Long Unaccompanied Poems
Long Unaccompanied Poems. Below are the most popular long Unaccompanied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unaccompanied poems by poem length and keyword.
unaccompanied
I set out to traverse the hinterlands
perceiving myself as a blemish on society
all eyes averted from my unsightly visage
the pernicious shadow of doubt's cloud
casting an ominous apparition that darkened the mood
but failed to dampen the xeric ground with needed rain
feigning confidence in my destination
striding past sage and succulent - yucca and agave
longing for the carefree smell of the ocean
and the company of friends
feeling like Abram departing Ur of the Chaldees
seeking astral consolation from the night sky
kneeling to pray to the heavenly sentry
I'd close my eyes to rest from the weary enterprise
of surviving my high school wilderness
Written 10 Nov 2020
Seagulls and Saints of Emmaus
David J Walker
I see Seagulls and Saints
And icy sills of Window’s
Restraints of blurred realities
And unaccompanied Complaints
But clearly every pray ends
In amends and Amens
And incitant constraints
I see syllables in Sawgrass
A syllabus of things passed
Down in hands of hand me down
Phases and phrases
Of false praise promises of
Devine Salutations extended to
The someone just behind me
I see sunsets and bad bets
In this and that complications of
Unfinished pages of equivocations
On the road to Emmaus,
(about seven miles from Jerusalem)
“Stay with us” we plead
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost done.”
So he went and broke bread
And then fled as their eyes opened.
And That’s when I saw
Seagulls and Saints
Dining in fields
of locust and wild honey
i wanna be alone tonight
i wanna be an accidental victim streetlight darkness
i wanna be the only one in the world that i create
i wanna be the yellow light sitting indian style in the middle of planet red
i wanna be my only company serving only to myself
i wanna be the only audience for the quietly whispering wind
i wanna be totally lost in thought in the gentle beating heart of blankness
i wanna be the star in a dimply lit deserted spotlight
i wanna be the only sound that i hear period end of story
i wanna be the only vision i see in all its unaccompanied glory
i wanna be the only recipient of open space's delight
yes, i wanna be alone tonight....
Foundation.
Mixing Old English within the 21st Century.
Titul:
Sceaweres
(An all ana voice hwisprian's)
For although our pæþe
Are divided by Wyrd
By The Great In-Betweonum
Also viewed as Destiny or Fate
By our Andsaca's
Enemies
Vultures and lions
Which Scyttan
Hydan
In The Great Ether
Restless
Unseen
And with great Hungor
Ravenous
Just outside our Godcundlic Gates
Ours is a sacred Treowa
One
No fowl creatures knoweth
And which the vultures, lions and ravenous creatures: filled with Æfestig
And second eyes
Grene
Hath seen
But we will be Sigefæst
So
"Hál wes þú or wes hál"
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Old English andgiet:
Meanings:
Sceaweres
Watchers.
All ana
Unaccompanied.
Hwisprian
Whisper.
pæþe
Paths.
Andsaca
Enemy, adversary.
Scyttan:
"To hunt," this word could be used if the "prowling" is specifically in search of prey.
Hydan
Meant to conceal.
Hungor
Hunger.
Godcundlic.
Spiritual.
Treowa
Faith, pledge, agreement.
Grene
Green.
Æfestig
Jealous or envious.
Hath
Have.
Sigefæst
Victorious.
Hál wes þú or wes hál
Be in good health' or 'be fortunate'.
(Now read again, now you understand. Especially the ending)
Once upon a stranger,
a girl — a well-intentioned woman —
walked with an open soul,
her eyes silvered with withheld sighs.
Behind that quiet gaze,
a seraphic smile concealed its sorrow,
gleaming through daydreams,
as folk songs whispered of her tender defiance.
Once upon a moment,
I heard soft whispers fade —
inside a bus on a starry August night.
She rose to glimpse the world once more,
hope glimmering heavy in her eyes,
half in joy, half in fear.
Once upon what it seemed,
the empty streets turned mirrors —
cold storefronts, dim alleys.
By night she stumbled through silence,
by day she wore her wounds as armor,
wandering through the city’s dense forest
of unaccompanied paths.
An unchained soul, yet caged
by society’s ugly parodies —
cells built from shame and duty.
She pondered the dreams reality killed
as she passed through shanty streets,
escorted by echoes of laughter now gone.
Once again her hope returned:
to fill the void with beauty,
to rise above the dimmed faces of her class.
Her dreams, still burning,
to rekindle the lonely, to build what she was denied —
a quiet joy that glowed against despair.
Once upon a loop of forever after,
lamentations deepened.
Between forced vows and a fractured home,
she lived a life too succinct —
raped, abused, unseen.
Darkness grew familiar,
a slow descent into thoughts unspoken.
And her world took its turn —
the light grew distant,
and she folded into herself,
too late for prayers or wishing wells.
