Long Time travel Poems
Long Time travel Poems. Below are the most popular long Time travel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Time travel poems by poem length and keyword.
If I had a clone
I surely would be
exuberant
flamboyant and fancyfree
I would sing and dance
for the whole world to see
aboard every single cruiseship
on every sea
I would follow the sun
and chase the moon
but most assuredly
I would clone myself
again and again
to pursue each dream
that I hold dear to me
I would time travel
to study under
Michelangelo
I would be a contemporary
and groupie of Shakespeare
I would walk for miles
in the footsteps of Ghandi
I would sit on the mountainside
with thousands to listen to Jesus
and partake of fish and bread
I would fly to the moon with Chris Hadfield
and make his coffee while he texts from space
I would sit with Buddha under the bohdi tree
and travel to Atlantis to see
what the fuss is all about
Surely though if I had a secret life
I’d still come home each night to you
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on January 5, 2019 for contest IF I HAD A SECRET LIFE sponsored by CAREN KRUTSINGER - RANKED 1ST
After working day long, was relaxing mind and soul
With a beautiful song.it took away all the troubles
Out of me.
As I was gazing around,my eyes caught the glimpse
Of a bright colored book.
Ah!! After a long hiatus,I saw the book.
it filled me up with nostalgia.
It was my diary ,a vault of my wonderful memories
Of good and bad.
Opened the book ,saw all the poems
Written when I was young.
Sweet music was being played in the heart,
Read all those poems .
There was one unfinished poem looking
Sadly at me,saying ,give me a beautiful ending.
Ran my fingers over the pages,
Which was my savior from unrest .
This busy life made me forget the treasure
Trove of poems and passion.
The poem got me time travel and
I watched and enjoyed those bygone moments.
A poem about feelings which are unsaid
But still hold so strong in the heart.
The poem got its beautiful end,
it taught me that feelings are to be expressed
and they still linger in the heart,the
person goes away from us.
Its not that feelings are dead and
Heart had dried up,they blossom like
A flower every time whenever the
Cross our minds and make us
Relish those wonderful moments.
Tears rolled down my cheeks
Of content and happiness.
dt:12/3/1012
A thought
There was a day when I used to be happy,
There was a day when I felt like alive,
But now I am not even me ,
Different person in my cover,
This is what I think over and over.
Maybe time travel was not a myth,
I could go back and enjoy the time a bit,
To the young, I just wanted to meet,
Give him a hug and an advice a bit,
Nah, not possible from the chair I sit.
Just some words floating in my mind,
Always troubling me not so kind,
May me there is a place of my
True self where I can find.
What is love that I didn't got,
In the pool of hate I had to rot,
A boring life waiting for a dot,
A boring life waiting for a dot.
What is the real meaning of life ?
To just work till the end for a thrive ?
Or its the road, we just taking a drive?
Thought enough in a stanza of five.
TIME MACHINE
The Clock has been set for 1955,
For a journey into my history book,
Time Machine fired up and primed,
So, lets travel back, take a closer look.
Step outside into a strange new world,
Outside the house where I was born.
Like something from the olden days,
Children in clothing, tattered and torn.
Difficult to comprehend the scene,
Did I truly live during this time?
As if I’d arrived in an ancient land,
Strangely spectacular, surreal and sublime.
The Town has character but colourless,
No obvious signs of wealth.
Air is thick with smoke and sulphur,
Factory chimneys choke citizen health.
Noticeable the absence of bright light,
Men in flat caps and smoking.
Cigarette billboard for Senior Service,
Two and six for Twenty, must be joking.
Very few cars on the roads,
Bus Conductor, “Hold on tight”, any more fares.
Most of the men must be at work,
Street full of Ladies, Toddler in tow.
Milk fourpence a pint, that’s old money.
Loaf of Bread, just ninepence today.
Butter, reduced this week, just Two Shillings,
Mind you I’ve just seen the wages they pay.
In the bank window is a vacancy;
“Required experienced Gentleman Ledger Clerk
Generous annual salary £720 per annum
48 hours, excellent pay rewards hard work”
I contemplate the incredible changes,
During my life time of Sixty-Two years,
Almost like an HG Wells Novel,
Gazing in wonder, I fight back the tears.
My heart urges me to stay,
But the head, knows I must leave.
Mourning for people no longer here,
For a time in my past, I grieve.
A little tale about the real me
twisted all inside as can be
the visions of the end
is all i see
F.T.W. setting my self free
waking up with the thought
i survived.
