Long Things Poems
Long Things Poems. Below are the most popular long Things by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Things poems by poem length and keyword.
Maybe I should have said something but I didn’t.
I thought the ladies there might get upset.
I stared for several moments lost between thought and action
waiting for a sign, but no help was forthcoming.
I thought of Buddhists and worms in the movie:
"Seven Years in Tibet". How Tibetans cannot harm even worms.
Any living creature could have been your Mother in a previous life,
therefore you must show respect to all living creatures.
In the end I said nothing. Did nothing.
I left the daddy long legs spider resting on the metal roller
at the end of the swimming pool where I had discovered him.
I wondered how he had gotten there and what would become of him.
Two days later my wife returned from the pool and casually mentioned
how she and her friend had removed several dead bugs floating on the surface.
One of them, she said, was a daddy long legs spider.
It was a small thing, but sometimes even the smallest things
can make your day feel heavier.
God has given us a cirlcle of friends,
where his Love has no ends,
in our cirlce of friends we can thrive and grow,
and more things about God we can come to know,
in the centre of our cirlce the Lord will always be there,
as we pray and as we share,
thank you Lord for heather and mac who always show that they care, thank you that they always welcome us there,
thank you Lord for your Love that has no ends,
thank you that we have been blessed with our circle of friends.
this was writen for my small group at church, but I also feel the same about my poetry soup friends right here, we can thrive and grow and encourage each other to grow and just be there spuring one another on in God's Love and the gift he has given us to write poetry for him. Amen. God bless all my friends here on poetry soup from diane xx all you are special treaures and have great value, even if some don't let it show, but always know that God loves you and very greatly so.
Time Keeps On...
Time keeps on slipping, slipping into the future
Tick tock tick why do we all abuse her...
Actually it never slips any freaking place
Forever it's missed but something we all waste...
As grow older and start to reminisce
About all the things that in life you've missed...
Not missed like it left and just moved away
But missed as in lost, wasted day after day...
Oh if I only just had a little more time
I'm sure everything will work out just fine...
So let's say I've only wasted just one hour a day
That means I've lost 16,060 life hours this way...
Astonishing is it? Yet it's the cold hard truth
Suddenly wishing just to go back to my youth...
While dreaming about all the time missed each day
Your own time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping away...
bmdavey@01/14/17>
Inspired by Christian Schaffer’s YouTube travel videos
Rolling fogs and crashing waves
Add to memories one saves
Kissy breeze upon your face
Rumbling vibes, no home base
Raindrops on the pane’s glass
Colored clouds moving mass
Mesh of moss imperfect blotch
Tallest trees eternal watch
Morning coffee, sunrise rays
Distant mountains in haze
Wide blue sky is van’s marquee
Things unspoken, set them free
Introspection, open eyes
Thoughts exposed mighty wise
World’s unspoiled rare scenes
Walk that beach in torn blue jeans
Ashen peaks in silent chants
Winter wind incessant rants
Lakes of green reflecting light
Forest creaking through the night
Swaying grass, the rustling sound
Fair maidens' heart unbound
Places shown, not betrayed
Road, alone, unafraid
Charming smile reflecting lens
At the end it all makes sense
Watch, imbibe, accept and jaunt
Wanderlust is what you want
April 6, 2024
(love story)
She was only 21-when her fiancés life
Was taken with a gun.
They had three years together
And life was getting so much better.
They had plans for a wedding in June
But it ended much too soon.
He had given her a long stem rose
Then he fell to one knee, and did propose.
She took the rose and with loving tender care
With her diary she would share.
She took the rose and cut the stem
And she knew his love would never end.
She knew with time this flower would wither
And die- and that it was a love between he and I.
So she got the silica gel, And preserved the
Rose very well.
She put it into a plastic bag
and vacuumed out all the air.
Then put it into her diary
Where only she could see.
They said it was a down right shame
That he was in the middle of a shootout
Between two rival gangs.
That was when he lost his life
Before she became his loving wife.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
She started to visualize
Of how her wedding day would have been
Had he not been in the wrong place
At the wrong time.
Their life would have turned out fine.
As she placed the rose upon the diary page
Growing inside of her was a sense of rage.
Why can life be so cruel, and people so full of hate?
But looking at the rose, her heart started to melt
Relieving her of all the anger she felt.
Their love for each other was “ oh so pure”
Of a happy life together she was sure.
Life can be comical, and you never know
What it will bring.
But she got pregnant doing her thing.
Then one night when she fell asleep
Into her mind he did creep
And told her these words:
Now you have three things I left behind
My love, a rose, and a child of mine.
When she awoke, she knew he did not die in vain
For he left a part of himself to relieve her pain.
Sitting outside as the sun begins to fall,
painting ginger and orange across it all.
Pine-blue skies with clouds of white,
slowly surrendering the day to night.
For just a moment, I long to be still,
to quiet the noise, to silence the will
of a world that keeps turning, demanding my mind,
leaving peace and tranquility harder to find.
For even in silence, the world finds a way
to follow our thoughts at the end of the day.
The mishmash of troubles, the turmoil, the strain,
keep knocking on doors of the heart and the brain.
And perhaps the greatest challenge we face
is a politically charged world moving at pace—
where opinions collide and divisions arise,
and peace seems to hide beneath troubled skies.
Sometimes I wonder, what if we could go
back to simpler times, moving gentle and slow?
