Long Wall Poems
Long Wall Poems. Below are the most popular long Wall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wall poems by poem length and keyword.
At the darkest hour of night
Before night shadows
Steal across the wall of darkness
Into the welcoming hands of dawn;
As with defecting soldiers
At Korea's demilitarized zone
With my spoke,
I stoked the fire
Sending it's glamorous flame
Spiraling, hissing, revolving and tumbling
Like a million ocean waves,
Unraveling itself in its splendor;
Surging, splurging and lunging forward
Like a roaring lion
Seeking to subdue it's helpless prey
We encamped around the fire
At the village ilo
Titled men of Onicha ugbo,
Telling tales of valor
To psyche themselves
To the point of equilibrium
As men saturated in a binge
Of snuff, kola-nut and red bull,
With eyes of fire,
Await words of armistice
From Ukwunzu village
Drenched in the momentous suspense
Characterized by the uncertainty and promise
Which sneak in with dawn
As night tired limbs,
Like a ship gliding through
A voluptuous Ocean,
Navigates the unwinding path of darkness,
Devouring it copiously,
Seeking with desperation
To berth at dawn's
Promising shores
Our despair turns to fear,
Fear begets ambivalence
And uncertainty translates
To aspirations for
Dawn's hopeful uhuru
The long hard journey through
past to progress
These day's has far few many stops to make along it's tried and tested daily route to commute
As cutting costs has so many
uneconomic station laid bare
in it's path
Deemed unsustainable via
accounting computer program
ledgers with countless bites
of memory to spare
Once filled with dumpster full
of coal and shoals of eadible
fish pulse and grain
To steel the masses for another
working day to breathe new life
into industry
To service the never ending
escalating intresest on banking
loans that prop-up wall street share
prices
In order to finance and build a new
Mall , Factory , Hotel or Flats
On the grave of our past long
before they have even been
pronounced dead
It happened to the cowboys
It happened to the miners
It happened to the fishermen
It happened to the farmer's
What paradise for a car park
And job security for my family
And an honest day's work for pay
And human value self worth
And yet and though it is with our
blistered hand toil sweat and
tears it takes to build your tower's
It will be enough or shall it enable
us to afford us to live reside inside
your castles wall's
As for us we are merely entrusted
and expected to garner you with
security
Guard your carparks
Guard your gate's
Guard your monetary wealth
Good enough to raise your children
Place them firmly in our custody
Pick them up from Ivy Schools
When one is busy out shopping
taking lunch , partying or upwardly
socializing
And all of this for the measly price
of knowing one's place and one
mistake could cost you and your
family
It's one and only breadwinner
who put and set aside his pride
to hide it deep inside a box
That signals the future is the station
boarded up you just past
When the autumn winds blow away the last petal,
And the last golden leaf is seen to gently settle
On the golden carpet created for us to tread,
We sit as I use your shoulder to rest my head.
The years we have been together led us to these days,
Depending upon each other in so many different ways.
Now in the twilight of our lives, our love is still deep.
You didn’t give me flowers, but rather something to keep.
The first poem you gave me still pleases me as I drift to sleep.
The first puppy you gave me, in delight it made me weep.
Your thoughtful gifts, you say were a token of your love,
Still on our wall your painting of the fantail dove.
Each gift of love brings untold memories of times gone by.
Glad you didn’t give me flowers that would just wither and die.
We have had a life of love that grew in many directions so deep.
Along with all your gifts, we have each other’s love to keep.
Memories of us flicker like a candle wick's flame
Yesterdays, I recall, but today nothing is the same
Sleep's become illusive. Each night I am unsettled
Openly, I cry as if my red rimmed eyes are nettled
Uttering a sigh, I gaze at the glowing gilded moon,
Lingering in loneliness while attempting not to cry
Thoughts of you flow through me like a waterfall
Often, I stare at shadows dancing upon the wall
Keepsakes of our life, I cherish with all my heart
Every time I look at them, I try not to fall apart
Eternally, I will be grateful for all that we shared
Please, God, mend my soul, for it has been bared.
April 12, 2021
Any Acrostic of 10 To 12 Lines
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Here we are
come ~ bring it
in the morning
at noon
and in the evening
and if time permits you
and your legs could walk you
in the small hours of the night
like one, or two, or three
Here is our dwell
the comforts of all daylong
the market that markets us to feed
Here are our hands
stretch in front of us
awiting you to drop your lacks
You want progress?
You want to ward off evil spirit?
and many more deep down your mind
We are the needy
always at-alert to take your lacks
to mollify our lacks
Come ~ bring it
Ayetoro is our dwell
Be in the raining
we never retreat
rather, we stand and recline our back
on the wall, faces the road
fiddle palms to the merciful lord
who created you and us
Disequilibrium
to take off the barbaric rain
which falls on the young
with no respects for the old
and infuses us pleasant cold
and we shiver like leaves on the stream
although we are one with it
Be in the dry
we never retreat from the endless sun
that burns the skin like igniting fire
our bodies are the junction of dust
although we are one with it
We love and we become one
so we increase as the day moves on
with hope that our posterity
would write a new story
Ayetoro (peaceful life) is a well known street in Osogbo, capital city of Osun State Nigeria.
