Long Walker Poems
Long Walker Poems. Below are the most popular long Walker by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Walker poems by poem length and keyword.
About midnight last night
I went down hard, crashing like a 747 into a brick building.
Dropping my paint brushes, water cup, cell phone and canvases.
Thank you puppy dog!
I landed on my bad knee.
The one I injured seven years ago
I weigh twenty extra pounds now
Which did not help
Such wailing and screaming came out of me
I began howling and keening.
I woke up road kill.
The dogs were so frightened, they ran off.
My husband professed not to hear me.
I was shriek-screaming!
I called him on the cell phone.
I fell over the dog and I can’t walk! I wailed.
He came out with my walker.
I crutched my way into the house.
My knee is bigger than my head this morning.
I am icing it, and in no mood for dog.
There is this part of me
That looks beyond the Boy in me
That keeps me from doing ugly things
But drives me to levels of insanity
There is this part of me!
That make me love my Mom
And my Dad will my Hero be,
Both of whom I will love forever,
Both of whom a part I always will be
There is this part of me!
That every elocution I will try and win
That every competition I be in
Will make my parents proud of me
There is this part of me!
That likes to sing like a bird
Not necessarily an “Alan Walker” to be
More of a Ruskin Bond in me
There is this part of me!
That makes me dance a bit
Learning from my Dance Guruji
He moves like Michael in “Billie Jean”
Giving me cramps trying like him to be
There is this part of me!
Walking on the Sands of Time
Treating life like a beach
Feels good to grow up, the wind in my face –
And the sunshine will my Horizon be
There is always this part of me….
This Part will always be ME!!
Just Life
Just life, everywhere, in all parts of the way.
On all the paths of the road. Dry world, vision.
The beauty of life is just an invisible follower.
But I believe in the dream life. A fact of life.
A fact of life: there is no law, no love—just Light.
Live, live in the infinitely vibrant radiation of Light.
Souls fly free in the new world, patinated blue life.
In my sleep, I always just swim in this dream life.
“Just life, just life,” said Satan. “Create your life,”
said Satan. But he is not right. The beginning is far.
“Beginning is far? Just happened now. Start now!”
Hmm. Just walk. I am a walker. “That is the beginning.”
This walk is a timeless, old walk. “Genesis of your life.”
Don’t lift me. “Why? All the new life is a new genesis.”
But my life is not a new creation. “From now on is a new beginning.”
No, the first moment is so far, goes back in time, distant is elastic far.
“No time, no distance in your heart. Looks like that, but there are no boundaries.”
“Better to be in the present, and all your dreams are yours. And those people.”
Those people. “In your dreams from the other side. They are waiting for you. My dark life.”
What for? “Just to be alive. ”Why? Your life experiences are the meaning of your life.”
So, my life is for experiences?
“Yes.”
Why?
“Another world wants all the human stories. We live from your lives.”
That world lives from our energy.
“That’s right.”
So I am taking the host?
“Yes. You are part of a food chain. But you are a student.
New planets are waiting for new settlers, citizens. You are chosen.
Thank you, Master.
“Just life.”
Just live.
“Yes.”
Dog Tags
By David J Walker
My Dog-tags remain
chained
Still hanging
On a hook inside my
Closet door
For years now
The same
Except for the occasions that
Remind me of why I
Wore them
And
Why I still keep them
With my
Last name first
First name last
Middle initial
Service number
Blood type
And religion
Everything one needs to
Know
To get me back home
The tinny tinkling
Sound
Of them around my
Neck
As I walk
The P-38 C-Rations
Can opener that every
Experienced soldier regarded as
Essential
Well
My Dog-tags were
Essential
For three years
And thereafter only on
Special occasions that I needed to
Feel them clanking between my
Shirt and skin
Before then
From my middle years
I could only
remember
And remember
And remember
For so many years
The memories
Would not stop
Would not fade
Would not go away
As each would invade
My every day
Every day
Every day
But the
Abacus
Keeps count
as the days turn into
Years
And
A metamorphosis occurs
Perspective
Has not made me necessarily
wise
Though perhaps
Gracious and
thoughtful
when I finally realize
the enemy wore
dog tags too
And now
As I am old
I can hold them
we can be friends
the kind that
after many years
finds reasons to
laugh again
so
It’s ok with me
If my Dog-tags rest
Upon my chest
and
They may be helpful to
Explain
Who I was
As I’m taken back home
Again
The Relevance of Last Winter
David J Walker
The acrid odor of a
Butane fueled
space heater
Seemed better
than freezing
In the sub-frigid air
of a February
prairie
winters
day
We set fire
To dried mesquit limbs
Cleared from
an adjacent pasture
last summer
It seemed better
than freezing
In the March wind
Bending its way
Into a town of little interest
By 4 pm
The light was failing
ice was forming
On the tractors casings
Ours
Were the only lives
Exposed
To the
Mercies of the miseries
Of a winter storm
The small farmhouse
Stood alone
The warm refuge
At the end of a field
Of long fallow rows
Awaiting
The next seasons
Best efforts
On The Payroll of Hillburn City New Mexico
David J Walker
Imagine
That such a lonely city
Ever existed
Placed in the middle
of two nowhere
Not worth mentioning
A single building
The gathering spot for
Farmers wives far too
Busy to drive
to either of
the distant small towns for
Coffee,
Cigarettes
Milk and bread
Old cold cuts
Maybe out of date
And the daily mail
In your post office box
In the back
The newspaper from Lubbock
In the rack
Came yesterday and was
A day late at that
Not that it matters
In a jurisdiction
Where you must
pump your own gas
and then ask
about the latest gossip
from the Constable,
Mayor, & Postmaster, and
The only
And lonely
Working citizen on the Payroll
of Hillburn City
I don't want to wander those places where our footsteps have long since passed,
Down shaded alleys where our memories whisper and stand guard like stone sentries,
I no longer wish to hear those songs, symphonies of the past, nor let them steal my thought.
