Long Town Poems
Long Town Poems. Below are the most popular long Town by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Town poems by poem length and keyword.
What exactly is home and where is it? And why is it vital that we know about 'Home'?
And how will I really know when I have arrived home? Some say that home is the place where one was born.
Others say that it's the place where one's story begins. Is it just a geographical place of origin or something more?
If something more or something less, what's the more or the less?
The main road and railroad tracks were there long before I arrived late summer of 1949. That huge rustic tower overlooking everything and the big seed and fertilizer building where we threw rocks against the coca cola sign are gone forever, and so is the big store in the center of town where we bought ice cream bars and sodas for a dime. Those geographical images of my place of origin are mostly still intact, and the agricultural crops of corn and beans are still being produced, but most of the people are gone.
My childhood friends and relatives, most of whom I have not seen in more than 50 years have all moved North, South, East, and West. And I guess my move west and the scattering of all the rest was best for most because I have never once heard any sounds of protest. I do suppose that the lighting bugs we often saw and the crickets we heard late at night chose to remain.
In my case, I guess when you sum it all up, I'd have to say that home is where your heart is, and I took it with me everywhere I went. I can often hear the ending of a song I heard many years ago. "And I like where I am today and this is where I'll stay". For me, the first part of that line is true, and would to God the second part was too but unfortunately, it holds no promises for me.
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Dawn, and the magpies are black and white ink
on a white sky.
All things sign-write and advertise something,
even if that something is to stay away or
I am invisible.
Before I put pants on and wash my face
I have already walked far,
seen the road to its end, travelled beyond,
made choices at forks and junctions.
The town has written its shape in my mind,
I am the map that unrolls it.
The world stops spinning when we stop turning it.
The magpies are deep in debate
with other birds. Avian tribes vie to write
in the boldest fonts.
If I do not journey or go out at all,
but stay behind the screen of my thoughts,
moving those thoughts from here to there,
creating new scenarios,
then the world spins on faster and faster.
as I write myself upon its revolving reality.
What if I grow weary
of turning the world around?
Then I could close my eyes and rise to the center
where the stillness is.
All things, birds, and flying dust motes
now will stop writing their names
over and over again.
I may cease reading, stop spinning words,
just watch as the world erase's itself
for one endless moment.
Now I can go somewhere
and not carry the world on my shoulders,
reality may even become
simply space
for magpies to write upon.
Johnny MacAlister was six-years-old, young enough still for wishes,
Baby sister, Rosie, was all of three, all giggling and adorable kisses.
With fond, indulgent parents, the family was content in their home,
In a town, sleepy in sunlit day, where a scarlet cock used his comb.
Johnny played with Rosie every day. He loved to get her laughing;
As if a gaudy parade of jesters and clowns, chanced to be passing!
Forget-me-not days brought fast friends, in fruitful times of flowers,
Fuchsia and filled with fragrance, highlighting fun, burgundy hours.
Fair days bloomed where fall had faded, and fortune brought family;
Like festive fireworks of celebration, illuming sunset skies, uncannily.
Johnny lived in the house of joy, and tiny feet, ever pitter pattering;
And of playing, mauve dawn to dusk, like bluebirds, ever chattering.
Sapphire, dusk skies twinkled smartly, beyond their street of scents;
When scanty, pink sun fled, scorching, while night waited in suspense.
With naive, newborn day, came neighbors, for hot coffee and nougat,
In green, noisy days of nearby birdsong, and violet butterfly contact.
'Fairy magnolias' created such magic, and 'hummingbird' blooms knew;'
And hibiscus 'imperial dragon' roared, as eyelash plants, lovelier grew.
Cape primrose 'wow,' awed, while syngonium ‘milk confetti,’ glittered;
And begonia 'ring of fire,' was smoking, while purple martins tittered.
Johnny's birthday wish had come true, he saw when he unwrapped it;
And found a pair of blue, roller skates, like a rainbow, shining for a bit.
But, before he could finish eating, the dreaded rain had begun to pour;
And his childish impatience grew as, instead of less, it showered more!
Yet, Johnny made another wish, magically granted, as skies brightened;
When the rain slowed, midst sunshine, its silvery-gold drops, so vibrant!
Johnny had such fun that day, for all the days of childhood, allow magic;
And never forgot the day silver fell like coins, like an old, golden classic.
'Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day.
Rain, rain go away,
Little Johnny wants to play.'
She's there when you don't want her
bossing you around
But when you really need her
she's just flown out-of-town
She's quite opinionated
you wouldn't call her shy
When you haven't asked her
she's apt to criticize
She visits every summer
arriving with no warning
Thinking she'll surprise you
at two or so in the morning
She's full of idiosyncracies
despises all your pets
Be sure to serve her turtle soup
keep her stocked with cigarettes
This year though is different
she's not leaving for ten weeks
Good thing you're God-fearing
you'll just turn the other cheek
Feeling a bit extra strange today
Really can't imagine the reason
Tightie whities maybe a little too tight
Think maybe I'm overeating
3X most likely is my new size now
Please keep this our little secret
Sadly my diet plan has been a failure
Was trying hard to be my sleekest
I do possess other redeeming factors
I can stand on my head and spit nickels
Not impressed? Then how about this
Can whistle a tune through my nipples
It all comes back to my tightie whities
The sooner I change 'em the better
Think I'll convert to airy clown pants
With polka dots, numbers and letters
Say hello when the circus comes to town
Can't miss me that's for damn sure
With the big red nose I'll be wearing
Looking so very mature!
