Long Wave Poems
Long Wave Poems. Below are the most popular long Wave by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wave poems by poem length and keyword.
Atlantis rises
Under the water a city floats.
Invisible walls protect the people from the ocean.
Above the waves, nobody knows of the city below.
The worshipers lay flowers before their Gods to show their devotion.
For centuries this city has stood against the wave of incoming tides.
For generations its people have tried,
To find a way to live above and not just accept being uprooted;
But there are those would claim to rule,
So Atlantis must remain secluded.
The Atlantian’s feel trapped inside their sphere.
They want to find land; they want a new home and a new frontier,
But this city is the hand they have been dealt.
Even in this united community, there are those who cannot be helped.
They plot and scheme and think of change,
But they cannot wait to see that day;
For they are impatient,
So they act on instinct.
Not willing to discuss, they move with mistrust
And without a sound, they blink…
They disappear and gather in secret to speak.
Security seek them, but the protectors are weak.
The time has come to leave this place!
At night they leap into action, a war on the base.
Guns are waved, orders are shouted;
Shock and awe are a necessity, as to not be doubted.
Stolen ships of exploration;
Part of the human spirit has been taken.
But the community comes together to unite around those who remain.
They still think about those who decided to leave,
But the minutes soon turn into days.
Soon those who left are all but forgotten;
Life moves on without a mention of them.
All that which they stole has been replaced.
Years later a city rises from beneath the waves,
To appear before the world; a mystery unravels.
The people who never existed have found a way to travel.
How did they survive beneath the sea all these days?
With magic and machinery, they found a way.
A future voice; an alien being.
Time travel; all knowledge available to be seen.
As the city grows to reach the land,
The ocean is its arm; the city is its hands
And as the hand rises, the people multiply.
The city continues to grow until it reaches the sky.
Now the ocean is unseen, the land is no longer green.
Everywhere the people look, they only see concrete.
The view disappears;
Sky scraper towers.
Humans have advanced through the years,
But gone are all the flowers…
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
I am a monster
A tormented work of God’s hand
I will roll over you
Like a storm
Because that I am
My energy will attract you like a swarm of bees in spring
Into your lover’s bed
Where I will remove tranquility
From you mind
Before you reject me
I am a Tesla
Coiled
My fingers set to spark
They will suck the life out of your longing
You will desire to burn again in my hell
But you will remove me
And keep me at bay
For I am too strong in field
To leave close to your heart
Yet I will possess you
Not because I own you
Only will I own your desire
To wrap around my tongue again
And from inside your womb
You will grow a hand longing to pull me into your core
Yet I will unwillingly shake your bed
While you try to sleep
Because I cannot stop
Even when I rest
A storm I am
Cursed am I
With a double vortex of pain
That rips at my muscles
And makes them twitch
When I want them to relax
There is lightening inside of me
That longs to be kissed into a deeper slumber
Just once, so that I can rest in bliss at your side
Will you do that for me, just once?