Once upon a stolen dream.
Once upon a neglected childhood.
Once upon a trembling womanhood.
Once upon time, and time again.
A bowed head,
seeking shelter from the tempest —
and as she lies on her five-foot mat,
deep in sleep where dreams unfold,
the queen rises once again,
seraphic and free
in her ultimate paradise.
I sailed an olive boat
into the center of the sea
alone
to find a cure for my loose heart
not the spring-back type, noble with elasticity
but leap-forward lecher-wild
binding to any skirted frame and drooping hemline
like friendly burrs in shrubbery lanes
sat in an olive boat
drifting mid-seas
unaccompanied but for Hope to land a cure upon my knees
to heal my lousy, narcissistic zeal
an insatiable human thinks like a possessed apiary
an overwrought dam
I tonsured my beatific locks
as bare as Samson
hoodwinked
by his pet Flytrap
tossed reflective surfaces, anything that would give my face
a way to self-seduction
safe in a roasted green-pea float
lost like dead at sea
to recover a voice that scarcely has been mine
its echo returns not
through bursting towns
busy at trade
hawkers cawing,
hucksters' crow delirious,
chattering cashboxes
traffic snakes wending
Nowhere do they end in time
always metal and rust
ferric towering towers, condominium pride,
noisome domiciles, toxic steel cages
barring the success of this voice~
the sound of your mind drowned inside the urban brawl
not a jot of space to reckon nor conciliate
blushing-rushing-golden consciences
an echo may not return to its sender then ~
a man with no name.
Her voice echoed through the hallways
Of the pediatric oncology hospital ward
When people saw the young girl who sang these songs
They were stunned and they were floored
She sang unaccompanied
But there was music in her voice
The children all felt better
As if they hadn’t another choice
She wasn’t paid to entertain them
She wasn’t doing work for charity
She wasn’t a doctor or nurse there to cure them
She was a patient with one of the maladies
Then, one day, the halls were silent
Into her lungs the cancer had eventually crept
Children and parents were disheartened
Even, from up high, the angels wept
But, the tear drops from angels
Plus prayers from souls down here on earth
Helped to bring about a medical miracle
And her cancer, somehow, did reverse
Her voice rang out again in a soft lullaby
While future angels in their beds slept
Once again hope was planted into patient’s hearts
Once again, on high, the angels wept
… do you love me, woman
it is cloudy in this street
as that sandalwood perfume
stretching between our arms
here everything of it is gone
with the floods and good
you are the only tree left behind
and love is the dewdrops
even the axe that cuts them
into pieces, remains a noble soul
falling slowly from the last leaf
to the bare ground of mire
somewhere in the mist behind the bridge
a brain is smouldering with the request
to return this soul
to its former position
and retains its fragrance
in the trap, unaccompanied
thinking about a lover is sweeter than kissing
because love is not feeling
and I cherish that moment in itself
when I am alone but through a subsequent passage
that’s why I illustrate
your perfume filling the dig we create
woman, do you still love me
I’m one of the connexions, though really why
it should be, after all, is none so apparent
your body is a cloth I wear
in this cold weather I’m
struggling with my broken left leg…
Missing
I saw the the solitary people of my generation destroyed,
the wind wind has gone, my breathing stop;
How I mourned the lost;
Are you upset by how non-gregarious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the lost so unaccompanied?
the populace has departed, alone broken hearten;
I cannot help but stop and look at the ants gone;
Cool, cold, crisp windy air, traveling from the North;
Does the bare naked trees and cooling breeze make you shiver?
Does it?
I saw the the cunning person of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the deceased;
Now wily is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the deceased is foxy, my spirit soul is proxy;
Are you upset by how non-gregarious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the lost so unaccompanied?
the populace has departed, alone broken hearten;
Alas, something here is;
MISSING...
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
In the silence of the night, when the world rests,
I embark on a journey, without a map, without warning.
It's not a mountain path, nor a trail through the forest,
It's a journey inward, where the soul hides and is measured in measure.
On this path, steps are memories and thoughts,
Each stone, a regret, each flower, an endless longing.
But on this journey, I am not alone, but accompanied,
By myself, by hopes, by dreams, and by moments passed into infinity.
It's a journey to the center of being, where everything is pure and sincere,
Where the mask comes off, and the heart speaks without fear.
Here, in the depths of the soul, where time seems to stand still,
I rediscover simple joys, childhood memories, and my first spring.
But this journey is not always easy, nor always filled with light,
There are moments of darkness, of sadness, where the soul weeps and struggles.
Yet even in those moments, when all seems lost,
A ray of hope shines, guiding me to the hidden truth.
For the most beautiful journey is not to distant lands,
But to our own soul, where we find ourselves, alone and unaccompanied.
There, in the depths of being, where everything is sincere and pure,
We discover the true essence of life, and understand that we are truly loved.