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.


Premium Member Floating

The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi


I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.

Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.

Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.

I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.

Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.

In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.

Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member I Am Immortal

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
there will be no more death or mourning or
crying or pain, for the old order of things has
passed away. Revelation 21: 4 (NIV Bible)

I AM IMMORTAL

Explode from mortal to immortal,
in one forgotten breath.
Intake of first light.
Born, through the tunnel of my despair.
First images in black and white.
Mind snaps new memories…
I’m nearly breathless, as he comes into view,
hand extended - the one pierced for my transgressions.
And funny, my heart is racing, I’m sweating…
Salty tears run down my cheeks onto my shoulders.
I’ve hit my knees, weeping, at his bare feet.
His gentle hand upon my head,
he says, “arise my child.”
I obey, and blink through torrent tears.
     I don’t see, but I feel the softest cloth – like cashmere,
     rub over my face, catching each tear -
     not one is missed.
I hear the sound of tinkling water.
     The snow white cloth, I see it now!
He wrings out the shroud, and continues to wipe away
     my misery.
“Cry, my child. Let it all out.” 
He speaks to me as my mother would, lilted words.
Afterward, he points to a bottle, takes out a permanent ink pen –
Oh yes, they have those in heaven!
Writes a name. I look up at him, with questioning eyes.
Someone’s name, an unknown to me has been written.
Jesus smiles.*
“I’ve named you my child.”
I instantly hear the pronunciation, and register the meaning,
which, I believe, will take me all of eternity to dissect.
How beautiful, my name rings coming from pure lips!
“Come,” he says, “come and meet your family.”
We walk together, inside open gates - pearly gates.
I feel as though I’ve entered oz!**
Vivid rainbow colors, and colors I’ve never seen before!
Happiness like chains falling off…
     like heavy burdens laid aside…
     like a fresh shower…
     like a new found tropical waterfall…
And I see exuberant faces. I know each name,
even those I’ve never met before.
I’m treated like a bride, an assembly line that takes their time,
hugging me, kissing each cheek. You see,
I have eternity. I am immortal!

2/19/2017

*smallest verse in bible – Jesus wept (John 11:35). In eternity,
I’ve adapted mine to say, “Jesus smiles.”

**L. Frank Baum’s book Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Movie
starts out in black and white then turns to color as the
protagonist enters Oz.
Form: Imagism

Polylepis

To be a polylepis tree you gotta know 
You're a polylepis tree & this knowing 
Cements by being a polylepis tree,
Knowing between diagrammatic cracks
Fork'd already info knowing during descent.
Mud run through alpine meadow. Rubberized 
Crunch on ruddy paths, rucksacks looped,
Deltoids, silly sound serious bulge spine
Ached before leaning away to swallow,
Sepia bark holding his musculature; 
Paparazzi march out crimped edges 
Of fungi, sussed then left together. 
Glottal ribbing. Skeumorph thread
Discs, spades, b-side timpani under eaves.
Copper sheaves, wine burning in cups
Thickening until dark brown oozes
At a lesser velocity, blown eardrum, 
Given the climaxes of greater viscosity—

Green epiphytic ferns stitch airy
Misconceptions (soil, root), the drawing in, 
& expulsion, the search for a golden
Arboreal rat. A tunnel-maker
Said to be densely populated in woods
Near-gone to potato farms, cattle,
The absent lecture, then, on survival plastic

Spool of thread glued to the back
Drawn in a thin white line, followed
For ur-experiment, hundreds of feet
Climb up the lateral limb, down, dug under
Grass, tunneled, then over miniature crick,
Through nodule floor-sponge, a wetland,
A watershed for a whole valley, to grass
Again, below, finding elaborate nests but
The rat escaped, the sinewy string left.
A choreography misses it, an instinct
Closest but dull, so a blind sight in high
Sun, a canopy growing at itself not up,
Sift, shrift, the want to lay down before
Night freezes the water inside the air.

A return at night to the espeletia, giants
Sunflowers shocked by moon, switch-backs,
Doing Zs, squared, cubed to the tenth clouds
Departing, something horribly there not
Constellation no not a galaxy those are
Not things let them not be where’s the
Name laying in the grass, alpine creekline
Eschatological curvature, mutter, murmur,
A yellowing light flung, the cold how they

Open little air, the screaming sleeve, there!
Of not-this this, in it, out it, here & away,
Something recalled, what a string, rat,
What ways you move, only that body,
No containers for the humans so the sea
Could get that travel-manic blue, sworn
To make another moon of it, another go,
Unfixable, in need of fixing, air adjust,
An alkalinity expectant, a Sulphur rain, 
Chattering cargo setting fire to night.

