Long Thinking Poems
Long Thinking Poems. Below are the most popular long Thinking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thinking poems by poem length and keyword.
The puffy, stomach-fattened mouse is closing in on the ballerina.
They do a pirouette around the stage, and the crowd goes wild,
But silently. This is an auditorium, and we are taught obedience
By the mere reverent attitude of Nutcrackers past.
But do the children go silently wild?
Or are they now ripe for a good nightmare?
Are they as enthralled as the adults?
It is a tradition to go wild, because our parents said
It is so, and so it is.
Does any adult ever slightly wonder
How we would feel, if we ever saw these skating
Mammals in the same room, and they were the
Same size? If you have ever observed the scary
Quickness of a mouse darting out of a kitchen floor crack,
You might realize that children, who are much smaller
Than this Christmas mouse, might feel intimidated
And fearful after such a show.
Any thinking adult would hope to not see the mouse
And the little girl the same size in real life also.
However, on stage, with the tin soldiers, and the Christmas tree,
We are okay with it
Some of us, not all.
A Christmas ballet, some of us
See yearly, without thinking of that.
When the children cannot explain their nightmares,
Do we figure out why?
You only take me for granted
because I put the offer there
you don’t create the advantage
it’s the offer I prepare
only comfortable when I followed
I allowed you lead our pair
I watched you grow in confidence
in control declining care
treated like your loyal servant
who isn’t going anywhere
free to cheat with other persons
forgiven when you share
I’ll do the work, you cause the problems,
grasped out of thin air
how happy you would look
allowed to do what you dare
I can read you like a book
you are your only care
no effort spent on me
abusive and unaware
love I had has gone extinct
oh look a moody stare
thinking I’m happy like this
power mad beyond repair
reality is a hazy mist
when it clears I’m not there
blinded to what this is
the power’s disappeared
you’re single now you b***h
and I don’t even care!
Into Young Womanhood
this glorious role, sans
helping beget and nurture thine first born
three day shy of Christmas 1996,
fills thy being
with joie de vivre and doth add dorn
more resplendent than any horn
of plenty, and aye can only imagine
more precious than fine spun gold
ah...how this papa doth recall,
when he didst hold
and/or swaddle his edenic bundle of joy
and taking stock,
how she (christened
Eden Liat) didst mold
herself into an autonomous offspring,
rarely receiving a scold
cuz, she most times seemed well mannered
and infrequently told,
and thus said benevolent prized progeny
required no special programming nor app
even when a child, adolescent or,
latte (sipping) teen,
this genetic bounty evinced
laser like thinking
with a custom made thinking cap
although...yes, (there erupted a verbal flap
toward the missus or me,
(the latter and former
markedly differed asper child rearing,
which unseen rift
engendered a figurative gap
mollycoddling, holding, consoling,
et cetera distraught daughter on me lap
which cradling, fas incubating, rocking...,
which oft found
this biomedically cherished baby taking her nap
twas at such poignant bonding moments,
aye DID NOT decry the parent trap,
thus now, special "gifts"
with bittersweet motions bespeak
as tears (viz - ode to joy)
stream down each stubbled cheek
this middle aged grown man,
doth recollect with embarrassment
how as a teen thyself as classic "geek"
whereat mine demeanor extremely meek
AND let NO chanced avail
for one to take a peak
and now...unstoppable
grievousness awoke,
oh no...nothing un speak
or print able did occur only a human weak
ness, when thine voice
un-necessarily raised yet,
blink back moistened
slightly crowsfeet darkened eyes set
tills within this intelligent
well read and let
hard bloke accepts the "circle game of life"
...listening to thee
beautiful, charming, exemplary dulcet
an em ma nant treasured
valuable accouterment tummy life...
YOU BET!
I'm sitting on a bench
Waiting for my bus
Thinking in my head
What my daddy said
Just waiting for my bus
I'm planning my next move
Waiting for my bus
Strumming my guitar
But I can't get too far
Just waiting for my bus
I'm making all this up
Waiting for my bus
Singing my own song
Not sure where I belong
Just waiting for my bus
I'm getting soaking wet
Waiting for my bus
Linking my own past
How long will it last
Just waiting for my bus
I'm sitting in the pouring rain
Waiting for my bus
Drinking my bottle of whisky
Out here, it's all a bit risky
Just waiting for my bus
I'm sitting here all alone
Waiting for my bus
I'm just waiting for my bus
Waiting for my bus
Just waiting for my bus
I'm just waiting for my bus
My grandfather
Worked hard all his life
And died
When I was
Away.
I remember him
Sitting in the dark
By the kitchen stove
On cold winter nights
Rubbing his calloused hands
Over and over again
Not saying a word
To anyone
Listening to the voices on the outside
Whistling in the winter wind.
Once I walked
In by mistake
Breaking the silence
I asked what he was thinking about
Nothing he said
The his voice changed
Listen to me son
Everyone has a lesson
To learn in life
You’re young now
But later on
You’ll need to know
When to grab life
In your own two hands
And shake it
Until you get
What you want.
