Long Wait Poems
Long Wait Poems. Below are the most popular long Wait by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wait poems by poem length and keyword.
my wallet’s tounge getting longer and longer
credit cards’promos pumping stronger
flat tv, i-pad, santa trimmings at low cost
really now, my unpaid dues on zero defrost
egad, i’ll be jailed being a triple goner
the dark side tempts me—a real shopaholic
will win the lotto and forget being catastrophic
can’t wait to blow left-over greens
christmas ads ringing pied piper dreams
buy, buy, buy utterly catatonic
dashing like a mad woman i daringly arrive
snooping at branded goodies my eyes crazed overdrive
surprised by a chipped baby- on-a- manger sale
reminding me my sweet spirit has gone pale
went to bed tucking christ babe, so glad i’m richly alive!
(for PD's HOLIDAY POEM contest)
by: nette)
The magic of Christmas Day is truly wonderful…
but I happen to believe…
there is also something magical and exciting about its predecessor…
Christmas Eve.
Perhaps it’s because I was born on New Year’s Eve
that I cherish and adore…
and have such an affinity and fondness for the day and night before.
Every day and night before is filled with hope and expectation.
There’s anticipation and excitement as we wait.
I remember the day before the first Christmas I can remember…
I remember the day before my first date.
I am blessed that the walls of my mind
are decorated…enhanced…and adorned…
with memories like the day before my wedding…
the days before all our children and grandchildren were born.
It comes down t basic calendarial logic
dating back, I’m sure, to days of yore.
for where would any Christmas, birthday or special day be…
without the day before.
So Merry Eve of whatever holiday or special day you celebrate today
and the rest of your life too…
because there should be a place in all our hearts
for the day before
the day our dreams came true.
Walking up uneven sidewalks—
up cracked little hills of pavement,
past dingy apartments
gliding through trailer parks—
rough rails and low fences
skidding my fingertips—
reaching the dampened street.
Through an empty crosswalk
where children once would
wait to pass—
vigilant cross guards leading
laughing kids to safety.
Staring ahead at navy-blue walls
once where gathering peers chattered,
beholding the path ahead through the
towering gate—
my heart flutters in
fearful bittersweet.
I wander through those familiar
school gates now darkened—
glaring in the dead of night.
“Go home,” it warns,
as I pass—wiry wind behind me
rattling the black metal
openings.
“It’s dark out here.”
No voices…
No teachers…
No students…
No faculty…
No giggling…
No taunts…
No lunch lines…
No time-outs…
No tardy slips…
No restrictions tonight—
but there is trash from yesterday
splayed along the wet grounds—
midnight rain ceasing.
Do I feel exhilaration
or shame walking through
this graveyard of academia?
What am I learning in this
strange silence?
I try not to recall
the dead black cat wedged
in a crevice of split concrete,
located in a locked, gated corner
past the large, muddy PE field.
I used to play there.
I would gaze through that locked gate,
terrified of what I would see—
but it was empty
Then.
Now,
near the edge of school grounds,
I hear her hiss from where I stand,
as if she is warning me.
I would hate to be
locked up into your dark corner—
destined to gaze up lifeless
at an unforgiving night sky—
destined to exist lonely
amongst the screams,
coaches’ whistles and laughter
from oblivious children and teachers.
In my wildest dreams,
I hold endless keys to locked gates—
filled with ends and hard truths
most will fight to forget.
She taught me something
that makes my blood grow cold:
there is far more to learn now
than ever before—
beyond these school borders.
It's not that we do not believe in yesterday.
Yesterday never came to stay, and we say, that's okay.
We must appreciate yesterday in spite of its heartaches.
The bad and the ugly are to make us strong; not break.
Yesterday, the time finally came for us to leave home. When
We left home yesterday, we soon discovered hearts of stone.
We found no place like home, and Grandma was now gone.
After we left home, we had to adjust to new musical tones.
When visiting home, we looked for yesterday's home, but
it was gone, familiar things had vanished, and we felt strange
If we did not already know, we quickly realized that life
Was more than a song. We began to roam in and out of places
We did not belong. God used people, pieces, places, and
Puzzles to make us strong. It's vitally important that
We learn from yesterday's sorrows. Everyone needs to be okay
With today, looking toward tomorrow. Life never intends to
Confuse but teach us how to choose and refuse. Yesterday
Is like looking into a mirror and seeing things behind us.
Tomorrow is like looking out a window beholding the upcoming
View. Yesterday is nothing to be longed for, hoping tomorrow
Will somehow wait. It will not. And we will be late. And never
Think that we can simply cancel a flight we were destined to take.
In order to move ahead and catch the flying wings of tomorrow,
we must deliberately part with our walking shoes of yesterday.
Aging and time will not serve or wait
upon us. At conception, we are in a
sense, connected with the tunnel of
time and destiny. At birth, every part
of our physical being is invited to get
on board for the journey of purpose.
When we are called upon to act out our free
will; when our curtain of life has opened
for us to play our role, we may proceed
or choose to become immobile, neutralized.
As we journey along the trails of life,
like in Frost's poem, we come upon forks
on the roads of life. However, unlike Frost's
poem, we often stall at the very 'Y' of life.
We are reluctant to move beyond the fork.
So, we turn around instead. We fear the
unfamiliar and dare not venture to face the
unknown. Entombed in our own shadow,
we never realize the essence of our being
and the difference we could have experienced.
120122PSCtest, Journey Without Movement.
