Long Thoughts Poems
Long Thoughts Poems. Below are the most popular long Thoughts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thoughts poems by poem length and keyword.
Every now and then, I hear the happy sound of laughter
when children visit next door
It's a sound that should ring,
it should be audible much more
Where are all the children?
Self imprisoned in their rooms?
Where are all the children?
Self imprisoned in their homes?
Where are all the children?
Self imprisoned with a myriad of screens?
it's Saturday afternoon and the town is eerily quiet
not a single human sound is coming to the fore
Not from the parks. the playgrounds, backyards or from the streets,
a total contrast, to the days of yore
Today a ghostly silence
as I visualise these scenes
In my heart I feel some sense of pain
as a message loudly screams
Where were all the children
in the days of yesteryear
you could hear them in the parks, backyards,
playgrounds and often on the street
There was cricket. hopscotch, billy carts and bikes,
soccer, basketball, these activities, now all seem obsolete
And as I put my thoughts on paper
and exercise my pen
Can we resurrect community,
will it rise again ?
My mind a thick fog, a thick fog so deep,
it threatens to submerge my thoughts.
I know not why, or how, or even who,
for the fog makes me it's puppet.
It stutters and now I.
It forgets and so do I.
Who are you beside me, i really mean no harm.
It's so very lonely, in my arbid mind.
My hands no longer dainty,
but thick clumsy stubs,
that struggle with the buttons on my shirt,
oh and my cardigan,
and the laces of my shoes.
You shouldn't help, but I know you will.
I feel so confined,
in this body of mine.
My back is hunched, I'm five foot three,
but shuffle along at four foot nine.
A zimmer trawling along in front,
my eyes glaring at my two left feet,
that once could rumba or Charleston,
a swinger of the early days.
It's not so kind to be so bent,
when one wishes to look upto the sky.
My memories wither, as embers of a dying fire.
I wish the fuel of medicine could have,
burnt brightly for a few more years.
I'm told I will soon be a great grandmother,
but if you ask, I don't know who to.
Maybe Samantha or Sharon or Sylvia or Ann?
For peets sake my memories scatter,
Like a baby, I pitter patter.
I wish for the sunlight on my nose,
the fresh ocean water on my toes.
I long to see the shooting stars,
relax in the Icelandic spas.
But most of all I want to smuggle,
with my loved ones, on a winter's eve.
Tell them sweet stories, sing and dance,
hear their laughter and not their cries.
For though living, it is my bitter sweet goodbye.
the sick sun returns to die my stomach stings squirms and burns eternity is calling out a warm meal my jaw tenses up the breath goes into my swollen throat a lady bug crawls on a string attached to a ceiling light stalin chokes on his blood as his doctors watch the lady bug creeps towards the hot bulb burning my eyes blink sleep beckons me to bed through the cold window the blues slide into my bones the room darkens grey holocaust films haunt my morning memories old ladies cry tears of pain burnt bodies in ovens thoughts disjointed deep pauses in reason i squeeze each strained word from my fingers shrill guitar notes from old blues tunes creep the lady bug has gone towards the cold plastic covered window someone give me a sign a mystery angel or a god i need a faith that i can touch the blues beat drives on like a knock on my door trains filled with frozen human corpses the smell of dry stench cat spray rotting garbage piled wrappers and waste smiling politicians buses and trains roll on through the night a wife grins as she cheats on her husband pictures of air-brushed beauties in magazine stands next to candy-bars and gum illiterate citizens drive with cell-phones on their ears i’m scouring emptiness for magic verses clouds of silver heaven oil jesus portraits grandmothers’ cookies and milk giggling monogamous sex frowning faces vinyl flowers shopping carts filled with frozen food classic rock bus-stops power-chairs enough the high-pitched guitar note drones the bright computer screen hurts my eyes i fight wanton hunger leaves rustle in the cool november wind i see these words they exist my fingernails keep growing fingernails grow on dead human bodies i’m alive strange moments nothing makes sense but i’m afraid to die crawlin’ king snake crackles through the speakers i know my girl loves me food promises love and life sunny days and holidays i scratch my head hunger gnaws on me sugar runs low in my blood my brain slows my words huff and try to push the wall down
Alone again
yet evening rain falls
cooling fresh breeze voices
anxious for everything,
angry about nothing.
