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.
The spring blooms
The naked trees dress in their beautiful greens
The thirsty rivers are now overflowing with joy
The ice melts, the sun shines
Amidst the nature transforming
My life is also turning around
I tend to smile more, I am happy after a long time
Life is different, Life is habitable to be lived now
I am happy, for the lonely walk in the desert is over
I could see the green forest welcoming me
I could feel the soothing hugs of wind
I could hear the birds playing the mandolins.
But I fear, I fear that I soon will forget the pain
I soon will no longer remember the burning sun and me going insane
I fear that the fruits of joy will heal my wounds
And make me ready for yet another lonely walk again
I fear that this moment of joy will fleet away
And the tears in my eyes is all that I will be left with
I fear the wind of time will rip my clothes apart
As it rips the spring off the trees
And I will have to start again
The long gruesome journey for a moment of bliss……
"So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing."
- T. S. Eliot
In the stillness of the night,
when dreams float in the air,
faraway I see a light,
and it beckons me there;
I take a walk in my mind
to that dazzling bright place,
a love song plays in rewind,
as I enter that space;
It is an empty large hall,
with disco lights aglow,
in the middle standing tall,
my love does a tango;
Seeing me, he calls me near,
I join him on the floor,
with his deft hands, he does steer,
in happiness, I soar;
Together we swirl and twirl,
till the soft music ends,
he's my love and I'm his girl,
dancing, our love deepens;
In the stillness of the dawn,
when sunlight awakens,
my feet, they ache and I yawn,
my heartbeat, it quickens;
I realise that my dreams
have stolen me again,
I smile brightly at sunbeams,
there's nothing to complain.
11.02.2021
For Constance La France's ""S" contest- new poems only"
we've all been given a life be it short or long
and we're all here because to Father God we do belong
we all have a purpose for being, a task and or a job
and we're all here to serve each other and to serve the Lord God
but our service to each other has an affect in part
for to be a true servant you must possess a servant's heart
to be willing to step out on faith and endure hard times
to be willing to make any sacrifice with God foremost on your mind
as it's not about your title, your position or even your task
it's about having the heart to do any and all that God does ask
even if it means leaving your family and your friends
even if it means giving your life in the end
to sacrifice, to serve and to acquiesce
to do whatever God desires and in turn to be blessed
to be like Jesus the Christ who possessed the heart of a true servant
to have been beaten and crucified in a manner most undeserving
to have stayed the spiritual course and never to walk away
to stand on the promises of God even knowing that He'd be betrayed
to be humble, to be patient and possess a positive attitude
uplifting, unselfish and definitely not rude
to understand that we're all a part of God's master plans
to be steadfast in your commitment while hold to God's unchanging hands
to teach, to preach and to reach out to one another
to be a positive influence and not a hindrance to your brother
to possess a servant's heart you must give unconditionally
to be like the Savior Jesus the Christ who died for you and for me
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
Don't point accusing
Fingers at me
For you point one finger
At me
Four fingers
point back to you
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
Don't cast the first stone
For you don't feel
My grief
Either do you
Know my joy
Who wears the shoe
Knows it better
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
Don't crucify me
For am not for
Your play
Your motives are clear
Like you never thought
I could realise
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
I wonder how you know
I was wrong
And speak words
So sow to my
Ways
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
Why you worry
About my way
Or Is African not
Routed by hunters
For am not the
First or last writer that
Write poems about the
Life in the third
World
Don't judge me
If you can't feel
Me
Then you need a walk
With me
To the jungle
Where life itself
Exist to terror
Day by day
Night by night
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
Don't block me
My ways are best
Known By me
Your ways are best
Known by you
Don't judge me
If you can't feel me
At list allow me to feel
While you keep
hating on others
All time, don't forget
Life is all about everything
You and I
Don't judge me
For is obvious
That my kind
Is who I am
So when I feel
Try to feel
What I feel
Before you open
Up on me
To mock me
Don't judge me
For l love to
Live freely as
Nature permit
when I do
What I do
I expect at worst
Your compromise
As a good friend
Don't judge me
You're the calm breeze sweeping around us
Gently soaking into me, your air so sweet
Everywhere with you is where I want to be
As God as my witness, I promise unto thee
Whenever I'm wrong I'll try to keep the peace
We'll make this work, you can put trust in me
We will live together until the end of my time
When I walk beyond my soul into eternal divine
Believe that ever after, I am forever yours
Roaming as a ghost, hopefully there is more
You will not lose out from love's dishonesty
I'll try to hear you even if you don't speak
The story of our lives, living throughout time
Believe in what lies beyond the end of my line
Until the final breath ends this story of mine
Unraveling creations that lived inside my mind
Jesus Had Been Here.
