Long Watches Poems
Long Watches Poems. Below are the most popular long Watches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Watches poems by poem length and keyword.
Time Traveling
by Odin Roark
When time travels,
Does the clock wonder
As it watches us watch it moving?
Does it see us gaze at numbers
Like forgotten memories in orbit,
A chronicle of yesterday’s journeys?
As time travels,
Our glances recall impetuous youth,
A gathering disdain for aging,
And hopeful resolve when we are old.
When time is traveling,
Why do we watch precise starts and stops,
Question ourselves of distance and time,
Preoccupy our minds with an end game?
Perhaps it’s because…
Clocks are made to travel,
Counting down the intervals we create,
The personal vacuums of measured life,
And ever increasing awareness of death.
All the while…
Existence remains infinite,
Readily aware
When one to twelve travels,
It is but by man’s limiting invention.
I spy with my little eye
a fawn stepping through timothy and clover
a thrush calling from flowering forsythia
a squirrel spiraling up the bark
a rabbit in the sweet grass
over there
I spy with my little eye
a babbling brook carrying leaves of rust and gold
a kingfisher diving where the water bends
a breeze lifting geese in gliding flight
moonlight splitting the frozen needles of mountain pine
I spy with my little eye
a barefoot child caked in mud
a man curled where garbage gathers
a house with no walls, no roof, no door
a funeral with no one left to—
*
I spy with my little eye—a deer running (fleeing)
a child singing (or was that crying)
a game (or a lie? or both? or—)
The game taught me to see—I am fluent now
I distinguish the fawn from the child by the weight
of their need
I know muck from clover by what I can bear to turn from
The world spies with its little eye
It sees me seeing
It watches me separate beauty from beauty—
call one "nature" and one "news"
frame one, parchment the other
love one, forget one
in the eye's blink of mercy
The deer is running—running—I am calling it fleeing
The child is—I am making it lost—to what was
What do I call this—
Selection? Curation?
The formula of witness, the equation of complicity?
What do I call the distance between seeing and saying?
What do I call myself—
Player? Spy? Judge?
The one who closes his eyes and calls it visionary?
Now that the wicked witch has left the room….
Alice…in Never, Never Land, with clouded brow, and foggy mind, stares through the looking glass at the flames of autumn falling from the maples trees.
And…as she watches this ballet of little fluttering fairies in flaming gowns of crimson, amber and gold, she REMEMBERS…yes…she REMEMBERS… that world where she once lived.
She remembers a time so long ago… when with unclouded brow… she danced with those flaming fairies and laid down with them when they fell to the ground in the backyard of the house where she once lived with her mother, father, brothers and sisters.
Where are they now, she wonders?
And in that moment….she sees their smiling faces and hears their laughter as the aroma of that magical autumn so long ago, returns obliterating the smell of antiseptic and death.
A smile slowly creeps across her weathered face as she realizes, SHE HAS ESCAPED.
BUT THEN…the door opens………………AND THE SPELL IS BROKEN, for the wicked witch has returned.
TIME FOR YOUR MEDICATION, ALICE…she sweetly croons, as she pulls down the blind.
Author: Elaine George
Written: September 4th, 2014
Nursery Rhymes Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Eve Roper
A Mother Watches Her Daughter Stretch Her Wings
There was no stopping my daughter's quest
Like a baby blue jay leaving the nest
She would take to the neighbors with a zest
With play in her eyes, she would meet her guest
A cat, dog, and garden laying at rest
My little one reached in her Sunday best
As the trio looked on with warm jest
Gently she met her hosts without protest
As she brought water jugs filled to the crest
The water cure left the trio blessed
And for my daughter, she grew from this test
Tears filled my eyes as her flight was all dressed
for Jim)DEVOTION POEM - ENTANGLED. (for Jim)
For me he’s The One.
As I’ve been for him
his Only One.
From the beginning when
Our fates embraced.
I listen to his breathing, while concerned,
He watches how well I’m moving.
Around him, I am a verdant vine.
He rises near — as a braid of wildflowers
around me to twine.
Our holy Lord sees our love for each other as
The poetry of twin pendulums — joined signs in
The physics and mathematics of His space and time
As we move together — entangled.
Forever our love is synchronized.
The scales of our music harmonize.
We see starlights shine — during the any
Moments of time when we embrace the highest
of love within each other.
——————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger
With thanks to reading here on PS
got me to ask Jim about entanglement theory, resulting
in the inspiration for this. Thankful we inspire one another.
A girl named Emilee, bright as the day.
With a mother’s embrace, she learned to be strong,
But the absence of a father felt like a song.
