Long Waiting game Poems
Long Waiting game Poems. Below are the most popular long Waiting game by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waiting game poems by poem length and keyword.
Here I sit alone in my ‘prison cell’
Cut off from the ones I love – it is a living hell
I feel so alone, I crave human contact, anyone would be great
Just someone to talk to - it doesn’t have to be a mate
Splendid isolation between these four walls
Scared to venture out my room in case an intruder calls
I lock my door every time I leave
In case someone comes to take what little I have to thieve
There is no one here to share my fears
No one to hold my hand or wipe away my tears
The ones I love are far from me
No one to listen to my plea
I need to be brave to soldier on
In a few days we will be gone
Back to the home from where we came
Until then I play the waiting game
This is my first poem since childhood, written when my husband was undergoing cancer surgery in November 2013. I felt so isolated and also very vulnerable in the hospital accommodation which was a flat that had 4 lockable bedrooms and a shared kitchen but was shared by both men and women
I had my laptop and my phone .. but what I really needed was someone to be there at my side. My son had just started university and had enough stress being away from home especially with his father being ill. My father prevented me from telling my mum of my husband's cancer so I had no support at all from my immediate family.
15th Feb 2014
Submitted to Loneliness Contest Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
Submitted to A Meaningful Poem - Poetry Contest Sponsored by Constance La France
we are here
why would we negate
so we do accept this reality
taking our stuporous aliveness
within decaying organic form
as the point of reference
with which we begin
Ramana’s inquiry
who am I
looking back at our life
we notice our values shift
also as in moment to moment
there is fickleness in our response
to life as it unfolds all around us
but the screen of awareness
upon which images dance
always remains constant
what is this screen
which remains flicker-free
through waking, dreaming and sleep
wherefrom we always emerge unscathed
even though we lose our awareness
which is clearly quite stuporous
even when we’re awake
though ego opines
otherwise
this motionless screen
which is the eternal witness
recording our life without judging
let us then choose to meld presence with it
becoming still in thought rested silence
simply watching the ebb and flow
of thoughts and emotions
within body-mind
time flows on
but we are resolute
playing the waiting game
seeking nothing simply looking
fulcrum of our awareness centreless
thus doing nothing we connect
with universal consciousness
imbibing direct knowing
that transcends mind
befriending silence
we begin to live internally
as a presence ensouling form
thereby also becoming nonchalant
immune from the vagaries of fickle fate
whereupon our emptiness is filled
with divine magnetism surreal
which bestows on us bliss
and light of our being
what’s there to say
we all are this living light
which is veiled by thought forms
spawned by imaginary ego identity
which it is quite clear we are not
but mankind is afraid to let go
of dreams we believe real
we hear Plato laughing
allegory of the cave
the truth is known
but we all fear
to accept
how long will we
trauma bond with ego
a mere bubble of illusion
that confines us in delusion
is the question we each must ask
the eternal presence within
seeking our embrace
within the cave
of our heart
You were the one kept me up all night
always made me feel so right
times have changed
I won't play your waiting game
you were unkind if you'd only see
willing to blame it all on me
those days are gone
now I know where I went wrong
you were my all if you only knew
I was ready to bet everything on you
times aren't the same
I won't make that mistake again
don't need more disappointments
no unhappy endings
no more disillusions
or broken heart that needs mending
you were so cruel made a fool of me
it was you who set me free
time moves on
now I know where I belong
and you're like a ghost to me now
ever since we've been apart
haunting the hallways
of this empty house I call my heart
Pondering on Nirvana
The meditator mediates her thoughts meanders through
confusion and the onslaught overkilled by oscillating storms
Nothingness emptiness detachment as she does not wish to
be fragmented any longer but the Lotus flower seems
Appears to have departed the mantras has deserted her and her visions
are merely a picture of Guernica in which rotten demise remains
Her poetry resounds blank sentences a piece of paper fountain pain
pricked pen idle dried ink and empty hollow words craving expression
Her begging bowl scrambles for what is or is not meant to be seeks
the truth darkens memories of a blotchy future so far untold
Seeds are waiting to flourish agonise antagonise before the
waiting game is over and reality settles on her tired restless mind
The moment bargains like a Faustian pact entices temptations
doubts resolve capitulation yet fails once more the sweet surrender
When evening falls again she levitates on the putrid stench of
humanity while smells of roses have succumbed to thorns alone
Reflecting moons however guide shooting stars alleviate the scorching sun
so she resolves to try in hope once more when new tomorrow beckons
By now you should know
Chorus and intro
You know that it's a river...
