Long Wash Poems
Long Wash Poems. Below are the most popular long Wash by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wash poems by poem length and keyword.
Wool covered wolf’s heart
comfort driven faucet wash
not cold nor hot
fantasy circling yellow stuck
talent hidden spirit famished
switching gear to cruelty drive
unzipped wolf leaps out
surprising sheep with slaughter
and panic
adding war to plagues and famine
deeper in darkness soul iced
charity coin tossed out
and given to warm heart
making it hotter luminous bright
sun splendor at midnight shining
figs and olives together ripening
time to produce in season and out
earth shaking faith coins out
turning day to night
sign preceding Second Coming
to Jesus to give an account.
Time will not go back to normal
faith hidden is faith lost!
Led by Cross to glory
or by instinct to slaughter.
Christmas will be different this year.
First Place: Brian Strand- Un-Rhy-me Me 11/30/20
Despite It All…We Still Sail Onward
(Apropos Again)
Why have we chosen to wallow?
Despair. Listen to the ancestors.
They did more with less; we have more.
Fool! We have boots with straps!
Be aware of where they came!
Be not deceived and succumbed.
Be not a victim of self defeat.
Catch a tear and wash it back.
Crystal stairways always shatter.
Remember the Ancestors who had less.
Ye of little faith, know that the faith
Of the ancestors weigh heavily on the arch
Forever bending against the straight anvil
Of nullification and dissimulations;
Curving and bending to waiting justice.
Survival surrenders nothing to defeat.
Liberation is not given; but fought and won.
Tears and grief win not battles; neither does despair.
Audacious faith and flames of hope and redemption
Burn and desolate all fears of defeat and delusions.
Despite the roaring sea ahead, we sail onward.
Despite the holes in our sails, we sail onward.
Despite the waning winds, we sail onward.
Despite the empty belly of hell, we sail onward.
Despite challenging vicissitudes we sail onward.
She cries during songs that no one else listens to all the way through. Her heart catches on moments like it’s made of thread, tangled in things most people walk past without noticing. The girl who feels everything has a soul that doesn’t just hum, it sings, even when no one’s listening. She gives away her last piece of gum, her last text of the night, her last bit of energy just so someone else feels seen. She’s the kind of person who remembers your favorite color, even if you only said it once, half-asleep. There’s a gentleness to her that isn’t weakness. It’s a kind of quiet bravery the world doesn’t always reward.
She sits with sadness like it’s an old friend, wraps it in blankets, and waits it out without asking it to leave. Somehow, she still hopes. Still looks at the sky, perhaps the stars are watching her back. Her love is not loud, it’s steady, like a heartbeat, like a home. She forgives people who never apologize. She finds reasons to stay when the world hands her exit signs. Sometimes she gets tired. She curls up with her feelings and lets them wash over her like waves, knowing that tomorrow she’ll get up again, not because it’s easy, but because someone out there needs her to.
The girl who feels everything teaches people how to feel again. She reminds them what softness is, what kindness can do when it’s given without expectation. If you’ve ever met her, and took the time to know her, you’ll carry her forever, like the beat of a song you didn’t know you needed. She’s the warmth in the silence, the tear in the laugh, the light through the crack in the door. If only you would let her in. Listen. Care for her. You won’t forget someone like her. You just hope she never forgets herself. She is learning that world is better every single day she stays in it, just as she believes is true for everyone else.
Full moon my lovely, fill me with energy
My parched spirit longing to be renewed
The thoughts of you fill all my reveries
As I eagerly await for your appearance in glee
So let me refocus on who is really me
And never forget what I'm living here for
When darkness around is all that I see
May you light up the world and banish my enemies
Time and time they try to tear me down
I fall on my knees and tears wash over
But one day I'll be sitting on a throne with a crown
Moonstone glistening on bejeweled silver
So once again I give praises to thee
Who has guided me through the tragedies
Full moon moonlight cleansing over me
In thirty more days I will once again see
Welcome to the circus
of discrimination-
where soft subtle glances
and fragrant
touches of femininity
are burnt in ashes,
through howling rays
from the sinister sun,
triggering wildfire
chaos,
conquering and controlling
roles of women;
endlessly shape-shifting
from predatory postures
of pretend protectors,
that twist and turn
tangled heartstrings
from a patriarchal pantomime
of their treacherous charade,
obnoxiously oppressing
obscured boundaries,
with their art of arrogance,
placing labels upon
our need for freedom
as sheer ignorance
of aliens aspiring for acceptance.
But what if there was
more to a flower,
than to be left-
dreamlessly
paralyzed in puddles
of poisoned petals?
Is there no wind
that can wash away
wounds of the world
engraved as a
secret symphony
of sorrow,
within sepia sepals?
Will storms carrying
songs of a
suppressed soul be
forever heard
as forced dreams?
