Long Walls Poems
Long Walls Poems. Below are the most popular long Walls by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Walls poems by poem length and keyword.
Beauty and the beast, two splendid hearts that beat as one. Beneath
Love's tender embrace, the Prince was destined to find himself again. .
A blossoming friendship happened between the beast and Belle
Castle sized emotions and devotion grew, for she saw what no one else saw
Kissing her with tenderness and shyness he approached her with a smile !
He was transformed into a beast by a mischievous enchantress
Oh the loneliness he felt as a curse forced him to stay within castle walls
Love was the only cure and if it didn't arrive before his 21st birthday, then ?
Each petal would fall inside the glass globe and he and the rose would die.
Love is the fountain of inner awareness, so when Belle arrived,
Only the radiance of her beautiful face made him feel like a Prince again !
Voicing a promise of love, he came out of the black hole of love and entered
Eagerly into her world, filling her with passion, empathy and true love !!!
'Tis the most wonderful time of the year,
When kids from two to ninety are full of good cheer!
Christmas Trees have been trimmed and are shining bright!
The kids are behaving so well much to their mothers' delight!
Santa sits on his throne at Penney's hearing little kids' pleas,
Kids promising when he visits he'll find cookies and cheese!
Shopping malls and city streets are aglow with fine decorations!
Smiling Salvation Army folks are ringing bells seeking donations!
The Christmas Parade is passing by with cheering folks 'long its route!
Snuggly wrapped carolers sing timeless carols while strolling about!
Frenzied last minute shoppers laded with gifts rush to and fro -
Argyle socks for Pa, perfume for Ma and a snood for Aunt Flo!
The town square looks like a scene from Currier and Ives!
The shrill siren of a fire truck is heard as Santa arrives!
His hearty Ho! Ho's! echo from the walls of the town hall,
As he wishes MEEERRRYYY CHRISTMAS! to one and all!
'Round cozy hearths Dads read the story of the Babe's Birth.
Old Grandfather Clock tolls ten and kids are shooed off to their berth,
To sleep with one eye open to glimpse old Santa and his reindeer!
'Tis truly the most wonderful, wonderful time of the year!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
When we’re born, it’s then we see the Light
After travelling squashed and so malformed
Through a tunnel like those fairground frights
With no-one else to keep us well informed
No bus stop,no rail station,no train track
There’s only one direction, which is out
The walls themselves gyrate behind our back
Some are struck and stuck by fearsome doubt
The head is squeezed, the brain protests with fear
The body’s like a fish stuck in a spout
Here there are no fall back engineers
No drain inspector, plumber to call out.
Yet by luck or fortune most emerge
To light a-dazzle and to love amazed
Sometimes life is okay
Okay to be normal
Okay to be average
These are my Black and white days
My days that marked black and white
Sometimes it’s alright to be okay
Sometimes it’s okay to be alright
Sometimes it’s okay to be alike
He’d clean the parking lot
He really didn’t ask for a lot
He walked with the rain
Drenched he didn’t complain
He lived in a tent
Really was the last to comment
He didn’t play the blues
It was just another day without shoes
He didn’t need faith to know his place
He never mumbled
Pick up debris and marked subtly
Now Jon-boy saw the sun rise
He saw the sun set
He was thankful for whomever he met
He went to help a man in a nice suit and tie
He lie there on the pavement begging to die
As he reached out the man nearly cried
Leave me alone you stupid man
I don’t need help from homeless dude
To help me stand
His days were never saddened
But sadly on this day it had to happen
She saw a broken man
She took his hand
She and her purple curls
She was right there where you were
She told him
Sometimes life is okay
Normality’s alright
but it’s okay to be average
And if average isn’t enough
Then it’s alright to be normal
These are my black and white days
My days that are marked black and white
Sometimes it’s alright to be okay
Sometimes it’s okay to be alright
Sometimes it’s okay to be alike
She said
It’s the spool of yarn life strings you
The value of having less
This image before you is surviving stress
Why are you trying to cripple me with time
I’ve shaded blinds
Sang through chimes
Stepped away from my mind
A time or two
Made giants fall
Hugged empty walls
Picked myself up
and once more crawled
I’ve prayed and failed
I’ve failed and not prayed
I’ve seen the spoils of belief
I’ve been full and never got enough
Been hungry and could not eat
Been clean and messed up sheets
Been impure and could not sleep
"been on the other side of a persuaded mind"
Written By: D. Collins 12/24/24
What happens to us will happen to us, alone.
Through every day of our lives, until we're gone.
Each path is different for every one of us.
What happens will be fate, or a stroke of luck.
There'll be times when bad fate rears its ugly head.
That's when we learn that we're so ill-prepared.
We go into a panic and see the walls closing in.
Never understanding that it was going to happen.
We can envision, coordinate, and plan to a tee.
