Long There Poems
Long There Poems. Below are the most popular long There by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long There poems by poem length and keyword.
I Am A Fortress Now
I am covered in a pretty skin, not letting anyone else
hurt me, cowering, but acting big and bold,
like I think I am all that,
to push you away, so
you cannot do any more damage.
I am wearing my tinsel, and my
gold, to conceal the parts that have been
injured and killed by those who like to hurt feelings,
and especially go after the sensitive ones who cry.
My wall is brick, and my mortar is firm; you cannot
get me, because I have split into many selves, and they
are all standing guard at the gate, ready to clobber you
before you can chip even one slice away from our fortress.
We are mighty, not always in touch with each other, but
most having my back. The back you will never see, as
I do not trust you enough to turn while you are there.
You are ignorance, unkindness, racism, meanness, and sexism.
You successfully kept me in the dungeon, captive, helpless
once upon a time, but I am a fortress now; a we, not a mere me.
Take your best shot, but know that there are tiny missiles
pointed in your direction, and they will no longer take it
in a pretty way.
You will be the one slaughtered and crucified. No one
will come to resurrect you, because you have hurt too many.
There seems to be a global awakening.
There seems to be a spiritual rebirth.
The truth seems at last to be in the reach
of us creatures now roaming the Earth.
There is a flower of faith in the making
and it moves to the source of the light.
We breathe hope on the whispering winds
of change, as we battle to pull through the fight.
This is a time of transition
from the old to the wholesome and new.
Its a time to lay down our weapons of pain;
to cease firing our bullets of hate.
Its a time to stop singing our anthems of war
and stand united, before its too late.
Stand in silence and listen to the voice of your soul,
it is trying to make itself heard.
You might be surprised by the message it brings,
by the wisdom it speaks in it's words.
For the truth lies within not around us.
Its not found in the wealth or the fame.
It resides in our heart and our spirit.
It is found in love that we give.
In each one of us is a wellspring of faith.
Find it now; it is then you will live.
Before reading this one read part one, the story will make more sense.
I felt safe amongst the colorful pages of the comic books wrapped around me. I could hear the little boy say bye to his grampa Cliff, his Grandpa said goodbye Ricky. There was a wonderful bouncing feeling as Ricky skipped out the door to his father's waiting car. As we started driving away Ricky pulled me out of the bag and I could see his mom, dad, sister and brother. As we drove along I learned the other boy was Roy and the little girl was Teresa. His parents simply were mom and dad.
I quite enjoyed the ride, Ricky's dadio had a need for speed and it was exciting passing the slower cars. In this world it seemed all of the other cars were slower. The first town we came to was Larder lake, if blinking had been possible I would have missed it. As Ricky looked through me I marveled at both the color of his eyes and the rugged landscape. Pine trees, poplar trees and beautiful lakes. I loved how the road was carved through sections of rock. The next small town I noticed was King Kirkland, it seemed rather little to be a King. It wasn't very long and we entered our destination which was Kirkland Lake.
Kirkland Lake was much bigger than where we had come from. I enjoyed watching the people as we traveled down Government Road West. I remember driving past restaurants and stores, Dadio slowed down to point out a diner called the Coffee Cup. He told us he had a Barber Shop at the back of the Diner, I was more interested in the theatre across the street. The theatre was called the Strand and I liked the flashing lights on the billboard. Just then Ricky placed me back in the paper bag with his comics so I slept for a while.
Orange Crush III to follow.
In the realm where shadows dance with light,
War prowls like a beast in the dead of night.
Its tendrils reach, its claws extend,
A force of destruction, on which all depend.
In the depths of the soul, where spirits roam,
War's essence lurks, an ancient tome.
It whispers secrets of chaos and strife,
A symphony of sorrow, a dance of life.
Its cloak is woven with threads of fear,
Its breath a tempest, drawing near.
It twists and turns, in the fabric of time,
A tangled web of rhythm and rhyme.
Yet in the chaos, there lies a spark,
A glimmer of hope in the endless dark.
For within the heart, a flame burns bright,
A beacon of peace, a guiding light.
So let us journey, beyond the veil,
And seek the truth that war conceals.
For in the depths of our collective soul,
Lies the key to heal and make whole.
Why are all these hash slingers
Constantly there on my TV?
When did the ability to cook
Become reason for celebrity?
Eating for me is just like
Shovelling coal on a fire,
Just adding fuel to keep
Your energy levels higher.
It’s a bonus if it tastes good,
An even bigger bonus still
If it quietly does that and,
More importantly, doesn’t kill.
As for that fine dining lark,
Fashion apparently demands
They poke and finger it about but
Seldom seem to wash their hands.
I’m just a lower class peasant
But one thing I loath and hate
Is having to send my food back
To be properly served on a plate.
And as for the prices they charge,
Why are those in the catering trade
Constantly quoted in statistics as
Some of the lowest of the low paid.
I really don’t wish to be seen as
Pouring insults upon insults
But shouldn't these foodie quirks be
Confined between consenting adults.
Give me a roadside burger van.
You can almost guarantee it’s clean
For sure as heck a Food Inspector
Will not too long ago have been.
See a bunch of parked lorries
And your checking is complete
Had it been below our standard
They’d have voted with their feet.
So, you compile your list of
Good honest eating places
And in time come to recognise
Some well known familiar faces.