Or throw me away before the first dawn, as is my fate
My tormented soul
Wants the electrocutioner’s pulse
To leave me alone
And let my limbs recline
For just one night
But instead I must sleep awake
So I do not unleash
Another crushing wave
Against your brain
As my twitching arms attack you despite my love
For while a storm may intrigue you to watch
You will not ride long in the funnel of this tornado
I will become your toy
And discarded after a few shocks of my constant sparking
Have burned your precious fingertips into charcoal
My place will become as your sworn servant
When you require another grinding
And remember the reason your millstones have worn thin
Desiring another load
To render into stardust
And while I just wish to rest my weary head
Upon your swollen breasts of honey
While you sleep against me in pleasure’s afterglow
The storm that never sleeps will jar you awake
And your pointed finger will show me out the dog’s door
Creep that I am
Requires his mask to be kissed away, but it will not yield
No one can endure
A lasting embrace
Because I will bump your arms away in the night
You should be warned
As upon notice be you now informed
My tic ticking heart
Will demand its daily toll
Sending me to sleep alone
While sailing out on morning’s tide
A mermaid on a rock I spied
She was a lovely half-fish girl
With a necklace made of whitest pearl
She smiled and blew a kiss to me
Then disappeared into the sea
She surfaced back behind the boat
And lazily began to float
I grabbed my friend and pointed aft
He thought that I was truly daft
For mermaids don’t exist, you know
My friend quite plainly told me so
No sooner had he walked away
The mermaid came again to play
She sunned herself upon some rocks
And combed her flowing silken locks
I hailed the Captain of our ship
But she had given me the slip
The Captain answered to my call
But saw no mermaid there at all
The Captain thought me quite insane
As my wondrous tale I did explain
When he returned back to his duty
I saw again my ocean beauty
She floated there upon a wave
A subtle wink she slyly gave
And then she flipped her lovely tail
Swimming along as we did sail
I called all of my sailor friends
To show them her curvaceous fins
They asked if I was feeling well
When my story I began to tell
I pointed to the mermaid fair
But when they looked, nothing was there
They thought that I had lost my mind
No mermaid out there could they find
They left and shook their weary heads
And sleepily went to their beds
My head was in a dizzy whirl
I saw the ocean waters swirl
Then once again she came in sight
Swimming in the pale moonlight
I yelled and danced a frantic jig
As they hauled me off into the brig
“He’s lost it” I did hear them say
As they sadly went upon their way
Through the port of my little cell
I watched the sea waves rise and swell
Then suddenly next to the glass
I saw the little seaward lass
She took the pearls off of her neck
And tossed them up onto the deck
Then off she swam into the deep
As I wearily slipped off to sleep
When came the early light of dawn
I stretched my arms and gave a yawn
Then my good friend upon the ship
Ran down with pearls fast in his grip
"You won’t believe the sight I saw"
He said to me, face filled with awe
Last night while I was by the rail
I heard a voice give me a hail
Next thing I knew, here came these pearls
From underneath the ocean swirls
"Quite right you were", he said to me
"A mermaid threw these from the sea"
I winked and said “I don’t think so”
For mermaids don’t exist you know
I swung with a vengeance but missed that damned fly
The breeze I’d created caused him to pass by
My electric racquet in underarm mode
Still failed to make that bluebottle explode
It filled me with hate as it buzzed round my plate
I swung and I swung and became more irate
That foul little demon was soon to be dead
As soon as it took itself off of my head
Now, I’m not a coward in anyone’s book
But I’m in no hurry to smell my brain cook
I angled my zapper to strike as it rose
And almost set fire to the tip of my nose
It flitted at speed like a Pac-Man on heat
But I am a human… I will not be beat
My dinner was cooling and it wasn’t salad
I’ll murder that fly and then write me a ballad
Overarm, underarm, back-hand and flip
My energised racquet was firm in my grip
At one point it landed on chandelier-high
And I had to wave that light fitting goodbye
My sausage was cold (can we please keep this clean)
And I had become a fly killing machine
A back somersault and a cartwheel or two
My electric racquet had flashed neon blue
Poor little Tiddles, she trusted me so
Her recuperation has some way to go
But I’ll give her cuddles and snuggles and then
I dearly regret that I zapped her again
Twas kinda Dick Whittington, but in reverse
Tiddles left home and I don’t know what’s worse
My poor little kitten is out on her own
But that demon-fly is at rest on my phone
How great the temptation to say what the hell
And batter that fly and my iPhone as well
But then it took off and it sped through the air
I swung and I swiped and set fire to my hair
Okay I confess; just a few hairs got singed
But I don’t have many and that’s why I whinged
In anger I swiped at the sound of its hums
Which came close to giving me two deep fried plums
How bloody long can a bluebottle live
My electric racquet and I cannot give
Yet more gymnastics to vanquish our foe
As I shoot some volts through my right hand big toe
I whirled like a dervish and now on a mission
I swung like a thing that had infra red vision
But, boy, did I cheer at the quiet little ‘phut!’