I was aware in a dream. I was a beggar in the street.
My legs bent and badly broken, I would beg for food to eat.
I watched them from a distance. I crawled slowly through the sand.
Suddenly there was silence, as He bent down and took my hand.
"Be thee whole!" Are the words He said. I felt His power enter me.
I began to rise and walk, He said "God had mercy on thee."
Then I found myself in a cave in the rocks just off the sea.
Tormented by many demons. Then He came and rescued me.
I saw me filled with leprosy. I made my way through the crowd.
When I reached out and touched Him. He turned and cried out loud.
"Who is the one that touched Me? I felt virtue leave my soul."
He found me scared and trembling. "He said your faith has made thee whole."
Suddenly my eyes went dark. I dreamed I had gone blind.
When I heard Him speak to me, He was loving and so kind.
I felt His fingers touch my eyes. He forgave me all my sin.
He told me “go and witness.” And tell my story to all men.
The last part of the dream I had. Left me at such a loss.
I was a thief that hung by Him as He hung there on that cross.
I called out “He's done nothing.” I begged them to let Him be.
I watched His mother as she wept. But they could not set Him free.
He told me with His dying breath. Through His suffering I heard Him say.
"You will be at my fathers side with Me in heaven on this day."
When I awoke I wasn't shaking I somehow knew no fear.
My spirit was my witness that Jesus had been here.
Edwin C Hofert
I know I am his child.
His mind hums in mine,
a gray hive I cannot silence.
His humor—hollow coins—
rattles in my mouth
when I try to speak my own name.
The world looks at me and sees him,
his outline burned into my skin,
his breath fogging my mirror.
Even my silence carries
his unfinished sentences,
his weight like a stone in the chest.
But I do not have his hands.
I do not carry their blue veins,
their grasp that held too tight,
their labor, their undoing.
My hands are pale as water,
open, empty, aching to cradle
something gentler than inheritance.
I walk behind his shadow,
but I will not step where he stepped.
I will not let his ghost
script my palms.
If I am his echo,
I will learn how to fade
into a softer silence.
I am not like my mother.
But her words get their own response,
her tone is matched,
her mirror finds another mirror.
But it is exclusive,
a dialect of blood and fire
I cannot enter.
I do not have that serpent tongue,
the hiss that splits a room,
the venom wrapped in lullabies.
I am a silence between their voices,
a pause that belongs to no one.
I am the unfinished note
in a house of clashing instruments.
Their echoes chase me,
but I do not join the choir.
Instead, I keep my quiet hands,
my unspilled mouth,
my vow of difference—
to leave their chorus behind,
to build a voice that does not wound,
to stand in the ruins and refuse
to inherit the fire.
Total estimated casualties, including civilians and Taliban 171,000 to 174,000 all in the cause of a very dubious war, returning Afghanistan to what it was 20 years before, and abandoning some of those who helped and are now likely to be hunted down and executed.
This doesn’t include the injured, physically and mentally.
Is there any cause for any Politician to have any pride in this.
My dangerous journey starts,
No time to dawdle or tarry,
Just a few belongings, reduced
To what I can easily carry.
My life rolled up in a backpack
Slung from one shoulder,
My departure documents tightly
Clasped in a plastic folder.
Walking slowly up this gangway
Into the bowels of this plane
Twenty years of change and hope
After the Taliban’s harsh reign.