Nothing to do about rain falling
as sure as gravity
of dripping issues
landing in my lap,
splattering naked children's sleepy heads
and innocent soft shoulders.
Into each life...
Yes,
yet eventide rains inside voices
wet down dwindling life
of tiring consciousness.
If I could not read or write or speak
who would I sing with in new found leisure?
Scattered lyrical thoughts
of painful rain
for evening's loss of light,
and dawn's dew drop evaporations
raising praise for might
of rain rising up yet again
to grace some other's night.
We each sing with rain dying alone,
a humanic nature feeling trapped
alien emigrant returning home
to Earth where all creations fail and fall
to rise again singing through new voices
and hues,
spectral rhythmic
dances of songs and cries
each our lived together owned,
rising up new throated sounds
disintegrated symphonies
of song sung out
toward tomorrow's rain clouds
capturing moist radiant waves,
wet sounds of song
well-lived yet bound.
I hear too complex songs for living,
polyphonic evening rains
falling down alone
to rise again belonging songs
evaporating praise,
leaking radiance
gathering together.
Into and through each flowing melody
of rebaptising life
dirged this night alone
yet heard as well-sung rain forever.
Somber is the color of the day...
Window glass distorts the view, of the dreary afternoon
Prisms of light cavorting outside, are reflected from the dew
and rainbows are splashed, from an old pewter lamp
as if to divert me of my mood
While quietly, I sit, and ponder it all, my pen is close, my chin in hand
Pinned back, my strands, a sweater, old, is pulled around the chill
woven in colors, of various yarns, as varied as thoughts that take me away
My mind is lost in a wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter wind,
and leaves lay dead beneath the snowy mounds
a fire glows, and a storm now keeps me bound
One shard of light from a neighbor's home
across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness in a room from winter sighs...
then something sparks a word ...a line, .. a verse, ... a lullaby ...
The day is sadder than the words I had found...
so somber is the day that keeps me bound
I hide away this moment....a cup of tea, a Golden Lab for company..
One peek beyond the distant hill, a touch of sun
A glimpse of mountain, pastures deep, my dog that sleeps...
A momentary chance to free my soul
In just a brief, but deep departure from the ordinary...
I explore my thoughts, search my heart, wonder what this day will bring...
I watched old memories, long kept cold, ...unfold as if a dream
Unsort, relive, those worlds untold....
Exploring new words, I now have found
Stumbling through my mind, unintended
Watching the words tumble as if unattended...
Unfolding, exploding, and falling in chaos
Paying no mind to the reader's conception
Cleansing, pleasing, as my soul fits the pieces...
Beneficial.... to the reader...will it matter? Who knows?...
But a satisfying journey traveled and found
by myself....and for myself, ....as the one who's creating...
Looking out from blurry windows...a dark day continues ...
on a somber colored day, that kept me bound.....
_________________________________________________________________
Sometimes I simply whisper…
Help me, Jesus, please
Other times, I simply smile…
Thank you, Jesus…
I don’t know the how or why
But I know You’ve blessed my life
Sometimes I just ask Him silently…
When will I see Your face?
