Long Uncounted Poems
Long Uncounted Poems. Below are the most popular long Uncounted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Uncounted poems by poem length and keyword.
And That Was When...
1.
Those days were worlds unto themselves;
Days Forever,
The night Eternity
When the truth that makes liars of us all,
The knowledge of the Thing That Awaits Us All,
Had not yet tainted us.
You could
From moment to moment
Be anything, anyone you wanted
Minds unconstrained
We wandered freely, evolved on our own
Through all the uncounted hours
2.
Sunrise to sunset,
All a constant flow
All things aglow
With potential,
Nothing impossible, nothing implausible.
This was the time you faintly remember
Through the falling torrent of later years.
Those years bury memories
Until you call them back
In the simplicity
Of age.
The dawning of life, the era of magic
The crucible that mixes the elements
Of what we are to be,
Fires and forms the shape that is to come
The sculpture awaiting within the stone we chip
To reveal our true selves
To ourselves.
Here I Inherited a dreaded chore
In the heat of a summer’s nightmare
Clear out the gloom of the garage store
Heaps of THINGS left duly in its care
To be free of them for evermore
And their ever-present nasty stare
A world of mindless soulless things
Accumulation of uncounted scores of years
Covered in the grey dust that age brings
Some filled with memories of laughter
And others with the salt of many tears
Living on in the world of the forever after
Shoved against their will into all possible angles
Expanding into the air choking the space tightly
And now I am sinking into a net of their tangles
Down into the desolation of this waste
Where deadly spirits fly to walk here alone nightly
And swiftly leave in the morning light with haste
Dark creatures carrying curses imprisoning this heap
Piling more upon this mass of things each trip
Clutching on forever to the memories in its grip
That forgotten calendars somehow want to keep
And what secrets did these dark corners hold?
A painted picture of an unwed sleeping bride?
A ball of yarn and knitting needles sitting in the cold
A forgotten life they want to hide?
They guard the key to what this dark place means
Souvenirs full of the gloom of evil fairy schemes
And now, I was Aurora’s unknowing prince
Clearing away the curse of life’s ruined rubble
The day she fell asleep none have entered since
And so I come through a frozen forest of things and trouble
Hard against the breathing of a chorus of cursing cats
And the foul smoky voice of a vicious vile vengeful witch
Sending flying up into the air a thousand deadly bats
She swooshing out from under a blanket of black Siberian snow
I was at the end of a Russian fairy tale we all have come to know
An unsuspecting hero, heir to an inheritance with a special twist
It was an uphill long climb, grueling for me,
up the precipitous slope called career,
unpredictably slippery and tenuously craggy,
I followed the winding contours with tenacity
leading me to the summit people called success
where the sky of aspiration seemed limitless.
It’s time now to hang up the boots,
begin the downhill descend on bare foot,
realize how difficult it is to climb down
the discarded forlorn track to nowhere
in the darkness of obscurity,
for the limelight has disappeared.
I’m just getting started
to embark on a lonely last mile journey
over the debris of defoliated trees,
once looking up to the seamless sky,
through the dwindling dale
where shards of time roll uncounted
to remote emptiness where the bells will toll
for me to start the ultimate voyage to eternity.
September 22, 2019
Contest : I'm just getting started
Sponsor : John Hamilton
May 5, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice 3, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Dragons don't cry, nor laugh-- not that they can't!
It's just exhausting, to accumulate
Years, wisdom, and gold: emotion they slant.
For all their beating wings, their heart runs cold.
To love, fiery? No. To mourn unto tears?
Again, no, they don't. And having lost love,
Laughter too is gone. Have you heard echoes,
Arumble in the canyons? Fierce laughter?
Dragons do not cry. They are too old, tired.
So let the ocean salt the wounds you bear,
And let your madness mount the dragon, ere
You see the dawn and dusk, the cloudy draw.
Soar, winged emotion, drown sorrow in tears.
But be not dragon, for whom the cold heart
Beats without laughter, tears of joy, nor grief,
Lives uncounted eons, born nether shadow,
Without connection, regret, love, nor loss.
No.
Laugh with the spring rain, Sorrow over loss,
And most of all, love. Love with tempest tears
Grieve with your short years, and be not dragon.
The Lake Side Church
David J Walker
The Lake Side Church reminds me
That Jesus walked on water
Jesus fed fish to the
Uncounted multitudes
Jesus calling out to Peter
and his brothers
to abandon their boats and nets
and follow Him
The Lake Side Church reminds me
God separated the
Waters from the dry lands
in the same way
He parted ways
with the lights of the
nights and days
And created the
Woman from the man
In the dry dust on hand
made in various colors of clays
The Lake Side Church reminds me
That Noah build an Ark on dry land
And no person would understand
The parade of animals who did
The Lake Side Church held
Saturday picnics on
Namesake shores
People dressed in white
In boats without oars
Begging to be baptized
Before the Rapture that
Could come any day
How many are here?
Slip sliding through the words
hiding between the laughter and the tears,
the years of sadness, loss, love, its fear and promise and hope?