I Slipped On a Tear Drop

I  s l i p p e d  on a teardrop and landed in her arms. She never knew how much I needed her. I  s l i p p e d   in a puddle and I died in her soul. She never knew how much I needed her. Between yesterday’s old coffee and today's bright doom I broke in half. My heart slipped away into the hell of her death and my mind created LOST memories. So many moments of despair she held, and so many times of loneliness I lived. Beneath the darkness of the moon I drowned in a river created from her pain. It engulfed me into oblivion and I shall never be the same again. Sisters need each other and I needed her. Life seems over and death seems so FINAL.

teardrops in her arms-
woe brings rivers of  d r o w n i n g 
DEATH by suicide

I  s l i p p e d  on a teardrop and landed in her misery. She never knew how much I loved her. I  s l i p p e d  in a puddle and I died in her heart. She never knew how much I loved her. After the downpour of anguish I fell asleep. Nightmares of our final hug GOODBYE. If only I had held on longer maybe she would have felt more love from me. Maybe enough love to keep her alive. For she never realized how much her pain caused me heartache. She bled in sadness and I bleed in regret. No time to heal because healing is no more. Life seems dark and death seems so BLEAK.

one final goodbye-
not enough pure love from me
two dead souls bleeding

I   s l i p p e d   on a teardrop and landed in her remorse. She never knew how much I longed for her. I  s l i p p e d  in a puddle and I died in her essence. She never knew how much I longed for her. Before she was born she was already gone. A lifetime of sorrow and feeling different. It was hard for her to be a lesbian. Too hard. RIDICULED and damaged beyond repair. No more light at the end of her tunnel and the lessening of sunshine during her days. It’s depressing to think about what she felt her final moments of life. Her goodbye letter was awful. Full of pain and too much grief for me to read. I keep it in a journal tucked gently away. One day I will pull it out and read it again. Life seems wrong and death seems so BLACK.

suffered from regret-
too flawed and  b   r  o   k   e  n   to heal
sister’s forever

~She  s l i p p e d  on a teardrop and landed in her grave~



Date Written: June 21, 2016
Form: Haibun

Premium Member I Am Who I Am

I am who I am

Were you to ask where I’m from my past my tale my next of kin
the answer lies in who tells my narrative my twist what kind of spin

My autobiography is quickly shown in who I am will be in time
past present future blend in context and contingency overt and sublime

No doubt the product of genes and socialisation is rather pertinent
thus mixing and mingling draws frameworks but is also quite reticent

German ancestry Lower Saxon and East Prussian born after the War
struggling with Genocide Holocaust trans-generational down to my core

Grew up in Hamburg somewhat lonely understood by not many but few
too young in my school year a class clown a rebel a critic because I knew

Teachers could not reject or downgrade me since I got full marks in exams
so I carved out my niche opposed authority of Messieurs and Mesdames

A late child of the Student Revolution an exchange to California ensued
where hot love struck me like balm on my wounds with Gigi from Peru

After graduation I rejected being supported by my father and joined the Army
to gain independence yet the method to gain freedom now seems very barmy

Could not leave the Forces despite pretty vigorous conscientious objection
did my best to help others as a medical doctor in humanistic inception

My duties brought me to Wales by the Irish Sea with five children and marriage
country medic and farm house guiding my kids and then nuptial miscarriage

Depression struck no light at the end of the tunnel just darkness and void
too much drink downcast in my mental wheel chair and almost destroyed

Went to rehab in South Africa for treatment where God-incidence came
where I met my wife best friend lover soulmate who had suffered the same

Now I sit in the sun in South Africa stopped medicine write story and poem
reinvent  my life some inner child stuff self-actualisation and certainly growing

New awareness novel perspectives pacifism philosophy and many questions
but the knowledge that kindness love and compassion are more than suggestions

My most intimate companion apart from my gorgeous wife is depression
both showed me my path journey and meaning my own life’s repossession

So few words about where I come from who I am will become and will be
so if you wish to explore more of my roots and my future please read my poetry
Form: Verse


The Atheist

I am reminded of the atheist who died. Or rather was presumably pronounced dead for a 
short period of time, then revived. Upon waking, the atheist announced that he had gone 
down the tunnel of white light, had seen his dead relatives and in fact met God. He must 
have forgotten he didn’t believe in God. Together, perhaps in a city in the clouds or the 
clouded foggy afterlife, God conversed with the atheist. 

A crowd of people had gathered to hear what God had said.

“Did you ask God what the meaning of life was? ” people wanted to know.

“Did you ask God what the one true religion is? ” others wanted to know.

“Calm down! ” the atheist assured them. 

“It just so happens, I asked each of those questions, ” the atheist concluded smugly. 

“And? ” people demanded.

