Long Walk Poems
Long Walk Poems. Below are the most popular long Walk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Walk poems by poem length and keyword.
Through the wrought iron gates
Down sandstone steps
Below the greened canopy
Many plants slept
I sat there awaiting
Natures bright orb in her sky
For as dawn finally breaks
I know i will cry
Shrubbery will bloom
Pastel and sharp
When you hear the birds chirping
Its like angels with harps
As the sun bursts through
The windows in the trees
All the flowers and shrubs
Rise and greet with ease
Purples and pinks
Yellows and blues
Oranges and reds
Rainbow hues
My tears are now wiped
As i walk into my day
In awe at her beauty
Natures colourful display
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-8.php
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with my wind-blown mane riding with time’s first cherubic chance
the early dusk’s gate opens; “ Oh,Frank..it’s you”, he smiles in a trance
in the porch, trays of capers and breeze of tea sing of smiles, so much to know
he slowly rewinds pages of Hispanic tales; i feel his poetry and life escapades grow
we sip our passion for books and rare sentiments, bonding like old friends for hours
rising then pausing about music, humor and tears, lost loves and even April showers
his peppered hair defies what he calls gentle aging, punch lines grant us release
as stars shape an ending of one night with pleasant tingles of fun and deep peace
after a slight buddy pat, i hand him my painting with hopes we meet once more
knowing he warmly enjoys the gypsy and angel in me, as i gaily walk out the door
all rights reserved
©
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(( for Michael Falotico's " First Words Over Coffee"))
by nette onclaud
Finishing up the last notes from my work day, I’m really late,
Looking out my window, my drive tonight, I’m going to hate.
I grab my briefcase and walk to my car, on a sheet of ice.
Slipping and sliding left and right, this is not going to be nice.
Takes twenty minutes to clear the snow from my car window,
If I can hardly move, how will my car drive, I just don’t know.
Hitting the windshield, the snowflakes are big, puffy and white,
They fly at you almost hypnotizing, you completely lose sight.
Once you reach country roads the white knuckles truly begin,
If you can keep between the hydro poles, you may just win.
Hold on tight, keep your wheel straight, put your lights on low,
Pray your defrost keeps working as you make through the snow.
A blanket of whiteness envelopes you, no sounds or lights to see,
Alone in this blizzard, you drive, terrifying, yet a strange tranquility.
Once home, after a good night’s sleep, you arise from bed at seven,
Trees iced in froth, the ground painted white, looks a bit like heaven.
Sun comes up, temperatures rise and once again green appears,
Nature makes the world safe again, slowly melts away your fears.
To think that I could have easily been killed driving home last night,
You consider the beauty of country living and soon forget the fright.
Written September 9, 2012
For Joy Wellington’s contest
“Weather Forecast”
(Dedicated to you, my Brothers and Sisters)
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words;
This is exactly what the Doctor orders,
For a Nation, who’s trying to fight the horrors
Of blatant racism,
Unfairness, injustice,
Nepotism and sexism.
A man of Peace,
Without controversies,
Is not a genuine activist.
The truth is being tolled; there is no reason to apologize,
‘Cause you’re exercising your God-given rights.
The sickness, the maladies,
Which America has been suffering
For over five centuries,
Need to be healed as you’re reading
My honest feelings.
This is painful, this is long overdue.
My brave People are tired of fighting
The ills and the stigmas of our societies.
This is hurtful, this is way overdue.
The Truth hurts, thank God Almighty;
“Another One” is unafraid to tell the Truth,
“This One” is dissecting the false myth,
And the backward ideologies, thank God Almighty!
The prisons are populated by innumerable innocents,
The Police and their cronies randomly humiliate
Our parents, siblings and cousins.
We have every reason to be mad and irate.
A more just and fair system needs to be in place now.
The Brother is using strong medicine right now:
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words,
To save America,
The beautiful diva,
Who stands for: “Justice, Freedom,
Liberty and Happiness for All.”
We should denounce Uncle Tom
And his monkeys. Brothers, who walk tall
Like you and our President,
Are rare and almost nonexistent.
The Truth will always set free:
The men of Justice, the men of integrity,
The men of Peace, the men of honesty;
The Brothers and Sisters who will tirelessly
Fight racism, the twin-brother of slavery.
Copyright@, Hebert Logerie ,Thursday, February 19, 2009,
All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
I will sculpt the life of my dreams with tireless hands and a heart of flame,
regardless of the falls that lie in my path or the rejections that close doors,
even if time is sometimes against me, the wind of luck can change,
and my work, a river of unrelenting efforts, will shape destiny with patience.
Hard work is in my hands, and my steps are as constant as a river,
sometimes luck plays its role, running against my pace,
but no matter how many times I have to change the crumbling path,
in one way or another, I will reach my goal, a lighthouse in the distance.
I may not be the brightest among stars, but that doesn't mean I won't win,
what I lack in brilliance, I make up for with the fire deep in my soul,
and even if night falls late over my tired steps, I will rise,
I will run on paths that twist or break, but the dream remains, the goal is one.
I have been ignored, I have been doubted, left behind in many races,
but I never stopped showing up, even in silence or hidden places,
every "no" has strengthened me, every fall has sculpted my soul like a statue,
I don't need to be perfect, I just need to stay whole, to keep the essence alive.
Let the world move at its own pace, let the noise pass me by,
I walk with vision in my heart and storms born under my dark sky,
so laugh, doubt, walk away, I'm not here to earn your belief,
I'm here to write my own story, line by line, beyond pain and shadows.
Because one thing is certain, whether the days are harsh or clear as morning,
I will create the life of my dreams, with every step, with every unbroken breath.