Mimicking motionless mountains,
silently static, mistaken for
serenity,
whilst enchanting hills
draped in olive green silk
are confused as gilded
stars in worn novellas,
streaming rivulets of
emerald lakes,
where manuscripts
of tears are apprehended
as melodramatic melancholy.
Oblivious to the wilderness,
where words whirl as poetic
prophecies,
descending as
theatrical thunder,
striking upon abandoned
entities of earth, eclipsed with
fingerprints of
love lingering
liquid fears of
a female fighter,
rising above acrobatic
tyrants—
for maternal daffodils are lions,
glazed in an idle arias,
composing battles
using only words as weapons.
A rainstorm in the morning helps to wash away the night,
a rainbow seems to promise that this day will turn out right.
Our feathered friends all gathering, in search of morning treat,
could anything go wrong today, just look below your feet.
Heavy rain is death to us it creates a muddy sea
of sodden soil, a watery grave for those who can’t get free.
For terror hangs above our home as birds all flock around,
they know that we have got no choice, we’ll be their killing ground.
Wonderful for all who greet this frenzy with delight,
to watch the pretty birds catch worms … oh what a lovely sight!
But as the waters seeps below we worms rise one by one
and try to seek a ‘safer’ place, dried by the morning sun.
Before our heads have seen the light their beaks begin to tear,
they rip my family into shreds before they can breath air.
This feast is at our fatal cost our numbers dwindle down,
if only we weren’t forced to rise from safety underground.
Today I was the lucky one the one they never caught,
I’ll live to squirm another day alone with life, and thought.
To live my days in solitude, to have no friends around
and still to face the terrors of that ‘pitter patter’ sound.
So if you’re happy with your friends but feel that you are down,
unless you’re ‘forced’ to rise above the place that you have found
it’s safer to accept your lot for sometimes you can’t see
the place you struggle to achieve’s not what it seems to be!
Ivor G Davies.
(A Family Crisis?)
Walked once on the sunny side of life
Though the storms of life crashed
Thundering all about
A whispered scream was hushed
And dreams were dashed
And faith was faithless
In my heart of doubt
I hid behind a script I took a bow
I made them scared
Or sad, or laugh or care
Then disappeared because
I was no where
The darkness stretched before
Me Deeply wide
To finally wash
Me with that final tide
But Light came quickly
Rushing to my side
I found life that cold day
I Thought
I'd died
Water is such a fun thing
nothing can keep it dry
it always so full of liquid
gets you wet whatever you try
Now mix water and elephants
then the fun really begins
these large creatures of nature
love a good splash on their pins
They have an extra gift on them
having trunks to water out by force
you've no chance against such a foe
a drenching is yours sure of course
but if you really want a car wash
then these fun guys are spot on
but make sure they hit the target
if you're near your dusk will be dawn!
So if you're near any area of water
make sure elephants are not near at hand
if they are then be sure it's land dry
don't mix them you just stand alone
Snuggles was a rescue who desperately needed a home. And I said yes. I will never forget the
day she arrived in a tattered box. She was terrified and skinny. Was supposed to be 5 years
old, but looked like a kitten. I found out that she was just five pounds. I reached in the box to
touch her. She was so matted and her fur felt rough. When, I lifted her out of the box, she just
struggled so much I lost my grip and she headed for under the bed, she stayed for a few days.
That was the beginning of our journey,
each day was a step closer to trust and love:
soon, she let me wash her and brush her shiny,
after that, I brushed her every single day speaking softly;
as she purred me a song.
Snuggles became a delightful pet cat,
she had an amazing sweet personality:
loved people and they said she was so lovely,
I taught her to walk on a leash and we went everywhere;
I was so proud of Snuggles.
Oh, those eyes were so pretty, each different,
one green, and one gold, but sometimes not:
she loved to play and she loved to cuddle up,
I had Snuggles until she was 14 and each day was beautiful;
she filled my days with sunshine.
What I'm getting ready to lay out for you
You might find incredible but it's nothing new
In today's world you're as good as screwed
If there's no more than two or three of you
That's why I'm fixing to make a couple of clones
That I can sit back and call my very own
One for the office and one for home
With the three of me no one the wiser will know
The one at the office I'll teach to say yes sir
Keeping his lips pursed, a genuine butt kisser
Of course he won't have to do all that much work
They'll all get suspicious if he goes overboard
The clone at home will love the wife and the kids
Wash the dogs, the cars, make sure the cat's fed
Mow the yard if there's any time left
Then round about 9pm start nodding his head
While the real me will be down in the Keys
Living it up in Florida luxury
The only action from now on that I'm going to see
Are the bluest of waves as they're pounding the beach
So who could blame me for going it clone
Things are much easier when you don't go it alone
Would have done it much sooner if I had known
Everyone should have one or two clones
Note: The clones in this poem are purely fictional and in no way reflect that of the author nor that of his clones.