Long Time warp Poems
Long Time warp Poems. Below are the most popular long Time warp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Time warp poems by poem length and keyword.
There are some to ignore the past,
As if those roots never fed the vine.
Yet they'll recall a former landscape,
Where harmony existed, everything was just fine.
But this time-traveling effort begs the question,
As to just when we should turn the clock back?
Because no two can agree on a time frame,
So the answer becomes a historical hack.
Now it's been seen where success has occurred,
While traveling backwards with women's rights.
Taking away her given reason to control her body,
I guess it's better if she no longer fights.
This Time-Machine seems to work judicially,
As a time-warp has bent the Supreme Court.
Where twisted logic has decided that a President,
Can rule a kingdom, with no one to report.
So who needs to look towards the future,
When we have a MAGA time machine to dwell on the past.
We might as well stop worrying about tomorrow...
Since yesterday may become our last.
His close kin who spell mankind; from distant memory they reckon, they shield
This reckoning as a symbol of future tidings, and cannot journey with plasma
Unblooded. For it is that which ends which draws onward that which begins
And from dim, dreary and abysmal origins upon distant worlds the bright
New flash of light will thunder and hit, running between worlds and the ship
Gaining on the stars to try.... the fates, which stir the night. Yet to wander
Is the last refuge for those, lost to the inhabited worlds, having ceased to wander
Comforted by false notions, trumped up and sedated, they lay down their shield
Seeking to fall into a world, where no swords are needed, anchored to a ship
That doesn't sail, the beam-core gone to rust and lines not feeding plasma
And minds and souls gone to orange, the colour rusting, not too bright
When the blending rust of worlds breathes blood into iron and light begins
Let the Captain call out the end as this begins; the star-beam beaming the shield,
separating the time-warp, driving the wanderers, with space running, as plasma
runs within, being and beaming from without;
Is the running proof for the sites which we set, which fall when we wander
Now the memories flood into our brain
Of happier days when there seemed to be no pain
Those days from so deep in the past
The times we all wish would forever last
Now sometimes are feet don't really touch the ground
In a time warp is where we feel we can be found
So caught up in the deepest of thoughts
Knowing there's only one answer no maybe or not's
So many things we need to get done
Haven't yet started on a single one
Our brain is thinking but the body won't move
No we haven't done any drugs or drank any booze
Finally realizing the end is closer then we thought
I could be in early mourning is where we have got
Not real sure of what it's called that we do
But it shows how much we really Love you
An Uncle Charlie Original
© 2011 unclecharlie
Ghosts haunt my avenue.
Lights left-on in deserted houses.
Wind conducts trees to sigh
songs and squeals of lost kids playing,
to change the mood from silence in crescendo.
No one comes on holidays,
to my avenue here anymore.
It's solemn perpetual winter in shutdown.
Beaches are deserted, homeless lonely places,
Sea-pool is glassy, left to local hardy swimmers,
who now have the sway to stay and play with
hermit crabs, and free-range fishes.
It's a time warp back to the 1960's
when nobody knew this avenue existed
and nobody came to enjoy it,
except for hardy locals looking for solitude.
Even these folk, driven-off by the crowds
to lonely avenues elsewhere,
have not made a comeback.
Down my avenue, 'tis an avenue down and out.
There was i waiting at the bus stop,
With thoughts of hot pies that I could not stop,
When down sat a young lady at the bus stop,
Eating a hot pie at the very bus stop,
Where thoughts of hot hot pies I could not stop.
Half way though her pie at the bus stop,
Turning to the one thinking of hot pies at the bus stop,
If you have not had time for a lunch stop,
Thoughts of hot pies you can now stop,
As an extra hot pie I have at this stop.
That was when my thoughts of hot pies really did stop,
And eating a hot pie I could not stop,
The pie all finished before the next bus came to a stop.
While the aging process I cannot stop,
For this one day at a bus stop,
I wish I could have entered a time warp at this stop.
Enervated, body aching;
five sleepless nights,
a caregiver’s winter;
too lethargic to leave the chair.
Bed was a million miles away;
rest even farther from my weary constitution.
While my patient slept
I pondered what might occur next;
Alzheimer’s is so unpredictable.
As the numbness sets in
hope metamorphosed into a myth.
