Long Unvisited Poems
Long Unvisited Poems. Below are the most popular long Unvisited by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unvisited poems by poem length and keyword.
They really don't know me.
My existence doesn't affect them.
Unseen on the crowded streets.
Just another passing breeze.
A name not even carelessly whispered.
Just another number.
I'm falling through the cracks.
An echoless scream resounds in my ears.
And so it goes for years and years.
The same unvisited house.
Never noticed at the end of the street.
Where curtains of iron protect;
From intruders who never come.
The unpainted mailbox,cocooned in cobwebs.
Houses the loveletters yet to be sent.
Near the unmarked grave;
In a lonely plot embedded in weeds.
Where the flowers are invisible just like me.
1874….
The spectacularly lacey ferns rose up and fluffed themselves as self-appointed front-drops to the hidden cave.
Thus insuring this scene would remain a secret, secluded, unvisited spot for the next four or five hundred years, having no idea both parents had found this spot when they were his age.
2286…
A young girl with long curly hair, brown eyes, splashes of freckles, and curiosity a yard long re-discovered his Magic Cave, only she named it “Twinkle Pretty Cave.”
Neither realized that this cave in the back forty acres of their relatives’ property was always discovered by twelve and a half year olds. And especially never realizing that she would soon forget “Twinkle Pretty Cave” existed
The cave only showed itself to twelve and a half year olds, but when they turned 15 or drank their first drop of alcohol, whichever came first, they would promptly forget it, as it was a childhood place.
The cave laughed, thinking of all the twelve and a half year olds that were to keep coming, because they never stopped. They had been coming ever since she could remember. And they would just keep coming.
Imagine if this was my last poetry poem contest
My creative juice would drink itself!
I'd find myself staring wistfully into an engulfing abyss.
I'd title my last contest poem, "Creative Death"
If this was my last poetry contest poem,
Well, I don't even want to think about it!
I'd be banging on the keyboard with both hands,
exclaiming "Why!? Why!? Why!?"
If this was my last poetry contest poem...
"Now what? Hell if I know!" is what I would say.
More poems of mine would slip through the cracks
unread and unvisited like a barren no man's land!
If this was indeed my last poetry contest poem
"Good heavens! Say it ain't so!" I'd scream incredulously!
Would my poetry output slow to a crawl?
What becomes of flood of inspiration then?
Hmm....
If This Was My Last Poetry Contest Poem Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by Silent One
Dates written: 07/17/2020
Go to where the air runs thinnest
where snow leopards stalk granite paths
where prayer flags slap cherry-faced spirits
where nature is conceived... unforgiving
go to where the air is thinnest-
Go to where hearts caress the clouds
mountain goats walk the path of dirtbag ghosts
Where oxygen is more cherished than gold
Where visions tumble from red-knuckled clouds
into rucksacks of the wizened who've earned them.
Go to where grandfather blizzard is unforgiving
Go to where the air is thinnest.
Go far away from where you're at now.
Far from the riotous and caliber crowds.
Go to where the visions are clearest.
Where mountaintops go unvisited.
Where rewards are measured in star-dusted breaths.
Where nature dances under blue avalanche.
Go to where the air is thinnest... and live!
I. Creation
Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests,
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.
Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.
II. A Home all Your Own
In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating
An eerie starry night
To you alone
In a home all your own.
III. Repent to your inner child
To regain a solid footing on the gun deck
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam,
Hearken lessons from the playground,
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body.
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited.
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor
In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.
Form:
I viewed them the spring before – robins in our grass
and swallows flying circles around the front of the house.
Weeks later I spied their nests -
the swallows’ under an eave of our garage
and the robins’ hidden in a cluster
of our pear tree’s lovely green boughs.
I wish to have seen the eggs the robins surely laid,
but their nest was too high up.
The swallows’ nest intrigued me more,
for I was able to easily witness the hatchlings’ progress.
Periodically the parent birds came to feed them.
Eagerly I’d step off my porch when I saw the parents
swooping down and then soaring back to the sky.
Sometimes they whizzed close by my head as if to scold me
for my curiosity in their offspring; I was a trespasser on my own land.
Next year I will await them, but I think they will not return.
Always the robins return, but knowing swallows as I do. . .
their last year’s nest is sure to sit
lonely and unvisited.
Nov. 24, 2019 for Craig Cornish's "Last Year's Nests" Poetry Contest
(this actually happened several years ago, and the swallows never returned)
we gathered lilacs
you&I
in that faroff land
distant
now uninhabited
unvisited
'cept by memories
those days so real
more real then
than this today
seen through a veil
yet
still indelible
imprinted forever
hardwired for easy recall
age has not aged
who we were then
passion
is not stilled in the breast
desire now
does not rest
but stirs
we drink at that fountain
of yesterdays
when
we were young
&
this love of ours
had just begun
we wander&kiss
the same&
remenisce
of that faroff time
I
remain yours
&
you are still mine
By happenstance, I found you
And my once empty, sullen heart
Filled to the brim with ecstasy
Hurray for happy accidents!
Dismally sad and blue was I
One jet-black day, then I walked
Outdoors, and voila! A goldmine
In the sky...sunshine
I searched up and down
Terra firma for gold; tearing cobwebs
Out of long unvisited nooks and crannies
And I stumbled upon a glistening diamond
I perambulated through footpaths
Of life, just minding my business
Suddenly I unearthed a jewel
Touched by the gods...happiness
I treaded uncharted far-flung places
Along the way, I discovered an
Unsought hidden treasure...love
Hurray for happy accidents!
Date written: 04/05/2016