When a sunset was simply a beautiful view,
and silence was something the heart simply knew.
What if we could live without choosing a side,
and let kindness and reason become our guide?
What if the world could remember somehow
that peace doesn’t live in tomorrow—
it lives in the now.
Perhaps then this world, so restless and wild,
could soften its heart like a peaceful child.
Perhaps we could breathe, let the old burdens go,
and find the quiet peace we once seemed to know.
For beneath all the noise, beneath all the strife,
there must still be a simpler way of life—
a place where the soul can rest and be free,
beneath a sunset, beside a quiet tree.
And maybe, just maybe, if we gave it a chance,
the world could remember the beauty of balance—
where silence is sacred, where hearts can be whole,
and peace isn’t something we seek…
but something we know.
Written by mj 10/26
I listen to the words
That are so misunderstood
We go back to if I could I would or I should
Living a life of regrets
And when our dreams start to fade we get upset
At others when we have ourself to blame
Just like weather somethings are subject to change
Can't always be the same
And that's real
In life you cant base everything on how you feel
Because they are bottled up emotions people take it for granted and use it like a token
And then become outspoken
To some it hurts
Reliving the past of getting treated like dirt
It's work trying to be
Everything that others want you to be
You clearly can't see
That you are one of a kind
You are brilliant and smart
Out of all the characteristics
You carry a good heart
And with that spark
Things can get better
Even when you feel it can not
You are in control of your own destiny don't let that be forgot
Written by :Concetta Hardnett
11/19/2017
Pat Westfield sat down at the table long,
the room crowded with all his family,
a last reunion now that dad was sick,
the cancer came back at age seventy.
He didn’t look that bad up at the head,
where he held court with all his grandkids,
and Pat was glad they’d all get this last chance
to thank him for the many things he did.
But across from Pat sat his brother, Ron,
who’d somehow found a shirt with a collar,
his wife and kid in department store clothes,
about all Ron could buy with his dollars.
He had come all this way, and now stood out
in the fine banquet hall Pat had rented,
surrounded by more successful people,
who earned at least six times more than he did.
Their sister Marie was an eye surgeon,
and brother Ken had a big export firm,
Pat himself managed several index funds,
but somehow seeing Ron just made him burn.
“I see that you tried to clean yourself up,”
said Pat looking at the man before him,
“I suppose that we can’t expect much more.”
But Ron just looked back with his own wan grin.
“You’re doing this now at this last meeting?”
Said Ron, looking not the least insulted,
“You can’t stow your pompous nonsense for dad,
on his last chance to see all of his kids?”
Pat just rolled his eyes at the brothers’ words,
“O don’t try to claim the moral high ground.
In truth, I’m shocked that you even came here,
your presence just drags the whole evening down.
Dad sent us o all the best private schools,
Ivy-league colleges, connections galore,
you aced them all, and now what do you do?
Paddle damn tourists around a lakeshore!
Most folks would kill for the chances you had,
you at least could have made something of it.
The rest of us did, not so ungrateful,
yet you feel no shame, not even one bit!”
Ron just looked at him, and there in his eyes
was something like pity, aimed back at him.
Worse still, his fool of a younger brother
still kept on his face that maddening grin.
“I’d try to explain,”said Ron defiantly,
“But I’ve tried before, you can’t understand.
Tell your ego to find its fix elsewhere,
and keep you voice down, we’re here for that man.”
Pat just scoffed and shook his head at all this,
said, “Fools don’t get to tell me what to do.
I guess every family has a loser,
and in ours there’s no question it’s you.”
CONTINUES IN PART II.
I am tire of being a Kenyan,
I didn't intend to say this,
But allow me to talk about it.
From the time I was young.
I have learnt how to be patriotic.
I am tired of being a Kenyan.
Not because I hate Kenya.
But the things I have seen.
There's no one to trust.
Not even the mothers who mothered us.
I am tired of being a Kenyan.
Just because of our leaders.
The leaders who promised to relieve our burdens.
Today they are the one burdening us.
I'm tired of being a Kenyan.
Families are going hungry,
Not because they have no food.
But the flour prices are at the peak
As the farmers lose their maize in granaries.
I am tired of being a Kenyan.
Citizens cannot traverse the country.
Not because they do not want.
But as a result of the high fuel prices.
The oil we mine.
Not of any important to the common man.
I am tired of being a Kenyan,
Because if the insatiable gang.
One that cannot obey the will of the people.
Filing petitions every five years.
I'm tired of being a Kenyan.
I'm tired of being a Kenyan.
Just because of the youth.
Learned youth languishing in poverty.
With their degrees kept in the drawers.
As the old folks cling to the offices.
I'm not an atheist,
But the number of churches be build,
On a daily basis I dislike.
Less industries, more spiritual we are.
I am tired of being a Kenyan.
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
#themonk.
Have been on a journey to here and now,
and I arrived to a place of serenity.
I follow the peaceful calm path of Tao,
and developed a distinct pure identity.
I like my journey and my life,
though, I have felt life's knife.
I have collected many sad regrets,
things said in anger and all those things left unsaid.
Sadness for life's lost including my pets,
on many graves and red roses my tears have bled.
But, God I did my very best,
oh, please grant my soul rest.
I have great hope for my future on earth,
as I know my path forward and destination.
Will treasure each day and each given breath,
my future life will be of my own creation.
There will be no hostilities,
or impossibilities.