A quick greeting as you slip in
Courteously switch off the phone
And get ready to join in with
The latest rant or moan.
A bucket full of coffee,
A bacon butty in hand
And well before it’s time to go
Solve the problem of the land.
Nineteen sixty-nine
By Franklin Price
5/22/2019
The year was nineteen sixty-nine
A year for change and to adjust
Had just returned from Viet Nam
Was alone, without much trust
Married when I went away
January sixty-eight
Received “Dear John” on April Fool
It's a long remembered date
Went to war to do my duty
My wife could not do without
By the time she wrote the letter
Was not alone, there was no doubt
By the time that I returned
Divorce was said and done
Don't know what happened to her
She no longer was the one
The Air Force way was not for me
And we went our separate ways
I got a job at KSC
For the Apollo moon man days
Joined the team that POTUS Kennedy
Said would put man on the moon
Before the sixty's decade's over
Sixty-nine was none too soon
We worked hard and we played hard
Was much pressure from the start
To find relief from tensions,
Clubs and bars were all a part
Every week-end was a party
Many dance clubs were around
We traveled home from bar to bar
Drunken driving did abound
It was the sexy sixties
Braless tops and thigh high skirts
Men's pants were tight bell bottomed
To show their package to the flirts
It didn't take much effort
There was lots of ass to see
Many looking for a hook-up
Some a one night stand for me
Didn't ask if they were married
Some probably were and some were not
The sex was all that mattered
And satisfaction that we got
Then one day, a married friend,
Wanted a girl that I had done
If she let you, she will let me
Now I can be the one
One thing led to another
And he moved out on his wife
And their new born child, a daughter
Thought he could have a better life
Took his mistress everywhere with him
Even to our softball games
His wife came to one and met her
Kicked her ass and called her names
I knew he wasn't good for her
She was depressed and was distraught
I put my arm around her
Her marriage then was all but fraught
I drove her home that evening
Was concerned then for her life
Before the year was over
She was divorced and was my wife
That was fifty years ago
When man went to the moon
I'm still happy with the choices made
Our anniversary, golden, soon.
(November 21, 2019)
Our mind is the most amazing part of our being
Able to astound the most cynical of souls
There is so much more to learn about it's function
About why some are more intelligent than others
Genetics are certainly part of the equation
What makes a serial killer, what makes a preacher
Are our brains significantly different
Is it the environment, is it in the genes we inherit
So much to learn, a vast unexplored world of the mind
I find it sad that at my stage in life
I won't be around to see what lies just around the corner
In recent times progress has accelerated
This blinding speed can be overwhelming
I hear tell that one day, humans will live FOREVER
Not sure this mere mortal could handle that
But it thrills me to think that this will actually be possible
3D printing is now becoming available
To allow us to grow defective body parts
Absolutely amazing but kind of scary at the same time
M I N D B L O W I N G ! ! !
~Prayers~
(The Minuet)
Pray for all the lost of this world
World needs prayers
Prayers and God
God can save all
The lost and confused today
Today in life
Life He can change
Change also heart
You need to come to Him, repent
Repent right there
There then just pray
Pray for the lost
The lost and all in this whole world
World needs prayers
Prayers and love
Love faith hope peace
Peace and much more of your kindness
Kindness, caring
Caring for all
All the whole world.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
May.03.2016
~Author's Notes:
"The Minuet" is a poetry style created by Dorian Petersen Potter, aka ladydp2000, on March.3.2012.
As a young teen I sadly confess, I dreamt of becoming an actress.
A class assignment drew me to Warner's in D.C., where I
brushed up against black history..
I stumbled into a meeting of the NAACP.
The people welcomed one out of touch, this
young white girl who had way too much..
Months later, although mom's words were harsh my dad and I
went to the Poor Peoples March. I was amazed to see thousands there,
those pop up tents from every where. I drove by with peripheral vision,
those fleeting glimpses of how others were living..
Early years passed and I matured some how, remaining oblivious to "black
power".
I graduated from high school and was freed from mom and watched as
several of my class mates went straight to Viet Nam..
I never went to Woodstock nor protested the war, too caught up in my
story to care about the poor..
I moved from sheltered Silver Spring to New York City and had my own
adventures there, some not very pretty..
I indulged in a little "huffing and puffing". My hands were in a wheat film
buttering an English muffin..
Impulsiveness and hormones got the best of me so at a young age I
began my family..
Many moons later while finishing my degree I learned so much more
about Black history. As a minority student at Bowie State I had a teacher,
Dr. Kondo and he was truly great. He had just consulted for the film
Malcolm X and filled me in on all those voids not written in the texts.
The greatest of gifts that one can bestow is to take off those blind folds
and help some one grow.
The calling of the Rooster confirms a new dawn to me
I can sense the morning sun through mist I now can see
I lie here alone, so distant from love and life
My companion, a cold pillow, I need rescued from my strife
My breathing resonates amidst the loneliness I live
To cross my door to liberty, one day I'll have to give
When once my bed was warm, with heart warming displays
Now it's cold like a grey granite slab, for many many days
A darkness engulfs my life, when love before was there
To awaken to the Roosters call, all I can do is stare
My desire is to open my eyes, to venture to another day
When love again will fill my heart, in warming loving plays
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