Long The future Poems
Long The future Poems. Below are the most popular long The future by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long The future poems by poem length and keyword.
The good witch is still trying hard to collect the future
Nostalgic and post-modern she fondles her crystal ball
With soft hands she embraces Gaia and its sepia hue
Oblivious to oblivion she attempts to elude the inevitable
A monochrome reminder of the future’s soft calling
If the earth was flat warriors would fall of the edges
But her grip remains an illusion of human endeavour
And yet the photographer’s lens refuses acceptance
'My paradigm is one of lingering hope' he seems to allude
The voice of a renegade artist while the shutter is closed
The mind wanders along fantasy’s perambulating soul
Blends out a scream shot phases into caring surrender
Of a world not quite forgotten in hearts of compassion
Tables need turning and sheets hold fragrance of love
Flickering light embraces translucent impermanence
Its not rocket science to kindle an ephemeral candle
With astronauts on the moon and apocalyptic star wars
Prophesy’s calling however resigns to a parallel universe
In which the dark ages have come to haunt humankind
Clairvoyants see photophiles show and the poet must write
29th February 2020
I Love You For Loving Me.
Are you ready to commit, to just one man?
Are you truly ready, to be my woman?
Are you really ready, to do this love thing?
Or are you still, way too young?
Do you want, to just fool around?
Can you seriously be happy with me,
Even when I’m not there?
I love you, for the way you love me
And you say you love me, for loving you.
I love you, for making me happy;
You still say you love me, even when I feel blue.
I love you, for never cheating on me;
You love me, the way I expect.
Devoted devotion, to me and me only;
Free to look to the future, with no regrets.
You love me, for never needing another;
You’ve made me, this year’s lover.
You’re my true love, there can only be one;
But will I still be as important to you,
In another 12 months?
There can be many lovers, in your lifetime,
But to truly love me,
You must be mine and only mine.
If I am enough for you and you earn my trust,
Then for the rest of our lives,
We can talk about ourselves as us.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
she let them go
one by one
without looking back
without checking where they
would end up
she had to rid herself
of the heavy load
hidden behind the smile
it was time
she knew they would
understand that there
would be more in the future
but these ones had to go
they were leaving marks all over her face
stubbornly dried up
without falling in a designated place
as if to remind her
we're part of what makes you, you
we're the part that makes you
feel human even when in doubt
we're always there
no matter where you dwell,
our presence sometimes bring forth
freedom…
19/05/2011.. 13:25
Sometimes I have to wonder if my Creator wasn’t a little misbegotten…when I see, as I’ve grown older, all the things I have forgotten.
My doctor says not to be concerned…not to worry, not to fret…that as I grow a little older it is normal to forget.
And so I want to ask my doctor if in any textbook that he’s read…is it normal for me to forget where my glasses are…when they’re perched upon my head?
I want to ask him if when he was in school if any question on any exam… pertained to me forgetting names…what day it is…or even how old I am?
Is it normal for me to forget how I got these bruises…or why my arm is so sore? Is it normal to forget I read this book…or I’ve seen this movie once before?
Is it normal…or do I have a reason for a little gloom and doom…for me to suddenly forget why I’ve walked into a room?
I would really like to talk with my doctor about this…to take his medical books to task…but by the time I’m sitting in his waiting room…I’ve forgotten what questions I wanted to ask.
There is an upside to my forgetting, however, a different point of view…because the more that I forget…the more forgotten things seem brand new.
Every time I read a book, watch a movie or walk into a room…my heart rate begins to rise…because of all the things I have forgotten…everything is a surprise.
There is a downside for you the reader, however…since there's a possibility I won’t remember writing these words…won’t remember the how…or why…or when
There’s a good chance in the future…
you'll be seeing this poem again.
I've travelled some distance now.
Left you behind somehow, nestling
in the newspapers which wrapped the glasses.
Time passes
Memories in a box and stored in the loft
with the duplicate bits and pieces
we didn't want or need. No need.
Time passes
Sometimes the past nudges the present,
but we ignore it; turn our backs. No relapse.
Grasping second chances. No backward glances.
Time passes
We journey on, smiling, laughing,
disregarding the occasional 'what if?', an
aperitif to a future without repeated mistakes.
As time passes
we ditch the stuff that history is made of
and pack only for the future;
its perforation into the now not needed.
Time has past. Let us toast what will be.
Remain arguments focus on the future
Worst case not yet real what suits ya
economic decline like 2008 9
hand over control to be wealthy
who controls your wealth
must be mentally unhealthy
until bad times please
I plead help me
hand out freebies
yeah that’s wealthy
don't need to make our laws
let some unknown
like all history before
dictators the best time's shown
zoning in on potential benefits
unknowing the hell could hit
Potential benefits, could be couldn’t
assured it would be why wouldn’t it
seeking selfish gain
a pawn in the EU game
becoming a subject
they fought wars too reject
yeah we could fund other countries development
history tells us we shouldn’t be confident
dream versions of what the EU could become
in reality stalled, just begun
always theorise the EU on the rise
improving while Britain declines,
True EU progress a tortoise
no legs or eyes, shelled assuredness
True youth unemployment rise
drops in productivity not faultless
no action taken no planned delivery
remain have the thoughts "best"
if best means deluded blindly
remove Germans and the EU bye byes
Remains unseen hanging in there theory
but all the worst Brexit sites they eye up clearly
selective correctness bigot oh deary
As though Britain sits unconnected
unskilled crumbled with no sun
and the Brexit hit will have sunk never sprung
One sided minds telling Leave “dumb”.