THE RETURN OF DREAMS
Clumpy clouds drifted in smoky sky from hazy horizon
You saw the rippling reflection in your marooned mind
Turned into a wasteland where you wandered forlorn
Memory lost in the green meadow you’d left behind.
The sky fell with dripping clouds on drenched dream
You were soaked in cold gloom of desolate shower
Molten agony surged in your sad eyes in a stream
In swelling storm of dark night you searched a shelter.
The dawn gave you warm touch of the rising sun
When I held you close in my yearning embrace
Your unclouded eyes saw the grey sky turn auburn
Draped in sunshine new colors flashed on your face.
After storm you’ve reached the edge of wasteland
For you to reach horizon into a green pasture it’ll turn
We’ll walk on the garden path, you’ll hold my hand
In my eyes you’ll see your distanced dreams return.
February 19, 2018.
Children these days have no clue
What it is like watching a leaf’s morning dew
They don’t understand how it all works
They don’t get this life’s true words.
We do, you just don’t see it all
We might be young, but we don’t just fall
We learned a lot, from head to toe
We know how it works, see us tie and untie a bow.
They think they know everything, we passed it before
They think they can cheat us, they lie and hurt a core
How could today’s children do such things
How could today’s children fly without wings.
You taught us how to stand, walk and stand again
You taught us how to eat, drink, talk and smile once again
You taught us well, didn’t you Mom and Dad?
Trust us as we trusted you, please Mom and Dad.
Maybe not here
But somewhere else
Wars will recede
All guns left on a shelf
Imagine your neighbourhood
No sirens wailing
Wanton killing ceases
Society not failing
Starvation exists
But not as we know
More hours of joy
As we go with the flow
Imagine our children
Who could become very sick
All health is free
Not a cent on tick
Employment abounds
As we work hand in hand
Greed is abolished
No bonuses of grand
Imagine our children
Who play in our parks
They can walk home alone
No shadows of dark
Turn three sixty
And open your eyes
To live in a world
Where there is no despise
Imagine our world
Where we live safe and free
Conglomerate, politicians
Listen to we
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-5.php
He came from foreign lands to seek it. Like a leather clad, sunglass wearing, Russian spy, he sought it out. Where was it? Where was it hidden? Stowed away, locked up, safe, she replied, as she timidly led him down the pathway.
They passed through many rooms, down many hallways, in search of it. Locked box after locked box, she opened, she teased, the light blindingly vivid at first but dimming quite fast. As the light faded to darkness, she would close it and move on. On to the next room, the next box, each one possessing a renewed hope. The lights of the hallway growing brighter and brighter, we must be getting close, he thought, each vault the seemingly perfect hideaway.
She continued the walk, he continued to follow. He was entrenched now and he knew it, caught in the web, but he continued on. She was in full control. She could choose to reveal it or she could keep it for herself. All he could do was follow, hope, wait.
The growing look of uncertainty slowly creeping in, he began to question it's existence, maybe she even did too. Was she lost herself or just leading him on? Is this even the correct path? Could it be recovered at all? Just some of the questions that began to mount.
Maybe they had passed it, maybe it was all a ruse, maybe it didn't exist. If it wasn't for the hunger, he might've given up much sooner but this was a hunger like never before. He wanted it. This time, maybe, he needed it. So, he held hope. He had come all this way, he was in too deep now.
They continued the walk. Pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, the sound of echoing feet through the chamber. With each passing room the anticipation grew. We have to be close, it has to be here, it all looked so promising.
If it was hidden, it was here. If it existed, she was the possessor. He followed. Like a zombie in full trance, he followed. Where was it? Was it here? Had he been fooled? She must've been stone cold to keep it hidden this long, to keep it locked away. Show it to me, he thought to himself. Show it to me now! But, there was nothing, she wouldn't expose it, it was all in vane. It was hers to keep, stowed away, protected. Hidden from him, hidden from the world. The cost too great, the risk too high. She would keep it for herself. Hidden, locked up, protected.... Safe.
Form:
People always assume that I am nothing new.
People always presume; let them presume.
People are always sure that there must be a cure to my broken heart,
If I only took a chance;
But the truth is I can no longer go out drinking in bars,
Travelling as a Lone Star, forever searching for romance.
I am not confident, so I will fall again and again and again,
While I wait for her to love me and then I get left behind in the rain.
I have met divine beauty and I just let her walk straight past me.
I have heard the voice of an angel,
But my mouth was empty of the right words to say.
No sunny day inside my mind today,
I let her slip away…
I am unable to be successful,
Because my timing is faithfully, always dreadful.
If she could only hear me being truthful,
She would know I think she is truly beautiful.
But I am so forgetful…Why can’t I tell her how I feel?
Why can’t I remember what I wanted to say?
Maybe she could feel the same…
Oh and the other thing I need to ask is, what is your name?
I do remember now; that song is my way.
It speaks of love; it tells me about her.
Born of true romance and loving words;
I want to take her out to dance,
But my eyes always instinctively avert.
She could be my ideal mate;
I only wish I could ask her out on a date,
But still here I wait, always too late, wasting away.
Breakfast is calling.
Guess what...I am stalling.
The story of my life;
This artiste is not performing
And she is not painting me in a pretty picture of love,
Because if I never tell her how I feel,
Then there will never be us.
I could fall so deep into her loving arms.
Her loving caress would cure my soul.
I have to tell her, but would she be alarmed,
By the words of love she never did want to hear from me?
And would I be left to regret the truth that I told?
So no, I never did win her love.
So no, I never do get to be happy.
So no, I never had the courage to say those words that I must:
‘You, my dear, I could truly love.
What do you imagine, when you think about me?
Do you even think about me?...’
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.