The time warp always
starts when I am so tired;
mind-fog emanates from brain
forming dream screen.
Before my bleary eyes,
like heat waves emanating
off of hot metal
he came...seven feet of
blue, white and yellow,
light wave-shimmers,
alternating...spoke...
“I am Michael,
Archangel,
It’ll be alright”.
Eyes closed without a command
and I slept.
Missing: Pieces of Me
SPLINTERED HEART
like a leg severed, ripped loose:
the phantom limb throbs and aches
knowing yet unwilling, unable to accept
that it's only a ghost playing evil pranks
sitting frozen and paralytic
from the weight, the frightful weight
dragging, forcing down the head
welding chin to collarbone...
heavy, crushing feeling on the chest
punishing pressure on the heart
a heart at the point of imploding...
alarm clock crying, screaming:
time warp between sleep and awake
when not yet aware of where one is
not yet aware of what or who one is
a split-second reprieve until----
(oh, it really did happen
oh, I don’t have a leg now
oh, you have been torn loose
taking pieces of me with you)
it has been proven medically:
people with life threatening seizures
can eventually function normally
with half of their brains removed
not so with a splintered heart
not so with half a heart...
~ How can I forget a gently bold spirit that is Tim
whose poetry brims with verve,
contemporary images, wit, and emotional depth?
While exchanging comments on our posts,
I found out that he stayed in my country during
the war. His anecdotes sparked the beginnings of
a dear friendship that allowed us to connect through
email and facebook. Tim was an erudite poet as
seen through this winning piece in a contest.
~Knowing his health was becoming frail, he would slip
in and out of the site, yet quickly responded to most
of us on social media.
When Tim passed on, I was shocked; his demise ...sudden.
I am grateful to have known him up close and personal,
a man of integrity who wanted to revisit our country with
his daughter a year before he finally rested in peace. Salute, Tim!
Anthony Biaasoc's The Uncontest Contest
6/22/2020
I can’t believe
how things have changed
yet so much has remained
exactly the same
It’s been four years but...
I look at the headlines
and wonder if we’ve fallen
through a time warp
or a hole in the floor
or been smacked on the head
by a one way door
What the hell happened to
the last four years
or four decades for that matter
progress has been
stripped away
in a matter of days
to make a new way
for us to pay
crack out the bullwhips
and light up the crosses
round them up
put them in chains
and send them off
on airplanes
and forget they
ever had names
Welcome to the Time Warp
Does it seems that history seemingly repeats
Where the simplicity of life is so rare to find
And the kindness of heart finds no retreats
No sharing of wealth, greediest of mankind
Where fear amongst the masses abound
Perpetrated by forces designed to protect us
Where human rights are lost without a sound
Our way of life changed, forever superfluous
Freedom of speech is silenced by the stroke of a pen
Unsure of what we’re told, will these lies never end
Being controlled by the wealthiest of businessmen
And our losses of freedom too much to comprehend
Welcome to the time warp, once again we all fall prey
We become just pawns to an unjust power once again
Perhaps it’s time to take a stand, one voice have our say
The time has come to speak freely, if not now, then when
Often, I used to daydream about taking time off
for a few months, and leaving the world behind.
Not going to work five days a week? I scoff
at the fantasy of ignoring the daily grind.
It's a nightmare of reality since fever and a cough
triggered this pause in life for most of mankind.
A hiatus is a brief interval when nothing is amiss,
but it's been months without being part of society.
Normalcy in life hasn't existed for nearly a year.
This long expanse of time is a chasm, a deep abyss.
Smiles have disappeared along with prosperity,
for an invader has the world living in terrible fear.
We mourn the separation from family and friends.
Robbed of togetherness, we're dangling on a rope,
afraid of the risk of taking an unprotected breath.
We're at the mercy of a thief who cannot make amends.
What if this deadly disruption makes us lose hope?
We need a hiatus from morbidity; a break from death.
When from this plague we safely merge
Out of the clutches of this scourge
Death and illness finally purge
We will converge We will converge
freed from the time warp
open all windows and doors ~
smiles have reappeared
~ ~ ~
February 20, 2021
Hiatus Poetry Contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke, Sponsor
Rhyme ~ Monotetra ~ Senryu