Long Vaguely Poems
Long Vaguely Poems. Below are the most popular long Vaguely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vaguely poems by poem length and keyword.
It's been an odd dream, hasn't it?
I can taste my breath behind this mask
The sweet bitterness of cold brew and hazelnuts
As I run out to replenish my dwindling stock
And the masses cast their breath about
As what feels like the ninth Once-in-a-Lifetime event draws on
I amble about in the dreamscape that must bind me
It'd be too much to admit the virus won
And the base emotion of humanity is selfishness
It's been an odd dream, hasn't it?
Time to break the set down, that's a wrap
As I haul hundred-pound bags of gear down the stairs
Job well done, let's get a beer
But the celery with these wings is limp and pale
It had to be a dream, of course
A fairytale ending for a fairytale meeting?
It just wasn't to be, and thus the last time I packed our gear
Was the last time I packed our gear
It's been an odd dream, hasn't it?
"Do no harm," your oath declares
But where does that responsibility end?
An infantile dream for an infantile mind
How often do you remember your patients?
Thousands, if not tens of thousands
Must pass your eyes in the blink of an eye
If the son of a soldier died when you turned away
Would it even be vaguely your fault?
It's been an odd dream, hasn't it?
That spring would be nostalgic if it wasn't so bloody
Slaughtered dreams lay at our feet, nascent and raw
The setting sun had never felt that way before
As a dying honeybee foreshadowed the months to come
"I'll make it past this."
"There's something at the end of this tunnel."
"It'll all be worth it in the end."
"I can't give up here."
It's been an odd dream, hasn't it?
Good morning.
It's time to wake up.
Bad dreams again?
Get back in touch with your doctor, it's happening more often.
What did I gain by dreaming?
What would I have missed taking that plunge that day?
Are three video games and poverty wages all that can be mustered?
What stands to be lost returning to the skyline view seven years ago?
And what's to be lost finally seeing the view from halfway down?
Good morning.
When that mind of yours a vicious censor screams
“you can’t,“
every time you even vaguely contemplate some new adventure or perhaps that dream encounter,
you’ve been promising yourself and those you cherish,
to the point where even staunch social contacts start to wonder what’s going on deep down inside,
as golden junctures make their presence felt.
Be sure to reprimand this roguish ban on self-esteem,
say you are no longer having any of their nonsense, that the days for being obsequious are gone,
forever and beyond an infinitely lavish dispensation.
From this point on you are the captain of that ship which is your mind,
the crew which of course will be comprised entirely of a carefully selected band of pro-goal thoughts,
careful vet and check for just one purpose,
sole allegiance to your script,
those wishes leading to that wonderland enchantment you must always strive for,
the nirvana you deserve.
Things magical outside the normal human zone await one brave enough to spurn that loathsome inner bully known as doubt.
Date posted : 24th September 2021
I cycled across the river to Fort Lee
Then on the park roads under the Palisades
At the time it didn't occur to me
Undercliff Park didn’t come free; a man had paid.
I walked the carriage-road of Pocantico Hills
It was early, I saw cows and said "moo"
I vaguely heard of the man who paid the bills
So I could walk through fields, enjoy the view.
I hiked with my brother in Acadia Park
We pitched a tent on Mount Cadillac
High above the sea, lightning after dark
At sunrise, we high-fived, and put on our packs
I didn't know John’s spirit hovered there
The man who paid for all this land
A man who did more than his share
A believer, he made this his stand
Above Jackson Hole I rode my bike up high
Clouds dispersed, snow-peaks showed
I felt the rush, like an advance guard spy
John spent well, this was what he chose
John’s descendant Marion wanted revolution
So it could take away her money, deal with it better
Peggy Rockefeller joined SDS as a solution
Some rich kids see wealth as an iron fetter.
John Senior and John Junior, would they plea?
Be dismayed at the causes to which their money now goes?
Would John ask the fund’s new trustees
Not to fund radicals, and NGOs?
Maybe its intuition, that makes a man decide
But take a hike in the Smokies, or Yosemite and recall
In this kind of charity John took pride
An Idealist whose legacy still stands tall.
Now in Pocantico I wear a disguise
I’m full of shame, it’s true
Because whenever I come over a rise
Some kid laughs and points and says “Moo”!
I was young
But old enough to know better
We were rounded up
Determined to weed out the culprit
I sat quietly and poker faced
Holding my breath and dying inside
I wanted this inquisition
To be over but it dragged on forever
If I could hold on long enough
It would end at a standstill
And eventually be forgotten
I could never imagine
A scenario where someone
Might be wrongly punished
After all there was no evidence
But before I knew it
It had happened in front of my eyes
Accused and brutally spanked in an instant
Though blatantly innocent
In shock and utter disbelief
Convinced my belated admission of guilt
Would now be pointless
Too young to truly appreciate
The true value of
Clearing a person’s reputation
I ran up to my room and
Gasped for my first breath of stupor
I got away that moment
But have been paying ever since
I never admitted or asked for forgiveness
Seemed pointless through the years
Decades later
My brother
Would have said
It wasn’t important
It’s long forgotten
I know this because in some wimpy blurry recollection
I vaguely remember admitting it to him some fifty years later
Knowing full well it was too little too late
And his response was exactly as expected
Confirming my high opinion of his virtuous generosity
But fifty years later
My pointless admission seemed surreal
As though to amplify rather than to lighten that old regret
I didn’t deserve or want to ever forget
My very first true act of cowardice
AP: 1st place 2020
The End of Love
A secret grief rips apart all that was
Slaves to the sexual caresses of time
Stallions in black gallop gallantly in fields
Of spring full wishes
Thou seeith the birth of love
Naked hopes surrounded by sweet perfumes
Seduced by the gods or by demon fools
Dancing, towards our own charades we sing
Funerals consume autumn’s dead poets
The gravestone cold and gray
We hug it like a long lost friend
One may see a battle lost
The other a battle won
In November we reminisce the soldier and singers too
Didst you know I was a prostitute?
