Long Unpack Poems
Long Unpack Poems. Below are the most popular long Unpack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unpack poems by poem length and keyword.
My Agoraphobia.
In 1983 you came back into my life.
Bringing me nothing, but trouble and strife.
You kept me a prisoner in my own home.
When all I longed for, Was to go out alone.
You caused me pain, you made cry,
I felt so ill, I thought I would die.
From doctor, to doctor, from pillar to post.
Where o where, is the cure I wanted the most?
Where exactly does the answer lie?
Eventually I found it, in a doctor called Di.
She gave me the will to carry on and fight.
I fought so hard, with all of my might.
The shops in the village seemed so very far away.
If only I could go out, just for one single day.
I tried and tried, the tears, the pain,
It was a battle lose or gain,
I gave it everything, yes everything I had.
It wasn’t easy, in fact, it was very bad.
In 1990, after 7 long years,
A lot of heartache, many, many tears,
I was starting to win the battle of getting out the door,
With each day, I was doing more and more,
But there was still so many things that I couldn’t do alone.
Still so many jobs, that had to be done on the phone.
I could now walk to the shops, there and back,
get the groceries, take them home, and unpack,
But I still couldn’t get a bus into town on my own,
only if I had someone to go with, borrowed, on loan.
It took several more years, of heartbreak and pain,
Before I could finally travel alone again.
May 2nd 2000, I jumped on a bus and popped into town,
It was just like my world had been turned upside down.
HERE WAS I FREE AT LAST,
Finally free to forget the past.
So I decided to do something I had never done before.
I started at college part time, each day I couldn’t wait to get out of the door,
To catch my bus, to feel like I had finally rejoined the human race.
Living life at a hectic pace.
Going to college at the age of 53,
Really did do wanders for me.
The computer course was harder than I thought it would be,
but others in the class helped me.
Our tutor was really nice,
Always ready with good advice.
Now I really feel I have turned my life completely around,
With this new freedom I have found.
With a lot of help, from my husband and son,
The battle is over, finally won.
So its goodbye agoraphobia you belong in the past,
Never again will you get me in your grasp.
This is a true poem of my own battle with Agoraphobia, That robbed me of a lot of my life,
Let me jump into your river run rich as Euphrates.
Let me lay in your tall grass valleys nestled between two hard black mountain peaks,
where I
Can drink up the sunrays.
And Black up my Brown and Brown up my Light.
Somewhere between them rolling black hills is where your thick bush hides the cool
crystal
streams.
I sip your fruit plants sweet cocoa milk and look up into your skies sunrays.
It ricochets off the smooth chocolate black trees that support your voluptuous magnolia
bloom
The wind blows and your flower bounces and quakes, fanning its sweet aroma through the
Atmosphere,
Sweeping those soft fluffy pedals across my face.
I smile
And you Black up my Brown and Brown up my Light.
In the arms of the soft black cavern, under the river’s waterfall, I make my home.
It’s a heart of paradise embracing me.
Inviting me in.
I hear the water passing over, throbbing and pulsing in sync with mine.
I suck berries at the foot of the open fields.
That sweet oil black juice dances down my mouth.
Every fluid filled bite overflows in my lips and runs down the side to drip slowly from
my chin.
I look up into your skies and stars look down and speak my name.
The moon moans. The womb of man is this woman
She alone can Black up my Brown and Brown up my Light.
Then ever so gently the leaves pull back and open up her vast and succulent fields
I slowly crawl into her pastures then firmly and stiffly begin to dig up her soil.
Turning over her rich black earth.
Toiling day and night tilling her meadows,
Unearthing her treasures buried below.
The constant pounding and packing up a full load;
Breaking into new ground.
Cracking the topsoil and penetrating her nutritious moist and sticky fertile turf.
Never has the earth been split like this to uncover her deepest mysteries.
Next I unpack my deepest confidence and my strongest statues.
Then with my tool, through the moist and milky mass, I scoop out a deep warm hole to plant
My dreams.
Packing and pushing it deep in the soggy substance, time and time again until….
The thunder cracks this empress’ tempest
The earth contracts. Fear collapsed.
And here and only here,
I Black up my Brown and Brown up my Life!
Form:
Asleep before the head hits the pillow
Head filled with vivid colors swirling, amassing, mixing outside the lines
Transgressions grow skyward like a bean stalk becoming a giant
Worries wander aimlessly like a cat in the night looking for a spoon
Hurts pound again, and again, first a drumstick then a sledge hammer
The kaleidoscope of confusion rotates ever faster, bed spins counter
Places cannot be escaped
Faces stare as if clothes have been robbed
Running, Flying, Drowning, Suffocating, Garbling Words, Can’t Breath,
Slow Motion, Falling, Insatiable Hunger, Unquenchable Thirst, Blood Stained, Shouting
Loaded Down, Frantically Searching Pockets, Hidden Underneath, Forgotten
Fear. All fears. Nothing but fear. Afraid. Regret. Worry. I didn’t. I really did!
