Long Tunnel Poems
Long Tunnel Poems. Below are the most popular long Tunnel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tunnel poems by poem length and keyword.
to black bear
to black bear, cub, or lair
i really dont care
nobody likes days of dawn
being treated like a pawn
you do see
so lovingly
only your point of view
and not the minority, or of the few
who's voices do make sense
but your afraid to see, hence
your darkening tunnel
with a widening funnel
your bricks in a wall
taking a tumbling fall
you need to think
and not blink
at voices that do make sense
and not refute such as nonsense
your words feathering his nest
very classic at best
i say no to the games you play
like pawns on a board you slay
like the back stab with what you did to me
where i was suppressed with no voice to plea
connie pachecho
1/15/17
Let's not brag about begging free
Long gone are the days when tears would drop
We no longer see the light at the end of a tunnel
That s why our eyes are blinded to the truth
As we became night crewers in this cold world
Now we are x men with ragging hope with in
I hope you will be able to tell Wat kind of poem this is
We are like strange doctors who's ability will make you marvel
We have no class rap ! Nor physician captains in America ????
Cause this is Zambia were we only see Mr Zambia
And you vision cant see them unless u are a cyclops they delivered unsaid words of broken Promises
Were we fight like
Unlike Zulu in the battle of the mulatuzi river
Fought for they're right
They traded they're birth right .........
.....so think twice
...Take time to think twice, The haters of joy!
I guess I missed the target In my taught and classes
Looking round my world
To see and hope!
If joy I hope could be clapping In the means of foes!
Hatred grips my grapes
As I soar with sorrows! Finding way to walk
from my mind to soul I saw a deep journey
Tunneling down my dreams With saga and storms
..so let me reintroduce myself
am the last of my kind
I did die i just barred myself in the sands of time hoping some day that I will hear the truth see we were kings and Queens till we turned into slaves in our own houses ??? we are the really misfits we keep shape-shifting like mi stick but we missed the trick the only time we are hero's is when we dream . Cause reality is nothing but a dream ...
Copyright ©?H2O
©? 2023
A misty reflection
in the mirror
of life
a fragile shadow
on the wall
of boundaries
A deep echo
in the tunnel
of thoughts
A soft whisper
in the voice
of dreams
a broken emotion
in the beat
of Hearts
a flash back
in nightmares
of death
a roller coaster
in the subconscious
of minds
a thunder storm
in the dilhema
of soul
a water mark
in the shade
of light
an immersion of words
in the baptism
of truth
an ultraviolet ray
in a shattered prism
of glass
a moonless sky
in a presumption
of total eclipse
a tempting apple
in the garden
of forbidness
a white angel
in the purity
of lusty sin
an ardent paramour
in fervent yearning
of passion
a jealous lover
in the destruction
of love
a stop watch
in the moment
of time
a deep crack
in the crust
of the world
an earthquake
in the hot core
of lava
a forest path
in a jungle
of lions
a gold circle
in waterfalls
of a crazy affair
a wave of trust
in the vast ocean
of betrayal
a soften glacier
on the bedrock
of seperation
a chess game
in the loss
of forever
a weeping petal
of a wild daisy
in last goodbye
a big question mark
on the edge
of destiny.
(3rd May 2010)
Charma
A letter home never to arrive.
Dear Mom
I can"t as usual say much,
But I am good and feeling well.
We are on this crazy mission,
It involves the most strange of military personnel.
They are without doubt a strange and mad outfit,
But they wear the same combats,
We are supposed to keep them safe,
They go by the name The Tunnel Rats.
They go beneath the ground
Searching Charlie out.
Tunnels have been found
Where the enemy can almost walk about.
These guys really are quite mental,
Sometimes the tunnels collapse
Other times they don"t come back
We think because of traps.
Anyhow, I aint had to kill nobody yet
Though I have fired off my gun.
I kinda hope it was my volley
That made them critters run!
R and R is good
They fill us up with steaks
And I thank you for the lotion
It really helps my aches.
Hope big Sis is well
An the beauty parlour"'"s busy ,
I bet the fact there is no young men left
Is sending her in a tizzy!
Tell Paw my nerve is holding fine
An I hope I make him proud,
This War it will be won
I shout that out so loud!
The other day I spoke some words,
To a Tunnel Rat, man he made me think,
He said that when he was beneath the ground
He swore he could hear Charlie blink.
Well, what more can I say
Apart from I love you Mom,
I hope to hear from you soon
Your loving son
Tom.
Thomas Elliott was killed
In action November fifth
1969.
Form:
Life's a carnival ride, a bag of barkers and crabs
pinching the mind with pink toys and shiny swag
stuffing your mind with sweet soft fuzzy things
wraps you in heavy chains and a cold nose ring,
leads you to a fiery, Ferris wheel ride of denial
plunks you aside a bearded lady-opening thighs
you want to jump off, but you're just too damn high
she takes you around a brutish, glittering world
leather studded, hungry for a necklace of dirty pearls
Her mouth is smeared with black lipstick and gravy
the rides finally over but the soul is still draining.
The fun house has mirrors filled with bending dream.
Walls are wailing, blood drips down from the beams
you scramble down back alleys for pockets of peace
then slide on chunky puddles of black ice and screams...
There's only one way out, and that's all the way down
the chute's filling with hell hounds and manic clowns
balloons brimming with flocks of blues and red herring
fistfuls of daisy grenades, with them there's no winning.
You've hit rock bottom, there's a tunnel of golden light
a beautiful angel in waiting but she's lost her mind
slowly she's swinging a crinkled-up no vacancy sign
while the barker is spinning flocks of his little white lies.