Selling my soul to the hourglass of eternity
Foolishly hoping to sleep upon her breast
Shivering as others seem to fall right at deaths door
Brimstone, black and rose
The underbelly of St Laurent
Youthful boasts as the old man in cane hobbles
Generations sailed down the main
Some seeking solace others finding fame
Vaguely the recollections appear
Visions inside dreams inside the darkest fears
The end of love is near
For the hand above is reaching
As I float to the end of time
Enchantment in the crypts
Ravens dancing as they consume our mortal
Hearts
No smiles, no sleep
Thou did knowest I’m surely certain
The dance of death
Only to be followed
By a piper
And angels violins
Rags and shrouds, kiss them all goodbye
Hallelujah
In Memory of Leonard Cohen, a fellow Montrealer, 21 September 1934 – 10 November 2016.
God made the earth with life waters 1
For ages, waters flowed in each spring
Each human had his own spring
Respected was the neighbor’s spring
Up and down ran the waters
At the start life waters were pure 6
And humans desired their lure
They wanted to taste the liquid
Just for the waters were limpid
Strange rains brought parasites
The leeches have stained the life waters’ color 11
They caused the waters generate odor
Still thirst pushed men to drink dirt
Their first need was to quench the thirst
At that time each man had his own life wells 15
Families fetched unpolluted water peacefully
Now as pits have hosted unsafe caterpillars
Men’s longing for that water has grown incredibly
Many still want to drink of it without suspicions
Today life waters are vaguely shared 20
Men are thirsty and want to drink
Of the water regardless it is infected
With bare body, they also vividly swim and sink
In the life sea they suspect contaminated
Beware of leeches spread in the ocean 25
Do not imperil your life for immersing
With no swimming coat for protection
But enjoy the innocuous soaking and swing
In your home’s safe pool for endless emotion. 29
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
When we were young and pregnant we were poor.
My husband had three jobs, and I was trying to conserve money.
He wanted me to buy some maternity clothes from a store.
I refused. Store-bought clothes are too expensive!
He insisted, but the clothes seemed way overpriced.
We went to a maternity shop and I was horrified at the prices.
He picked out some things and begged me to try them on.
I reluctantly bought two whole outfits, feeling guilty.
About two weeks later the shop lady called us.
“Congratulations!” She said. “You won the drawing.”
I vaguely remembered her begging me to enter the drawing.
I had won a baby bath; I thanked her and said I would come pick it up.
“Oh, honey, you cannot pick it up,” she told me.
“You have won a top-of-the-line brand new maple baby bed; a crib.”
I thought she had said “baby bath.” I was stunned.
Knowing now why she insisted I enter the drawing.
This was almost fifty years ago, and I have never forgotten this kindness.
When you held me, my eyes saw vision,
i quietly layed and prayed for your healing,
my heart was pounding out of my chest,
is this love mixed in with nervousness,
denying chance over and over again,
denying myself the right to happiness,
lightheaded i tried to gather my thoughts,
but as quick as they came were as quick as they were lost,
this vision of form that i vaguely could see,
matched identically to me,
and i saw myself instantly,
is this him or is this me?,
the shock froze my thoughts, my heart stood still,
i can not express in my heart what i feel,
i could not catch the words as fast as they ran,
as comfort filled my heart they didn't need to be said,
they knew no fear of a mistake,
they weren't scared of what not to say,
and in stillness as you held my hand,
peace caught my heart all over again,
I'm living my life,
Like a John Coltrane song,
Melodious dissonance,
All right and all wrong,
Sweet, structured chaos,
Each part takes a solo,
Then fades and steps back,
To play much more mellow,
Some think there's genius,
Others ask, 'What's the point',
Yearning for answers,
To resolve and anoint,
It goes and it goes,
My tapestry of travel,
Ideas, emotions,
With more to unravel,
And like most recordings,
It must come to a halt,
Imposing your thoughts,
To search for gesalt,
Let's listen again,
The one you just heard,
Focus attention,
To each note and each word,
Something vaguely familiar,
A known quantity,
Our entire existence,
Pure humanity,
Could be your song, not mine,
That plays on the waves,
With frequency and amplitude,
That everyone raves,
No song's more important,
The one before, or the next,
We all have our moment,
Our sacred context,
Each valued and special,
To contribute and play,
Influence and impression,
With joy and dismay,
So, put on the headphones,
Immerse the senses,
Close your eyes and depart,
To a world without fences,
This malleable melody,
Still constitutes form,
At times, rather chilly,
And others, lukewarm,
But, listen and listen,
Stop and rewind,
Messages rampant,
Cause to remind,
This is my purpose,
This is my song,
Don't know where I going,
But know where I belong.
(6/18/98)
Darkness seeps down the rooftops
Into the old, dark town—I stop
And listen to the calming rain
For a moment forgetting about the pain
I vaguely remember who died here
As the darkness releases a bitter tear
I pause and watch the hefty rain
For once forgetting that I am insane
She is beautiful—I can feel her
As my hands reach out into the blur
Her long white gown seeps in the rain
The gown she would wear…never again
The place is named The Town of the Past
And here I know my soul will last
Though not dead I can smell the rain
Of lost ones and live ones that still remain
She reaches out to me—how strange!
And in her eyes I see a change
Her heartbeat dances with the rain
STOP! —I close it in a box and pray:
Please
Rest in peace all of you dead
And may the rain cease
On the ground you once tread
I promise you all—you will tread on it again