Long Understand Poems
Long Understand Poems. Below are the most popular long Understand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Understand poems by poem length and keyword.
A tribute to a friend. Happy Valentines Day!
This Valentines Day , I think of you
All that you did with me, so very true
Authenticity is precious, like a gem
It's important as a flower's stem
With you, anyone knew where they stand
You would say it how it is and understand
No circles, no guessing, no blame to endure...
Even disagreements would help cure
A lost soul and pain of a broken heart
- It was like that from the start -
You passed away suddenly so long ago,
but you still breathe through me in a flow
It carries on and on, this is what I know
Gratitude never fades for all that we had
So, I choose happiness today instead of sad
Heidi Sands
2/14/26
(C)opyright
Almost as natural as when the wind blew
Almost as close when I am to feel
Against a nakedness beneath if I knew
For a reason remains when striped is to be real
In a world when I haven’t the place
I live therein forgetting myself too soon
Of dreams to be an ever to forever chase
Haven’t I the life in dire need of fortunes?
However today... some self I have come to find
Some self to once again once more realize
A rediscovering perhaps evermore left behind
Yet a discovery as slowly as surely... dies
And as true as my form had since begin
I try to understand the need for an entrapment
Yet to find no result for an ultimatum to mean
And bearing untrue will I secure my retirement
Today... I felt the wind blew
Closer then I would like to feel
Blowing away a self I knew
And once more shall I begin as real
The ugly American likes waving the flag.
And dissing what he doesn’t understand.
He’s scared of change and threatened by intelligence,
But says he’s only honoring his clan.
The ugly American can’t think for himself.
He follows the herd spreading rumors and fear.
He’s a self-taught gomer, and a sucker for conmen
Who always tell him what he's eager to hear.
The ugly American is an immature child.
He wants to live in the past as though those days were gold.
He’d have worshiped Father Coughlin, and Kingfish Huey Long.
Now he champions a modern demagogue.
The ugly American doesn’t need to rob banks,
Molest little children or murder his wife.
All he needs to do is keep his head in the sand
To see the consequences of an unenlightened life.
The ugly American never looks in the mirror.
He prides himself on honoring his roots.
If he saw his reflection, he’d be faced with the fact
That he's as useful now as worn-out cowboy boots.
The ugly American likes waving the flag,
And dissing what he doesn't understand.
Daughters
With all the love I have for you both !
Mandy Lynn, Melanie Lee .
Love Dad !
My Pretty, little, Sweet, Delicate Butterflies,
spread your newborn wings, fly high, into the skies,
far above moms threats, screams and hostility,
to peaceful dreams in the lands of tranquility,
where – in your young, impressionable minds eyes –
you may not know the fear, coming from your nightly cries.
To turn ?, - what to do – I know not - where,
as all I seem to do, is sit back, worry and sigh.
As I live in my little world of despair,
where – for me –nothing for you two seems fair,
as I look through sad brown eyes and cry.
I hope you will never know, in depth, what it is to be sad,
only to know what it is to be happy and to be glad
are the dreams and desires of your old, tired, troubled dad
who’s nightmares linger on into the light of day and are far too sad
for my two little Ones, who’s lives I fear, will turn out bad.
My heart constantly aches, weeps blood for you two,
yet there seems little else, this is all I seem to do.
As you get older, wiser and continue to grow,
I hope you will understand and get to know
that this is all your mother and I knew how to show
- what nurturing and our nature did create -,
and how we expressed and lived with our fate.
I know that this may be of little comfort, these words I state,
but I do hope ?, you know that it is the best we could love
and I hope that you both will – like the Phoenix – rise above !
Love dad .
Winter of 1988/1989
The past
Fifteen years have gotten lost in the passage of time,
but not the thoughts and feeling of long ago.
For the words of then, are of lives – not so sublime –
that became the lives we have – today - come to know.
Lives that have made a reality, made of those words a truth
and years and years of troubled, wasted youth
that has brought into our lives, times lost,
and great losses to us all - at a great cost !
B. J. “A” 2
November 20th 2003
Now
What existed then – “ The Past ” – has come to an end.