As that fly took a window to find it was shut
***
But now I feel guilty for I’ve done okay
Though I don’t know who saw me swinging away
I owe my new job to that small airborne menace
My local school wants me to teach the kids tennis
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.
For years her stepmom and stepsibs made her perform a menial's duty,
And as she blossomed into beauty,
They grew more hateful, mean, and cruel.
Each night they dined on fine cuisine and wore lace dresses with silk sashes,
While she wore rags begrimed with ashes,
And got just crusts of bread and gruel.
Then one day a herald from the king demanded entry
To the homes of landed gentry,
They were invited one and all.
It was the prince's eighteenth birthday, and the king and queen were harried
Because their son was not yet married.
Ergo, the reason for the ball.
The stepsisters primped and preened and wild excitement they exuded,
When Cindy asked to be included, they gaped at her as if appalled.
Stepmother sneered, "Look here, I'll show you!"
With self-righteous indignation,
"Your name's not on the invitation.
Just we elite are so installed."
So Cinderella went downstairs to seek some solace in the kitchen,
But 'stead of sittin' there and b****in', she started dancing with a broom.
She whirled and twirled around the floor,
Or else she'd stand there, gently swaying,
As if an orchestra was playing
Pretending they were bride and groom.
And then a flash, a crash of thunder, and to Cindy's stunned amazement,
There gliding through the kitchen casement,
A pudgy lady dressed in blue.
She said, "Hello, my dear, no fear, I'm here to grant your secret wishes,
I'll wave my wand and clear the dishes,
And make a princess out of you!"
She waved and tapped and flicked and zapped,
And what she seemed to make the air do
Was give her make-up, nails, and hair-do,
And then to make the look complete,
Out of those rags so soiled and worn and far too torn to drown a cat in,
A gown of gossamer and satin, and crystal slippers on her feet.
Without this timely intervention, Cindy's tale might have been tragic.
Could she have managed without magic,
And her dilemma be resolved?
But everybody knows what happened with a gourd and six white mice,
And how a smudgy scullery maid was made to clean up really nice,
When a fairy got involved.
To be continued...
Whispering in the dark,
Your hand around my waist
I hear you say “you love me”
All I hear is the deceit in your breath.
You been creeping, thinking I didn’t know.
Laying here with my eyes wide open.
Pretending to sleep, you don’t even notice.
But how can you when your being is laced with lies.
I feel the young girl's hands on yours.
Her sweet purrs rock your body and transcends into mine.
I am a woman and I know.
It’s dark out, its dark inside,
Will you ever admit your infidelity?
Or will it get worse by morning light.
The girl be calling everyday when you in the shower,
She be texting while you eat my breakfast.
You turn,kiss me goodbye, your smile reminds me of the devil.
As I watch your silhouette dance towards the woman you creep with.
Do you even notice the rage and the thunder?
Or you just cast a blind eye and carry on.
Your band feels heavy on my hand.
It’s a diamond I adored once,
But now all I see is sand, why does it even sparkle.
When the sparkle I had is now an icy stare of hate.
You call during the day, tell me you miss me.
I wonder how you can say that,
Do you even miss me or you just need a beacon.
A woman who will catch you when you fall?
I hear her voice in yours, I hear the echoes that still my soul.
I can’t even blame her, I am not even mad at her.
I can’t help but wonder, if she even knows.
If she does, she is set for a life of mishaps.
No bad deed ever go unpunished.
If she doesn’t, she is set for a life misery.
I can’t even be mad at him.
This emotion that I have has surpassed.
I feel nothing but rage multiplied.
I gave him my all, he gave me His all.
It’s all up in flames, it’s all up in ashes.
You obviously can’t be seeing with your soul.
For your eyes are now a mirror of misconception.
You will not even notice my dry tears,
Or the wave of fire in my bones.
Will it surprise you if you wake up alone one night?
I doubt it would, that’s why my fear has melted.
How can I leave in the midst of a situation?
