Long Touches Poems
Long Touches Poems. Below are the most popular long Touches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Touches poems by poem length and keyword.
Our Tree
Carrying green, luscious needles on gracefully stretching limbs,
Strong, straight trunk holding all that bounty together,
Emitting cool, spicy fragrance that touches our senses with delight,
The Christmas tree is reaching for us.
We see, we smell, we hold this wonder of nature;
We tie it to the top of our car and carry it home
With expectant smiles of happy times to come.
After a short rest in our peaceful back yard,
The day comes when we bring it into the house.
Without any struggle it stands and soon holds strands
of twinkling lights, making it glow and sparkle.
Friends join us in decorating,
We are surrounded by boxes of treasures,
we remember each ornament and relive
the moment it was created, or given to us by a loved one.
“This is the first ornament we bought after we were married,
The girls painted these when they were, oh, maybe 6 and 8 years old,
And these with roses on them are the last gift from Dad, before we lost him.
Our son loved the Lionking, so we got him this ornament.”
“I made these when I was going through my wood working phase,
And this is from a very dear friend.
My sister found this cat ornament, knowing I like cats,
And here is this year’s find I bought at the Christmas place.”
Now it’s time for a break, coffee and cookies.
But soon we look upon the masterpiece
we created with satisfaction.
“Oh, it’ so beautiful!” my heart sings.
This tree would win no price at a contest,
It has no color theme, only love and joy.
It carries the precious memories of times gone by,
Of a loving family and lots of good friends.
I believe the tree likes it .
It stretches with all the glitter and smiles proudly.
I wake up to it’s wonderful pine scent,
Thinking:” It’s Christmas time!
I love it”
I built a small cathedral
out of the hours no one saw.
Not of stone,
but of the quiet ache
that gathers when a person learns
to live with their own echo.
Inside it,
the light behaves differently.
It bends around old memories,
touches the soft edges
of the things I never said,
and warms them
as if forgiveness were a sunrise
slowly remembering how to rise.
Some days,
I am only a doorway
waiting to be opened.
Other days,
I am the whole sky
trying to hold itself together
while the wind insists
on teaching me how to let go.
But tonight,
I am simply human
a pulse,
a breath,
a small lantern of hope
carried through the dark
by hands that have learned
the art of not giving up.
And if you pass me
on one of your quieter evenings,
you might see it
that faint shimmer
of someone rebuilding themselves
not loudly,
not perfectly,
but honestly.
Some people's lives paint history books
with darkness, travesty, and evil.
Many other people, although worthy of
note, go unnoticed and unmentioned.
There is a lady of note to whom I wish
to respectfully give honor and thanks.
Upon hearing of Mrs. Bixby's plight
and grief, in 1863, President Abraham
Lincoln wrote her a letter of condolences.
Mr. Lincoln also spoke of his gratitude
for such a huge sacrifice from her family.
Mrs. Bixby had 5 sons, all of whom
according to the letter, died in
battle during the American Civil War.
On this Memorial Day of 2025, just the
thought of such a sacrifice touches me
deeply. I therefore humbly pause and bow
my head in silence for the ultimate sacrifice
of Mrs. Bixby's sons and for her gift to America.
052225PS
The joy of being—all-encompassing
Worldwide oneness, boundless, and all awake,
The universal whole, the cosmic breath,
Divine completeness found in every soul.
Absolute bliss that brings spiritual rest,
A perfect twain of symmetry and grace,
So precious, yet confusing to lay minds,
For what is flawed is still a part of whole.
You are the sky, the wind, the fire, the sea,
Vast shifting waves of vibrating design;
Let perfect wholeness bloom before my eyes,
Where every restless search dissolves and dies.
To simply be is to embrace this world,
Devised by Destiny’s rare quantum dance
That touches the deep silence of my core,
My essence and the bliss that comes to bless.
Material things may mimic what is whole,
But awareness outruns the reach of form;
No earthly math can chart spiritual depth,
It needs an eye that sees a part as whole.
For all things rest, though sitting poles apart—
Dynamic, static, here as well as there,
The earth and sky, the cold against the fire,
One single flash that spans eternity.
And nothing stands divided from the rest,
But lives as part of one great shifting sea.
To be a part, not whole, is no less joy—
The joy of being, on way to evolve!
Believing in a power everywhere
Is not a phrase of rigid, hollow faith,
But living physics in its purest truth:
For, Absolute permeates every space.
