Long Ties Poems
Long Ties Poems. Below are the most popular long Ties by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ties poems by poem length and keyword.
Once I had a little car,
I loved her oh so much,
But she was murdered by a man,
Who drove a big Dodge truck.
I looked around and finally found,
A car to take her place.
Who knew behind her pretty face,
The engine'd been laid waste.
She coughed and choked and gagged until,
She spit up chunks of carbon.
My husband bought her anyway,
He said that could be pardoned.
He said it was a minor thing,
He'd fix it right away.
It turned into a major bill,
That wouldn't go away.
It spent more time in the garage,
Than it did on the road,
And we were told to sell it soon,
For soon we'd need it towed.
Whoever'd worked under the hood,
For certain must be manic,
For from the looks of things in there,
He was no mechanic.
I felt so down, I'd spent so much,
This thing could not be worse.
I felt for sure that in this car,
I drove under some curse.
The ties broke as I drove it home.
I went right in the ditch.
I swear before we bought this car,
It was owned by a witch.
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest by Joseph May
********************
Silk voice ties the tunes of the throng
As you play the chill, snake-hands song
Void doesn't just loom—he swoons and croons
Of the throng, silk voice ties the tunes
My sound won't cross—cling to your room
He swoons and croons—void doesn't just loom
Won't quench the charm and delight dross
Cling to your room—my sound won't cross
I'll break the chain with skillful smarm
And delight dross won't quench the charm
Haunts the twilight with spry disdain
With skillful smarm, I'll break the chain
Even my heart can't sate your height
With spry disdain, haunts the twilight
When the coming spite pours a chart
Can't sate your height, even my heart
through blurry eyes
I see faces in the distant
faces I should know
faces belonging to people
who knew me a long time
ago
when I was too busy
doing me
to take a moment
to see
the people who truly
needed me
but I didn't give a damn
about their needs
now I'm old
and in need of someone
to care for me
but there's
no one around.
though blurry eyes
I see faces in the distant
faces I should know
faces belonging to people
who knew me a long time
ago
who loved me
with all their heart
and soul
but I was only in love
with me
selfishly
I kept to myself
isolated myself from
everyone else
now I'm old
and all alone
in need of someone's
love
but there's no one
around.
through blurry eyes
I see faces in the distant
faces I should know
faces of people who
knew me
a long time ago
when I was at the top
of my game
my interests lied only
in power money and fame
what did I have to gain
in family ties
and personal friendships
but
now I'm old
and all alone
I see things differently
but
I burned so many bridges
there's no one around
to care about me
or forgive me.
through blurry eyes
I see faces in the distant
faces I should know
belonging to people who
knew me
a long time ago
ghosts from my past
blurry images in my mind
of people I used
cheated
disregarded
people I exploited
took advantage of
in order
to get where I wanted
to be in life
now I'm old
alone
with no one to care
to care for me
and here I sit all alone
a prisoner
to this madness known
as loneliness
with no one to keep me
company
except the faces
in the distant
which I see through blurry
eyes
In a land where snow should fall,
On a Christmas day, unusual,
A tale unfolds, both strange and bright,
Under sunny skies, a curious light.
A beautiful day, like any other,
Yet, sunshine felt like a bother.
For I, who had fled to distant lands,
Far from loved ones, in distant sands.
No stockings hung, no tree adorned,
No carols sung, no gifts adorned.
A solitary figure, a soul in flight,
Away from joy, on that holy night.
Not because of mischief or any misdeed,
For A's adorned my academic creed.
Well-behaved, yet far from home,
In solitude, I chose to roam.
Merry wishes echoed from afar,
Yet, I had to be the wishing star.
No greetings came unless I sent,
A bittersweet moment of discontent.
A package arrived, a gift to hold,
A gray shirt, pants, and shoes of bold.
Unusual, yet a token of grace,
In the absence of a familiar embrace.
Oh, how this Christmas, a paradox,
A day of glory, in unconventional stocks.
Not what I sought, nor what I craved,
Yet, gratitude in my heart engraved.
For in tradition, my focus lies,
Not on Santa's gifts or worldly ties.
But on a babe, in a manger laid,
The Savior born, a debt repaid.
Though distant, my heart finds peace,
In the story that will never cease.
A birth divine, a love so true,
Christmas is Christ, and Christ is you.
No sadness lingers, no tear is shed,
For in Christ's love, my soul is fed.
So, let the sun shine on this day,
In its own way, a glorious display.
In the absence of what I thought I'd miss,
I find joy in the Savior's bliss.
A Christmas, unlike any before,
A tale of grace, forevermore.
A man indigenous to his homeland
was part of a tribal community.
And ancestral ties created a band
that lived off nature with impunity.
A man burnt red by a color-blind sun
had a history that preceded him.
And he lived free, subservient to none
before the white man arrived on a whim.
A spiritual man he turned to God
with no immunity to the white plague.
And finding himself homeless and outlawed
his traditions and customs became vague.
His beliefs upgraded from balderdash,
like a phoenix, he rises from the ash.
(Sonnet)
Nov. 21, 2018
TRIBUTE TO NATIVE CULTURE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Written: September 29, 2023
___________________________________________________________
In this brazen society, lunacy thrives.
