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Long Poems
Long poem by uriel wisdom | Details

I Am Who I Am

I Am Who I Am

Date: Wed, Dec 23 2015 at 8:11 PM

I don't wear no disguise
My True Self I can't hide
Without God I don't want to Rise
I like to look at the Storms Rage an Waves an its tides
I not Surprised of the Storm preys on my Demise
God is real and He's not far to find
I fight to win the ultimate prize
But this not a race between you and I
I can prove I'm not like these other guys
Light in me bright as the Sunrise
So I got to let my Sun Shine
But the Moon comes an tries to make the Sun Die
Life is a roller coaster but it's a fun ride
Just to ride it one time
I like to let my wings Skydive
An fly like an Eagle through the Cloud Smiles
If you want to fly with me be ready for the Clouds Vows
The Storm in this Life
No need to be afraid when the Thunder Sounds
Got to be Strong when Weak & Strife
Won't pay you to fly with me through the Nights
Cause I'm destined for great Heights
An we all destined in destiny's Sight
To meet her you will have to fight & Sacrifice
To choose live Right
 Use your God Given Gifts to Strike
Your Art from the Sparks
That you Draw
Life is like a See Saw
Still Unique from the feats of my Flaws
Come to my room you'll see all the Writings on the Wall
If God not clapping for me there's no need for a Applause
I take a Bow when I get Heavens Standing Ovation
I Mediate on Mountains right now I'm on the Appalachians
Just for Higher Meditation
At a Height of Elevation
Just to listen to my Higher Self for Revelations
The Evil & Good Thoughts that's Incinerating
I can feel negative energy when it's Waving
I Listen to the music in my heart an Listen to what it's saying
We can be Godly and Satanic
Show Love & Hate in the Same Formations
Off and On Manipulations
I'm chasing God & Greatness
I'll be damned if the devil take it
They say you got to fake it to make it
Nah I'm to be Patient & Dedication
With Concentration until the Conformation Confiscated
I'm too Thorough to Let Fakeness be my Acceleration
I'm Second Guessed but I don't agree with those Calculations
Or those Estimations
See here's the real Equation
I had to do Division & Multiplication
In my Circumference in my Radius
Trying to put my mark in the Pavement
From starting from the basement
To the Maintenance
To get to the highest level of the skyscrapers
I Thank God for all the Favors
An for Jesus being my Savior my Lifesaver
I see myself as the White Ranger
Fighting with my Light Saber
Against Dark Vador
Through his Dark Capers
I see the Dark Vapors
Alot of times I wish I had a Eraser
To Erase alot of unwanted choices
That made me Poison
Through my Voyage
I could of Avoided it
An Destroyed It
Instead I made an Appointment Visit
Still with my Ointment Anointment on me Written
But I'm to live with it
If you could feel what I feel it would be intensive
It's not over until God Say it is Finished
You can't see me Scars but my flaws in a Blemish
Respect for Who I Am with Suspicions from the Critics
I am still Well Winded
I don't need to fit in
I'm not a Chameleon
Cause I'm not Bending
An I'm not Blending
We is not Mixing
But I am a Chemist
When it comes to Inventing Inventions
An going through Dimensions
I write Riddles with Symbolism
You can Understand if you Encrypting Hieroglyphics
I'm a Spiritualist
I'm not Religious
But I Know God living
That's because we got a Kinship
You can learn if you study His Manuscripts
The Blueprints of why we Exist
I have Spiritual Gifts 
& Psychic Wit
I'm on a Psych Trip
Using the Vastness of The Mind Ticks
So I get to using Wisdom & Enlightenment
To Writing
To Release the Little Giant
To Release the Lion
To Breath out the Sirens
Inside My Mind Spiraling
Striking the Strings of The Violins
An Play the Music Inside That Spins

Copyright © uriel wisdom | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Shadow Hamilton | Details


Although born in Scotland I have no memories of there as we left when I was two.
My first recollections are of Las Palmos in the Canaries.
I recall the donkey passing daily and being told he  bites.
I was given a caterpillar and tended it, oh so carefully.
My mother when it was a cocoon persauded me to put it outside.

