Long Timing Poems
Long Timing Poems. Below are the most popular long Timing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Timing poems by poem length and keyword.
Glass shattered Saturday afternoon tea for S I L E N C E
holding steady raven momentum for its own r i p p i n g
fire from heartbeat slashes its void to tumble wounds of
wisdom weeping slow dirty tears of biting burns inserting
into wordless flesh of waiting before window panes were
smashed with stone docile ornaments, rampant afternoon
unvoiced holding a blank white canvas for dripping
bookshelves tumbled, poems torn to sheds, laundry strewn
with glass splinters as lead, aphonics slithering into dried out
stewpot waiting for maniacal tsunami to cremate emotions
tweezer them from dna soiled in possessive prisons ridiculed
Divinity spoke in all pervasive silence on testing timeline taut
holding breath to His nostrils imbibing a billion frequencies
I chose to brave open His serene lips for unutterable L O V E
lashes He crafted brushed breathy implicits with assent
for missions of courage traversed embracing solitude
observed in stillness whilst across eerie forest moss
carpets I deciphered “They Don’t Care about Us”
hush self wears a daisy cloak from heavenly dew fields
luminosity unzips not as lies hop chaotic across
spiderwebs it can chameleon transmute into gentle
streams to soothe that which hides for right timing
~ first bud of white rose birthing delicacy or benign
waters over pebble backdrop quietude
biscuit baker feeds jealousy, deceit, shame, guilt, indecision
escapism ~ swampy keys of stagnant quagmires will too utter
her heart’s eclipsed light breaking egoic invisibility as
softly I breathe her shadowed taciturn s t e a l t h
quiet petaling garment breaks open blackout mission
regurgitating quantum memories incubated in beckoning cell
fertility for decades perhaps centuries, marching crusades of
soul conquering ancient lands, majestic mountains, raucous
seas, ports, yellow spices, when women with babes gagged
anguished longing for men to taste their honey in serenity
hot crusted bread speaking truths of labouring backs bent
cows chewing cherrywood cuds ~ what could be a more
knowing t r a n q u i l i t y ?
now wafered soundlessness is lamb yet diamond piercing
raw, a lark offers sotto tones as harmony cupped in two
musing wings to ascend where it can quintessentially
quiver, hover in expectant repose for another silent mission
After finishing a seminar based on demand and supply,
I walked out to the street and hailed a taxi going by,
and as I sat down in the seat, the taxi driver said to me,
‘my, my, your timings perfect, you are just the same as Terry.’
I must admit he had me thinking, so of course I answered ‘Who?’
‘Terry Parker’ said the cabbie; a bloke it’s obvious he knew.
‘Yeah, anything that Terry did, he was right on every score,
he lived with perfect timing and Terry never had one flaw.’
I had never met a bloke like Terry, so I’m wary of the fact,
so I subtly gave me answer in a way most would react,
‘None of us are perfect mate,’ but the cabbie did insist
That Terry, he was faultless, and so few like him exist.
I heard that Terry was an athlete with the most amazing skills,
His golfing matched the pros, and his tennis playing simply thrills,
he could sing like Johnny Cash; and even better so I’m told,
he danced like Fred Astaire; his piano playing…simply gold.
I could only think he must be special, this Terry Parker bloke,
and the cabbie uttered ‘hang on,’ and once again he spoke,
‘there’s more to Terry yet, you see his memory never failed,
he remembered every birthday, and every one detailed.
‘He was a connoisseur on beer, and knew everything ‘bout wine,
He knew how to serve the finest foods; all simply pure divine.
And if anything needs fixing, then Terry was your shining light,
he was streets ahead of me, ‘cause I can’t do nothing right.
‘He could always read the traffic, and you’d never find him stuck,
not like me when I am driving, for I had none of Terry’s luck,
and I ought to mention women, and how he made them feel so good,
he was the ideal gentleman; he treated women how I should.
‘Terry would never answer back, even if the woman’s wrong,
he was a charming butler, and his charisma it was strong,
he kept his house immaculate, as no other person can…
no one could measure up; Terry Parker was the perfect man.’
