Long Twenty five Poems
Long Twenty five Poems. Below are the most popular long Twenty five by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Twenty five poems by poem length and keyword.
The soldier, he looked down at me
While I protested vociferously.
He seemed to be but twenty-five
An age that weathered eyes belied.
And as I turned to walk away,
I heard the soldier up and say:
“It seems that you don’t understand,
What it takes to protect this land.
The price we pay for what we do,
What we suffer for folks like you.
The cost of keeping people free
Is letting go of the fantasies.
The stories all you people tell,
Burn away in war’s fiery hell.
The illusions that most people hold,
They Sink away to depths untold.
To keep you safe we confront truth,
And force along the end of youth.
You chant and say ‘Let’s end all war,’
It’s understandable deplored.
But you never seem able to derive,
That the end of war is the end of life.
As long as folks can think on their own,
Conflict will exist, and war will be close.
To end it all, the cost would be
All trace of individuality.
A price too great for man to know,
Better the chance of trading blows,
Than giving up what is our essence.
It’s a bloody but important lesson.
And since the battle can never end,
You’ll always have need of warrior men,
To fight against chaotic tides,
To hold a line against the night.
And as for seeing an end to war,
Only dead folks will see no more.
We don’t as much for what we do,
In money I make less than you!
We ask no power, small or large,
We don’t demand to be in charge.
We don’t need swoons or genuflects,
We ask only that you show respect.
And though it makes bleeding hearts burn,
It’s a respect we’ve dearly earned.
By watching buddies die and scream,
By hearing them in haunted dreams,
By seeing our peace-time lives crimped
By missing limbs and nagging limps.
We just want you to understand
What such a life does to a man.
To keep peace for this country, wide
A piece of all of us must die.
And even if we survive steel rain,
What comes home will never be the same.
We do it ‘cause it must be done,
To those for fear no law but guns.
We stand up strong and take the blast,
So common folks, the rage will pass.
And had we not chosen this life
You’d all feel the weight of death-run-rife.”
And then the soldier walked on by,
I could not believe he’d bought the lies!
The fool, he probably stayed up late,
Thinking up new folks to hate!
If he’d only go to college, he’d see
The real heroes are protesting…
Therapy costs money, but depression is free to kill
You're dreaming of overdosing, but you don't need those pills
I know they take everything away, so it doesn't seem so real
But please don't go, because the worlds needs you still
I've been there before, when it feels like you wont make it
You're trying to be strong for the world, but you can no longer fake it
Your smile is wearing, your nightmares appear more
You're being made fun of, you're wondering what you should care for
Bullies at school are making you feel worthless
You may not know it, but you have a purpose
I overdosed at 17 and I'm here 8 years later
I've learned how to be happy, many tears later
No family, I was passed around foster families
Social workers told me what to do, and I'd react angrily
Bipolar and depression, so they said I lacked sanity
Some of the things that bullies would say, damaged me
I was battling a bunch of demons no one knew about
Self-harming, but my bloody clothes I threw them out
I kept it a secret for a year and a half, I wish I spoke sooner
Looking back at my past, I'm lucky to have this future
Almost 6 years free from self-harm, but I take each day at a time
I realized I'm in control of my happiness, so the past won't stay on my mind
I know you're going through the dark, and you need the light
Take my hand and I promise I'll lead you right
You're scared to speak, because you think no one cares for you
Self-harm, Drugs, alcohol, will pretend to be there for you
But they take you down a dark road, you'll struggle to come back from
The battle you're going through, you'll look back at and say that's a battle I won
I was told I'd be dead by 21, but I've made it to Twenty five
Now I'm full of pride and confidence, when before I was empty inside
Depression is a liar, you are worth more
I've been so focused on good things I can't feel the pain from before
Giving up is never an option, there's never a reason
Go for a walk, draw, paint, or write your way to freedom
To get through the storm it may take a while
But be strong and don't let anyone break your smile
Therapy costs money, but depression is free to kill
You're dreaming of overdosing, but you don't need those pills
I know they take everything away, so it doesn't seem so real