The sudden anger
In his voice
Startled me like a
Short fuse in the night
And I ran from him.
Grandfather didn’t work during winter
It was too cold he said
The need
To work more
To buy more
Never suited him.
What he needed was nearby
A pair of old work boots
A jacket carelessly slung
Over a chair
A pair of cotton twill pants from better days
And a bottle of brandy.
For him, winter was
Meeting old friends
After Sunday Church
Congregating in the park
In small groups
Standing their ground
Against all outsiders
On days when the snows receded
And winter’s end seemed close.
Some rested on canes
Others stood tall
Survivors of another winter
Arguing politics
Talking about this and that
And how well their grown up children were doing.
Life can go on without us
They seemed to say
To the empty park
And the gray skies
We will meet again one day
But for now
We’ll stay here until the sun goes down
And winter returns.
Politically speaking I lean to the left which makes it difficult to unite
with people who, politically speaking, are leaning to the right.
Even though we have our differences I was brought up thinking it would be wise
if both sides want to progress…is to find a compromise.
But over the years the fundamental differences in our beliefs
in our souls and in our hearts
have made compromise impossible…have torn us all apart.
To the point where we’re calling each other names
when saying politically I lean left or I lean right
is not a path to compromise…
but a source of anger…
an invitation for a fight.
So today I make a wish for peace, acceptance and understanding
I make this wish with all my heart
as I watch a country I once loved…tear itself apart.
This wish I shall not make upon on the wind…to be lost among the trees
I shall not share it with the clouds…or upon the seven seas…
A wish, like each of us, need it’s freedom…to travel wide and far
so to give this wish a chance to succeed…I shall attach it to a star.
And send it to the heavens…not just to my God but to all your Gods too
with the hope they will unite and make this wish come true.
I’m not sure we will ever find our peace
It seems, politically speaking, of solutions we are bereft
but for me…and for all those friends on my right
perhaps one wish is all have left.
"Our Beautiful Mom”
© 2015 Michelle Lynn LeBlanc
Mom, here I sit on this special day,
Thinking of you and your caring ways
You were always so giving
Had a heart that was true
You sure loved your kids
There was no wrong we could do
Even when we were selfish
You'd always find a way
To give more of yourself
Without any delay
You loved us unconditionally
Wanted us to always have the best
Always giving all that you had
Not caring if you had anything left
That was just who you were
It sure came naturally for you
You loved to brag up your kids
But never saw the beauty in you
But Mom, you were beautiful
In just so many ways
You left a lasting impression
That will remain all our days
You gave us so many memories
How growing up could be fun
Pranking total strangers
Was one of your favourite ones
Yes, you were beautiful, Mom
And we will never forget
The legacy you left us
And the example you set!
© 2015 Michelle Lynn LeBlanc
White knuckle straining
Gripping the laces
At the edges of my thoughts
Praying the laces
Don’t come off
I am screaming
You cannot hear me
Because I am learning
I am learning what is healthy
And tearing down the dry wall
Until your nail beds are bleeding is
Not.
I do not hate you.
How do I say
I hate the way
I have to relearn how to think
How to speak
I have to weigh every opinion
Every porcelain inkling
So that I do not break
It
Break
Me
Break, you.
Break through!
I can do this sober.
Unless
I can’t.
String me up by my neck
There is only silence
Until the next
The thought
Rips its way in
Unfamiliar nasty little friend
I white knuckle strain
And grip the lace
Hoping for a soft landing
A greeting
A whisper instead of the screaming
I am gritting my teeth
Praying
And they call this
Healthy,
Self understanding.
But thinking for me
Feels more like disease
Punishment seeping internally
Pushing my face into gravel
Threatening to leak
Through my teeth
And onto my life where
I’ve rebuilt
Piece by piece.
Silence.
I breathe.
Release.
Repeat.
Wretched fox, how you compel me to write!
I hate the way you scavenge, shriek and prowl,
Invading my mind through the humid night,
With calls that drown out the melodic fowl.
I liken your shrill voice to a harpoon:
It is more sharp, strident and harsh
Than crow flocks cawing in the gales of June,
Or air baring scents of a rancid marsh.
How do I hate you? I shall list the ways.
I hate your ginger fur and charcoal snout.
Thinking of your horrid shout fills my days
With woe: ‘tis your call which caused this fallout.
Oh dearest fox, I must sleep without fright
So please ponder these verses this fine night.
When we look above at the nighttime sky
We are filled with this great mystique
With the untold number of heavenly bodies
So foolish to think we're unique
If I was a gambler which I certainly am not
Could now be a very rich man
Betting on the existence of other life forms
In this heavenly scale so grand
Certainly, I'm not all alone in my thinking
Many have thought this before
So to all of us bright minded individuals
The odds just can't be ignored
Unfortunately, my time will end long before
A meeting with beings we call aliens
Most fantastic event in the annals of mankind
To finally discover other civilizations
When we look above at the nighttime sky
We are filled with this great mystique
To think that one day we will finally meet them
And discover we're not so unique