Unseeking Seeker
She waits
Until I cry in my arms for you
babe
When I think of you
Until I cradle my feelings for you to bleed my eyes babe
When I think of you
Until I authentic to show my
breathe for you babe
When I think of you
Until i beep my beats to the
reflection of your body into
my soul babe
When I think of you
Until I hug the heat after the
sunset from your body babe
When I think of you
Until I wait for you to allow me
for a kiss babe
When I think of you
Until the candle which gets on
melt and give me the rays of
our love like an ocean infront
of god until I pary next that is
same that my love stay till
my life
When or when she waits for me
When I think of you babe......
Happy valentine day to you....
With love all
Jagdish Bajantri
"Have you ever drowned? Not once. But repeatedly. You drown ...save yourself somehow (includes if you had aid of another person) and then drown yourself again. There is a distinct thrill in even thinking about facing death. Staring at the void ...trying to gauge ...which memories will be showing up like they say... Whose faces will turn up...whose voices you will hear... Will you want to stop getting sucked in? Or will you enjoy the paroxysm of transition?"
Darn. The water is boiling off. The noodles are getting stuck... Hey...but I don't wanna pull my left hand out of my pocket. The view of a pretentious and closed window above the induction, carelessly oozing out a cool breeze which in turn is fighting with the hot steam exhumed from the frying pan always reassures me that they are waiting outside. Friends. Loved ones. Strangers. Casting their shadows behind my beloved closed window. Sucking my cool breeze. Waiting for me to be only left with the searing flame...until I'm forced to pull my left hand out and open the goddarned window... for them. No! Wake up! I don't have time to knit words out of this burning yarn of noodles! But my hand feels so safe in the snuggly pockets of my childhood bottoms. Oh wait! I can just keep the peg on the side, grab a cup, turn on the tap, waste some water, fill the cup, pour it on the burning noodles slowly meanwhile wasting some more water, keep the cup, close the tap, catch hold of the peg again and pretend I'm Darth Vader trapped in a woman's body with my lightsaber efficient only for flipping noodles. Ah yes. Even the re-establishment of my foothold runs a sweet satisfaction down my spine. This air of freedom ... Can I listen to some Nat Cole King please? Of course I can! Its all there in my head sweetheart... Couldn't raid that place yet, could you?
Is the fizz drowning the music? Yes...but that also means I'm nearing the end. A little disturbance to remind you that your time has come? Such wonderful these nuances are! As the smell of vinegar captivates the whole room, I pull my hand out of my pocket to pick up the plate and get out of the kitchen. Only to join the banter of the unwanted.
Racing toward tomorrow
Gonna box up all my sorrow
Can't wait to leave sorrow
Leave sorrow behind me
And git up stand up for what's right
And embrace my calling
I wannabe set free
For a soul set free is free indeed
I am free cause I speak it on me
Lord please believe in me
excuse me, I mean Lord you believe in me
And others see, I'm naturally I confess
I am blessed
Come loose these chains off me
Come embrace and carry me
To the land of glory racing toward tomorrow
For today I lose my sorrows
Come embrace and carry me
You've freed me from my bounds and chains
And help me to remain, free
To the land of glory
Faced all my quilts and shame
yet trying to remain
A head of me I see
The bright and glorious heavens cape
As I run this race, as I finish this pace
I'm in shape
To be placed in the land of glory, racing toward tomorrow
To out run my hurts and sorrows
Racing toward tomorrow
Gonna box up all my sorrow
Can't wait to leave sorrow
Leave sorrow behind me
And git up stand up for what's right
And embrace my calling
I wannabe set free
For a soul set free is free indeed
I am free cause I speak it on me
Lord please believe in me
excuse me, I mean Lord you believe in me
And others see, I'm naturally I confess
I am blessed
Come loose these chains off me
Come embrace and carry me
To the land of glory racing toward tomorrow
Race to tomorrow
from anthology "Spring Song"
04/13/12
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
In heaven all will have a throne
(if not in hell you have been thrown!)
A throne of gold with cushioned seat,
it has a foot rest for your feet.
In comfort you can sit and think,
go number two but leave no stink,
for nothing smells BAD (Don’t you know?)
in heaven where the good folks go!
Yes, everything smells sweet like flowers.
On their thrones folks sit for hours
inside the private stalls they’re given
looking at gold phones. That’s livin’!
Yes, those who love so much their phone
can use them sitting on their throne.
And those who love TV a lot
can watch a screen while “on the pot.”
Each toilet has a silent flush
and uses a self-cleaning brush
that whirls itself around and round
while making not the slightest sound.
Yes, going potty’s so much fun
if you’re a Heaven’s lucky one.
But wait, all you to heaven called,
you need to know what’s been installed.
God doesn’t want you all day long
just sitting there! That would be wrong.
Your potty time has limits of
two hours per day, for God is Love!
He wants for you to keep things real.
A shock on your behind you’ll feel
if too long on your throne you sit.
No one needs hours to sit and sh__!
God wants you mingling with others,
with your sisters and your brothers.
There’s much to do and much to see,
and even chores are heavenly!
So live a good life while you can,
for nothing’s more delightful than
a cushioned seat for your behind.
May heaven’s throne you one day find!
Oct. 29, 2021
For Jack Webster's The Throne In Heaven Poetry Contest
I was not always this clever, this funny, this incredibly smart
But it is two a.m. somewhere, and I am hilarious; it is my art.
Weirdly, I was not in any way exciting before I got to this bar.
But now I am unbelievably witty, ask my buddy, his name is Gar.
Aren’t I witty, Gar? Aren’t I pretty? Aren’t I fabulously humorous tonight?
He thinks so, believe me, though he cannot sit upright.
I am getting younger every second, my face is clearing up too.
Hilarity is my middle name; now where is my stupid shoe?
But wait, honey, aren’t I funny? The bartender is closing down the bar.
Whiskey is improving my looks. Now where’s my stupid car?