To wrap myself in your now absent shawl of longing and your kisses, as though they never were.
Echo of laughter, tightrope walker on the heart's string, I won't let you spin me around,
To recall your face, a bastion of joy, which I would have painted in the most playful hues.
I no longer desire to search for you among fragments of memory, to see you in every little detail,
To excavate your visages from the neglected corners of time's dusty albums.
I miss 'us,' but I don't want to rewrite our story, each page bearing our joint signature.
To no longer yearn for what's been lost, for the echoes of your footsteps that resonated in my chest.
I don't want to cry again, to let the tears of missing you wash over my face.
To let the pain sink into the abyss, no longer feeling each caress that brought solace.
Noon when I no longer summon your laughter, thunderous waves crashing over my soul,
Nor how your face, once an island of happiness lost, could be my guiding light.
I don't want to make you cry or to hurt you, to break the wings of your dreams with my inadequacy,
Please, do not inflict heart scratches anymore, in this ongoing war to remain standing.
I don't want to hear you say you miss me, words like arrows into the vulnerable veins of 'us.'
Nor to utter, even in a whisper, that I miss you, for longing burns like a brand that is not there.
To no longer feel the red-hot iron of love trouble me again,
I'm afraid... To not fall into your net once more, into the weavings of your heart. I don't want to… I don't want to…
A darker shade of blue
The stars call to me through the use of a screen,
But my curtains are closed to them really being seen.
I’m scared of the dark, the night such a fright.
I wish my heart would allow me to not fear closing my eyes.
Sleep with one eye open, praying not to die.
An eye for an eye, in this world full of lies.
I am the day walker, incapable talker, memories stalker.
Midnights death.
I am so lost, I have lost the plot.
I reach for a God, but believe only with my final breath.
The nightmare continues, an eye to a view.
Beauty in natural form, my gift anew.
So dark in my heart, but still I continue.
Poet (slash) dreamer, if only they knew,
Do you think they could tell, the Hell in which I dwell?
The love that I hold has no-one under its spell.
So I stay in silence, lips unused, closing eyelids,
Soul a darker shade of blue.
(C)2023 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Utopian Smoke
David J Walker
tie-died Salesmen in ponytails
offered peace in an
Aquarian timeshare
for annual fees and considerations
keys of dried green grass line
Golden streets with Brass Bongs
And the utopians smoke
in long tokes exhaling
foreign views of a world
from the peaks of unnamed
Mountains
where Everyone is equal
Because everyone is No one
who drink from the same fountain
Addressing the various alias
Sir names on forged birth certificates
quoting Dylan as the
Odd god of mangled and
Meaningless phrases
The tie-died Salesmen in ponytails
Have taken apartments
On Wall Street
FATHER
Jim Beam, Johnny Walker, Jack Daniels
friends with them all.
Miller, Busch, Ballantine, Schimidt
you held them close.
So busy with your “friends”
no time for baseball games,
fishing, hunting, talking. No
father-son adventures.
Only bond in smoke thickened
bars, playing at base of stool
while another was poured to
drown your sorrows.
Salesmen sweating and trembling
would come to the door, unsure
if anger, threats would greet them.
Only you and your “friends” knew.
Crumbs, soups, toast, hot dogs,
nothing nutritional. Wonder we
didn’t starve. Dirty rags worn
days at a time-kids can be cruel.
Was seven when I watched
Your back disappear for the
last time. Was fifteen when
died saving another boy.
Lonely, cold Christmases,
birthdays passed uncelebrated.
Thanks for your legacy.
You were a great father