Long Texts Poems
Long Texts Poems. Below are the most popular long Texts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Texts poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: June 21, 2023
Twelve Bar Blues Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
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I sought peace in fleeing a flight in an age of sad plight
I sought peace in fleeing a flight in an age of sad plight
My goal is unclear but sublime—end of line and time.
A fight faced day by day, and teasing came my way,
A fight faced day by day, and teasing came my way
My awareness broadens with every fresh insight.
No one to confide, alone, in this cut-off grief resides,
No one to confide, alone, in this cut-off grief resides,
I travel on the thinking train; I am a humane mind.
The wifi is down; a cruel twist of fate left me stuck,
The wifi is down; a cruel twist of fate left me stuck,
I called my loved ones to run out of this loneliness.
I ponder life's sense beyond idle surfing or fake pals,
I ponder life's sense beyond idle surfing or fake pals,
To go where no one has gone—uncover a new horizon.
No buzzing, no texts, just silence and alone, I believe,
No buzzing, no texts, just silence and alone, I believe,
I reflect, find peace, and self-respect in this aloofness.
Let's go close to the cosmos and catch superb views,
Let's go close to the cosmos and catch superb views,
It's punter than aimless browsing or online friending.
How well do you remember the first time we met?
After three years of phone calls, emails, and texts, we came face to face. How awkward, to have lived in a fantasy for all that time, and then to have it become a tangible reality. I waited at the airport, excited, yet pensive. I was so afraid that you wouldn't like the real me. My phone rang and you said you'd be there to get me in just a minute. I sighed, thinking...ok, this is going to be the moment of truth. I took a deep breath and asked where you wanted me to go so you could find me. You said, "Turn around."
How well do you remember our very first kiss?
It was time to leave you and travel back home. How puzzling was our first meeting. I knew that my love was real, but you wore that mask that you slipped into place so easily. At the airport, I somehow found the courage to ask for a kiss. Truthfully, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I stopped and looked into your eyes, "Give me a kiss," I whispered quietly. Was that me; the shy one, asking so boldly to be kissed by the man I loved? The man whose hand I'd not even held. You gave me a little smile, bent your head, and I felt the soft touch of your lips, and the tickle of your mustache. Neither of us spoke as I turned and walked away. I didn't dare turn around. I didn't want to let you see my tears and I was afraid you'd already walked away.
Do you remember how much our first kiss was like our last?
We stood at the door in awkward silence. How do you say goodbye to someone you'd loved so long? I looked into your eyes, and I knew I'd have to ask, but before I could say a word, you gave me a quick hug and turned to walk away. Your mask, once again in place. Few times in my life, have I ever felt such pain. It was a jagged edged knife that slashed my heart. I reached the door, but your hand took mine. You bent your head and I felt the soft touch of your lips, and the tickle of your mustache. There was no smile this time, but the tears... There was a fire that still flamed, but I turned and walked away. That time, I wasn't ashamed to let you see me cry.
This is another day of tears...what would have been our third anniversary.
November 25th 2015
Origin: 9/22/11
I don't miss you because you were never mine to miss, never mine to call, never mine to talk to, never mine at all. I miss the calls, I'll admit that. I understand now that we were both running towards a safe place, comfort, not knowing what we were actually running into, how our feelings would evolve over time. I don't miss you. I miss what it was, the feeling, the excitement but I realize now, after everything, that it felt like something because it was. We both didn't know any better but now we do, and that's why it ended. Why I ended things and you couldn't.
I couldn't sit here anymore pretending to be her, pretending to fill her shoes because she's not answering your texts and yet, you still claim to be the perfect boyfriend, that you love her but if only she knew what was happening behind her back, maybe, just maybe, right now, you'd be single.
However you do it, just get away
Regularly do it, and for a whole day
Get away from routine
Get off of your screen
Put down that device
Please take my advice
Live in the moment. Ditch the stress
You can't predict the future or change the past
Do it this week, and the next and the next
A full day, 24 hours, without any texts
Shut off that phone, and open your mind
Find space for YOU, to yourself be kind
Take a walk to nowhere
Midst forests and gardens
Free up your senses
Ere they eternally harden
Make a friend, sing a song
Blow a kiss -- nothing wrong...
Live in the moment
Let life come to you
You'll be glad you did
~ Recreate a new you
I have found a map for you my pal Mary Lee said
I was excited, because she has great ideas for me
but can’t we go together? I asked her.
Not this time, maybe the next one.
Three naysayers said there must be something wrong
Why wouldn’t she want to go? It might be a trap.
I knew my friend would not steer me on a wild calf chase.
I ignored their negativity; as I always do.
Mary Lee stayed home with her livestock
and I set off, with a trusty sidekick, Merriweather.
Merriweather adores everything about me.
She builds me up and chases unkind people away.
Two of the naysayers sent me mean texts.
Warning me that this might be a trap.
I did not find the fountain of youth this time
But Merriweather and I got closer.
And I remembered why I cut naysayers lose.
I blocked both of their names and numbers.