Well you can imagine my intense disappointment to find
that it had hatched and flown without me getting a single glimpse!!
This is the first disappoint in life that I faced. Our house had a flat roof 
with a lovely garden on top and in the distance an enormous tall chimney.

I remember our boxer Susie she was real crazy especially on the beach
and while breaking open sugur cane it slipped and cut me wide open
right between the right thumb and first finger. I was taken to the doctor
who would you believe? poured iodine into it, he wanted to stitch it too, but no way
was I letting that sadist anywhere near me again. I still bear the scar today.

I recall seeing a woman dressed in black perched atop of a towering cliff
when we were out in the car my sister saw her too. We had to turn back due to
landslides and she was gone, she also had a pointy hat did we see a witch?
I had a wonderful dolls house into which I could walk, yet I took all my dolls
apart to see how they worked I was such an inquisitive child.

At five we returned to England living very near Hampstead Heath and Parliament
Hill fields. One day when my mother walked me to school I entered to find not
a single soul present so I walked up to my Aunts as she lived very close.
Needless to say I got into a real heap of trouble from both school and mum.

I recollect an outing to Hampstead Heath there was a cafe surrounded by a
large hedge from which I could never find the way out. I ran ahead and
entered through the hedge only to find my parents nowhere to be seen.
Of course I could not find the way out back to the car. This couple found 
me and insisted on taking me to the police station four miles away I kept 
trying to tell them I only lived two streets down from the Heath, Grown ups!!!

I remember always wanting to speak Spanish and people refusing to answer me
telling me I had to speak in English Bah! I used to ride my tricycle up and
down five stairs mum always telling me I would fall. Well one day my sister
called me and I tumbled down breaking my right wrist I used to stuff vegetables
up inside the plaster to avoid eating them. I hate most vegetables to this very day.

When I was seven we got Kim our German shepherd who we took to Africa with us.
I recollect the excitement of visiting Gibraltar and seeing the monkeys,
the mystery of sailing through the Suez canal the banks so close as to seem
touchable. A giant ray getting caught on the ships bows oh boy did it stink.

It stayed with us from the equator to Zanibar yuck! I looked on all goggle
eyes at the first dark people I had ever seen cowering by my mum as they banished
machetes in the air some with only one eye. I was trembling in my shoes.
Kim took a dislike to them as they teased her by poking her with sticks through
her cage. This dislike stayed with her for life. We arrived in Dar-es-Salaam
on my eight birthday. From here another tale begins, later to be told. 

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Celine Soucy | Details

Drifting into Dreamland

Realizing the fact that everything that is in my life now won't be forever can utterly disturb me in ways that can spin me around in so many directions when in reality I am laying still in my bed waiting to drift off into dreamland.  Feeling my breathing harder and deeper in my chest and exhaling all the frustration, confusion, and distress out through the pores of my skin embracing myself while letting tears escape from my eyes to my pillowcase.  The fact that all I have is now and that there are no promises except that what I will end up having forever is myself in the end keeps the wheels in my head turning and twisting and my heart beating stronger and stronger as if it will break its way through.  All I ask is why and still no answer.  So at times I take a moment to look at where I stand as of now. I have learned so many lessons and experienced so many experiences that have helped me grow into the person I am today.  Not always easy, not always positively but always changing, and the fact that I have more ahead amazes me. I've realized I have to expect the unexpected and choose how I can deal with what I am faced with. I sometimes have to force myself to take a slight break from reality and remind myself who I am and the choices I make because they will impact me and my life forever. So I have to be real sure of who I am and the person I want to become.  Its not easy like I said. A little reminder always helps, because I can get quite confused and lost at times.  Reality plays the best tricks on me, and I can be easily fooled at times by the roles some people play.  It is a constant battle of love and hate with having this blind road ahead of me.  Sometimes leading me downhill so far leaving me so helpless, empty and numb that when I look up it seems almost impossible to keep moving on.  Surprisingly still having that bit of hope helping me to keep going.  It is not bad to take a break every once in a while though. I've lost so much and in place I have also gained so much in my life, arousing me with the new happenings that are handed to me.  Sometimes drastic, sometimes barely anything at all.  What gives me the slightest hope is the fact that I have found one thing that makes sense out of my life.  It is the coincidental pieces that fit together when they happen to me. Something happens confusing me then in time another and in hindsight tying it all together and making perfect sense out of it all.  Not all of my puzzles have been figured out but having such small pieces fitting together gives me the littlest bit of hope helping me to keep breathing and keep moving forward. Maybe, hopefully I will someday understand it all and put it all together.  Yet out of it all I know I must keep on in this crazy yet wonderful world... with the future ahead...the past behind...and the present in front of me.  Choosing wisely and reminding myself constantly, and in time letting my dreams take over me once again.