"SURVIVED!" another dream
holding my head under water
no one can hear my screams
cursing each and everyone
for this demon has won
taking over my soul
ripping out all my sanity
reliving over and over
the day i took my own life
my own hell is more than an element of a dream
slicing my most deepest vain, with the dullest knife
a fear so dark lashing out a terrorized scream
reality, to sanity, losing my main brain
a deep dark fear lurking, red blood stain
creeping up a MOSH caught in the way
F.T.W. we are all to blame
inside I dread the day of my rebirth
shout my guts into space for I have faced
to slow down the beast with a potent power of radiation
a frame out demon skinning the philosophy you once new
an evil more than vile, a poison worst than sin
motivating his way in to my voyage of my on tormented life
a DEMON dust from Neptune possessing me its rings
never to think in my wildest observation
I would encounter my own depths of a zero pointless energy
giving to my by the lighted gravity of humane
restricted on the eyes, for the ones who do not wish to see
a trance faster than the speed of light
ending myself to a forever night
fighting with them who reject to see a demon so twisted
dropped from the cosmos of realistic
no one wanting to acknowledge the relativistic way
that time travel out*** and Demons travel in***
lost forever in this rotten being
making me shout out loud to he
who knows my name
dealing with the devils Darkest Poet
in a Dark Poets game
-contest-
just a dream soupppppers lol. : )
Leave some time for wandering,
wandering is fun,
leave some time for wandering,
the wander’s never done.
It’s okay to plan ahead,
and block out some fun,
but leave some time for wandering,
leave time for the random.
I once went on a hike
in the Catskill peaks,
but then driving home I thought
a new road I’d seek.
I found myself an elk farm,
didn’t know it was there,
passed a house with such a view
I had to stop and stare.
Then I found a waterfall,
plunging sixty feet,
how I’d never heard of it
just astonished me.
I once drove the Adirondacks
going back to school,
found an ancient blast furnace,
a ruined mass, but cool.
Then a cabin that was used
by Teddy Roosevelt,
found history wandering,
just going where I felt.
Nearby was a bison ranch,
a fitting spot I guess,
with meat at better prices
then all of the rest.
Leave some time for wandering,
wandering is fun,
leave some time for wandering,
the wander’s never done.
It’s okay to plan ahead,
and block out some fun,
but leave some time for wandering,
leave time for the random.
~~~~~~
Riding on the Merry-Go-Round,
And being six or just seven.
I remember the heavenly music!
Thought I had gone to heaven.
The sparkling gold horse was so
Beautiful to see....
I see her now, through the
Periscope of a young girl's memory.
The polished wood floors,
The cotton canty scented air.
Brown braids dancing joyously in the
Stunning summer day's air with flair.
Such memories shine though years passed.
And yet.... she still lives within me!
Penning poetry,full of spark and sass!
5/10/2021
~1~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My vessel is ink on folded pages;
I don’t need TARDIS* or a Wayback Machine*~
my words alone bend time, each line stretching moments
into constructed poems that create a time dilation.
I travel freely, unbound by time or place~~
my pen is my sextant, guiding the course of my thoughts.
I hitch rides on comet trails, crawl through worm holes,
and write poems on the strata of extinct volcanoes.
I disappear, traveling backward on a filament of myth,
landing softly in the ruins of ancient cities,
slipping into ancient dust and the sound of bronze,
tasting the abhorrent ash of forgotten fires,
recording the tenor of moments lost to history.
I leap ahead on metaphor’s swift stream,
glimpsing the future and tasting the sterile air
of generations I will never physically meet,
documenting futures that might still be avoided.
I move through time never aging,
returning to the present, a silent witness,
to fragile cities built of glass and vapor
burdened with visions and heavy truths.
No passports stamped, no customs declared.
I leave no quantum footprint, only ink~
the residue of my translocation
depositing strange knowledge on folded pages.
*The Wayback Machine was a fictional time travel device from "Peabody's Improbable History" allowing users to travel to any point in history. TARDIS was a time-traveling spaceship from "Doctor Who," known for its exterior resembling a British police box. (Source: denofgeek.com)
So, you come up to me?
Weird thing is, you seem so familiar to me!
So, you have questions for me?
Weird thing is, you know the answers before I speak?
So, I ask questions of you
Who you are, what you did or what you do?
So, you go quiet on me?
Where do you come from, where have you been?
So, you then tell me your age.
But, that so many thousand years, a human body can’t possibly take?
So, I guess you’re a strange case!
You look really old but your age must be a mistake?
So, you tell me to sit.
You promise the truth, but tell me that I won’t like it one little bit!
So, you show me a scar on your palm
You turn over my hand to reveal the exact same scar!
So, some time travel there’s been??
Weird thing is, I believe what you say.......
When you tell me you’re me!
Let’s go back in time to the nineteen fifties, Melanie suggested.
1940’s, her best friend, a more knowledgeable Tillie protested.
So they woke up in a room that was covered with pink roses, all girly.
Their makeup was in place upon awakening, and hair totally curly.
They looked like they had stepped out of a Rita Hayworth movie.
This is kind of nice, Melanie had to agree. It truly feels quite groovy.
How long do we stay? Tillie asked, bounding out of a rose covered bed.
Until we have had breakfast, or at least lunch, Melanie said.
What about our children? Our husbands? Our jobs and our life?
Tillie giggled about them on their own. She was a most peculiar wife.
Maybe they will take them to their mothers. This room is a dream!
She was settling down for a happy rest. Felt like a cat with new cream.
Are we asleep Melanie asked? She was worried about the frilly lace.
She was concerned about the time travel. Could they shelter in place?
Tillie blinked her eyes, eliminating her friend from her beautiful dream.
Settling down to enjoy the comforts of grandma’s house in a steady stream.