The poets and the writers of narrative and prose
revealing and leaving messages to be deciphered
from the heart and soul of inspiration shared.
How many?
Seeking release and freedom from their bonds
of love unexpressed and burdened hurt gnawing within
and loneliness unfilled and unseen, unnoticed by the outside world.
The word magicians, the artists painting pictures and images
exuding deep inner emotions and feelings too often hidden
burning the body, mind and soul into extinction.
How many are here?
Come one, come all, uncounted
to the open fields of time at last released,
of vision and images, of hopes and dreams,
of promises yet to keep and be revealed
here.
Shape Of The Nation (an oval precaution)
News outlets draw the line at racism
Pencil gray, color blind and crayons ready
Fantasies replace triangles, circles and square deals
Pentagons, hexagons, octagons where born to serve
Here today gone tomorrow with the curve
Will never shape up to political correctness
Or move into the oval office in any way shape or form
The people saw dangling chads in Florida
Hanging like spots before their eyes
Circular, uncounted votes remembered
Dots drop like spots before their eyes
May have to be recounted once again this November
News paper lines run up and down with lies
This election season is no less political
Etched like Escher paintings
Stairs that go up and down for no reason
There are 2 parallel lines aligned side by side
Redundant on the horizon as simple black stripes
With a vertical one joined at the middle
At the center of attention to form an “H”
For Hilary rising
A female that Mr. "T" calls crooked
Emails can not be erased by media twists
Even with BleachBit
It is a simple precaution though
To roll into the oval office
*Note:
(A Link to Escher works of art)
http://www.bing.com/search?q=escher+paintings&qs=HS&pq=escher+&sc=8-7&sp=2&cvid=9E3983FDB1E54B90BAE4130918F3D096&FORM=QBLH
I would speak to you of the seasons set upon this earth.
Each would make its mark ingrained when it is birthed.
Surely there is but one place to start the heart to sing
when greens come forth at the first show of Spring;
the tender shoots rise steady from the softened ground
as the seed begins to grow straight, narrow and unbound.
A babe's life begins to form like sparrows in the thicket rose
appearing like the parents, mother, father or another undisclosed
while still in its youth it continues to struggle and grow
balking and resisting of the parental taboo of no.
Spring was just a moment, a brief second in time
and quickly comes the summer of youthful prime,
slipping quickly through the lessons of young life
each slide to educational and professional heights.
The warmth and light of maturation in the brilliant sun
is a syncopated dance hardly begun;
when the years fade and disappear
into visions and dreams less clear
and suddenly we are standing looking left and right
wondering how we got to basking here in summer's delight.
Autumn falls and quickly meanders in,
just when we thought that life was ready to begin
and we find time has sped too quickly by
with thirty, forty, fifty on the fly.
Where did it go, the years so looked forward to
suddenly realized uncounted, now lay behind you.
More than half of life is spent
and marks were barely a dent.
Holding on tight to what is now
dare we face winter's hours?
Winter lies close around the turn
filled with fewer days to burn,
and looking back seems mere pondering
cast with images still wondering,
if we have fulfilled our destinies
played our games and planned well our seventies.
The sidelines remain open, cold and unframed
conditioned only by our self set restraints
as we fight, resist, contemplate our age
failing to chill and sleep away that last stage.
Stretching words
stretching a bird unheard
Unheard chirp is sung
unheard heart beats tongue
Tongue sweet desires
tongue kiss inner fires
Fires burn the lips
fires passionate kiss
Kiss forehead cheeks lips
kiss tears as they slip
Slip armd around the shoulder
slip eyes no longer colder
Colder brace the chill
colder fades will
Will give in
will be lust and sin
Sin is in the want
sin fades with love
Love rises and falls
love is more than call
Call her name
call her sweetheart
Sweetheart I love you
sweetheart speak my name
Name your quest
Name your price
Price of love boundless
price is no cost
Cost of love uncounted
cost is giving all
All is worth encounter
all is heart's dream
Dream away hesitation
dream takes chance
Chance lays destiny
chance is risk endeavor
Endeavor to step up
endeavor gives your heart
Heart beat pangs
heart beat is to breathe
Breathe the scent of love
breathe its beauty
Beauty in the eyes
beauty on the inside
Inside feeling and emotion
inside mystery of the ocean
Oceans tides rise
oceans are alive
alive
rise.
Loss of Identity
Generation after generation
They shared the land given to them
Children were born
Elders died
All on the land given them in the Dreamtime
Time passed
Unwelcome visitors came to give them aid
They did not ask for the help
They did not need the help
Those people never wanted to change
But change was forced upon them
Schools taught new ways
Erased the lessons of the time before
Those who didn’t change were punished
They were killed for their beliefs
Now, their villages sit quiet
Closed by the people who claimed to help them
The lessons taught by the elders are long gone
The kids no longer play in the bush
The homes of uncounted generations are gone
Stories of the elders are no longer told
Their culture has been destroyed
The people of the village no longer exist
Now, they could use our help
Help to be who they really are
Help to have their land
Their homes
Their culture
Their identities
Finally returned to them