The borders fell like fever from a long-tormented frame,
No steel was turned, no legions marched, no decree spoke their name.
For when the node of silver wood began its quiet rise,
The phantom lines of sovereign pride dissolved before their eyes.
The ancient ghosts of territory, of fortress, and of crest,
Like winter frost before the sun, sank deep into the breast.
The pain that once had armed the hand and built the concrete wall
Was opened to the anchor node, unmetered, shared by all.
A mother’s cry in Sector One, the drought of Sector Four,
No longer stopped at checkpoints or the barricaded door.
The collective mind, in empathy, received the bitter sting,
And wove the ache of centuries into a single string.
Where once the barbed dividers stood to guard the hollow grain,
Now surged a tide of healing hands to wash away the stain.
The map of old Vaeloria, where blood-bought nations bled,
Became a tapestry of care, by quiet mercy fed.
No citizen was left an island, stranded in their grief;
The shared scar of the species brought its ultimate relief.
I sit in quiet and see the sunlight speckling through a magnolia tree.
I close my eyes and hear the buzzing song of a honey bee.
I listen to the tunes of the starlings and blackbirds choir.
I see the buzzards soaring over in the summer sky go higher and higher.
I sit in awe and relax to contemplate.
My mind and my heart join to explore this fascinating state.
A subtle breeze over the lilac tree.
Sends an aroma of intoxicating beauty over me.
I watch the beetle climb the wall.
I see the red admiral come to call.
I watch my cat sniff the scented air.
I feel more alive sitting still in this golden lighted air.
I take a sip of my Yorkshire tea.
I feel a deep and rewarding sense of serenity.
didactic diatelle
Stones
piled high
twelve laid by
on Jordan’s shore.
When wand’ring youth ask why –
“What are these heavy boulders for?”
Trustworthy parents, help them to explore
the river bank and crossing where My might was shown.
Let them know why the priests marched in before
the water wall started to soar.
Tell them with just one try
the bare sea floor
was found dry.
Teaching
stones.
Reason A. Poteet, written 21 Mar 2012
My thoughts upon viewing Stonehenge. I remembered the passage from Joshua 4 and Joshua's command for the parents to tell their children of the meaning of the stones that were piled on the shores of the River Jordan. If someone had written down what Stonehenge represented, we would have no questions about it.
What is a person's value?
What is their worth?
Can it be based solely
On what is found in their empty purse?
Can that one missing emptiness...
Take away a person's pride?
Can it belittle,
The entire worth of their life?
Is there some value
In the light in their eyes?
Is there some value
for the past loves of their life?
Is there some value
In the all the books that they've read?
The knowledge that they've imparted
The words that they've said?
Do they get credit
For the beauty that they've seen
Painter of paintings
Dreamer of dreams.
Taker of photographs
Creator of life
Mother of children
Lover of life.
Lover of wisdom, of knowledge, of men
Friend to all people, both dark-skinned and light
Lover of humans
Meets all with delight.
Lover of all things
Both known and unseen
Champion of causes, of persons, ideals
Believes in the future, values every meal.
Is there some value
To someone who really loves life
Whose laughter fills every day
In spite of their strife?
To someone who looks to the heavens
Always amazed
Someone who has pondered the moon
And watched it go through its phase.
To someone who has held the earth in their hands
Who has felt the sun on their face
Who is raising their own children
Who puts on a brave face.
What is the value
Of one who has financially hit a wall
Who has often sat here and pondered
And tried to make sense of it all.
What is my Value?
What is my Worth?
Will I be valued solely
By what is contained in my purse?
Copyright Christine A. Kysely November 9, 2010
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
I've had many one night stands, that left me empty
Spent way too much on whiskey, and on beer
But the one thing, I find, as I get older
Is that lonely, is my biggest fear
My friends have all gone on, to get married
And here I sit, on this barstool again
My troubles I share with the bartender
Hoping that he'll be my friend
It's lonely within these four walls
Even worse is my heartache and pain
From knowing that my future won't change much
And tomorrow will be more of the same
Lonely in self, and lonely in love
Lonely and empty inside
This lonely makes me feel incomplete
But is lonely really a crime
Seven precious hours I've wasted
Just watching the clock on the wall
Wondering if the silence that surrounds me
Is the sound of a heart gone AWOL
Can you lend me an ear if you have one
Would you care to spare some of your time
To listen to a man who needs answers
Is being lonely really a crime
Lonely in self, and lonely in love
Lonely and empty inside
This lonely makes me, feel incomplete
But is lonely really a crime
Lonely in self and lonely in love
Lonely and empty inside
This lonely for me has gone on for so long
I think I'm starting to loose my mind
This lonely haunts me
Most of the time
But is lonely really a crime.....