Long Trudged Poems
Long Trudged Poems. Below are the most popular long Trudged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trudged poems by poem length and keyword.
I heard the drub of rain pelting the roof
Unaware that a storm had been brewing
Roar of thunder, flash of lightning gave proof
that I had no idea, no inkling of what I was doing.
Spirit numbed and body drenched
I ventured into the maelstrom, unaware
or perhaps I didn't care. My eyes were clenched
preventing tears from falling. Loneliness is hard to bear
Sorrow bit at my heels where puddles formed
I swallowed a cry so no one would hear my sobbing
On I trudged while within me the maelstrom stormed
Confusion inside my head, heartbeat throbbing.
Charybdis' whirlpool swirled, trying to drag me in
Crested waves carried me toward its center
The tightrope I walked was a tenuous line
and lost forever I would be if I decided to enter.
On the edge of giving in, I swam for what seemed hours
The surge of flood tide would not claim me tonight
On sanity's shore I sat once more, allowing the showers
to sting my upturned face and have their moment of respite.
March 20, 2023
Writing Challenge - 'M' Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
In the crepuscular soothing sunset, bells tolled urging
The aimless audience to attend the sermon of the new pastor.
Despite their cynical sentiments, they dared not absent themselves.
The look of habitual satisfaction on the pastor’s face
was unmistakable. Outside light became penumbra,
Still, men and women trudged towards the chapel,
as the dirge-like bells faded into silence. His audience was silent too.
He spoke in a sonorous voice, in an opulent resonant poetic vein
an exuberant style which was to be his familiar characteristic:
Unbridled jealousy is a sin, he intoned, so speak no evil, my friends.
...They sent a copy of an old tin-type,
a picture of Milton and his bride,
one look at it and I knew the whole truth,
Small Doe in the fighting had not died.
A DNA test confirmed what I thought,
and I resolved to bring this all to an end,
Blue Hawk deserved know death’s sweet peace,
so out into the crisp night I went.
As expected Blue Hawk did appear,
fixed his eyes on me and drew his bow,
I threw up my hands, shouted out “Wait!
There is something that you really need to know!
The Indian hesitated at the words,
so I nervously took a deep breath,
said,”If you shoot me than you should now
you’ll be sending one of your own to death.
“Small Doe didn’t die all those years ago,
with her lover to the west she fled.
She married Edward, who went by Milton,
and a family of six children they bred.
“I descend from that big family,
which means your blood is running through my veins,
Herbert Blake was my great-great-grandfather,
but Blue Hawk of the Sioux is the same!”
They ghost before me seemed physically struck,
the bow dropped silently from his hands,
his form seemed to flicker in the darkness,
then he stalked forwards from where he did stand.
He came close, then peered right at my face,
at the eyes and the curve of my jaw,
anger in his look softened to acceptance,
something familiar if my face he saw…
With that Blue Hawk turned and trudged away
fading slowly as he went into night,
he’d gone completely before sixty steps,
and I turned back to see my scared wife.
She stood in the doorway in her nightclothes,
but would not take a single step out,
I walked on back, and took her in my arms,
said,”I think we will be left alone know.”
She asked,”What was it that you told him?"
I said,”I just let him know that he misjudged
what happened here all of those years ago…
far time to settle this age-old grudge.”
My ordinary life -
like the plain stretching across the region of my birth,
has been for the most part
rather smooth.
Though sometimes on my path, I’d encounter hills,
they were few and were not difficult
to get over.
One day on my travels when I was still young
I came across a man who, like a majestic mountain,
would take my breath away.
He captured my attention completely,
distracting me from all the normal things
my plain life had entailed.
When he smiled, it was as if
the sun were peeking over him
in golden splendor.
Madly in love with him I fell,
and every day I worshiped at the mountain.
This was a short phase in my life -
a time of pure enchantment but also woe.
I behaved as if I were a stream, a babbling school girl
murmuring with joy for a while
as I meandered
the mountain’s pleasant aspects,
but one day my meandering came to a halt.
Coming to a cliff’s edge, I became a waterfall
frothy with madness as
I plunged
to the rocks below.
Picking myself up, I had to turn my back
to the glorious mountain.
A final look at him, and I saw the red sun sinking
into June’s cool night.
Finding my way back to the plain, I trudged.
At the mountains of madness, I’d known something -
something I had foolishly mistaken for love.
Other mountains wait there, for me, for you,
for almost anyone who desires to find one.
But since my later summer years and in my fall,
I’ve kept walking on the plain,
for it is truly, after all,
my heart land.
for the But it was not real Poetry Contest of Lewis Raynes
A Quiver Sliding Down the Ribs
On a sunny summer Sunday evening,
With the breeze hushed to dead silence,
The rays of the dying sun glittering
On the tallest barks in the distant horizon,
Wearied of age-long books I treaded carefree
In search of freshness and quietude
Along a lonely path fringed with lovely trees.
Soon banks of clouds shrouded the sky,
A chilly breeze rustled among the trees,
Whistling amidst the leaves up high
And blowing with impunity apace;
It started to rain heavily and heavily
While darkness invaded the entire space;
Shivering, I tried to seek a shelter free,
But none of the tall trees offered a refuge;
I trudged along when I came across a verdant tree
With branches spreading like an umbrella;
I hastened thereto to seek relief
As under a decrepit veranda.
Not a human sound could meet the ear
Not a human sight could greet the eye,
Yet anon a strange breath pricked my hair with fear
And when I turned around, I felt like…
I felt like a quiver sliding down the ribs
At the ghastly sight of a skeleton white,
Standing erect by the side of the tree.
Written by Krishnanand Guptar
9 February 2023
Could one learn what romantic fever is?
All I knew was my miserly uncle
With whom we were living,
Fell suddenly in love.
Still he held on tight riches.
Ah, but Juliana, oh wonderful Juliana,
Never missing a hiccup of grace,
Somehow managed to purloin from him
Lovely presents that delighted
Her scheming and wanton heart.
But then who cared or bothered?
We were all madly in love with her,
Those turbid humid days.
Juliana took us all to picnics
Much to our youth's delight.
Yes we all were in favor of our uncle,
That he begot a wife,
Juliana mesmerized us.
For did she not make us happy,
With all those gifts she gave us
Behind my uncle's back?
To her we were just baby dragonflies
Captured in fancy colored bottles,
To be indulged in and left astray,
Maybe picked up some later time
As if a schedule had evolved
In her gracious mind.
I often wondered what was best
If not to tell my uncle all she spent.
I had a sneaking feeling
His heart was leaking fine.
Would he have a heart attack
And have Juliana all for us?
Who could tell?
He might turn us out into the barn.
His heart strong and full of fortitude,
Would not I be killing the golden goose?
So I held my tongue.
And we all suffered from hay fever
As we trudged in secluded fields
Frolicking in the new cut hay
Or tumbling on the grass in meadows gay,
That pleasant spring when
My miserly uncle married away.
10 October 2021
Placed 1
''R'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Volunteers were summoned
To bring water and supplies
To the folks in darkened buildings
Since Con Edison's* demise.
With their backpacks fully loaded,
They trudged up the pitch-black stairs,
Lugging food and drink but even more -
The fact that someone cares.
For some people who were stranded,
Sitting lonely, in the dark,
Such a visit must have seemed to be
A very welcome spark.
Reaching out to help another
In a time of great distress
Is what elevates existence
And brings order to a mess.
So hats off to all the helpers
Who gave heart and soul and time,
For I'm sure they must be glowing,
Though still aching from the climb!
* NYC electric company
HEAVY DOWNPOUR
With heavy downpour and gloom so gray,
There walked a man on a rainy day.
With furrowed brows and an angry glare,
His umbrella high, battling water's snare.
Through puddles deep and floods so grand,
He trudged along the waterlogged land.
A gust of wind meandar & played it part,
But he held it tight, "You shan't have that!"
His face contorted, anger reached its peak,
As raindrops splashed upon his cheek.
With every step, a squishy sound,
As he stomped through puddles that he found.
He raised his umbrella with a mighty whack,
But Mother Nature just laughed back.
Though the water rose at showers spree,
This man pressed on with a stubborn plea.
Peeps pipping from windows couldn't help but grin,
At this angry man, finding joyful anger within.
Under the deluge, he refused to be swayed,
In the flood, he ignored their laughter parade.
The lesson for all is, even in storms decree,
We must be resolute, bold and free.
And come rain, come shine, we'll always prevail,
Even when walking through a watery veil.²4
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
Copyright ©? December 1st 2023.
Biting winds and swirling flakes of snow had finally abated
We surveyed the deep drifts, which lay on the fields
The silvery moon peeped through the clouds and lit our way
It was bitterly cold, but the pitiful sound of bleating spurred us on
Some friends and neighbours had joined us – we had no time to lose!
Grabbing our spades we worked tirelessly throughout the night
Digging out the sheep and tiny lambs one by one
Their fleeces were matted with tiny icicles
As dawn broke we had rescued all but one of our precious flock
Suddenly our trusty sheepdog Shep started barking
We trudged to where he was frantically pawing at the snow
Our hearts lifted as we pulled the final sheep out alive
At last it was time for us to return to the farmhouse
In the distance I could see gold and silver lights sparkling
and scintillating on the Douglas fir tree in church in the village.
I raised my eyes to heaven and gave thanks.
A Winter Poem
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Required words
silver, gold, sparkling, flakes, icicles, drifts and spades
12~02~16
It was on our honeymoon.
We strolled along the seashore
Towards the lonely lighthouse
Our souls bonding our love,
Renewing our marriage vows,
As hand in hand we trudged
Upon the wet sand
Despite the torrential beauty
Of a lonely winter night.
The raucous calls of tired gulls echoed
The thoughts that swirled in our minds,
Urging us towards sweeter dreams,
When all our wishes would come true.
We slowly climbed the rickety steps
That led towards the lighthouse top.
We watched the waves below
As they dashed against the black rocks,
Performing their deathly dance.
We turned inside for respite
From the storm raging outside.
Our souls stirred us into a loving embrace
Our kisses gleamed
As once the lighthouse beam.
We cared not for the world:
Outside the dark night waited
With its frigid gelid grip.
Inside the lighthouse flashed
Like a kaleidoscope of love.