He never answers the question
Though I know that He is there
Listening to my silent prayers
Giving me the strength to share
All my hopes, needs and cares
With the One who knows me best
Sometimes I humbly invite Him
To hear the way I’ve sought Him
And give me His voice, His grace
The joy that lives in His presence
But I never fail to be amazed
When I feel the way He rains down
Love that is rich and true, love
That is so alive, so fulfilling, so real
Love that is beyond my understanding
It’s so alive – so wise, so blessed
It is this genuine love, this authentic
Feeling from His spirit, His gift to us
The grace that frees my soul to pray
The mercy that penetrates my thoughts
The kindness that comes from His light…
Filling my heart and soul with hope
My mind with complete peace and thanks
For all the tenderness that He brings
Such love, such anointing, is my comfort
My joy flows so abundant… inspiring me
To give my heart to the One I know
Holds the key to my very soul, the One
Who brings me through the worst that comes
Into a life that He’s blessed with His virtue
With all my heart and soul, I praise Him
The answer to all my fears and tears
The light who pours love through the years
With God, I have everything I ever needed
Every blessing that I could even think of
The inspiration to share my heart and soul
As they dance through the wonders growing
From His gift of such a brilliant reflection
Of all that He’s created, all that He’s given
To His children… the ones He loves completely
With a love that is beyond comprehension
When I was a broken little girl
my grandma gave me a journal and pen
write your sorrow, write it for the world she said
and I did and I do and will never stop
for because of the journal and my grandma's faith
I am a writer, a poet . . .
Poetry saved me- for my scribbles
instead of stories, became poems deep and sad
in poetry I can pour my innermost thoughts
I can release all the words whirling in my head
poetry sets me free, it is my anchor . . .
my safe harbor at the end of each day
and welcomes me like a cloak of silk
If I had not found poetry or if poetry did not exist
where would my words go . . .
on pages of a diary for no one to read except me
oh, no the thought of that is dreadful
for I have things to share, things to say
that other poets understand
more than family or should I say in a different way
poets who read my words know my heart
my soul they hold in their hearts
oh no, if there was no poetry, I would
still be broken . . .
_________________________
January 20, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Poetry Saved Me
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1218-181-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, If There Was No Poetry
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
i sit here
alone in the woods
the trees seem less full
than my mind
as they blush at me
sunset like
beneath autumn's wind
the squirrel hurries along her way
gathering nuts. as i gather thoughts
i pause and breathe deep
this cool air around me
and i lose myself in nature
my muse sings
with the last of the birds
nested in trees
ready to take flight
and i write
poetry
i am calm
as my thoughts fall
like little leaves
beneath the wind
i strip myself
of colored thoughts
and deep rooted pain
like the trees
i stand naked
and free of weight
i see more clearly
the deer as they sneak past me
i close my book
and head home
another day ends
another poem born
in the woods contest
9/6/13
Fight or flight happened again today
Don't know why or what to say
Anger deep inside my mind
Not really seeing, feeling blind
So I went for a wander
To clear my head
Far over yonder
Here's what the voices said
Your better than this you are great
Get on the phone ring your mate
This is just one of them blips
Walk on son get outta them dips
The other voice telling me to quit
Making me feel like s**t
Laughing loudly deep inside
This is when I sat and cried
It's not very easy knowing your wrong
But I had to remain strong
Anger, sadness is what I felt
Sat on the grass wanting to melt
I've survived worse this I know
Recovery may be really slow
I'm ready to fight this head on
Positive thoughts and staying strong
Dont just ask "how am I?"
Otherwise I will make you cry
The reason is I'm not good
Miss those lost from brotherhood
Listen to me and what I say
Empaphize don't run away
I need your help this is for sure
Then together we'll find the cure
Imagination
The satin sky as the moon rises bathes us in silken moonlight
Gazing at infinity and a God given awesome sight.
Pondering on how small we are in Gods great universe
Planning out our lives but finding there is no rehearse.
Wondering what might have been, but it does not get us far?
Things are now, what time we have, yes that is what they are.
Change is a difficult thing, but imagination is a gift
Sometimes when things are not just right, this can give us a lift.
The harvest moon time is approaching; days are getting shorter in length
But lying here with our thoughts entwined knowing you are there gives me strength.
© ~GG~29/08/2102