Copyright © Celine Soucy | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by cherl dunn | Details


Three points of ionic invisibility, drawn off the charted map
Of realism or reality, the calibrated compass spins out of 
Control, then suddenly freezing at polar northern degree!
Within the gravitational shift, a rippling vibrational influxes 
Occurs, ceasing time in a stalemates chest move, slats angles
Become uninclined, and mankind’s constant universal theory,
Is turned inside outside, and outside in!
Aftershocks echoing reverberation, vibrates against the
Broadband network rocking it senseless, the tensile strength
Of reality is shaken to its inner deepest core!
Abnormalities anomalous door has been swung shut,
And at its thresholds pivot center lies the heart of the
Devils triangle, beware hells gates left wide open!
A supernatural supersonic blast in abstract form,
Contracting and retracting at the very fabric of the
Spatial time continuum, pulling them backwards tightly,
In a slingshots earth shuddering motion!
Then suddenly releasing the bow string, this arrow of
Time suspension is shot forwards, interrupting the equal
Ends of our planetary polarized capes, the global antistructure
Is knocked off the grid!
Sonars study screen, blips into unsettled waves of vibration,
Unto the known surrenders upon the unknown realm of
Unrealism, in this split seconds finite moment of utter stilled
Silence, something eerie happens, the materialistic disappears,
Without evidences residual trace, can it be an abyssal vortex,
Or a rogue waves giant aquatic claw retracting!
In this unidimensional limbo field, no puzzle piece quite fits
The void of space left behind, humanity’s intelligence is unable
To comprehend what has happened, behold the final deadened zone,
Of the unnatural and undefined!
What coalition’s collision can cause this much powers refraction,
Where lights suspension is faster than the speeding bullet’s
Sounding, the undecidable throngs of the theoretical hypostasize
At these questions of the unknown!
But in the eyes of humanity we are left in awes amazement,
At the Bermuda Triangles sheer raw force of power,
Beneath the waves of this elliptical seas of knowledge,
Humanity is just a child of simplicities simple thoughts,
Captured within its cradle of universal growth,
In times crawling motion we’ll learn slowly to walk,
Then to stand upright, amongst the orbiting giants 
Beyond our earth bondage's reach!
But in the devil’s triangle, we are but inept whales unable to
Breech for the breathing, maybe in the futuristic future will finally
Take in the refreshing air of the divine tides of Aquatic Sea of infinite



Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Jacquelynn Banks | Details

A Haku from my world-2014

The internal fire
searing away life's pain
change summers forest

born into the world
contemplating renewal
ice covered rivers

all seasons cycle
pain love life feeling anger
eternal rhythm

bright autumn color
death brings life and renewal
pain will fade away

hope reborn once again
upon springs breath fresh flowers
life from the seedling

universes wide
internal contemplating
fish climb the river

many seasons live
through trials tribulations
death birth renewal

thought sparks creation expands
reality comes

the high of summer
sun triggered mania floating
as raging river

hot summer sunlight
river deprived of water
emotion dries up

life's changing seasons
shortcoming in emotion
through seasons cycle

fading pain emerge
life simple delusions made
forever change seasons

universe expand
knowledge create and destruct
chill grow burning fading

depressions winter
ever turmoil emotion
ebb flow night day spin

seasons always change
contemplating life death
universe expand

spaced thoughts are crazy
emotion fighting the storm
neon night pale day

wrecked ships wander
through the winters fog & mists
silent channels drift

coming through turmoil
ride the storm the hurricane
expand horizons

pain processed is therapy
growing from rebirth

fighting sanity
come insanity take home
forever to heart

the thoughts that process
never ending demons will run
collision nova

turbulent wind storm
shutters thrown open release
fear pain life death love

consuming feelings
season driven tolerance
change in fall and spring

tolerance for mood
patience empathy perceive
winter and summer

collision course set
new medication hinders
emergence changes

therapy consoles
soul full of turmoil and change
growth changed perception

frustrated anger
hot and long like summers heat
burns living forests

lashed out judgmental
like frog tongues catch flies and food
and ponds clear water (narcissism)