But please don't go, because the worlds needs you still
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
Isaac's son
saac's son
Saxon
O Israel where are you
I know you are not a Jew
Joseph come home
come home O child come home
I spy David's thrown
we'll have to make preparations
to bring it back to Jerusalem
so that when our savior comes home
he will have a proper place to sit
there upon his fathers thrown
for sins the Lord with held the blessings
over twenty five hundred years
and then we suddenly received them
swiftly they fade away
think we will ever learn our lesson
think we'll ever straighten our ways
"Be sure to observe my Sabbaths
keep the sanctified day
do not go around worshiping idols"
now blessings are fading away
does anybody else know
what does the word of God say
soon the skies will be iron
and the land will turn to brass
plagues shall scald our people
and our cities will break like glass
that fell down from the heavens
shattered and scattered all to pieces
we should have obeyed the laws of our father
like we were told to by the great king Jesus
O Ephraim, O Manasseh
I pray we learn our lesson fast
so that the pain doesn't have to last
we will all soon be slaves
God's will and try to be brave
still I pray
my God have mercy
and I pray to see the day
when we all learn to live
within God's laws and learn his ways
O America, O Britain
nation overseas and mine
don't you know God is going to punish us
time after time after time
until we learn the way to happiness
and inherit eternal life
we will walk by the river of life that flows
I guess we’ll have to learn the hard way
I guess that's just how it goes
they don't believe God and they wont believe me
I guess that soon enough
everybody in the world will know
everybody in the world will see
(Jer: 50:4-6)
In those days, and in that time, saith the LORD,
the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together,
going and weeping: they shall go, and seek the LORD their God.
They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherward, saying, Come,
and let us join ourselves to the LORD in a perpetual covenant that shall not be
forgotten.
My people hath been lost sheep: their shepherds have caused them to go astray,
they have turned them away on the mountains:
they have gone from mountain to hill,
they have forgotten their resting place.
This story begins with Julio Jones,
a logger who worked trees in the Cascades,
never married or had a family,
he was a loner, that just was his way.
Now he was no hermit, by any means,
he would show up at the town festivals,
volunteer his time so they ran smoothly,
he always seemed to enjoy them in full.
But the man mostly would keep to himself,
and was most comfortable out in the woods,
he’d been felling trees for twenty-five years,
all the industry knew that he was good.
One year the National Forest Service
gave him a contract to fell some old trees,
once done another company would come
and haul the trunks away for industry.
It was fifty acres way back in the hills,
accessed by a half-forgotten dirt road,
ten miles away from any building,
in solitude to this site he would go.
No an old pro like our Julio
knew exactly how to make the trees fall
so it would be easy to load them up
when the truck came the gather them all.
One day while cutting, about a week in,
he was felling trees by the lease’s edge,
when his chainsaw touched up on a big cedar
he heard a growl from a nearby hedge.
Next a brown head poked out of the bush,
Julio was so stunned he could just watch
as a seven-foot figure straightened up,
he was staring at a God-damned sasquatch!
He retreated back from the big tree trunk
and the warning growl quickly ceased,
when he tried again the growl returned,
Julio quickly figured out the beast.
It was just defending its territory,
letting him know when he had pushed too far,
so he retreated back to another
and put this new tree-trunk to his bar.
The bigfoot cared not when he cut trees there,
in fact it watched from a boulder in shade,
it looked on as if it were curious
as Julio went about his day.
And when he returned the very next morn,
he spotted the big creature once more,
along with a juvenile bigfoot,
they watched big trees plunge to the forest floor.
Now Julio remembered seeing once
a gorilla that head learned A.S.L.,
f that ape could do it, why not bigfoot?
What type of stories would this cryptid tell?
Julio knew how to make the signs,
his only brother had been deaf since birth,
he had an idea and bought some apples,
then brought them next day when he went to work...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
A Story from My Heart
Kelly was a Red Tabby and a contemplative soul!Elena, my daughter used to put him in her doll buggy and walk him around the house. How he loved those rides!
