I see in his eyes, yet he's soul less, he hungers, he's alive. I walk to the other side, to not too unravel, or make him run off.
He stands attentive
He stands waits
He stands as I push my electronic key to open my van door. By this time he slowly moves to the front drivers side of my van. Ever so slowly moves. I sit down after opening up my drivers side door.
Slowly I lower my driver side window, I reach down behind me to pick up a plastic container filled with unsalted nuts.---about a quart container
placed my hand inside. I through many, many, many nuts on the ground.
Little hungry squirrel kneel down in prayer mode as a dog he sniffed the ground, when he smell one (some) pick up with mouth, placed the nut in his paws (hands) prayed then nibbled away.
I guess now he's my friend and pet?
5/05/26
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2026
"This be a true story, I share and tell" A Real Set In---
A Warrior in Conceal.
In a room stands tall a mirror clear,
Revealing a reflection that deceived the world with a smile.
When I recognized it, my eyes poured out a tear,
And it was clear that the reflection was mine all the while.
It asks my nights of silent tears and struggle,
To expose the truth my false smile would never reveal.
It showcased the unspoken love under my heart's rubble,
And unveiled all my wounds that time could never heal.
My reflection speaks: "Accept and learn to heal,
Don’t run or hide, but face the wounds you bear.
I'm proud of you, a warrior through conceal,
For in your heart, gain strength to face despair.
Next time you stand before me, let me feel
A reflection, freed from past wounds, and completely healed."
Adopted early after birth
Replanted back into the earth
From small to tall, a tiny root
Withstanding all and resolute
It whispered and it whistled
Every wind song that it knew
It's verdant needles bristled
Glistening in frost and dew
A friend to all both large and small
Seeking refuge in it's shade
To rest and recline, with the fresh smell of pine
And a songbird serenade
From green, to red, to rust, to brown
Giving all it had left, back to the ground
A pine that spent it's time worthwhile
Living life with grace and dying with style
It taught me how to dance in the wind
Whenever it howls, be willing to bend
It taught me how to whistle a song
While giving back, as life moves along
Like you and I, trees live and die
When death comes young we question "why?"
The answer is, it's all by design
Down to the death of a hardy young pine.
Daniel Turner