racing through insights
visions clear from universe
emotion has passed

struggle the outside
fury within emotion
body change season

temperament wild
raging storms, fire burns, whiteout
collides in fury

a long time waiting 
an answer born in voices
science or spirit

invasion of dreams
war new names fear demons wake
interfere with life

reality changed
committed to a course plan
bumps along the way

mountains far distance
filled with peaks and valleys the path
treaded with caution

move forward future
never stepping back from fear
ghosts do not haunt me

Copyright © Jacquelynn Banks | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Dave Collins | Details

Inquisition poetry 101

I stopped to stool siphon sip on a cool blue 
circumstance in the means between the in 
times loath listening to complacent
poetic prostitutional practice of stir my friends 
ego echoes doing the same f. u. c. k. e. d.
favor dance for me whenever my I/ego envy enter 
exists your contra content littered with
manic moronic mentaloronic maladies
of entrance entrocities. Lining words
pentamhextamater, of rich rhyme, cleaveage crotch
clearance, colic c.u.n.t. coffure
frantic fascist frames, abounding with 
wok out at me sillo sounds
composite of cruel crisp compound
cumulo capsules of I, me, mine
mousy miniscules in dreamy drop
lovelorn lostlusts learned
limitations lauded longevity in living
linguistic liquidlovelorn light
leaking lanterns, which bequeath spewing 
in bitch broth biscuted breveties catching 
lucid laminated word wornwastes 
catagorical crass. Leave wail/wall 
wallet inadequacies enough alone any analog yet tackless 
trash white talent to ergo the less a nominal negress and opt for a 
sporadic spittle spindle of annotated attack seeing a new personal
your poor prowess less than dodah duh, Po a tree? Nimnul junk gite.
So, my wordful children of BS, when writing yr so called pitypoetry,
devoid of dream dance diminutives coinciding correctly with wrenching wraps
of prostitutional ponder relentelessingly revealing a rapture 
of vast vile emoelements of comprosotory 
composites of fecalfroughtfrightfolly of fantasies in 
poet emeritus of urineyourns  a 3 way stretch non nobel poetlorietsupreme
goodfistingluckwiththatcrap;therefore u either play the game or 
risk reside in the zombie aperature camera obsecura word death orbit; therefore 

Assimilitate before u ass umulate, 
Build before u bridge buldge
Concentrate before u cumulo capsulate
Decide before u dildo dick tate
Engulf before u evo enevelop
Fragment before u fracture fantasize
Grasp before u geno germinate
Hallucinate before u hasty hippocrate
Initialize before u initiate
Jackulate before u Jillulasm
Literate before u laud luminate
Mentor before u mirror menstruate
Nurtuate before u neuro negate
Obliviate before u oogle obligate
Postulate before u priest present
Question before u quotionent quest
Recreate before u radical resonnate
Saturate before u semen sacrlidge
Tintalate before u trick translate
Utilize before u usurp ugly 
Victory before u vile vanquish
Want before u willful waste
X-turn right @ W follow the X signs
Yuletides before u yell yeildtides
Zeusotide before u zonk zerozilchotones. 

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by STANLEY Harris | Details

The Little Boats of World War 2

>We have just remembered the ending of the Second World War VE day it's called.  My father, well stepfather was a member of the British Expeditionary Force.  He was injured and evacuated by one of these little boats.

The little boats

Men waited in the cold sea.
Water up to their necks you see.
A fighter plane fired at them.
No shelter could they find those men.

Men on the shore tried to help.
Shooting as the planes flew by.
Not wishing their comrades to die.

On the high seas, destroyers then.
Sent out their boats, for those men.
Brave British and French allies.
Waiting there, I tell no lies.

Then, much to their dismay.
Those large ships sailed away.
Quietness then descended there.
Brave men in the sea, despaired.

Suddenly, there was a cry.
Lookouts there, did e-spy.
The little boats have come by.
From England now, I do not lie.