Knowing my life would get easier.
And it did.
As I live
through the layers of experiences since birth,
in comments, texts, and beliefs,
I clearly perceive myself,
as a person of integrity,
with character, value, honesty, and high morals.
I can look clearly into my heart and soul,
because I have nothing to hide...
I can express myself freely
with creativity... with my writing skills
and potential... The words easily flow from my keyboard and pencil.
I am unraveling myself in a truly gratifying way.
Working to process positive changes.
I am willing to forgive everything.
Willing to let everything go - all my wounded feelings.
All shipwrecked loves, all shattered dreams,
and more, I feel an enormous driving force pulling me upwards, and upwards I will go without fear in search of peace and happiness...!
My bed is next to me.
It’s not enough.
Carpeted floors tickle.
The fan is making me dizzy.
My parents are in their dreams.
I pretend to dream as well.
I suddenly jolt.
I could do it, I could walk into their room and start crying and screaming, out of control…
I take out my phone and text them.
They can check their messages in the morning.
And learn that I lost my mind.
But I don’t want to bug them for now.
“Hey I’m transcending reality, the fan is painful, my bed is crazy, I hate this room, it makes me remember,”
I hit send.
“Love you.”
I hit send.
A smiley face.
I hit send.
And feel a little better.
There's no Poetry that doesn't reach
I told a literature student
In a writing workshop
Offering him some suppositories
That contained
Verses from The Book of Good Love
La Celestina, Don Quixote, and my own
To insert through his anus
As minstrels used to do
Selling or giving them away
To the common people and kings
Through the streets, squares, and courtyards
Poetically exposing themselves
By inserting one through the anus.
Since it was a proven truth
It was natural that its main source
Was experience.
Devoted to the Poetry suppositories
The student carried them in his anus
Full of meaning and beauty
For if he entered the writing workshop
Without knowing how to make an "O" with a Straw.
Now, thanks to the effect of the suppositories
He already wanted to trade his verses
Having to go through
One or more of my modifications.
As a consequence
Of the two fundamental properties
Of poetic suppositories:
Permanence and generality
This apprentice writer and poet
Begged me, saying:
-I'm starved for fine literature
Even though it's so beautiful.
Now I want you to offer me, professor
Suppositories from the Romancero
From popular couplets
From Latin proverbs
From the Bible, from fables and tales.
Moved, I promised him that I would
That I would do it
But that he should also know
That to versify and write
It's not enough to insert a suppository
But rather the Anus
Because it's the fruit of popular wisdom
And of language
Needs oral or penile transmission
Because it's a living organism
And, as such, it is born, grows
Reproduces and dies
Like the poem or brilliant writing
Modified to hanging eggs
That, with time, change
Are modified or lose their relevance.
In closing, I would like to mention
That this author
Submitted his works to the Planeta and Nobel Prize
Admiring their juries for
His conciseness and power
The symmetrical division of his texts
His meter and rhyme.
The table is set for one, or maybe two,But the largest chair is empty, Mom, and so are you—My siblings, who shared the same breath and bone,Have left me to navigate this house alone.The phone does not ring with their familiar names,The loss has changed us, playing cruel games.I am reaching out into a silent room,Grieving you, Mom, and our severed bloom.
First went the foundation, the roof, the light,When you left us that quiet winter night.But the walls crumbled too, in the days that followed,By indifference and silence, my heart is swallowed.They are strangers now, wrapped in their own pain,Leaving me standing alone in the rain.It’s not just you I miss, in this broken view,But the siblings I lost, when I lost you.
Mom passed away,And the world turned gray.You were my brother/sister,Now I barely know you.Silent texts,Empty streets,A family torn,Where silence repeats.I am holding the memories,While you hold your breath,Leaving me alone,In the shadow of death.
The limb has fallen from my family tree". the phone as a silent weight, or calling and having no one pick up. grief, where everyone takes their share and disappears.
The family home feels haunted not just by mom, but by the siblings who are physically alive but emotionally gone.
Two carnies
Eighteen small town county fairs
Six furiously hot summer days.
Jax , boisterously handsome, kept the women entertained,
While Grandpa Ralph picked items out of their diaper bags and purses.
If he had any conscience at all, he would say “no thank you to their tips”,
But he had been taught by the best, and he liked carrying their things.
Busy mamas buying their children cotton candy, funnel cakes,
And carnival ride tickets would not notice the theft
until the carnival had moved out.
Busy mamas reading their texts,
comparing each other’s quilts and jams, laughing.
Ralph was proud of Jax, but jealous too.
He had been the young buck, in his day.
Another fair or two, and they would have enough stolen goods
to survive well for the next six months.
He watched his protégé’, under the blinking rainbow lights of the Tilt-a-Whirl,
Plotting the best way to rid himself of this young, handsome interloper.
Reminding himself that he was actually a step-grandfather.
Jax gave his grandpa a quick nod. He planned to give him a terrific time tonight, knowing it would be his last one…..
Written Feb 22, 2019
Contest: At the Fair Sponsor: Julia Ward