Goodbye sere mountainous land
Harsh, severe, it used to be mine,
It’s all behind me now as I sit
Lucky to be on this evacuation line.
Most of my life under occupation,
I can barely remember the Taliban,
A child when they left so I grew
Up in a very different Afghanistan.
A harsh and hasty decision made
Causing many to hesitate and grieve
Before taking the only real decision,
It’s time to pack up and leave.
A life of uncertainty in a new place
Heavens knows where it will be
Only one thing certainly known
We’ll have the status of refugee.
There’s a sense of fear and betrayal
As your occupation finally ends,
The clock starts to turn back as
Our New Dark Age truly descends. .
You have much to answer for
After such a long stay
Just to suddenly decide
To up and walk away.
As you retreat once again
Do you really expect
The rest of the world
To still treat you with respect.
Her Words carry me, to wherever She wants be to be - - - - I
See Nature as it should be, so Natural, so Alive makes You - - - BELIEVE
LOVE prevails Everywhere, in the Heart, Moonlit skies - - - YOU
Write from the Heart : a Heart full of LOVE : Emotions : You - - - DESERVE
The Praise in YOUR Comments; Well deserved, Your Poems are - - - - A
Song for the Earth : For Heaven : songs of the tree, seas, Pauper and - - CROWN
YOU the POETESS creating Poetic Artistry that Contemporaries Dream - - - OF
All Poets, for You, I climb mountains; gathering and Lovingly weaving - - - LAUREL
The gift of the Written Heart, Soul, and Feelings of the Mind of a Great - - - POETESS
In the Highest regard of Your Peers : someday I’ll be able to say I KNOW - - - JOYCE
Johnson : I in Her walk in HER Glorious POETRY daily Thank-YOU Mrs. - - - JOHNSON
YOUR POETRY so Enchanting , Enticing the PEN , will Live FOREVER in - - - - M Y
Heart ; My Heart will Always hold YOU in highest Esteem, Gifted POETESS - - LAUREATE
Inspired by and Dedicated To POETESS JOYCE JOHNSON with My Deepest Respect
It was quite a surprise to us
when monsters came out of the night,
the beasts and bad guys of legends
who for so long gave us a fright.
We thought they lived on movie screens,
pulpy books, and local folklore,
until they came to prey on us,
and we all learned that they were much more.
The panic, at first, was intense,
folks were dying, it seemed surreal,
vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts,
and other such beasties were real.
They were as bad as legend said,
but we soon figured out one truth,
the ways to kill them in legend
really worked—we knew what to do.
The werewolves were the easiest,
you just bought some silver-tip rounds,
given all this country’s hunters
it took two years to gun them down.
As for ghosts, if you do not know,
ectoplasm is diffuse matter,
floating in air, it is easy prey
for the common vacuum cleaner.
Then dump it into a furnace,
and watch the ghostie burn away,
old houses everywhere were safe,
no more hauntings came into play.
Vampires could blend in the best,
of the monsters they killed the most,
UV flashlights or smeared garlic
was all it took to make them toast.
The zombies, good lord, they were slow,
and not all that hard to destroy,
army snipers would take head shots,
and attack choppers were deployed.
They’d shoot down with their miniguns,
guaranteed they’d catch zombie head,
since the undead liked to cluster,
an easy target for sprayed lead.
We even had a kaiju-type
dragged its lumbering form onshore,
just as big as a skyscraper,
a three-hundred foot carnivore.
We fired antiship missiles,
half-dozen of them did the trick,
set up some coastal air patrols
to take care of the beasts right quick.
In retrospect, it all makes sense,
after all, we are humankind,
we’ve been waring since we could walk,
countless weapons came from our mind.
We’ve killed sabertooths and smallpox,
run down real threats without pity,
killed tens of thousands in battle,
even nuked two of our cities.
What’s a werewolf compared to that?
What threat’s a vampire these days?
Those beasts should be afraid of us,
since we always find ways to slay.
Maybe we need better monsters,
a challenge for our evolved state,
something that can inspire fear,
the kind we can appreciate—
CONCLUDES IN PART II.