Many men were saved that way.
On our little boats, they were I say.
Many taken from the sea.
Soaking wet, cold, but free.

Free from all that turmoil so.
Now afloat and homeward bound.
The British army, safe and sound. 

Not all of course, as some did stay.
Fighting, to hold Germans at Bay.
So their friends, could get away.

Leaving this blessed killing ground.
Returned to England, safe and sound.
Them little boats, did us grand.

Years later now, the little boats do go.
To them beaches, now aglow.
With them spirits, that we know.
Brave, British men and so.

Sound your horns, ring the bells.  
For you with little boats did well.  
Captains of the little boats too. 
 Deserve the praise of all of you.

Thank you, for answering the call.
To save our army, was that call. 
 The army was of our brave men.
Brave souls were, all of them.

Them that survive, now are old.
But memories they have now told.
Of those little boats, on the sea. 
Who, thank God, saved our army.

'Where?'  You ask, 'did they lurk.'

Off the beaches of Dunkirk.

Sitting in the comforts of my home, I felt humbled by the actions of all those brave men in their little boats, to go into such a den of iniquity.  How brave it was of them, ordinary civilians, with probably no military training, to enter such a den of iniquity. I dare say we'll never be able to offer sufficient thanks. Lets hope we are never called to do such a thing again. I wrote this just as the remaining few Little Boats were on their way to join in the remembrance and I will say celebrations of such a gallant action. God save the |Queen.Pages 11-13 Book 2 of Poems. Some happy some sad.......(TMA)<

Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Kody Walters | Details

Penance of a Heartless Man

Penance of a Heartless Man
I use to fear you
I use to pray you’d stay away
I loathed the thought of being carried away by you
Now I long for the day that you will come 

99 years, 364 days, I’ve walked this river
This dreaded river that never seems to end
Back and forth I tread on a voyage of constant repetitiveness
So many steps taken that blood oozed from flesh until flesh no longer existed
Bone is now what touches this river bank

Tomorrow marks a 100 years since I started this linear march
Tomorrow you will give my feet rest
My soul rest
Tomorrow the errors I made in my previous life will have been paid
 I will have finally paid enough to make my voyage

99 years, 364 days ago I stood before you
Your hand outstretched waiting for your payment
A payment that I did not have
 “You have no payment? What kind of person lived a life in which no one is willing to pay for his soul?”
I was forced to walk away, my head hung in shame

He was right
How terrible a person must I have been for no one to give me a single coin so that my soul could travel?
What crimes did I commit so severe, that my soul must suffer a lifetime?
Did I walk through life heartless?
Is this why my soul has been tormented so?

Day 1 of Year one hundred has arrived
The day my soul no longer suffers has arrived
For the last time I see Charon the Ferryman arrive to pick up souls 
For 99 years I have seen countless souls board his vessel, my own soul longing to be amongst them
Finally my soul will be a passenger

Charon pulls up, his hand outstretched
One by one souls hand him a coin paying him his ferry fare
One by one they get on board
These souls must have done good deeds in life, for someone was kind enough to give them a coin
No one else stands in line waiting for passage but me
Finally my time has arrived

Charon looks at me with outstretched hands
“Have you somehow come across a coin here in the underworld?”
I shake my head no while looking at him quizzically
“No, Tis been a hundred years,” I say, 
“You’re misery has you confused. A hundred years it has not been”

My fleshless feet stand by the river bank as once again an end to my agony has evaded me
Tears fall from this heartless man’s face
For even a heartless man has a soul
A soul that once again has been left behind
A soul that wants desperately to reach its final resting place
A soul that once again will walk up and down this riverbank 
A soul that’ll walk til Charon the Ferryman states my soul’s penance has been paid by my heartless self	

Copyright © Kody Walters | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Wallace Du Temple | Details