Life's a plastic bag filled with mad barkers and whirling crabs,
teasing like a virgin, then swallowing you whole like a hag.
My friends come home draped in flags
I pause at the edge of the airplane door
Facing a tunnel leading me to a muffled joy
Strangers tell me I am related to them...
I deny a woman with three kids... her kiss
My friends are slipping in trucks with flags
They are loaded and back doors explode shut...
..............................................................
I wake up in a trench of blood and clean pillows
The same woman from the airport next to me
Peacefully breathing...and I thought she was dead...
I think I am finally home, fans are not propellers
Camouflage doesn't bear swing sets in backyards
My friends' helmets, guns and boots line up in my head
Patrolling with weapons made of aluminum foil
-------------------------------------------------
There is too much silence for a dead soldier walking...
I think I FEEL the kiss of the woman with three kids ...
It’s late at night by candlelight while I’m sitting here at home
picking on this old guitar without you in my arms.
The lightning flashed and something crashed and
all the lights went dim – ain’t it funny how
the storm outside is how I feel within.
I don’t know how it happened that you
up and went away and don’t know how
the weather works on any given day.
Refrain:
And all I know is the wind still blows no matter what I do
even when I’m picking on these six strings without you.
As my life goes on from song to song
while you’re out running free.
I’d burn every candle I could find
if it would bring you back to me.
Every time the light goes out something
changes in my mind; the love we had not long ago
is drifting down the line. Like a rolling train
in a tunnel made inside a mountain high;
I feel so lost without you now it feels like I could die.
Right here in my sadness and these low down hurting ways;
this candle fire lifts me up higher than all these rainy days.
Refrain:
And all I know is the wind still blows no matter what I do
even when I’m picking on these six strings without you.
As my life goes on from song to song
while you’re out running free.
I’d burn every candle I could find
if it would bring you back to me.
I sure hope that the light returns
in my house and in my soul; it’s hard to see
right front of me ever since you hit the road.
It seems all I have are these memories and melodies
and dreams; and every night the lights go out
you’re all that I can see. I’m like a blind man
in the darkness all my colors turned to gray
so I’ll keep this candle burning
hoping you’ll come back some day.
Refrain:
And all I know is the wind still blows no matter what I do
even when I’m picking on these six strings without you.
As my life goes on from song to song
while you’re out running free.
I’d burn every candle I could find
if it would bring you back to me.
As my life goes on from song to song
while you’re out running free.
I’d burn every candle I could find
from now until the end of time
if it would bring you back to me.
Every morning, I work from home
I turn on the radio, if I'm unhappy and alone
You hear so much misery when the car jams are told
Make you feel happier, if you're mean and cold
The outbound George has a disabled tractor trailer
Some drivers now are cursing like a sailor.
On the inbound Holland there is police activity
Imagine all those slowed drivers, it's like captivity.
(chorus)
There are people who like pulling tails of cats
Others freakout Grandma by attaching bells to bats
But me, I enjoy the misfortune of those who drive
Comparing our fates makes me feel more alive.
On the Pulaski skyway it's a waiting game
I bet Mr. Pulaski would have not delegated his name.
Its bumper to bumper after Passaic Avenue
I bet those drivers are steaming too.
At the exit ramp an accident partly blocks
That teen driver just learned life has hard knocks.
Heavy delays, so many drivers annoyed
But the traffic jams give me Schadenfreude.
The Lincoln backs into Weehawken tight,
They’ve been stuck in that tunnel since about midnight
Makes you wonder, and contemplate
Or if you're like me, you feel really great.
Add up all the lost hours of lives
No need for bombs, no need for knives
Time that could have been used for better things
All the waste, we should have wings.
I have no real memory of my Dad.
He died months before I was even born.
I’m proud of who he was, but I’m still very sad.
Most days, the feelings in my heart are really torn.
It’s pretty hard growing up without a father,
And not having him around when you really need him.
Some days I’d cry, and didn’t want to be bothered.
The light at the end of the tunnel seemed kind of dim.
Things were rough, but I had the love of my mother.
She taught me what it meant to really sacrifice.
Some years were much harder to get through than others,
But we stuck together, made a choice, and rolled the dice.
My father, along with all the men in his unit,
Had made a promise to each other when they deployed.
If any one of them should somehow not make it,
The rest would help watch over their little girls and boys.
They also vowed to watch over any widowed wife,
And be there for them as an extended family.
Most of those men were a huge influence in my life.
I am forever grateful that they were there for me.
The bond that those men have is something to treasure.
They lay their lives on the line for a worthwhile fight.
The freedoms they give are impossible to measure.
That’s why, for me, enlisting at eighteen is right.
There's a cosmic distribution of suffering
We all get a slice of it
There's no running and no recovering
Nobody escapes the ----
It don't matter where you come from
It don't matter where you belong
It don't matter what's your skin-tone
It's all gonna turn out wrong
At the great big banquet in the sky,
God's always there to offer you a slice
A great big piece of the eternal pie
Of suffering
There's a holy domain on suffering
Ain't nobody immune
You can have all the riches in the world
You can be all alone in your room
You can have the world's wealthiest uncle
Or junkie tracks up your arm
There may be a light in the tunnel,
But it's a locomotive train called "Harm"
While at the great big banquet in the sky,
God's always there to offer a slice
A great big piece of the eternal pie
Of suffering
Who's up for seconds?
Whoa I barely finished mine
To live in the rain is human --
To survive the storm is divine
There's a cosmic distribution of suffering
We all get a slice of it
There's no running and no recovering
Nobody escapes the ----
And at the great big banquet in the sky,
God's always there to offer you a slice
A great big piece of the eternal pie
Of suffering
Say, who's up for seconds?