Remainers remind me a wheel
will you get your head out you're getting ill
On the river of wishes that fall upon my youth
And flows with the autumnal streams of leafy dreams that float
Upon the future of my tomorrow seeking my truth
I journey wide and long with my ghosts aboard my boat
To search for the soul of heaven and living heart of me
Deeper currents lead me to a brilliant light somewhere
While darkness all around my fears swallows all my hope
I push through murky waters escaping unknown phantoms there
To find my faith and willingness to struggle and cope
To search for the soul of heaven and living heart of me
So on it streams unswerving as its course sways and wends
So I may find the light of understanding promised long ago
For I know my intended destiny lies just around the bend
As far and wide I journey on dark secrets water flow
To search for the soul of heaven and living heart of me
January 21, 2021
All Yours (Jan 28) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Man staggers through life yapped at always by his restless reason,
Pulled and pushed by his unbridled appetites that give him no peace,
Whispered to by fears each night in his listening vigilant ear,
Beckoned by bright hopes that show him paths in the distance.
No wonder he craves self-forgetting, forgetting all that was,
To forget himself so he can escape the burden of his own consciousness,
Reason jerks him one way then another in the chaos of thoughts,
Appetites pull him forward and back in their ceaseless eternal motion.
Fears whisper to him always the most hidden secrets of his dread,
Hopes call him forward toward the future stretching beyond horizons,
He stumbles moving forward through his life full of hidden traps,
He desires most of all to forget who he is, to escape from himself.
Yapped at by the insistent voices of his reason that never falls silent,
Jerked by his insatiable appetites demanding ever more from life,
Whispered to by persistent fears that fill his nights with dark dreams,
Lured by shining hopes that promise him another better world.
The great wonder is that what he craves most is to vanish forgetting,
Complete total self-forgetting so he no longer feels existence's weight,
He staggers forward through life through the long road of his hard days,
Man tired of himself seeks always refuge in forgetting and in deep sleep.
His tireless reason pulls him always on roads known and unknown,
Appetites call him insistently toward the fleeting pleasures of this world,
Fears whisper to him always warnings about the dangers awaiting him,
And he craves only the complete forgetting of his wearisome tormenting self.
He stumbles moving through his life full of ups and downs,
Yapped at always by the unceasing voices of his own self that never quiets,
Pulled forward by his multiple confused desires that contradict each other,
Craving the complete total forgetting of self-memory in quiet and peace.
Dear
Writer, poet, solitary thinker, dreamer
Sister, friend, devoted christian and survivor
Lover of anything old, my kitties, day breaks and home
Who feels faith, hope, happiness and sadness
Who fears the future, the present, being unworthy of Heaven, feebleness
Who would like to see the end of suffering, war, poverty and hate
Resident of this realm, Earth
Heart
_____________________________
September 20, 2012
Poetry/Bio/Pertaining To Me
Copyright Protected, ID 09-422-255-20
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Written for the contest, A Poem About You
sponsor, Skat, Judged 2012
First Place
The air was still
An odd quiet could be felt in the room
Johnny walked slowly up to the casket
His brother looked peaceful
He couldn’t glance toward his wife and their son
He wondered what she would do
The boy was only six and she would be left to raise him alone
Throughout the service, he could feel her glance his way
His eyes focused on the funeral program
His mind was on the future
As he stared into his brother’s eyes he felt the tears roll down his cheeks
How could this be true
Why did this happen?
He didn’t want to question God’s plan
He didn’t want to lose faith
He surely didn’t want to be sitting there listening to the Preacher
His brother was in his forties
This wasn’t right
It wasn’t fair
At the end of the service he was so engulfed in grief they had to call his name twice
Finally he made his way to the pulpit
He took one final look at the casket before they closed it
His brother’s eyes were closed and he looked serene
She noticed his voice trembling as he tried to remain calm
He spoke of their childhood and how they both loved to fish
When he mentioned Leopoldo’s work at the railroad
Her son smiled and blurted out “He worked on the trains, choo choo”
A few of the older ladies glared at him
She thought to herself “he is six and just lost his father”
She wondered if their children could remain tranquil at a time like this
She thought not as she glared right back shaking her head
Fifty years later that boy went home
He looked into his father’s eyes
He smelled his mother’s cooking on the stove
Grabbing two fishing poles, he reached for the bait
and in an instant
there they were
father and son
casting a line
Blessed
05/12/2021
Written for Writing Prompt-Calm- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France