when you see it flow,
You know that it's a flower...
when you see it grow,
I gave you all my love...
by now you should know.
You know that they are actors...
when they start the show,
You know the storm has passed...
when you see a rainbow,
I gave you all my love...
by now you should know.
By now you should know
Bridge 1
I'm wondering if all you feel is true
sometimes, I just don't know what to do
If you're not in love, then tell me we are through
Chorus
You know that it's a river...
when you see it flow,
You know that it's a flower...
when you see it grow,
I gave you all my love...
by now you should know
Bridge 2
I pray that one day you will feel the same
and in the night time you'll whisper my name
but until then, I'll play the waiting game
Bridge 3
Can't you one day, see yourself with me
Why can't you let your love set us free
If it doesn't feel right, then just let me be
Chorus
You know that it's a river...
when you see it flow,
You know that it's a flower...
when you see it grow,
I gave you all my love...
by now you should know.
By now you should know!
Do you know?
John Derek Hamilton
November 02,2016
George Fulwider
1837-1918
My beating-heart age,
Reached the half century mark,
When I and my “better second,”
Found hopeful roots,
And an oleander trellis,
On burgeoning Philadelphia street,
Here in this Quaker colony,
Of a thousand trees.
Our small wooded house was,
Most unfortunately,
Within earshot of the stately Union High School,
And its noisy ragamuffin minions,
And inescapably contiguous,
With the bustling tentacled trolley tracks;
Up and down they groaned,
With their loud clanging,
Every day and night the house shook,
As they rumbled on by,
Those modern moving monsters,
With steely grinding wheels,
Made ever alive by,
Those drat hanging wires,
Of killing electricity;
The doom of progress was upon us!
Oh, for the olden days!
The simpler times!
When life was for the strong and the smart,
Not like it was, when I,
Gasping for air in 1918,
Said goodbye to this silly modern world,
This long life,
This unending waiting game.
Now my restless stifled ghost,
Haunts the dark grounds here,
Roaming o’er the stones and the shadows,
At midnight when the wind dies,
Seeking still, a moment of hopeful silence, no,
An entire afterlife,
Of sweet heavenly golden silence,
Away from those modern moving steely monsters,
Those groaning grinding interlopers,
Of killing electricity;
The doom of progress is upon you!
for my two little energetic grandsons - Presley and Brenden...
PB the polar bear cub, was born in a southerly coastal den,
And for about 15 weeks or so, he’d stay inside his 8x10 playpen,
He was born blind, deaf, and with only a few strands of white hair,
And not being a twin or a triplet, made his single birth quite rare-
After two months he would venture out, to romp in the icy snow,
Where temperatures in the winter dipped, to -70 below-
He’d often watch his mother, sitting by ice holes on the sea,
Trying to catch a peeping bearded seal, for a delicious meal to be-
PB too would become a master, at this waiting game,
But not be very good at it, until after his 2nd birthday came-
When grown he’d smell his catch, from forty miles away,
The largest, most carnivorous of bears, seals were his diet’s mainstay,
His loving mom would teach him, all the skills he’d need to live,
And if he were in danger, her life for him she’d give,
PB was amazed how polar bears, could hold their breath so long,
Under water for nine minutes – they must be very strong!
Thirty months would pass, before PB was out on his own,
This 1500 pound bear, for 25 years, would call the arctic tundra his home-
My protests were ignored!
He lept and then ran,
shooting out the door
at about a quarter to four.
Now, he is running free.