History. I found Kelly near Chinatown in San Francisco, on a busy street in a teeny garden bed. Noisy cable cars, passing by!
I picked him up and went to apartments, nearby. Nobody was the owner! So I hailed a cab and took him home.
Back then, nobody fretted over cat diseases or wondered, if a cat was neutered
I just brought him home to my Calico, Luvey!
My cats had to be calicos or red tabbies only. My present feine is Irene, also a Calico. Our feral outdoors cat is a Calico.
Luvey accepted Kelly instantaneously, like a part of the family.
They were like sister and brother. We took him to the vet, had him fixed. He died from Kidney disease, he had to be put down.I laid on the floor in the vet lobby and had a tantrum, like a kid! I was so attached to that guy. He was in
misery the last few weeks of his loving life.
The Calico, Luvey, outlived him. Sle got to age 25! That one fell out of a three story window..I found her in the morning. She was limping, that’s all. I
told my fiancé, I wanted her checked out. So, took her in,
The vet showed me..ugh...she cracked her palate, which required surgery, and after that, they could not wake her! I said, “I will come down and wake her!!l”
She was lying, almost dead in the bottom of the cage.
I opened the door and said my magic words ” Mommy is here!” She woke up
She lived to be twenty-five years old! Luvey had a heart attack while being examined for a bad cold. I sat in a room, and talked to that dead cat and sang to her for 45 minutes. Those were precious moments.
May she Rest In Peace! Luvey was a tiny cat. And my first. A boyfriend brought her to me. I said, “I don’t want a cat!!.
Hal said, “give her a try for one night!!
That transformed into 25 awesome years...
Addenda~ A Shining Memory
One Christmas, I walled Kelly down the long hall in our
apartment building...His leash was thick, forest green tinsel!
A most loving companion, beloved by all my neignors.
I still miss him, though decades have flown away!
5/10/2022
All hail thy – sweet – small – courtesies of life.
For smooth do they make the road of it.
Grace and beauty – they cut so deep not unlike a knife -
They beg all inclinations toward love at first sight.
Yes, ‘tis those courtesies which let the stranger in.
And those tones and mannerisms, they too have a meaning.
Oh - ‘tis a blessed thing,
One for which I could lose myself
To the honor of my aching.
I fear a heart which bears all to itself.
Oh yes, open – ‘lest it shut it all out.
So I ask, “Are not my eyes the scout
For which my heart journeys?
That vision, is it not flowing through my arteries
Bringing my heartbeat’s rhythm in tune?
Oh, let that beat be mine none too soon.”
With that said, she laid out her arm in front of me.
Taking hold of her fingers in my one hand, I aptly
Apply two fingers of my other hand to her wrist -
Firmly - and begin counting her heart's throb.
“One – two – three – four,” counting out aloud
Measuring each heartbeat as it happens –
Hoping to find the art of her fever.
I close my eyes as I continue to count – thinking –
There is no occupation in the world comparable
To feeling a woman’s pulse.
And when I had counted to twenty five
I looked up into her eyes and
At that instant I felt her pulse quicken.
She clutched my fingers tighter in the one hand
While pressing the wrist of her other hand
Harder into my account.
Is it possible for two to become one bone and flesh?
If that is true, what is everything else to become?
Sometimes yours while at other times the other has it?
All the while to be generally on par tallying up the score
As each of us permit the other to share in ourselves –
At least in as much as a man and a woman need to.
Not unlike a bag full of pebbles which started out jagged
And rough, with very little gleam.
Only ‘tis after being years in the bag together
Do the stones, having had many amicable collisions
Wearing down their angles and edges, do they
Become well rounded and smooth with the brilliance
Of their combined luster.
Nothing to either could have ever been
Accomplished alone.
She looks back into my eyes as she presses her wrist into me
and asks,
“How does it beat with you?”
Placing her hand on my neck I say,
“Feel for yourself -
‘Tis an improvement –
‘Tis my evidence.”
He worked at the local newspaper office.
I worked for his employer’s wife as a mother’s helper.