I spent all day shopping for a ruby,
it's my wife's birthstone; nothing else will do.
And I wish to find a true paragon,
though flawless rubies are scarce and few.
I'm hoping for a pigeon-blood red gem
that is as rare and unblemished as she.
And I checked each jewelry shop in town,
but that perfect jewel eluded me.
I was almost ready to give up, when
I spied a cabochon that caught my eye.
A magnificent, resplendent gemstone,
so exquisite, I couldn't pass it by.
Flickering fiery flames frozen in time,
rubies symbolize passionate feelings.
And imbue wearers with a zest for life,
granting favors in romantic dealings.
When I gave my wife the ruby, she wept
tears of joy and wrapped her arms around me.
And culminating with the sweetest kiss
fantasy morphed into reality.
(Quatrain)
07/06/2020
She was pushed around by her brother,
And her father, and her grandpa and her mother.
So she packed up her spoon, and her clothes, and one fork,
And she got on a plane and flew out to New York.
She was going to be the best singer in town.
Going to be amazing in a blue evening gown.
She was going to be a success, with a boom.
She was going to sing at the Tat-A-Rat room.
She soon found that even in show business, you have to comply.
You cannot always have your way, have to acquiesce to get by.
No matter how successful you can be, and maybe even a star,
There are people who push you around, and some pretty far.
She had a mean boss. He was inflexible and mean.
So she packed up her fork, and her clothes, and her screen.
And she ran home to her parents and her brother and cat.
She decided to sing in the kitchen, and was less of a brat.
Through all my formative early years
in school and early working life
never thought much of divine things
just lived simply among all the usual strife
Took all the knocks that comes your way
pick yourself up and dust yourself down
never thought of God even to blame
this is norm for anyone in any town
But then in mid 20s I heard of God
one that loved me even to death
sent His son to pay for all my sins
this gospel struck me on my breath
Then thoughts flooded my mind
all these past years I was lost
if I had died then hell was mine
scripture's true life eternally tossed
Life is truly just but a vapour
all gone like a puff of smoke
be warned get right before too late
believe me eternity is no joke!
The mill wheel wouldn’t turn until the spring.
The winter had been icy and so cold,
and something in our town was happening.
Two girls had run away (as I’d been told).
I can’t recall where I got the news from.
Authorities did not suspect foul play.
The girls were friends and both of them had come
from families from which kids run away!
Whispers ran through town from door to door.
The girls were lesbians, some folks just guessed.
There was a thing that no one could ignore.
The city life for “their” kind was the best.
One man in town alone knows they are dead,
and of those girls the butcher never speaks.
Rumors of their murder soon will spread.
Ice melts, revealing secrets – wheel creaks.
July 21, 2018 for Viv Wigley's 'One, nine, sixteen v3.0' Poetry Contest
II.
Carmen had no other family left,
and said,”I guess I can give it a try.”
Her mother beamed. “I live in Miami,
I’ll pay for some movers to come by!”
That was how Carmen found herself living
in the guest home of her mother’s mansion,
it was almost as large as her old house,
but was much more ornate and well-done.
The first day Fileena was hugs and smiles,
she helped Carmen unpack all her things,
before she left, she said,”I’m so excited!
Tomorrow I’ll show you where you’re working!”
When morning came they drove down in a Benz,
Carmen expected to see a large office,
but Fileena pulled up to an aging warehouse,
said,”Doesn’t look like much, but here it is.”
Inside they passed stacks of packaged powder
as they walked to her mom’s office suite,
Carmen said,”Mom, what do you do here?”
Fileena said,”Isn’t is obvious, sweety?
“Not an ounce of product passes this town
without first being shunted my way,
and given how this country is going
it’ll be legalized one of these days.
“That’s what I intend to pass on to you,
when the time comes for me to retire,
you’ll want for nothing, the riches you’ll have,
most people for their whole lives just aspire.”
Carmen said,”This is a lot to take in…
it’s all come as such a big surprise.
Can I maybe go home and think about it?”
Said Fileena,”Sure hon, take your time.”
Carmen did not go straight to the guest house,
she spent hours wandering about to think
about her few choices, the gravity of it all…
should she go along, or call the precinct?
She puzzled over it a great deal that day,
weighing her situation and her hopes,
she went to the mansion early the next morn,
said,”Mom, I want you to show me the ropes.”
Fileena smiled, and they spent the whole day
moving around the warehouse on a tour,
half-way through said Fileena,”In coming years,
I’m going to teach you about so much more.”
Carmen saw everything she need to,
she saw the basement where the product was made,
saw the chemists hired by Fileena
to specialize the drugs by their grades.
She saw the dealers as they came in,
to give Fileena her cut, and resupply,
she even met the thugs who reminded folks
that to cheat Fileena was to die.