Each day we pack our pockets. Cram our purses. Load our backpacks
Hang needless objects and things around our necks, over our shoulders, in the crux of our elbows, on our belts
Grip suitcases. Carry stuffed plastic grocery bags on each knuckle. Waddling to the side of the bed before crashing head on
Unknowingly still pinching the key between our left thumb and pointer finger
Hitting the bed with a massive crash
every part of the day strewn around the room like a devastating mid air explosion of a 747 littering debris, miles and miles of destruction, charred remnants, unidentifiable and randomly placed objects, out of place, disfigured, often never found
Before your head hits the pillow
Drop the things you picked up today
Take a load off
Free yourself of your burdens
Neatly set everything aside
On second thought, just pile it and let it lay where it falls
Drop your yoke
Sit down on the foot of the bed with God
Hand Him the things you still cling within sweating red fists
Briefly Examen your day
Fall asleep on His shoulder
He will gently lay your head on the pillow, loft your feet off the floor, and tuck you in.
Let Him carry your burdens, lighten your load, unpack, empty your pockets, wash your laundry, even sort and match the socks.
Travel to sleep lightly and peacefully dreaming of a new day
carrying nothing but what is truly needed.
II.
Carmen had no other family left,
and said,”I guess I can give it a try.”
Her mother beamed. “I live in Miami,
I’ll pay for some movers to come by!”
That was how Carmen found herself living
in the guest home of her mother’s mansion,
it was almost as large as her old house,
but was much more ornate and well-done.
The first day Fileena was hugs and smiles,
she helped Carmen unpack all her things,
before she left, she said,”I’m so excited!
Tomorrow I’ll show you where you’re working!”
When morning came they drove down in a Benz,
Carmen expected to see a large office,
but Fileena pulled up to an aging warehouse,
said,”Doesn’t look like much, but here it is.”
Inside they passed stacks of packaged powder
as they walked to her mom’s office suite,
Carmen said,”Mom, what do you do here?”
Fileena said,”Isn’t is obvious, sweety?
“Not an ounce of product passes this town
without first being shunted my way,
and given how this country is going
it’ll be legalized one of these days.
“That’s what I intend to pass on to you,
when the time comes for me to retire,
you’ll want for nothing, the riches you’ll have,
most people for their whole lives just aspire.”
Carmen said,”This is a lot to take in…
it’s all come as such a big surprise.
Can I maybe go home and think about it?”
Said Fileena,”Sure hon, take your time.”
Carmen did not go straight to the guest house,
she spent hours wandering about to think
about her few choices, the gravity of it all…
should she go along, or call the precinct?
She puzzled over it a great deal that day,
weighing her situation and her hopes,
she went to the mansion early the next morn,
said,”Mom, I want you to show me the ropes.”
Fileena smiled, and they spent the whole day
moving around the warehouse on a tour,
half-way through said Fileena,”In coming years,
I’m going to teach you about so much more.”
Carmen saw everything she need to,
she saw the basement where the product was made,
saw the chemists hired by Fileena
to specialize the drugs by their grades.
She saw the dealers as they came in,
to give Fileena her cut, and resupply,
she even met the thugs who reminded folks
that to cheat Fileena was to die.
Common American Phrase: Suck it up, Buttercup
I shudder and shake with epinephrine as the needle stings inside my cheek, like a bee stings. I’m not a child, I’m a buttercup. The shaking rattles me but I relax until the next invasive… I see a bright light, though very much alive. Wearing glasses to protect my eyes. I close them so I can pray, and try not to pay too much attention to the two surgeons over me. A tooth distraction…a true extraction. The enemy must go, but the battle is strong as are my bones. Good news that grips the root. What’s going on, I can only hear the drill and my droughty lips feel like they are going to split. This is about an hour's procedure, it seems an eternity. The beginning was cold. I’m a retiree who hardly goes out, anymore, in the early morning. Georgia in March was a balmy twenty nine degrees fahrenheit. Hardly an inspiration to get up to have an operation. “Let’s not,” head says but wisdom knows, I must. I bundled up then stripped down as the car warmed up. After going through the ringer, I climb back in my car, and drive another twenty minutes and wait for prescriptions, hoping the pain won’t pop. Then one more stop for another that is cheaper in Publix…the needed antibiotic, Amoxicillin. Sometimes, you feel like you're in a nightmare where you can’t get back home. Patience is called for with a patient. The last couple of miles, I feel as though I’m on a bicycle. Even home, I have to unpack the meds, read the instructions then relax for a couple days, and realise I’m still on that hike…more waiting to eat and drink normal things.