A melody missing, a note out of tune,
Yet love found a way, like the sun through the gloom.
Her granddaddy came with a heart full of grace,
A gentle old man with a warm, loving face.
He taught her of kindness, of courage, of dreams,
With stories that sparkled like sunlit streams.
He showed her the world through a father’s kind eyes,
In his laughter, she found her own joyful skies.
But time, like a thief, took him far away,
Leaving Emilee’s heart in a shadowy fray.
The day that he left, the world felt so cold,
A bond that was precious, now a memory to hold.
She thought she would shatter, her spirit would break,
For losing her granddaddy felt like a earth quake.
Yet in the stillness, where sorrow once lay,
His love wrapped around her, a warm, soft bouquet.
In whispers of wind, in the rustle of leaves,
She felt him beside her, in all that she believes.
Each day she remembers, each moment she keeps,
His laughter, his wisdom, in her heart, it seeps.
Now as she watches her children at play,
She sees her granddaddy in their smiles every day.
In the twinkle of eyes, in the way that they laugh,
His spirit lives on, in Emilees path.
Though the ache of his absence will never quite cease,
In the faces of her children, she finds her peace.
So Emilee carries the love that he gave,
A legacy woven, a bond that won’t cave.
In the tapestry of life, where memories blend,
Her granddaddy’s love is a light without end.
Though he’s gone from this world, in her heart he will stay,
A father’s love shining down in such a beautiful way.
From high above the mighty eagles soar
and gaze with teary eyes upon the land;
a proud and peaceful nation thrived, before
the bombs began to fall with czar’s command.
Their saddened eyes see blood upon the sand
as innocence lay scattered on the shore;
they’re witnessing the slaughter now at hand
from high above as mighty eagles soar.
Her cities lay in ruin from the war;
her leaders pleading for a helping hand;
the world in horror watches evermore,
and gaze with teary eyes upon the land.
Atrocities and pillage deftly planned
erasing all the joys from days of yore;
the villages and townships now unmanned
where proud and peaceful nation thrived before.
I cannot see the reason for this gore
nor endgame of this despot’s evil hand,
and history repeats itself once more
as bombs begin to fall with czar’s command.
And what will be the outcome of this stand
when smoke has cleared the war which we deplore;
and who will be the next at his demand
as angel’s tears begin to fall once more
from high above?
July 1, 2022
Deserted
She watches from across a darkened street
And pain congeals behind her tawny eyes
She sees the one that he has come to meet
But none will see the silent tears she cries
Her heart belongs to him no matter what
She dreams he will return to her one day
Inside she knows her dreams will come to naught
For when she smiles he turns his face away
So many times she’s lingered here in vain
Her heart though tired and weary cannot rest
The crumbs he throws, she treasures, counts as gain
the hurt he deals she takes without protest
This man, whom she has loved all of her life
Will never now embrace her as a wife
~~~
For Olusequn’s contest ‘Betrayal’
18th January 2010
I try to avoid them in the crisp morning light,
but I hastily sink into their mud-caked bottoms.
I sink to my knees in their inevitable stratum.
One after another, beyond memory or thought,
swirling pools of consciousness unspoken.
Parallel immersive mythos together and unbroken.
Heavy here, my trudge from pond to pond,
egoless consciousness watches with detachment.
My fledgling demanding acts are persistent.
My emotions are unwitting and hand-crafted.
These ponds of my making create schemas
from hormones and perceptual appraisals.
I plod through stages of deepening awareness.
From weeping to laughter, I feel each nuanced valence.
Though I try to resist them again and again,
these are my schemas, my reckoned inventions.
Like a roaming wolf or a squirrel poised in a tree,
these emotional appraisals are my intentions.
These spontaneously self-organizing feelings
are my defenses, and my epiphanies of universal marvel
as egoless consciousness awaits, unspoken.
Spider rests on the faded web, content
Easy autumn, leaves crumbling into dust,
Pastel moon aglow, watches their descent.
Joy rises from every momentous gust,
Blessings flowing on gentle stardust skies,
Easy autumn, leaves crumbling into dust.
Amber and gold, chanting songs to chastise,
Some nights the heart reflects all the wonders,
Blessings flowing on gentle stardust skies.
Way up high there abides pulsing thunders,
Resting on the autumn grace, so loving,
Some nights the heart reflects all the wonders.
Lost souls can feel doubts of darkness shoving,
Yet, when the autumn whispers, they’re in awe,
Resting on the autumn grace, so loving,
Light floods spirits whose hope will not withdraw,
Spider rests on the faded web, content
Yet, when the autumn whispers, they’re in awe,
Pastel moon aglow, watches their descent!