My girls – now- have come back to being a friend.
They have, once again, become family, part of the whole.
The greatest thing in this life, one could want to know !!!
B. J. “A” 2
June 6th 2014
NineTs and One step were defined by the Law as they saw it.
As to remain hidden a knowledge so they spun it and again a quarter turn
to ensure us, Care of the Keepers, in Time we trust.
Regardless of the challenges given us, there are knowing eyes in the Universe....
Watching Time as we translate to Cure.sive. There is purpose, a pure save in a hidden cave
and soon we'll come to know this. They wrote in the stones to show it. Created earthly tones
in a row for us.
A record of bones, but the knowledge of a men aborted, when a calculated error reported
that Time was to fast. Meant to repeat an error of past was the rumor they wrote in a Book.
This was observed when the Dead came to Look. And so they stayed. Made note of the Day and
a beat was created in rhyme. Then aLion was drawn as the fabric of Time leaving open a
door, in the magic sands.
There she stands. Great Sphinx on the land holding a tomb in the palm of her hand. Waiting
patiently as we learn to understand. Looking ever aware through Time and the Space left
there. Guarding ever with care a color of horizon in the depths of Her stare.
She stood through the troubles of Earth, guarding our knowledge of the bubbles we thirst.
And to guard a womb She appeared on first to brighten our Moon, a living creature of Life
that shines in the Knight shes known.
Pi.Man was left a trail of crumbs. And so, four are the message, sublime we spun and came
undone the knowledge of a rhyme. As given in Love, we're here to play.... for the Over Time.
For the four you fear, know another Four here...
We're the Ones who drew a Line and the Rose was given in the sky to remind.
Jupiter, set to protect.
And SO shall be awake, is the Father.
Form:
I stood on the bridge looking at the river below.
A strange-looking man came up to me and said “hello,
“Do you know where I’ll be able to find a job here?’
That is what the strange man asked me in a voice quite clear.
I said, “I don’t really know. I don‘t live very near.”
The way the man looked at me gave me a little fear.
He heard what I said, and then began to walk away.
However, I would meet that man again that same day.
The day in Wisconsin was quite hot that September.
The man I saw was heavily clothed, I remember.
I was relaxing; stretched on the grass when he appeared
the second time that day. The scenario was weird.
Not looking straight at me, he seemed to sense my presence.
He was a big man with some burgeoning corpulence.
Perspiring heavily, he would not take off his shirt.
As he spoke again, he seemed emotionally hurt.
“I haven’t held a good job in nearly forty years.”
The way this man spoke to me rekindled all my fears.
“Mind if I keep you company a little today?
I’ve been on the road a long time with no place to stay.
It’s Labor Day, the height of the carnival season.
Not one of them will give me a job for some reason.”
“What seems to be the trouble?” I asked him politely.
He said nothing. He unbuttoned his shirt quite slowly.
With his eyes closed, he would answer me somnolently.
“I hope to perspire enough, and have them all wash off.
I’ve been hoping the sun would burn me, and they’d cook off.”
With his shirt removed, he asked me if they were still there.
I responded, “Yes they are”, and could not help but stare.
Skin illustrations made their appearance everywhere.
He told me, “My appearance is enough to frighten.
So, I wear this shirt especially around children.
They follow me on the roads with curiosity.
However, they are all filled with fright when they see me.
I know this seems to you to be a very strange thing.
These things are staying on me; it all keeps on going.
I am this way all over. I hope you understand.”
He opened his fist to reveal a rose on his hand.
It looked so real; yet it was just a mere illusion.
His body was a pervasive colorful fusion.
There were all sorts of images in three dimension.
I said “They’re beautiful”. It was not my intention.