A situation I can easily fix, maybe you would notice then.
Will I use a piece of steel, to silence you immediately?
For silence is what your love has been for two years.
Or will I just choke you, leave your breathless.
For all those nights you breathed out perfume and lust.
Will I even call it even or will I walk and forget you ever existed.
© Herzel Poshiwa
I climb to the top of the Eiffel tower to catch the remnant of hope gliding through the skies in a bolt of lightning as it circles the three hundred- and thirty-meters pinnacle standing bravely on the hill singing songs of redemption.
I have been longing to get there because I have something romantic to share, it was you I saw sitting in a golden chair with a diamond ring on your finger and golden septage in your hand.
You had gifts all around you and long line of people were waiting to see you and the people from Babylon walking by saluting and bowing in front of you.
It seems like yesterday they rolled the curtain away and you came out without a thought or doubt, but the villagers began to shout.
They marched in the village with sticks and stones calling on the woman of Samaria to turn around or they would send the tanker man to blow up the town.
She didn’t take it seriously until she got hit in the face and ended up with broken finger and domestic disgrace, forcing her to pull back into herself as the weapon of death wheeled over her head.
It causes her to lose some precious vote and while she was out everyone start to shout, the river monkey and the Pentecostal valedictory but the Methodist honorary showed compassion and did not voice their opinion. Pope Francois was in on it too. But his persuasion was not strong to take down the giant man.
The live imagery was so profound of everyone you meet in the town. They smile in front of you and tear your garments behind you and when they are done, they hang it on a stick and place it on top of the Eifel tower in the sun.
We live in two separate worlds, one inside of me and the other outside of you, but it feels like you are right here besides me.
I can hear you all the time but you mask your voice underneath the vine and at nights when I take a nap you play tick tack toe underneath my frock but I pretend to sleep on to prevent altercation on the land. The image is always there it comes and disappears.
I am going on the hill to meet with the daffodil; I will minister to its soul and make its body whole. I will heal its painful allergy and when I wave my hands over its face, it will remove all the disgrace and dry up all the allergies.
The daffodils will smile again from the virtue of my healing hands, so come and help me to sing this beautiful song.
In the twilight of existence, where shadows whisper secrets to the restless soul,
Man seeks to escape himself in myth, weaving tales to hide his truth,
By any means at his disposal, he dances on the edge of oblivion,
Drugs, alcohol, or lies, each a mask to hide the fragile self within.
Unable to withdraw into the depths of his being, he disguises himself,
Crafting stories and illusions, each a fleeting sanctuary from the storm,
Lies and inaccuracies, like gentle lullabies, give him a few moments of comfort,
In the flux of consciousness, where thoughts flow and ebb like an eternal tide.
In this river of dreams, I see him, a wanderer lost in the labyrinth of his own mind,
Seeking solace in the myths he creates, a painter of unseen realities,
His heart, a canvas of longing, each stroke a metaphor for escape,
And I, a silent observer, am drawn into the melancholic magic of his journey.
He walks through the corridors of memory, each step a whisper of forgotten hopes,
The shadows of his past intertwine with the light of his aspirations,
In the depths of his despair, he finds an appearance of peace,
A fleeting mirage in the desert of his existence, where lies and truth converge.
In the darkened corners of his mind, the myths take on a life of their own,
Each a beacon of false hope, a star in the night of his solitude,
He clings to them, these fragile constructs, like a sailor to a sinking ship,
In the endless sea of his thoughts, where reality and illusion blend.
Through the haze of his deceptions, a fleeting clarity emerges,
A moment of truth, like a fleeting comet in the vastness of his mind,
He sees himself, unmasked and raw, a soul stripped of disguises,
And in that moment, the melancholic magic of existence reveals its true face.
But the moment passes, as all moments do, and he returns to his myths,
Comforted by the lies that shield him from the harsh light of reality,
In the flux of consciousness, where each thought is a wave in an endless ocean,
He finds solace, peace, in the myths that allow him to escape himself.