When I reached my destination but before I stepped outside,
I paid the driver what was due, and then I thanked him for the ride,
but I thought it best I mention, at more or less a parting whim,
‘this Terry Parker is remarkable, how did you get to meet him?’
The driver took my money, and then he muttered deep and slow,
‘Actually I never met him, but I’m married to his widow.’
This day has resulted to something I have to confess.
I am greatly and deeply in Love with you.
My soul ponders anytime I just think of you.
Your face has increased the number of chambers my heart has.
I long to be your groom,, while you be my Bride.
Your beauty have I known right from time past,
and admired ever since I saw you.
I will feel so Jealous if you commit yourself to some one else.
And your time, shared grossly with another,
even if that person is your family.
Come to my empire of Love,
which flows with wonders of happiness and peace.
Give me the chance to prove to you,
that Love actually takes two to manifest.
come into my arms which are wide open
and feel the passionate warmth of my embrace.
Just as in all the books of Love.
My kisses overflow with the deepest passion of everlasting desires.
Desires not of lust,, nor of unquenching taste.
But that of fullness,, completeness and fulfillment.
I may be using too many big words here.
or using figurative expressions in this sincere letter of mine.
or even trying to make it look like a poem.
But all in all, I just want to say one thing.
I LOVE YOU LIKE I HAVE NEVER LOVED BEFORE
This is a special letter, coming from a special person
To another special person, on a special timing.
I really want to be that special person in your life
The one who will be your everything.
Your man, your soul mate, your dream
Your desires, your passion, your life.
Your present, your future, your hope,
Your love, your happiness, your peace.
Your laughter, your inspiration, your joy.
I want to be there for you always even when I am not there.
I want to store my name and soul in your heart
So that wherever you are ,there I will be also.
After God, I want you to be next in my Life.
I want you to want me and love me like I do.
I want our feelings to be complementary to each other.
All my wants and needs sum up to one thing.
I want to have your love.
Just give me the chance to be your man
To be your one and only.
To be everything you had ever wanted
I don’t know how else to say this
And this is becoming too plenty to be real.
And not even a million scriptures
with a million pages each are enough
for me to express a negligible amount
of how I need you and feel towards you;
even if this is too voluminous to remember,
Just remember one thing sweet heart,
And that is………..
I LOVE YOU BABY.
He is cranking up the old rusty engine again, but all that work is in vain, sweat is running from his anxious face and grease is spilling all over the place. There he goes again with his tool bag and greasy overall lying flat on his back underneath the truck, pulling screw, by screw from the belly of the old truck.
Monday comes at a price, and he has to pay a painful sacrifice, fix it or dump it he has no choice but to squeeze Monday into his chest. The old truck is draining the life out of his pocket. It's just the other day he fixed it. He replaced the engine with a second hand one that he imported from Finland. It worked quite well for the first few days but soon it starts to die away.
He pulls down the whole thing and drain the oil out of it, the heaven doesn’t know what this man is about, thirty different parts staring in his face and the oil and water is dripping all over the place.
The Engine block, and the Cylinder Head has sucked out the pressure out of the living dead; the piston, crank shaft, camshaft, and Timing belt are not in place, and it causes the vehicle to wobble and shake. Examine the engine valves and combustion chamber carefully; there is a hole in the oil pan and a blunt on the connecting rod.
The intake manifold and Exhaust manifold has something in common and can heat up your face and plant bitterness into your grave. The spark plugs, piston ring and flywheels are out of place, and you have to tighten them, or you will end in an unpleasant place.
Look at the head gasket, cylinder liner and crank case, they are shifting around, and the distributor ring is hanging on the ground; the cylinder head cover, the rubber grommet and camshaft pulley are out of line, and you have got to replace the oil filter, water pump, and oil pan drain bolt.
The turbocharger and supercharger are defected, and you must replace the timing belt, drive pulley and the starter motor before the engine fail. You need a brand-new truck to satisfy the daughter she will never come back in that truck with you unless you do what you have to do.
The wind is blowing softly, and the trees are shaking violently, the weather is fine, but his emotion is out of line, the sun is peeping beyond the hill and nature is sending him a bunch of daffodils look carefully into the sky and you will see shades of Monday passing by.