There was a pause as if the atheist was conducting the energy of God.

“God told me the meaning of life is…” the people braced for the answer, “Nothing, ” the 
atheist said after a pause. He was ecstatic. The people were more than a little disheartened. 

“Nothing, you mean there is no meaning to life? ” the people asked.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, ” the atheist said laughing.

“Or another might mean nothing, as in, you get to make it up as you go along, ” the atheist 
said smiling.

“It’s whatever you want it to be, ” the atheist explained.

The people did not seem to get it.

A few looked suicidal. 

“Well, at least tell us the one true religion, ” the people demanded. 

“Okay, ” the atheist assured them.

There was a pause again as if he was God’s instrument warming up.

“God told me the one true religion is…” the people braced for the answer, “Whichever one is 
best for you, ” the atheist said confidently. 

“You mean there is no true religion? ” the crowd shrieked. 

“What are we going to do? ” the people asked starting to riot. They started to push and shove.

The people got really angry and violent, and they eventually tore the atheist apart. As the 
atheist ascended to heaven he asked God how this could have been avoided. 

God told the atheist, “There is only one way you could have avoided death…When the people 
asked you what God said…you should have stuck to your guns and told them, ‘God…I don’t 
believe in God.’”


Excerpt from: Blind Savior, False Prophet 

Joseph DeMarco

Taking Chances Second Guessing

Never have put all my faith, in someone I've not met
but when it comes to Presidents, I had to hedge my bet
I listened, just to what was said, from the horses mouth
teleprompter easy read, what's from his heart went south

Everyone just turns away, because of who has spoken
the little "adlibs" at the end, are called a "trademark token"
It took awhile to readjust, not comfortable at first
waiting for the "Hope and Change", instead things just got worse

I don't put words in peoples mouths, news briefly passes by
hesitations, pauses too, just watch and you'll know why
His demeanor says it all, can't look you in the eye
like a child's hand in a cookie jar, caught in another lie

I voted Independent, just like I always do
"08" I said I'll take a chance, and vote for something new
Took a chance and voted once, against what's in my heart
hoping this would be the one, to give us a fresh start

Listened to the arguments, on both the Left and Right
checked my dwindling bank account, it's almost out of sight
Some people think I'm selfish now, look at the flag I've flown
it's odd I've no Entitlements, and pay for my own Phone

How do you let him off the hook, divided we now stand
his bitterness shows near and far, beyond the Rio Grand
If you don't agree with him, they say you're spewing hate
they won't sit down and talk it out, no common sense of late

People think they understand, compassion in their hearts
you have "yours", let them have "theirs", forget that "theirs is ours"
Try to remain civilized, and show them you do care
he seems to think we "owe the world", his way to make it fair

Redistribution of our wealth, the "Robin Hood" effect
give it to the "have-nots, their life is such a wreck
If you never worked for "it", believe me you're not owed
reason for the "Bridge Card"?  We won't know we've been snowed

He's not alone you understand, "bad apple in the bunch"
I really think he tops the list, of course that's just a hunch
We can go back a lot of years, "W M D s" and more
his sights are set, it's "Tunnel Vision", to give away the "Store"

Bring them in, from down below, he'll smile and look away
knowing well, that all of them, are surely here to stay
A scary thought (you know it's true) he's letting ISIS in
his hope and change "America", he tries, but will not win.....
© Pete Yuhas  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Terminal Choice

crushed at rock bottom he gathered the fragments of descent

slow motion agony that started at a plateau of deluded deceit

free falling sadness spiraling out of control beyond fast repair


the black dog on his shoulder had survived the fall and barked

another round of sadness an insurmountable sorrow cheered on

‘you are useless and even void and oblivion are having a laugh’


a tunnel with no light and the canary asphyxiated in the mine shaft

another panic attack unable to ease the landing of a scarred mind

scared and confused he gathered the pieces and stabbing shards


with broken bones and un-abating accusations he collected his guilt

fears and shame about yet another defeat at the foundation of evil

demons and miserable clairvoyants spoke in bifurcated obsessions


possessed by the mother of all depressions he reached for a glimmer

of hope he searched for a message from science deities and reason

yet unable to guide his emotions all efforts crashed without rescue


the rope had twisted once more and he dangled helpless face down

just enough slack to disfigure his angry face that featured disgust

and yet as the blood flooded his brain he surrendered his objections


one final attempt and he severed the noose with the open fracture of

the razor sharp dislocation sticking out just below the palm of his hand

with a further snap of his wrist and life line he surrendered lost dreams


if life gave you hemlock but the vessel had cracked on the impact

of the smash and grab of lifeless cycle of disassociated insanity he

resolved to drink his own blood and call upon autoimmune response


after all the medication had been useless and hours on Freud’s couch

had only imprinted more festering pressure sores on purulent skin

cognitive explorations had only dragged him further down self-denial


religion mantras and science had failed to invoke sanity and healing

levitation would not emerge when he fell from the edge of madness

the cross lay in pieces and nails had lacerated his heart and resolve


just when he felt the pulse getting weaker and with delirious gaze

he succumbed to a last ditch attempt to reassemble a piece of his soul

wrote an ultimate will on the wall and vowed to hand over let go and live



15th June 2020

Wonderland

Day 1
I fall—not through space
something thinner—
like light stretched
too far
across the skin of a thought
I buried years ago

The tunnel hums
with memory—
a child’s scream rising into laughter,
the sting of ozone before the storm
the flicker between blinks
where everything vanishes

Darkness
Sun blinds— 

Day 2
The sky is a calm equation—
no clouds, no noise,
just light folded neatly
like fresh hospital sheets

The grass soft as breath.
No bugs. No bruises.
Everyone wears a gentle smile
like they’re born with softness
“Hello, Alice.”
They say it like a blessing.
They say it like I belong.

The air is perfectly
warm, like an infant’s cradle

Day 7
They say God
carved this world out with scalpels
—not one corner flawed
Every turn I’m greeted with
a warm, prepared smile, 
“Hello, Alice.”

Nothing bleeds.
Knives are ornaments.
They assume I was born
with the scars on my wrist.
Even sorrow comes in silk-lined boxes,
labeled, packed,
ready to ship away

I tried to cry
The air wiped the tears dry

The silence tastes sweet here
and I cringe at the taste of sugar

Day 18
I tore up the garden today.
The tulips giggled
as I snapped their necks.
No dirt beneath—just 
velvet lining.

I screamed into my reflection
in the lake with no ripples.
She smiled back
lips curled at a planned angle

I wandered around the city
grabbing strangers by the wrists
I want to shake their smile off their faces—

What hurts here? I ask
They blink:
What’s that?

Day 19
A couple invited me to dinner.
Ray and Jay.
They’ve never fought.
They finish each other’s sentences
like synchronized clocks.
They agree
on the color of the sheets,
the taste of strawberries,
how long to hold eye contact.

I watched them toast to peace.
I wanted to scream
just to see if they’d flinch—

I don’t know how much more I can take.

Day ??
I stepped off the roof

Not for death, no—
i just want a crack in the lined tiles
hair unravelled by wild wind
a cut that stings before it heals

But the air caught me,
soft as a baby’s first blanket
I landed on a bed of 
roses with no thrones

Ray helped me up
while Jay offered me apple tea
“Hello, Alice,” they said
“Welcome back to the dream.”

Voices

VOICES”
 
There are voices crying out loud screaming for help in the wilderness
In need of spiritual healing Im uncertain if anyone else even notice or are they hearing them
They are lost and broken draped in total despair
Thirsty spiritually starving in famine visually impaired
Chewed up and swallowed by the noxious cracks of the asphalt
After relentlessly roaming the undefeated streets
Blind tunnel vision in survival mode they could never compete
 
Devoured by the trauma in life they simmered in their bottomless pits of defeat
Mis-led by lack
Neglected in lax they would impulsively react
Wearing careless unnecessary consequences across their backs
Immune to daily afflictions
Their paradise was the hood that they live in
Tragedy, Poverty, Hustling, Guns, Death
Fatherless figures oppressed
Driven by currency as the enemy put them to its test
 
In their minds streetlife is the only life I know mentality dressed
Our young minorities are now the soldiers on the front lines making ruckus
Enticingly introduced to straps they’re lost their focus
Juvenile bred hitman so the stiff felonies wont stand a chance
How can we reach and assist them to cope with their voids
Without any possibilities of hope how could we approach
The lost and broken toys
 
Thats in the wilderness making all that noise
How can we manage their self-sabotaging outlets of addictions
Whats healing and fixing
The abusing distributing or using
 
Premeditated death dates
Suicidal temptations another form of escape
The mind is a battlefield and its hard to find peace in the midst of confusion when life on life terms get real
So their reality is only an illusion in the midst of their confusion
 
I hear voices crying out loud in the wilderness
And I pray that someone reach them in enough time to heal them
Before this lurking evil kill or steal them
Lets be the beacon that guides them toward the light
Exposing them to a more significant purpose
Oppose to living life so reckless and worthless
Expressing to them that all things are possible with a reach
You can find your significance by defying the odds if you just stop and listen to the words that the redeemer speaks
 
A change will come
Even with gradual progression we all will eventually overcome and make it to our real paradise up in heaven
Voices

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