And so, in the twilight of existence, where shadows and light intertwine,
Man continues his dance, a seeker of myths, a creator of illusions,
In the melancholic magic of his journey, he finds the strength to endure,
A wanderer in the labyrinth of his own mind, forever searching for the elusive truth.
Bullies are the politics of this universal world
who enjoy the smell of war inflicting endless pain
Who put others down in the presence of others
leaving you to bleed out stranded in the rain
Bullies only bully for they refuse to understand
what it's like to go through something and fail
Through choices they made leading up to that point
leaving them a drift in the wilderness to sail
Bullies attack you with broken hearts caused by
how they were brought up as no one really gave
Them discipline to teach them without abuse to know
the dangers of creating a political wave
Bullies will try and make you change the way
you think and feel about opinions regarding you
The most hateful words without any description
of explaining why they feel those words are true
Bullies are like wolves some as wild as bears
animals that are hungry always looking to feast
Off the people who they see as weak or vulnerable
as if your a lifeless person who has already been deceased
Bullies think that their power is beyond any person who
is trying to progress and move forward to make
A better life for themselves so others can see that
it isn't impossible to turn from a past or present mistake
Bulllies walk with pride in the seeds that they sow
apon others when really they are the ones that
Say you are ugly, no good, uneducated, mind twisted,
a wanna be thug, you're race or call you fat
Friends a bully is a person who has a life like you
though they try to believe they are better in some way
Yet they don't realize that karma really does exist
which will come back on their life somehow one day
Let no words from a political bully bother you for
their words are meaningless with nothing but hate
Which is something we as people shouldn't let at all be
a self label from others trying to predict you're own fate
Bullies be prepared shame on all of you that go
around thinking you're all that with no good news to share
Being the one who doesn't take life seriously or simply
become grown to the point that you really don't care
About what you say to others or how you treat them at times
regardless of anything you choose to do or claim to speak
Words that are foul with judgement that seems so everlasting
towards people who are really strong who you only think are weak.
Written By: Joseph Darryl Boca
A PROUD AMERICAN
I see the flag that’s flying high, I hear our anthem sung,
I see a soldier dressed so fine, I hear a bell that’s rung.
I hear applause and see them stand as a man walks down the aisle,
The President of this land of ours; he stops to wave and smile.
I read about election day, and there my ballot cast;
Important issues, candidates by majority are passed.
I see the ones who risk their lives to save from tragedy,
And then the ones who come behind to offer sympathy.
I see the steeples rising high proclaiming worship time;
The bells chime out the hymns and then their words come to my
mind.
I listen to the music that portrays a battle won
And feel the goosebumps as the cry of victory is sung.
I read the speeches of great men who have a vision great
For this dear land that we call home, these our United States.
I see the care that some still have for those who have it bad,
I can’t watch and not shed a tear when a child hugs his dad.
I see the decorations bright, the lights of Christmas cheer
And hear the carols that ring out that special time of year.
I travel down the highways and enjoy the scenic view
And marvel at the many things we have to see and do.
It’s such a great land where I live, and I am still quite proud
To say that I’m American and say it clear and loud.
I’d be lots prouder, that’s for sure, if all who love this land
Would simply just remember how this nation once was planned
To be a country full of faith, of people pure and just,
Who came to build a country free and say, “In God we trust.”
That phrase is on our money still, but I wonder if it’s there
To say our god is money and we trust its cures and care.
I know that there is much dissent among minorities
Who somehow feel they are deprived of their right to be free.
The libertarians, the gays, the NOW, the ACLU
All seem to have their own ideas of what we ought to do,
But there is only one right way, there’s only one true plan
To bring us where we need to be as proud Americans:
We must give God His place again, turn from our wicked ways
Before we face His judgment hand and see His angry gaze.
If people of this land of ours do not to God turn soon,
There’s nothing more we can hope for but judgment and our doom.
I know for sure that once we give God His place once again,
That we will glad and thankful be, and proud Americans.