But life steps in to reveal what is reality.
It has detours, hills, and plenty of pit stops.
What happens will happen, whether we want it or not.
The Devil’s House
This empty house calls
and I sneak in from the cold
walking through the empty door.
The sun shining through the window
welcomes me like a moth to flame.
This temptation taunts fate
implores me to pass in silence
through empty chambers
left with no signs of previous life.
Compulsion defies caution
and leads me downstairs
while I fear walls collapsing
like a house of cards,
but I stand alone and warm
swearing to keep secret
the forbidden journey I take.
In the penumbra of thoughts, dice dance on an invisible board,
Whispers of hope entangle among the trembling fingers of fate,
Echoes of lost victories clash against the walls of the abandoned fortress,
Where once, heroes with pure hearts raised the banners of illusion.
Now, in the oppressive silence, the harsh truth seeps through the cracks of time,
Dripping bitterness into the cup of knowledge that we all drink,
The unseen chains of destiny bind us to an imperfect reality,
Where dreams melt like the wax of a forgotten candle.
Waves of consciousness crash against the shore of common understanding,
Carrying with them fragments of unfinished conversations and unkept promises,
In this ocean of collective consciousness, we all float,
Clinging to fragile rafts made of false hopes and lost illusions.
And yet, deep within the soul, a spark of rebellion smolders,
Nourished by the memory of a world where justice was not just a word,
But a living force that pulsed in the veins of every person,
But now, only the faint echo of that memory resounds in the night.
Thus, we step forward through the dense fog of days to come,
With eyes open, yet blind to the uncomfortable truths surrounding us,
Wearing masks of willful ignorance and forced smiles,
While deep down, we all know the game was rigged from the start.
Morning sun floods the room
Pouring over walls in charming patterns
Light flickers and shimmers, throwing
Soft, velvet shadows onto the floor
Where there are fantasies falling
Metaphors so wise and alive
Copying the silence and sharing hope
Through similes, mirages lingering
Stories told through phantasms
Visions flowing on the air in rays
Where light throws a gentle praise
For His glorious ways, His day
Colored in musical prayers, psalms
Beckoning on the walls, the ceiling, the floor
Where all these shapes are outlines
Repetitions of the heart who glows
On the light of a sunshine thought
Breathing splendor into the air
Painting silence in hues of kindness
Enlightening, inviting, exciting
Shadows so alive they delight a caress
Lingering on the breathtaking grace
That streams in through the window
Creating charming patterns of compassion
Charming Patterns Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
September 26, 2021
The battle between body and spirit
Housed as I am,
in this earthenware vessel
I witness,
the raging between body and spirit.
My mood- sullen and morose,
a telling sign-
a flashing indicator-
pointing to a weakness in my will,
a slow debilitating decline in my convictions-
indicating a buttressing of my resolve-
is urgently needed.
This paroxysm has been a body blow,
and my spirit is reeling.
I am cloistered, incarcerated now these three years,
having served a portion of my sentence.
What is my crime?
These four walls,
such contemptible, wretched creatures-
mock me, taunt me, deride me
as weak and worthless;
but I know better!
I am shackled to the two evil twins-
misery and myalgia-
myrmidons- secret agents of the devil
serving at his pleasure.
Hell-bent they are on a wicked crusade
raping and pillaging the golden storehouses
of my treasured faith and hope.
Sacred vaults protect my integrity,
my zeal is still intact.
As I wrestle with my afflictions
I throw tantrums-like a feral beast
charging towards the drawn sword.
However, I succumb to the inevitable.
I sense the folly of the fight and submit,
although-unwillingly to this intransigent,
auto-immune disease.
How do you fight an enemy who is
entrenched in your marrow?
This enemy is coercing me on this death march
and it is unrelenting in it's insistence.
The gates of Sheol* beckon to me to enter,
I resist the clarion call, although the gravity
draws me ever closer to my sealed fate.
I see visions of paradise, here on earth,
where pain is no more,
and all suffering is a distant memory
until eternity erases it from my mind.
Unfortunately, for me,
looks like I'll be taking the subway,
instead of the train to paradise.
December 17,2018
For Misery contest Edward Ibeh
*Sheol Hebrew for the grave.
Not hell as a burning place of torment
as is commonly taught and believed.
"she asked
if i was
empty"
there's a house
on the corner
that once stood
so pretty
now it sits
empty
on a thin frame
weakened
from the hands
of time
there's no laughter
echoing
down halls
no shadows
of youth
dancing
on walls
it just sits
empty
weighted down
in winter's storms
waiting to collapse
beneath the weight
that it bares
it's cold
and alone
just awaiting
that final blow
that brings it
crashing down
for now it sits
empty
on a thin
weakened frame
knowing
it can't be fixed
perhaps
i should
show her
this house
it's empty
inside
and out