Complaining…perhaps…or merely composing a poetic epitaph. After all, when I was laid back in the dentist’s chair, my jaw being held by the dental assistant, feeling I was inches from being choked to death, I was already writing this in my head, but not at all in the mood to pedal my fingers on the keyboard until these many days later, having been laid out in my wake for those many pain killer days. Don’t think me morbid, perhaps a bit Poe or prosaic. I feel swell…well swelling is down. It’s all downhill from here…that is a good thing. I may even pop a wheelie.
3/17/2023
Pack his suitcase,
say goodbye.
Tears don't even
reach my eye
"Come back safely.
Do take care."
Then he's gone, and
I'm left there
Give a smile, and
don't complain
What's the use?
Just bear the pain
Hours of empty,
voiceless time!
Countless trips
should be a crime.
Time to clean, for
he'll be back.
All I've left
is paltry snack.
Home a while then
off again
It's his job
to save from sin
Pack his suitcase,
then unpack.
There's no way
to get time back
Special times just
gone amiss.
Rushed goodbyes,
and hurried kiss
Weeks and months,
yes, years go by.
Getting old,
and soon I'll die
When I'm gone
I'll be at rest
No pack/unpack
No empty nest
Let another
stay behind;
someone else
he's sure to find,
but I know that
she'll complain.
He won't go
to keep her sane
I hope one day
he'll come to see
what he did
was cruel to me
Lonely days that
merged to nights.
Sighs and tears...
It was not right
Too late he'll know
he broke my heart.
Those trips he took?
That time apart?
Broke me, killed me,
stole my life
"Work is second!
First is wife!"
The simple truth
he could not see.
Now there's nothing
Left of me.
Eileen Manassian
In way of explanation: both my husband and I work for our church organisation, and he has a leadership role which necessitates travel to the countries in the Middle East and North Africa. He has to travel. It's part of his job description, but it doesn't make it any easier for me, especially since I work full time and am a caregiver to my 88 year old dad who had alzhiemers. If we want to get retirement benefits, we need to keep working for the organisation, so... there is that. I'm just tired of it.. that's all. I've been alone so many times...depression sets in before he travels and while he's away. It's been this way for years. I read him the poem today :(. He knows I'm posting it. To be fair... he's cut down on some of it because of my mental health. There is a spouse allowance for travel, but the timing doesn't coincide with my teaching scedule and I can't leave dad anyway. This is just a angst filled reflection on how it feels to be lonely.
Vacation Contest
Sponsor: Lin Lane
The sweet fragrance of tall palms swaying in the breeze,
brought continuous harmony into our hearts,
The smell of contentment spread as far as the eye can see,
This was our anticipated honeymoon, we were never apart.
We had been through way too much as a young adults. Our vows were made and we stepped off the plane quickly entering a world of tranquility and peace. Kauai was our paradise. This was our destination far away from the life we left behind. It was on the other side of the world. Our honeymoon was anticipated for months, and we were finally there. We couldn't unpack fast enough, for all we wanted to do was dip our toes in the soft sands of the Pacific ocean. It had streaks of cerulean and light green. I saw beauty in each pebble as the waters floated up amicably. The warm breeze showered a gentle mist through my body. I had never felt that way before. The tides gently flowed up to my knees tickling my legs....
sweet scents of palm trees
tender mist sprays through my soul
peaceful Kauai
On a tour we drove around the massive volcano Mauna Loa. It has a peak reaching almost three miles high.They have been formed over the last seventy million years. To see the eruption of lava was an amazing sight for sore eyes. I witnessed the red flow of the volcano dripping down into a hole to the core of the earth. As we drove up to the cliff, my stomach dropped to the ground. The depth of the Waipoo Falls was entrancing. I was hypnotized feeling a sense of magical desperation longing to fly freely into the blue. I saw such tender beauty in Kauai. We deserved this honeymoon after all we had been through. There we were, on an island created only for love. The intimacy was delicate and our passion for each other drove my mortality crazy.
volcano of love
together in paradise
honeymoon island
Believing we can share such a deep desire for a vacation
Engulfed into the magic an island can freely give
Nature so beautiful, bringing natural elation
Watching the warm waters is so seductive.