He had served his apprenticeship
and was now a full fledged printer
earning a magnificent sum of eight dollars a week.
My wages were three dollars per week.
Mrs. Miller found reasons for sending
me to the office frequently
and he was easy to talk to.
It wasn’t long before
he asked me to go to a movie
and I readily agreed.
Movies tickets at our local theatre
were twenty-five cents, usually.
The first movie we went to was called
“The Housekeeper’s Daughter”
starring Joan Bennett.
I don’t remember a thing about the story.
The next week he called again
and this time
the movie he wanted to take me to was
“Gone With The Wind”.
I protested that it was too expensive.
This time he would have to spend
fifty cents each on tickets
and the movie was so long that
there was an intermission
and I knew he would want
to buy refreshments, but
I didn’t take much persuading
and we went all out for that
evening of entertainment.
This time I did remember the story.
From that evening forward ,
he was a daily caller at our home
and my mother did her best
to keep him fed.
Most of our dates were merely
a stroll down town and back
as we had no car.
We heard on the radio that
Major Bowe’s Amateur Hour
was coming to a bigger town
about thirty miles away
and both of us decided we would like to
attend that function.
Money would be a problem
on our wages, so we decided
to save up for it.
One of us bought a dime bank and
we each put any spare dime we could,
into the bank.
It held five dollars.
We managed to have
five dollars worth of dimes
by the time the big day arrived.
Dad lent us his car
and off we went.
I don’t know what the tickets cost
but we had enough to buy them
plus enough to
indulge in an ice-cream soda
at the big town soda fountain.
1940 was the year our story started.
In March of 1941
he left for Detroit, Michigan
where he had heard he could find work
at a decent wage.
He sent a telegram
that he’d found a job
at $50.00 a week.
He had a minister and marriage license.
I had never been away from home before
but I traveled to Detroit and
we were married in July of 1941.
Honorable Mention
.
My cat is a rescue me,
The abandonment of loneliness
He had his Forever Home promise
My love and affection were his.
See, he turns out to be,
Complete contentment we shared
Mutual grounds in battles, here
We did not care and laughed.
My cat was very special to me:
He was all that I had in this world.
He did love me a bunch, you see;
I loved him back even more
With this punch, I had shown.
He gave me a reason to live;
He started to grow and give
He greeted me every morning
He gave me his meow-to gear.
Until he was watered and fed;
He weighed twenty-five lbs
He was this big boy, instead!
As he was growing up:
I taught him to Box, indeed
Yes, you read that right, I say
I taught Mischief how to Box.
He would get up on his hind legs,
He gave a pawing jab
With his pawing punch
It is true he could Box.
Mischief grew over the years,
And we always had fun in tears
He had come to a spot in his life
It was our saddest one, we feared.
June 30th was the day;
Independence was here
He was playing around in the house
He lay under the air, basking him.
Then he came to the room,
He wanted to take a nap
Up in the window, he went
Not knowing it would be his last stint.
Then the next thing I knew,
He was dragging his legs
He cried with a bellowing pain in his voice
Mischief had a stroke that day.
In such a heartbreaking way,
For this cat to bear
I needed to relieve his pain.
I left him there for the night,
He was under sedation
I collapsed, walking away
He gave me such a fright.
July 1st came in,
He looked at me with a thirst
Then he kissed my hand, that he knew
And laid in my lap
We Loved Blue.
He wanted up to my shoulders,
Then give me this
One Lasting Hug
The vet had his cocktail treat waiting,
My Mischief Lotus,
Departs
Now He sleeps!
Oh, my heart aches for you;
Of the agonized pain he suffered
That bellowing, hurtful cry,
He is Free,
Now He Flys!
I know this grieving here will pass,
In its time indeed.
Rest In Peace,
My Lil Buddy
I Love You
One More Last Time!
"A tribute to the sorrow that brings us
the strength of undying love,
prevailing its light."
~ William Darnell Sr
R.I.P. Mischief Lotus Darnell
My love to you!
August 2017-July 2022