Emotional conviction from a minds depiction
Lays out mind restriction
But will only bring friction
I can try to explain my explanation
With the utmost diction
Elaborating the reasons for stitching a heart that needs fixing
The slightest concern never discerns act and repercussion
From the lessons we learn
Sugar coated poems read by a sugar coated poet
Leads the poet with info.but fails show it
Poor victims who are victimized
After I lay out warning signs
The state of minds
Do need to change with the time
I thought one would know oneself
If not no one elsebecause no one else
Would give no one help
Now ones health has declined far below ones wealth
I refuse for that one to help oneself
Trouble that finds she
Add to the troubles that blind me
Questioning why am I falling
Its because I am not crawling but I am walking blindly
I attempt to put all issues behind me
That night as my heart burned wit concern
Of one who was slow winding
My own business Im minding
But the placement of ones crying for help
And my boredoms timing
Leads to the finding and refining
Of my minds rhyming
Lost and bedazzled and utterly confused
Leaves me frustrated but yet shockingly amused
Even though its f'd up
It still aint shocking news
Because my foreshadowing was used
But my mind refused to lose the info
That she would be used
Ni99az are stalkers seeking their prey
And most females are modestly blinded
Because they see them everyday
See every ni99as the same
But we have the potential to be different
The few females that know need to tell
Most females what they are missing
We all have choices
And one of them is to listen
I aint trying to preach to you
Im just trying to help you avoid going thru such afflictions
Because you to could fall victim
To problems to the point of no return
With no one to fix em
Some have vivid perceptions
Im here to help you see
Cus THAT Ni99A
Can turn a night of romance 180 degrees
So before the moment is ceased
Ima need you to breathe and freeze
Before you get on your knees
And heed to his commands
Life may seem surreal
But it aint on demand
So I say to you all
Watch who you know
And watch who you trust
Watch who you crush
And watch what you lust
I jus hope no one missed my message
Because at any moment
A ni99a can steal
What you thought was precious!!
Form:
I fall and my mind begs my heart to get up
I try to stand on two shaky legs
But the weight of my soul has become too much to bear
The rips and tears in my heart have become too much to mend
I try to close my eyes but I’m continuously haunted by your smile
My heart yearns to pull your body close
To get wrapped up in your lyrical verse
My mind craves the sound of your voice
I try but I’m left with only one lyrical choice
I need you, I need you, I need you
My soul feels alive when I’m caught in your gaze
I let go of my fear and convince my heart to be brave.
It’s too early so I won’t let this feel like love
I can’t help but want to be your dove
Sailing on the winds of your emotions
A dolphins riding the waves of your devotion
In the ocean that is your heart
Why can’t I just let these feeling pass
My world is spinning way too fast
I’m lost, You find me, I’m lost again.
Your eyes draw me in but your fears push me out
Your lips beckon me closer
But doubt still clouds your mind
Why did we have to find each other now
The timing couldn’t be more wrong
(cuss) THIS!!!!!!
You still sing my heavenly song
A melodious rhapsody
Into this abyss
I fall to thee
I’m floating on your words
This is weird, I’m lost in three different worlds
I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m confused
I wish time would cease to tick
So I wouldn’t have to lose
Wishing amour shall cause our hands to fuse
So I never have to let go
So I’d never have to say “so…
Long” and “I’ll see you soon”
Spiraling, spiraling into this lonely doom
SAVE ME!!!!!!
Set my soul free
Unlock this prison that keeps our feelings hidden
Rescue my heart
It’s calling out to you
I’ll understand if you block me out
I can sense your fear
I know, I understand, I agree
Even if the Fates tell us we aren’t meant to be
I know you feel this too
Now do you understand this torment that I’m going through?
I am overcome with boundless affection
You have captured me with intellectual perfection.
Beating hearts, tempted souls
Feeling which weren’t supposed to grow
But yet they did and I see it clear
Sweet ……, I wish you near
Wrap you in my arms
Breathe in your scent
Countless hours in thought I’ve spent
In a state of mental disorder, your smiles and face inhabit the center, and the borders
Of my heart
Willing our threads never to part……
Form:
It was sunny the day our hearts broke away.