Spider's Rigging

Spider’s Rigging
“I had resolved on a voyage around the world, and as the wind
on the morning of April 24, 1895 was fair, at noon I weighed
anchor, set sail, and filled away from Boston, where the Spray
had been moored snugly all winter. A thrilling pulse beat
high in me. My step was light on deck in the crisp air. I felt
there could be no turning back, and that I was engaging in an
adventure the meaning of which I thoroughly understood.”
I sat on the poop deck of ‘Joshua’ , a gaff-rigged replica of Slocam’s
Built by Captain Bill Harpster
Reading these lines from Joshua Slocam’s
‘Circumnavigation of the Globe’.
Sunrise in the Salish Sea, on hook and reclining in a deck chair
I had nothing to do but look at the old tyme rigging
And codger up old salt sayings
Words evocative of the sailor’s sea
Mizzen-top-bowlines, cross-jack-braces, peak halliards and spanker
Flying-jig-martingales, bull-ropes, marlinspikes, belaying pins and
Dreamily I word wander in poetic mariner jargon .
I picture the whale ship ‘Pequod’, commanded by Captain Ahab,
While below deck still in his berth slumbers salty Captain Bill
One-legged like Ahab whose Moby Dick was his Vietnam War.
Then my eyes spot a dot in the rigging repaired by Bill yesterday
A fuzzy speckled spider is at work
It makes ‘mock’ speed spins between shrouds and ratlines
Of the rope rung ladder to the masthead.
At first I don’t see the rigging threads                                                                                          Spinning from its’ spherical gut                                                                                                         But they must be there in air                                                                                                          Because the spider is moving purposefully in space
Heading geometrically between way points
Joining all to a centre where crocheted filaments become emergent
In the rising sun.
Did he have to learn it? Become an apprentice? Will he step back and
Is that good enough?
Next she suddenly jumps forward and catches hold of a filament.
Not finished yet the sailor engineer hauls in some slack and
Fixes silk threads firmly to the rigging.
Next she goes to the centre of her galactic star
Opens a gland bottle of tar
Applies a coagulating, viscid fluid from the centre out
And makes a glittering sticky thread from centre to head.
Now it waits for the next flying steak
While I await for a slumbering Bill to awake.

Copyright © Wallace Du Temple | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Phil Salmon | Details

Odyssey from Africa 11d

Odyssey from Africa, Chapter 11 (d) cont...

Thus the boarding of the parties 
Was a speedy operation 
Very soon the whole flotilla
Sailed toward the open ocean

This wide bay from which the ships set
Sail is called the Bay of Pemba
In the present land of Mozambique 
Along its golden seashore 

Their departure coincided
With the early morning sea-breeze
Which at dawn still blowing offshore
Helped the ships to clear the wave line 
Han was seized by fascination
In this wondrous feat of sailing 
How the changing winds were harnessed
Into speed and foaming bow-wave

Two great masts held high the sail-sheets
From the first the jibs and foresails
From the next the top and mainsail
At the stern the guiding rudder
Ropes were woven from the bark of
Baobab trees and held secure the 
Fabric sails and swinging sail booms;
They were shortened or were lengthened

By drum winches that were mounted 
On the gunwales and the transom
Han had never seen such craftwork 
Seen such high sophistication 
In shipbuilding. For some moments 
He admired it without speaking 
Turning aft he started talking 
With the sailor at the tiller
Both were well experienced seamen
So they spoke a common language 
Traded secrets of their boat-lore
Of the sea, its joys and dangers
As the sun approached its zenith 
All around lay endless ocean
Scarcely on the west horizon 
Could they see the land’s thin profile 

Passing out of view behind them
As they headed south and eastward 
To their port side far away the
Misty plumes of whales were sighted 

Now the chieftain of their party
Sat down near to Han and Kwona
To discuss with them arrangements 
For their visit to the kingdom 
They would live as guests together 
In the household of the family 
Of a leading individual 
An official of the kingdom 
There were seven grades of service 
That the kingdom held in honour
There were warriors and craftsmen
Also scholars and the healers

There were gatherers, there were merchants 
And the king’s own royal servants
Han expressed his greatest interest 
In the craftsmen and shipbuilders 

Those that built these ocean schooners
Which evoked his admiration 
Word accordingly was given.
All the while they sailed on eastward 

To their journey’s destination 
To the land of Madagascar
Which would be six hundred miles of
Sailing from the Bay of Pemba

For the children the excitement 
Of the ocean journey faded
As the hours passed by unnumbered 
In relentless sun and sea-wind

Copyright © Phil Salmon | Year Posted 2017

Long Poems