I know he feels good.
Frisky and full of glee
is how he likes to be.
I looked outside
when the clock said five.
There lay three critters
and none were alive.
These were gifts to me,
given that I may feed.
He was quite proud
to serve my need.
I called out his name,
played the waiting game,
standing in airy silence
because he never came.
With hands on hips,
I checked again at six.
There lay a mouse
doing tortured flips.
I had enough of this!
His behavior must be nixed.
His hunting must be stopped
before another life is popped.
I walked the streets
shaking his treats,
calling his name
and smiled when he came.
The hunting, fierce beast
now lay small at my feet
in the middle of the street,
Purring for his treats.
My anger was released
as I rubbed a soft crease.
He rolled over with ease
to show he was pleased.
Now, a little before seven,
I began some quick stepping,
heading for our home haven
to shelter my killing felon.
Snuggling him in my arms
so no other life was harmed,
I cooed in babyish tones
while walking my tiger home.
From a derelict house, near the interstate pass,
with her cuff of chenille, she rubs a small circle
to clear away grime from the cold window glass
Better to see now, beyond wooden rails, that have worn disrepair
for thirty odd years
and have fenced in, long hours of loneliness
There's an old pepper tree, that tosses it's head in an alien wind,
in a sea of dead grass, where a garden had been
There's a face, weathered thin, from neglect and despair
she turns for a moment, to glance, here and there,
a room she has known, filled with colors long dimmed,
where the silence shouts loud, not a question to ask....
but...wishing for something..., a chore, or a task
if only the phone might ring.....
Near the rail of the fence are two Rhode Island Reds
grazing around in the tall weedy grass
There's a cock on a post, in the shade of the tree
keeping watch on his kin, keeping her company,
keeping tabs of a life that has come to an end
She will gaze in a lapse, dust motes fall to the floor,
in the still of the gloom she will turn once again
in the grim of the room...
There is still a dial tone, ....maybe the phone will ring....
For a mere month or more, a feral cat came her door
then had wandered the floors, neither friend or a foe
But he soon disappeared, on the eve of the storm
She will call just the same.......just in case he can hear
"Here, kitty kitty"....."Here, kitty kitty", but she calls him in vain
While the wind plays the same dirty game...
Tumble weeds roll and bend, her eyes search through the wind
...as she waits for a friend
a friend never there....always due to arrive
so she stands by the side, of the black telephone
In the old parlor room, in the gloom of a long afternoon
Maybe the phone will ring....
________________________________________________________
LIGHT OF LOVE
THIS BIRTH OR MAY BE IN THE PAST ,
I GOT YOUR NAME IN THE CARD.
SUMMER GONE WINTER CAME ,
I DANCE ALONE IN THE RAIN .
WAITING GAME WAS CONTINUOUS SO LONG,
I HOLD MY FEELINGS IN ME SO STRONG .
THE KISS IN THE MOON NIGHT ,
I AM YOURS YOU ARE MINE.
YOUR EMBRACE AND THIS SPRING ,
I AM MELTING LIKE AN ICE CREAM .
HOLDING OUR HANDS WE WALK INTO WOODS ,
I WANNA BE WITH YOU IN THE YELLOW WOODS .
THE COTTAGE AND THIS BONFIRE ,
I AM CUDDLING AND YOU ADMIRE .
FOUR DAYS AND FIVE NIGHTS OF OUR HONEYMOON ,
YOU ARE IN BLACK AND I AM IN MAROON.
FROM TWO WE BECOME ONE ,
PEOPLE LOST GAME AND WE WON .
THE MIDNIGHT STARS ARE SPECTATORS,
NEW LIFE AHEAD AND WE ARE CREATORS .
WE MAY NOT BE HERE FOR TOO LONG,
OUR LOVE REMAIN HERE AS A POEM .
THOU WILL HUM THIS POEM OF LOVE ,
AND EXEMPLIFY US AS DOVE .
LOVE IS VERSE OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ,
EACH WORD HAS ITS OWN WORTH.