A decade has passed—but some wounds ignore clocks.
The news bloomed like bruises on a nation’s chest.
Shoreham stood still.
Time forgot how to move.
Eleven men.
Men of mornings and small routines.
Lunchboxes. Laughter. Motorbikes.
Some had children. Others were children—still.
And one…
one kept wildflowers on his phone.
Too shy to say, “This made me think of you.”
There’s no symmetry to this grief.
It leans sideways and doesn’t apologise.
It smells like engine oil and funeral flowers.
It hums in the throat of widows and mothers,
grows moss in the cracks of pub tables,
clings to the wings of the plane that didn’t stop.
Somewhere, a bottle of red remains uncorked.
Somewhere, a bike rests against a wall no one will move.
Somewhere, wildflowers still bloom—
and someone remembers
the man who loved flight,
but stayed grounded
for everyone but himself.
Still.
Author’s Note:
For the eleven lives lost on 22 August 2015 at Shoreham:
Dylan Archer, Richard Smith, James Mallinson, Mark Trussler,
Matt Jones, Matthew Grimstone, Jacob Schilt, Daniele Polito,
Tony Brightwell, Mark Reeves, Maurice Abrahams.
You are remembered.
Dear Editor,
I won’t let you stand on my throat—
Stifle my compassion,
Weigh down my shoulders
With a chip — not sweet like chocolate,
But sharp like ice.
Not from the old block,
But cracked from the freeze
You placed in my bones.
You guillotine my fire
And return me only grief.
Dear Editor,
I know your job is important—
But is it louder than the truth
That begs to be heard?
Just because a stanza doesn’t touch you,
Or it ends without rhyme or convention,
Does that make it any less real?
Dear Editor,
Please see the substance beneath the design.
We poets are crucified
For daring to call out—
For letting our voices
Tremble, burn, and bleed.
Dear Editor,
I once wrote about loss
So heavy, it cracked the sky.
A plane fell — and a friend was gone.
And I wrote it raw.
And I sent it whole.
And it came back with silence.
Maybe the timing was wrong,
But the pain was right.
Dear Editor,
I beseech you:
Look into your heart,
And look at the piece.
Admire the craft,
But let truth ring through.
Then maybe more of the unheard,
The undervalued,
And the unpolished
Will shine, too.
Dear sister I have been mistreated but surely not defeated
The fit are unruly and those who rule unfit to wear their minds along their brow
Pitted and fallen are we claimed she
Uproot all the timid, surely they’ll quake
The Earth is at rest while the heavens are testing
Surely the catacombs are our place of hiding
Rapture the worthy, the poor, and the hopeless still more
Braven the brittle and salvage what’s left of the widow’s stores
For we are at war, O’ good women, it’s a fight they will get
A Patriot cry, a life worth living, a pride in my name that keeps me standing
Hearty or meek, we’ll take the keep
Bind them up, but don’t let them bleed for pure bred savages are what we need
The breasts of the mothers who weep for the bodies
The weary who laugh gas portrait tears leaving their insight foggy
The Devil is hunting, Oh but let him flee
For our fists will have him fishing for his faith like rotting bait
Breeding among us are the wolves that seek only to measure their gut
And they will fill the skies 70 meters high with the the must of unfinished feet
Winded by bows of boredom and broiled beliefs
Sifted through, borrowed, unused
The lazy will not lay seated in our ancient sanctuaries
They will lay pitted among the soiled seeds and left to the leeches
Reign in the kingdom of popular knowledge do both snakes and sirens
Danger is beneath us and furnaces over heat us,
Leavened bread will rise our eyes to the souls in need of teachers
If education ain’t free then dare me to teach for free
Let linen and fleece overwhelm us all
For the sun rises still again, constant with the moon
Midnight is foreign and sunlight is gloom
For inside these walls our eyes will close soon
The mirrors outs our flaws and undersea our scars
But heaven is shaking and creation’s worship awaits us
If every day is good and every evening soon
Then tomorrow is only distant, a matter of your zoom
Jupiter is rising further south than my liking
Perhaps it was the wind that blew it there
Or the birds that sang it somewhere upstairs
Or the lions that laughed it underneath body beats
Or the vines carried it to prepare it for more pruning
Signs are timing and the clocks are not ceasing
So listen little one, I know you are bare, but don’t be a fool
Comb your hair.