~Date Written: February 8, 2016~
As we approached the ice bergs our ship seemed tiny
they towered high above us as we crept into the bay
we could see the Eskimo's and their sleigh's waiting
now we would complete the next few legs with them
Our goal is to reach and set up camp at the North Pole
loading our supplies onto the sleigh's and getting on
soon we were speeding along, the ground very bumpy
clinging on, ducking branches as they whip back and forth
A wonder world of pristine white and hues of various blues
only broken up by the line of trees glinting brightly green
large ravines off to the side, one slip and you would be gone
to a cold icy grave buried forever in this lost icy world of snow
Onwards over the harsh landscape, we need to reach camp
before its dark, to unpack what's needed for overnight stay
light a campfire settle and feed the husky's waiting patiently
cook and eat our food as we share a few beers and some jokes
All too soon its dawn, temperature is -20% we have to break
things free from the ice, before we can eat and pack up
husky's are linked up and ready, what a din they are making
so excited to get going, this is now the final stage before the pole
We fly down barely noticeable trails that twist and wind slurry
left behind us, half a days travel left not too far to go now
some we leave the tree line behind, in front nothing but snow
ice bergs so big you could lose a couple of houses inside them
At last we see the buildings ahead and people pouring out
they will return to their own lands until it is time to relieve us
six months we will be here recording data about weather
and other things, watching polar bears and noting their habits
All this just for some insight and some data that will get buried
as for us well we have the open space, the freezing cold
each other to help past the long nights, day is only 6 hours
18 hours of dark, and fearsome storms that will be our lot
Cut off now until spring returns and the reindeer return
they have wintered far to the south now coming back
they will give birth here on the icy plains of endless snow
and we will return to so called civillization until next year
The
old house
from my memories
opens to a wide porch
adorned by mom with her
loving touch.Herbs,flowers
swayed to caressing breeze
Lilies in pink, roses in blue
and bougainvilleas that
blushed in lilac hues.
Green tulsi shrubs
tended with care.
Ah! leaves that
flavored
our tea.
They
were
laced
by a
fence
with a
sweet aroma
from tendrils
curling bluebells
intertwined in mesh.
The fragrant jasmine,
she sang to them
and put one in
her wavy hair.
Spring bloomed them to full moon. Monsoons brought a divine petrichor
that made us breathe the heavenly aroma of her love. She taught me
to care for them under the Mahogany tree that enveloped them from
raging heat. She worshipped her nursery like her own kids. Every
evening, dad used to share his stories watching the rosy blush.
On moonlit nights, we stargazed lying on the grassy bed and
listened to old songs on radio. I had built a corner of three
bricks to keep my favorite books to bloom and read them
on lazy noon with cuckoo's songs breathing intermingled
scents. When we left that house, the garden lived for
someone else. My mom had wished they would care
for it like she did. I packed my old books to move on.
Now years later, far from mom, when I miss my garden
of bliss, I unpack those books that still release scents of
roses and jasmine drenched and dancing, releasing soothing
petrichor. For a love so deep shall bless me now in my kitchen
garden, confined to few flowers. That love still blooms with those
books as I inhale the fragrance of those foregone days. Like I carry
my mother's essence in everything I am, the divine garden of that heaven
from my memories and the eternal fragrance of mother gleaming, lives on.
~ To the garden where I wrote my first poem
stammered, “Because, if Brian ran away, I saw him earlier today, downtown! And
he bought me an ice cream cone! And we talked and were even laughing at a joke
I’d just told! He was all dressed up and I asked him where he was going all
dressed up on a Saturday. He just laughed and said that, he was on an errand and
he was going back home. He said that he would see me later. Then I said that I
would come by to tell him about the trip. We said good bye and he walked away!
Papa’s face turned to stone as he starred in silence, and poor Thomas just stood in
that spot like a statute. My oldest sister or someone asked him what kind of
clothing Brian was wearing. He answered that Brian was wearing a grey suit, white
shirt and a burgundy bow tie! He described the outfit down to the shoes Brian
wore. With that said, Papa, wide-eyed called was rising out of his chair in slow
motion as he called out to Mama to come and hear this. Slowly, his tall frame stood
in silence. Those were the exact clothes that Brian was buried in. There is no way
Thomas could have known what kind of clothing Brian had been buried in because;
his parents weren’t at home when he returned from camp. He had returned much
earlier than was expected. He didn’t unpack his bags, being in a hurry to get to the
store downtown as they closed early on Saturdays. After, he would go and visit
Brian to share about the trip. Brian’s burial clothes were all new and made by the
local tailor! Thomas ran out of the house and my Father ran after him. The grieving
had begun all over again. We never did see our dog, Blackie again. The following
year we moved away. I am grateful for memories because even though my brother
Brian died long ago, I still remember his handsome face, even his voice, the way he
walked, his beautiful smile, and the many times he would carry me up on his
shoulders to safety in escaping from an abusive uncle.
Next time I see my brother Brian, we will be together again, this time forever.