________________________
Reflections | 17.07.2026 | creation, god, journey, joy, perfection, Blank Verse
There in a galaxy and a land, far, far away
There are super Stars and super Humanoids
They playing baseball with hot plasma baseballs
Aliens are causing bright light luminous emanations:
These from their lightning light-saber laser like bats
A League of teams is fighting for their own home planet life
No one ever touches the ground over there
The only very strict rule is to keep walking on the atmosphere
The cleats used there are to be able to endlessly hover
Also, on their backs are super powerful gama-ray jetpacks
Home-runs there do cause volcanic catastrophic land shocks
To win is life with zeal, to lose is a demise and a death unseen
Somethings there are similar as here; these things to be pondered
Players in the stadium
Patient as waiting soldiers
Seek stirring to signify
Attack artillery emboldened
Provisions are messages
Loaded with fresh opening
Responses rapidly fired
Lonely's ease encroaching
Place plus time is firmed
Balaclava covered burgler
Creeps comically around corners
Salivating, smiling, eager
Tally the touches, gripped tap
Slithered fingers, swimming fish
Sock threaded leeches reach thighs
Standard restraint abolished
Meddled with moods hang resplendent
Sexy ceremony elevates
Podium of passion captures
Camera's fleeting forever embrace
31st July
Third or First
Bronze Gold high
He is driven to the Day Hospice each week without fail,
Walking with a cane, hunched over, tall, thin and very frail.
He kisses his wife goodbye and touches her hand as she leaves,
Although she reassures him, the loss of her presence he perceives.
Even as cancer invades his body and steals his last rational thought,
He rambles on with his stories, the appropriate word is sought.
Sitting on the couch with others, he tries to join the conversation,
Topics always lead to his wife, he points to the vase with the carnation.
He reminisces about volunteering and the bible classes they taught,
Then suddenly he gets up to leave, tears running, becoming distraught
Demanding his wife be able to attend this place to receive the loving care,
Weeping he whispers, my wife deserves this so much more, it’s only fair,
Unable to settle, always keeping a watchful eye on the door for his wife,
Longing for the most important person, she has been the center of his life.
For love is always present, for those who have been loved, you believe,
Love that is true does not disappear, even in illness or when you grieve.
**Day Hospice is a day program provided to dying patients where they share friendship and games, and are provided a fine dining meal. It allows the caregiver (family) a day of rest.
Placed 10th in Contest for
Poems that have lost in other
contests.
Sacred Gratitude
Rockin and Rollin inside my soul
Beckoning musical notes float within me
My heart surrenders and opens
Expanding
When the world outside dances in tension
Feeling bleak and unforgiving
I am grateful to receive
Simple nuances of pure magic
Breathing into my being
Allowing a journey to the place
Between here and now
Standing in dense forest
I approach one of the gentle giants
Her redwood bark burned and blackened
Fires and history tattooing her skin
Fury red growth emerging
Her new coat of velvet delight
Limey baby branches
Make their way to the air
Thirsty for light
A deep hollow near her base
Where I can walk inside
Blackness..soft spongy bark
Touches my fingertips
A dreamy pause
Almost silent
An internal space
Quiet gratitude as I look up.. up..up
Hundreds of feet to a circle of light
Glimmering above
Sunlight trickles in
Kissing my eyelids
Diamond dust reveals
Her burnt underbelly
I stretch my arms up high above me
Sliding them into the sleeves
Of her gigantic branches
As I become her
Arms...limbs full...stretch.. radiating
Rising up ...my head tall
Viewing nature’s mesmerizing tapestry
Woven yellows and greens
Meadows, springs, water lapping nearby
Echoes of bird calls
A white snowy owl lands on my limb
Quiet gratitude as I see her blink
Her wise old eyes
Rotating her white feathered head
Counterclockwise so she may see
The entire circumference
Of her surroundings
Oh dear owl
Sister of the universe
I hear your silent whispers
Feed my soul with your insight and wisdom
I am grateful for your guidance
As I journey through subtleties
Of acceptance, challenge, and bliss
Arriving at compassion
For life and for others
O' mother thy song,
Touches us like a wind,
Our feet hurt but we walk still,
I see your colours swaying in the wind,
The march was painful,
But thy cries called out to us,
We lost many in the way,
Who's blood now has become
One with you,
Oh mother! the pain is nothing,
But a part of rejoice,
I hear the drums, the trumpets,
The song of victory,
O' mother but the march is not over,
We must conquer the horizon,
Who knows what time has in store,
If we must stop here,
Let the journey begin tomorrow,
But today let the drums be louder,
Let your song be heard by the world,
The fire has already started,
Let it rise and rise and rise.......
I live in the heavenly realm of the Gods
I dance on the soft shining moon
My eternal beauty shines enticingly
From my eyes so very blue...
Like a sweet angel caressing the gentle breeze
Streaking the water silver
I am the best of dark and night
That meets within my arms
The stars that dwell in my hair
Groups like violet flowers
I am a visitor from distant land
Hidden, secluded and forbidden
To this place between two worlds
Abundant with tireless beauty
My hand plays music with ripples
As I view myself amid the soft moonlight beams
That touches my soft skin and dewy wings
The solitude of this mystic haven
Burning with incense as flowers kiss
Wind creates sweet magic
As it touches my fragrant tresses
The lotus buds open wide
As my name is mentioned
Receiving my divine beauty
The Gods from above watch
Divinity taking form
I gently kiss my reflection
Melting into the dark
*Apsara-A Hindu Nymph with magical powers
__ Tahera Mannan
For Constance’s ‘Reflection’ contest.