Old Christmas tree that lay in his box, in the darkness, under the stairs
Nobody loved him any more, he thought, nobody had any cares
There was once a time, he stood tall in the hall with his baubles, tinsel and bow
Nobody stirred him any more, he knew it was the end of the show
Old Christmas tree looked down at himself, his sell by date, he knew it had past
A new modern gadget now stood where he once stood, he knew that he had been outclassed
His false pine needles were now sagging and thin, his false bark was all twisting away
The days of his being as strong as a false oak, had evolved into one of decay
The new modern thing that stood in his place was all shiny and silver and bright
It made flashes and whirls by a timing machine that created a fantastic site
Constructed robotic it whistled and beamed and revolved quadrophonic bright lights
Old Christmas tree knew, he could never compete, the moment the days turned to nights
Old Christmas tree remembered the days, when the children would dress him for fun
As he stood by the wall in the entrance hall, the centre of all attraction
The people would say nice things about him, how handsome his tinsel so loose
But the glory days were now over for him, as it was for the cedar and spruce
Technology has come and it was out with the old, it was in with the modern and hip
That crackled and beamed with neonic lights that were more akin to a spaceship
Nobody wanted the mess on the floor or the disposal when Christmas had passed
Old Christmas tree just wept in his box, this Christmas would now be his last
Then suddenly a bright light did shine, it shone right down to his pine
Careful soft hands lifted him out, saying, come little one you are mine
Christmas time would not be the same without Old Christmas tree stood back in his place
I will straighten your needles and smooth out your bark and dress you with tinsel and lace
I have lifted you out , for the last thirty years, I will lift you for thirty years more
Technological trees, they may have their place but it is you that I really adore
Old Christmas tree will go back in his place, in his place by the wall in the hall
Dressed in tinsel and baubles, adorned with an angel to great each, every and all
Wrote for Christmas tree contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
6/12/18
In the shower
when the water is hot and my skin is red
I can see the scars
Still see them
Even after years
Even after rubbing oil on them for days, months in a row
The scars were once organized
But that was in the beginning
Before I started running out of space
And so I would fill in any gaps and go as high as I dared
And eventually moved to the other ankle
I remember being reluctant to move onto the right side
But I did
Next to the scars is a mark on my skin that I've always had
I don't know what it means, the mark
But the scars make me remember things
Things I wish to forget
That I have moved past
But still, they come back
Visions of self-destruction fill my mind
I think that runs in the family, the self-destruction
And I still show signs of it
But back then
I would hurt myself because I was angry
Punish myself for every mistake
Every reason I could find
It was wrong and even as I did it I knew I shouldn't
I knew I was allowing something evil to enter my mind and control my thoughts, my actions
I see myself crying in front of her
Over and over
Uncontrollable
I hated it, the fact that I was crying
But I couldn't help it
And as I cried I grew more frustrated with myself
Which only made me cry more
And I would go home and hurt myself for being an emotional person
Because I thought I was weak
I've learned that it in fact makes me stronger than many others
Wish I'd known that back then
Before I left scars on my body, a temple
Marks that may never go away.
Will I ever be allowed to forget?
My friend touches her fingers to the iced window
They trace downward
Creating a pattern in the ice
Cracks
Scars
It is a beautiful, graceful motion
And I watch her, wishing I could take a picture
But I keep watching until she finishes
And the marks she left will go away
Because the window will soon ice over again
But they will forever remain in my memory
Her beauty
Her elegance
I wish I had seen these things before
But maybe it was meant to be this way
Maybe I learned in the right timing
To take time to notice and appreciate the trivial, beautiful things
Because the world is full of them
And that includes me
So, eventually
The scars won't matter anymore
They are a part of who I am, yes
But they will be a reminder
Never to go back to that place I once was