In an era led by narcissism, no one lives.
Covetousness and desultoriness sit on the throne.
While sympathy and devotion are left alone.
We become absorbed in the anarchy of life.
Consumed with the desire to rule and strife.
But in our fervent pursuit of power and gain,
We lose sight of all that keeps us sane.
As an inferno that destroys all in its path.
Our thoughtless behavior fuels a fiery wrath.
Without guilt, we sever ties and ruin hearts.
Spreading a trail of despondency in its darts.
In this frenzied dash for fortune and fame,
We dump those we stomp on in shame.
What do we gain from this ravenous hunger?
A brief rush of pleasure followed by wonder
Is this the reason for our existence?
To sustain our pride with such resilience?
However, an inner voice murmurs quietly.
Alerting us to the real splendor we foresee
When we let go of our greed and vanity,
When we embrace love and humanity.
In the finale, what do we truly need?
Is it riches and power, or passion, indeed?
To find true happiness, we must learn to give.
To show compassion and learn to forgive.
The vanishing sanity can be restored.
If we select to let pass off what we hoard,
So let us extinguish the burning flame.
That feeds our selfishness and vanity claims.
And let empathy and kindness guide our way.
To create a world where sanity can stay.
For in this cruel world, we have the power,
To pick love over greed every hour.
Let's build bridges and mend shattered hearts.
And heal the wounds caused by our darts.
Women in my family
Of all, I owe most to my mom and my younger sister
Who have brazenly stolen a chunk of my heart!
Mom, you were always our pillar of support
And a vast repository of values and inspirational love
We have always seen you as a Powerhouse of strength
Kissing away our tears and infusing hope in us.
The intimacy I share with my younger sister
Surpasses all other ties and is too deep for words
Ever and anon, through smiles and giggles,
Through every twist and turn of life,
We were (are) together as a pair of twins,
Prodding each other to move ahead
This garland of words with much love
I hang on the portrait of my mom
______________________________
June. 23.2022
~Placed First~
Women in My Family Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet
I’m Summer, God-blest wondrous season*
ordained in your calendar for wellness reason…
maximize my offered rejuvenation lesson
freeing you from boredom-prison
toward revitalizing your person.
Refreshing your spirit with revival grip
have invigorating nature trip
through mountain trek’s ascending strip
enjoying faith adventure zip
thanking the Lord for wondrous creation-dip.
Immerse your body into water plunge delight
cooling down through swimming’s zesty might
to vanquish scorching rays’ blight…
then bask under the shade for relaxation flight
freeing mind from burdensome plight.
Midst my vacation-packed blissful pleasure
Strengthen your fellowships of love-ties measure
with family and friends beyond earthly treasure
inspired for reaching-out tasks despite pressure
toward heavenly pursuits’ seizure.
*Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
Summer in our country is from March to May.
(Personification with rhyme)
June 26, 2020
1st place, "Summer Love" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 7/4/2020.
When I saw you turn and leave, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I thought we were family, brothers with a special bond.
As I lay there bleeding, all I could see were broken ties,
A life no longer in the present, but moving beyond.
As I was slowly fading away, I saw you return.
I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or if it was real.
I knew that keeping me alive was your only concern.
That’s when guilt became the only emotion I could feel.
I felt guilty for even thinking you would leave me there,
But I was in such a state of shock and absolute pain.
Because of you, I’m alive and able to breathe fresh air.
I’ll never take for granted this friendship of ours, again.
Ancestral Whispers
In the depths of the earth, the roots of time stretch like pulsing veins,
Nourishing the collective memory with the fertile essence of our past,
And I, a poet wandering through forgotten eras, gather crumbs of wisdom from the sacred soil.
Magical animals dance in my dreams, fluid contours of light and shadow,
Their eyes glisten with secrets as old as the world, their tongues speak in lost dialects,
And in every wing beat, in every footprint left in the dust, I read the story of creation.
Solitude envelops me like a cloak of mist, here at the border between worlds,
Visions overflow the edges of my mind like a turbulent river,
Words are born from silence, fragile at first, then growing in power and resonance.
Death and rebirth intertwine in a cosmic dance, eternal and implacable,
My body is a vessel of transformation, my mind—a cauldron where ancestral alchemies brew,
From the ashes of the old self rises, a reborn Phoenix, the poet initiated into the mysteries of the universe.
The ecstasy of the primordial dance envelops my being, the rhythm beats in my blood,
Feet strike the earth in sync with the heartbeat of Mother Gaia,
And in the whirl of movement, the boundaries between self and others melt into a sacred union.
The tribe's work is silent prayer, hands united in common effort,
Sweat of the brow mixed with earth becomes the bond that ties us to ground and sky,
In every gesture, in every breath, we are part of the great ritual of life.
I look back to history and forward to the wilderness, a tightrope walker on the thread of the present,
My words are bridges between past and future, between known and mystery,
In my verses reflects the true measure of things, a balance against the ignorance of the times.
I am the keeper of archaic values, the voice that whispers in the roar of modernity,
Torchbearer in the night of forgetting, sower of dreams in the barren fields of routine,
And my poems are seeds of magic planted in the fertile soil of souls that still know how to listen to the whispers of the Earth.