To be continued
Based on the short story "The Illustrated Man" by Ray Bradbury
HEY STROKE TIME TO FIGHT
I didn’t give up
Yes, you made me tired of trying
But now I’m rested
Now I’m ready to improve more
Ready to keep going to 100%
Hey Stroke, time to fight
Love the challenge
You are a competitor
OK I’ll play
You’re on defense
Me versus you
Hey Stroke, time to fight
My first play is not in your book
I love people
I love life, even with the Stroke
You can’t beat what you don’t understand
Hey Stroke, time to fight
I read everything about you
Progress being made to fight you
My gains are slow
But they still come
Hey Stroke, time to fight
Discouragement, not going to happen
I will not be discouraged
I will win, you will lose
Stroke friends always encourage me
And I encourage them to fight you
You got some of them worse
But they fight their fight
Hey Stroke, time to fight
For those who believe
My biggest weapon everyone doesn’t have
You choose not to
I prefer to
Prayer to God for strength,
Understanding, determination
Last the discipline to fight
Against you and other life obstacles
The game is big
Thank you, God, for holding my hand
Hey Stroke, time to fight
Amen
After retiring from our country’s military service a couple stopped in the bookstore…a couple I was proud to meet…they were thinking of moving back to Florida but, given the current political climate, were afraid to walk together down the street.
My heart went out to meet there’s…I shared their feeling…felt bereft…which makes me, if you listen to the people responsible for their pain, a member of the radical left.
Of course with vitriol they misuse this term…in the same way they misuse woke…hoping the hatred they feel…their prejudice…will that same hatred and prejudice in their followers evoke.
From where I stand as I watch what they’re doing with a mixture of anger, shock and sorrow…let me tell you about the world I envision…the one I’d like to leave for the children of tomorrow:
It’s a world I don’t see as radical…for how can anyone object to a world where we treat all its creatures with dignity and respect.
A world where we concentrate on peace not war…where people are taught to think!
Where the environment is cherished…where the air we breathe is pure and our water safe to drink.
Where all guns are not banned…where we understand everyone is not a threat…
but where mental health assistance is easier to obtain and guns…much harder to get.
Where inserting ourselves into any woman’s right to choose is considered a mistake
only family, friends and doctors need to be involved in one of the most heart wrenching decisions she will eve have to make.
Where all our history is taught…all our wonders as well as the atrocities we’ve inflicted on our people and our land…Where if a parent doesn’t want their child to read a book that’s fine…but where no book is ever banned.
Where people don’t have to believe in a God…or if they do they can choose any God above…where we look into the eyes of those we don’t know with curiosity, kindness and love.
Where no-one is ostracized for who they are or how they look…seen as inappropriate or incomplete…where everyone feels safe and secure walking down the street.
This is the world I envision and I shall not apologize to those who label me the radical left…
This is the world I will stand up and fight for…even if…or when…I…am the only radical left.
Always Friday has been
my favorite day;
not Saturday with
its frantic pace,
or Sunday with Monday's
anticipation,
but Friday with
Saturday's full potential
awaiting, like
standing at the door
of Westminister Abbey,
not having any idea
what will lie on the
other side but
feeling it will be grand.
But when inside it is
too much, too complicated
with its high arching
ceilings, too high
to make out the fine details.
When you were away,
Wanting you was wonderful,
imagining a chance meeting,
a close warmth behind me
and I would turn and
smell your heat
not touching but standing
so close my nipples swell and
stretch to you with longing.
But then you came back and
Watching you drink
and watching you sleep,
I knew there was something there
I didn't understand like the
fine details in the high arches
of the cathedral and my
Friday dreams were flattened
in the dull thud of Saturday's
lost potential.
This is what it's like
An expectation, a storm
Grey and black, blue and white
A disaster, chaos
Death and Pain
Innocent, before it turns
Goes over and transforms
Oh, the pain of existing
A never-ending circle
Meaningless
Empty
Words that hide
This very fact,
To distract the mind
From the real question
Like a ghost, it haunts me
Keeping me up at night
What is the point?
Of everything?
It leads up to nowhere
All for nothing
On and on and on
Forever?
Who knows?
Not you
By far
Listening to your thoughts
Thinking there is a point
That it's worth it
No judgement here
Just the fact that
Your eyes are closed
You have chosen to be
Blind, deaf even
Stick your head in the sand, as they say
Thoughts that don't go far
Except those that know
That understand
I can't be the only one
I refuse to believe it
Just as they do
Form: