Long Truly Poems
Long Truly Poems. Below are the most popular long Truly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Truly poems by poem length and keyword.
I miss your smile and your big beautiful eyes.
I miss the taste of your lips and the curve of your thighs.
I miss you in the morning and I miss you at night.
I miss your bubble in the morning and how you put up a fight.
I miss my best friend, my last love in this world.
I miss holding your hand and how your little toes are curled.
I miss your caring heart and your quick-witted charm.
I miss holding you tight and protecting you from harm.
I miss your angelic voice and your artful choice of phrases.
I miss the sound of your laugh and how it truly amazes.
I miss the way you make me feel with just a simple touch.
I miss showing you my love, I just miss you so much.
My uncle said he’d seen a dog,
Come down his path one day.
But not aware who’s dog this was,
He shouted, “Go Away!”
The dog looked up at him, then left,
It ‘faded’ out of sight.
He then knew who his guest had been,
This dog was black as night.
This was the dog that visits us,
At times when death is near.
To help guide those who leave this life,
The ones that we hold dear.
While walking down her garden path,
My auntie died next day.
The warning that my uncle had,
He’d tried to turn away.
An operation had gone wrong,
Our daughter was in pain.
Nothing that the doctors knew,
Could make her well again.
Then when we visited one night,
We shuddered when she said.
A big black dog was also there,
And playing ‘round her bed.
But she seemed a little stronger,
Though we knew whom she had seen.
We thought he’d told of someone else,
And wondered why he’d been.
Alas, it wasn’t meant that way,
That week our daughter died.
I know within my heart of hearts,
Our dog would be her guide.
For many years he’d not been seen
Though others close have died.
Maybe, he only comes to those,
Who need him by their side.
When sitting in a meeting room,
A stranger came to me,
And said he had a message,
About something he could see.
Two dogs he said, were by my side,
Both looked as black as night.
Although the little one looked old,
His fur was tinged with white.
Again I shrugged this message off,
I didn’t think at all.
But while we were on holiday,
We got that dreadful call.
Our ‘Lucky’ had just had a stroke,
Our son was going ‘round.
But when he reached the kennels,
Just his earthly shell he found.
Three times within our memory,
Our spirit dog’s appeared,
To warn us of the saddest things,
That we have ever feared.
But though he is an omen,
That we’ll lose someone we love,
It comforts us to truly know,
He’ll guide their path above.
This dog had been my grandma’s dog,
I knew till I was five.
But now she’s living proof to us,
That all our souls survive.
Ivor G Davies
The Greasy Saddle Resturant and Night Club!
I blushed as I conceeded: she wished to name her nightclub "The Greasey Saddle". I had been seduced and fell into exhaustion from her nights of neocations. Al talks with her seemed to end as they began. Just like the music she had likened: or pretended to like she often critised most of the artist to whom she favored. I ate the cusie and tasted the drinks. I was lefted moved by her willingfulness to plan. She look to morning only as breakfast and every evening was capped off with a dessert. Sweetness in the tenderness of it's having. The fruits of the feilds were inspiration enough. The Greasy Saddle would exsist because the woman who wanted it gained the support of her shareholders. And it would truly exsist because the had enough history to story an Orcastra. Making The ballroom a place I wanted to be.Magnify the sheet music to see if the scriber's pen used cheaap ink. We needed to be critical of something!
The chicken wire would be tacked to the poles. A foot of space would be filled with burnt oyster sheell. The would pour cement walls over that to satisy the people who wish thick walls. We called the ballroom " The Red Earth" and the dressing area "Green Earth" Combined the Area would be refurred to as Oratorio Aer's ! The Concert area!
You live like this, sheltered in a delicate world crafted from dreams and illusions,
Believing you are truly living, while your steps are guided by routine,
But then you open a book... or embark on an unexpected journey,
And discover that you are not living, but hibernating, asleep in an apparent silence.
The symptoms of hibernation are easy to spot: first, the restlessness that haunts you,
The second symptom (when hibernation becomes dangerous and can degenerate into death):
The absence of pleasure, of the joy that once filled the cups of your soul,
That is all.
It seems like a harmless disease, a virus of monotony, boredom, slow death,
Millions live like this (or perhaps die like this) without knowing,
They work in offices, drive cars, have picnics with their families,
Raise children and wait for times to change.
And then, a shock treatment occurs, a person, a book, a song,
And it awakens them, saves them from the death that enveloped them like a veil,
But some never awaken, remaining asleep in their silent slumber,
In a world where only shadows speak of the life that could have been.
Life is like the ocean,
Vulnerability is your sail,
Hope is the wind that propels you,
To the land that's known so well.
Trees are made of stone and glass,
Stretching high up in the air,
Concrete paths replace the grass,
Their people have no fear.
They walk with all their might,
To a place they do not know,
Peddling their wired wheels,
To a destination untold.
To prosper is their glory,
Their shrines are built so tall,
To stand beneath the mortar,
One can feel a bit small.
Pay no mind to them in a rush,
Their always on the move,
Don't try to slow them down though,
They can be a little bit Rude.
I believe they truly mean well,
In the efforts that they make,
But only the old man in the desert,
Or the famous fortune teller,
Can make that claim.
So if you have a week or two,
And you want to see the sites,
You should raise your sail with glory,
So hope can blow you in tonight.
R.K.H
10/24/2021
Time and time again I fight
To make what's wrong into a right
But though I try and give it my all
I'm powerless and feel so small
The world is burning outside my window
But I have memories as a memento
Of what my life was before it became
Every day is death the same
The ones I love board up their doors
And the waves wash up upon my shore
My heart becomes so aching cold
My soul is painstakingly sold
For a drop of power, what would I give?
These tragedies I have to relive
I remember then how bad it felt
To be stuck there with the worse cards dealt
I try to give people my best
But when the fire comes to rest
The bridges cannot hold the weight
Of the burden that they all create
So I lock myself up into a cage
To contain all of my inner rage
Toss away that cursed key
To the bottom of an open sea
Depression eats away my soul
Until I turn into a ghoul
Flashbacks haunt me in my sleep
While anxiety is a cliff so steep
And every day I die a little more
Longing for what I held before
And then once again I realize
That I'm truly powerless inside
Powerless...inside
to trust in the Lord with all thine heart
is truly the best and only way to start
if you want to make great
the year 2008
to lean not towards society's ideal
to believe that God is the only and real deal
to study on the Word, to meditate day and night
to show thy self approved and acceptable in His sight
it's not about making empty promises and New Year's resolutions
it's about believing that God's way is the only conclusion
to not think in the natural state of mind
to live by the spirituality that is God's kind
for that's the way to make great
the year of 2008
we are of the flesh, we think in the flesh and that makes it hard for man to
comprehend
that to live by the institution that is Jesus Christ on His Word we must dig in
to feed on the Word, to dine on the Word, to consume that Daily Bread
which is also the lamp unto thy feet that will light the path ahead
to read on the Word of God will keep you focused and spiritually sharp
to abide by the Word will cause a makeover to occur in your heart
to be nourished by the Word of God and Its wisdom on you bestowed
to ingest the Word of God is the way to spiritually grow
just don't treat the Word of God like a fast food buffet
it's the meat and potatoes that will stick to your soul all day
so eat the bread and drink the wine that is Jesus Christ
be consumed by the Word that will truly change your life
trust in Him, believe in Him and then give Him control
let God be your guide and the Holy Spirit be part of your soul
put God first in your life and on His Word meditate
and that's how you'll make the year 2008 great
If only we could have you back Dad, just for one more day
To hold you in our arms once more before you went away
To tell you how we love you, how we know you loved us too
How no man in this world will ever take the place of you
Dad you were our anchor, our rock, our shining knight
The man we all depend upon and love with all our might
Always we will picture you sitting in your chair
Coffee, paper, football...how we wish you were still there
Whenever you were told another grandchild’s on the way
The frown upon your face would speak the words you’d never say
But when each newborn grandchild in your loving arms was placed
The look of unconditional love was there upon your face
Precious memories linger and tears will gently flow
For the Granddad with the sweets...the Granddad who never said no
Always there for each of us, you always made us smile
And knowing we were happy seemed to make your life worthwhile
You filled our lives with happiness, we filled your heart with pride
But now we walk this unknown path without you by our side
Those who never met you will feel they know you too
For part of you will live in us in everything we do
Forever we will miss your voice, your laugh, your smiling face
Forever we will miss the Dad we never will replace
It’s hard to let you go Dad for we never said goodbye
Now you’re an Angel in God’s Heaven, high above the sky
Dad, you'll live forever in the stories that we share,
In every laugh, in every tear, we feel your presence there,
Though Heaven called you far away, you're never truly gone,
For in our hearts you'll always be, still guiding us along
But sometimes when we’re all alone
And feel all hope is gone...
I know we’ll hear you whisper...
"kids just smile...and carry on”...
Our Dad...our hero ***
January is a fascinating gateway to cool hand crispy,
Fooling us yearly.
Appearing overnight, as we dream of warmer things.
Covers the earth with her glistening white beauty,
Knows we will be mesmerized by her dazzlingness.
Enthralled by her crispy, clean looking white-sheet pureness
We wake up googly-eyed,
Yelling for others to get up and see something we yearly forget.
Snow, frost, icicles, diamond twinkles, amid a white wall of pretty.
Season of sore throats, red noses, ear aches, and other vile
Conditions we do not contemplate,
Focusing on the angel wings
We see glistening in the snow and snowflake magic.
This Janus celebrity dries out our faces and noses.
Bottoms of our feet become hard and harsh, rough as bark.
January is a well-learned trickster.
Lulls us into a sense of bliss
Spurred on by glistening, rhinestone twinkling snow.
She blows in from the north,
Relishing our discomfort, proud of her power,
Knowing what she is doing is tormenting the wild ones who scavenge for food under freezing shivering white blankets.
January cares not a whit that she is endangering our lives daily on icy drives to and from work.
Laughing at our reluctance to survive in frigid, below twenty degree
Wind-chill temperatures.
Cool hand crispy takes over about three weeks in,
Hardening our hearts toward January.
Making us forget our initial delights,
Throwing our cars off freeways into embankments.
Maiming and killing us because she can,
Not because she truly wants to, or cares to.
January is a tremendous reminder that life changes
In a second.
Ah, but look.
Is that snow?
Thickened and scarred, my mask bears the burden of time,
Torn, stained, this tough shell silently unravels,
And yet, somehow, it continues to keep me alive, to protect me from the world,
It was never a shining armor, just my mask,
Trying to compensate for all that I could not be.
Sensitivity and tenderness were sacrificed on the altar of necessity,
To become my shield against the sharp and merciless wind,
My mask has burned, boiled, swelled under the relentless sun,
I treated it harshly, underestimating its silent and constant value,
Wearing it reluctantly through this sad, often unforgiving life.
I made it suffer more than it should have, under my weight,
Never acknowledging its silent and priceless sacrifice,
It, my mask, was there when I was not,
Remaining behind me, a testament to all the battles fought,
A story written in scars and burns, in its trenches of pain and silence.
Will I ever learn to truly value it, to appreciate
This mask that has borne my burdens with dignity,
To understand that it is not just a covering, but part of who I am,
A testament to my resilience, a map of survival,
That continues to defend me, despite all my mistakes?