Long Welcome Poems
Long Welcome Poems. Below are the most popular long Welcome by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Welcome poems by poem length and keyword.
I strolled slowly into
the morning mist
Moisture collecting on face
a fresh natures kiss
Songbirds sing to
praise the day
A welcome tune to
take me away
My long cotton nightgown
still tossed from sleep
Clings to my frame
my hair a messy heap
And I think of you
still lying in my bed
Your eyes closed
breathing slow curly hair on head
It is as if you are
a gift from up above
No treasure have I found
that is worth this love
Your touch and
hunger for my soul
Completes me love it is
you that makes me whole
And I stroll back
and peer at you again
You have brought me life
Where I thought was only end.
SOS
Sixty seems so old
Oland was a time long ago
Sweden still sleeps in my dreams
So young so sweet
Old dreams run in retreat
Songs like lovers never last
Vanished love, island breezes
Vanquished lovers, sins drown, nothing pleases
Gone is the desire
Gardens die inside of Swedish winds
Gentle thoughts tossed into trysts seas
Tales of lore from distance shore
Another chance, the dice never win
Camisoles and lingerie
Oh my love, you captivated me
Maidens I would always toss to the sea
Frost could not kill the call of drummers doom
Another song, another story of a lovers end
Beware the maiden, ships sailors will tell
Breasts heave in sadness of autumn leaves
Allay my fears with illusions trumpets
Death dances, life runs to another day
Quebec was the shores of Swedish fantasies
Winter winds brought things to an end
Taking love could not prosper, when love won’t bend
Inside the pain, doomed us the broken hearted
Another day, another dream
Knowing love was so departed
Memories wrapped and folded in the drawer
Knowing death was welcome and so regarded
Youth no longer dances on this shore
Solitude was the only game in town
Obituary would be my fame thus drowned
Smiles forgotten, my love for her never waned
Notes: Due to some confusion, I changed the last verse and fixed a few things!
The suicide was mine, but only poetically! :)
Welcome to the land of Me.
The land of hope, the island of see.
I do my best to uplift faeries, muses and elf.
In particular, I lift myself.
Joyous I am, on a daily scale, from bed to door….
For I am a poet, a painter, a cartoonist, and more.
My hobbies keep me fresh and happy.
I value my imagination, like my pappy.
My stories are amazing, some touch on the truth.
I have friends from my childhood like my friend Ruth.
I all in love with people like a giant Great Dane pup.
Everyone is welcome to join me at my coffee cup.
My days are filled with fun and frolic, for sure.
My husband will tell you my heart is pure.
The secret to staying fun at seventy, is this.
In the mirror daily, blow yourself a little kiss.
I like the me that I have become.
I play as eagerly as a circus bum.
I dance my truth, and I nurture my soul.
To be myself is my hourly goal.
I find myself
In a dark room
Strapped to a bed
The light turns on
The large TV comes on
A smiling image
Of Satan fills the TV
He is dressed
In a conservative business suit
Looks like he came
Out of a corporate
board meeting
surrounded by demonic aides
who constantly shove papers
at him
He looks up from his lap top
And smiles
A deadly so insincere smile
His voice booms out
Welcome to Hell
My satanic slaves
I am Satan
Your new master
Each of you
Has been sentenced
To an eternity of torture
And the punishment
Must fit the crime
So, for you
Mr. Jake Cosmos Aller
Failed aspiring poet
And novelist
Your torture
Is to be strapped
To that bed
Unable to move
As you are filled
With the need
To piss and
But you cannot move
And your skin
Is crawling with bugs
And itchy
as Hell so to speak
and you are so sleepy
but you cannot sleep
the TV will play
endless repeats
Of some of the worst TV
and movie shows
ever produced
Starting with my favorite
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Featuring your favor annoying little girl
Carmetta! Singing for you forever
As you are the ultimate cake sniffer
Welcome to Hell
I strolled into a site,
The other night,
Timid at first
But I stayed,
Timidity quelled,
Impressed by the weld,
I was touched by a heart,
And I prayed.
Stirring and serving,
Of a kindred group,
A yummy delicious new
Kind of soup,
The fragrance of food,
Lifted up my staid mood
And seemingly begged
Me to taste,
I was somehow empowered,
As I ate, then devoured,
the letters in poetry soup
I was hungry I guessed,
I was filled and quite blessed,
And no longer feeling afraid.
There was plenty for everyone,
I had a lot of fun'
There was no lack and no waste.
I relaxed as I read,
And words danced in my head,
And for once I was feeling no haste.
You are what you eat!
I found the words sweet.
Strengthened,
I picked up my pen,
And from a deep well,
rising up to a swell,
I found in the flow I must wade
Welcome dear poet, you're loved.
Don't ya know it?
Welcome to a timeless tight group
You'll cook up your words,
Tales of flowers or birds,
And you'll see that with friends
You've been placed.
I met a Megalodon who beckoned
“Welcome to the herd!”
I heard this lot was wily but
to me this sounds absurd
Undeterred I approached
the powers that be
to see if it were true
But the powers that be
were absent without leave
leaving me nothing
left to do
(except to …)
kick this can on
down the road
since no one’s left
to carry that load
(In the meantime …)
Some docile fool’s
touting fossil fuels
to a group of
solar-paneled minds
While his fearless peer
is stoking the fear
of the biomass hive mind
(touting ...)
“Fossil fuels are plentiful
can be found easily
Natural gas is very efficient
when generating electricity
and so on and so forth …”
(stoking …)
“Biomass energy is reliable
helps to reduce waste
But also expensive
requires lots of space
and more of the same
also and others…”
When both groups
could no longer
suffer the ranting
all in unison
began their chanting:
“Good riddance!
Good riddance!
Leave them both to jostle
with that colossal,
wily, beckoning
Megalodon …”
“Welcome to the herd!”
A big welcome to you all who’ve travelled from afar
By plane by boat and motor car
For a reunion here in Hodson bay
It will be I’m sure a memorable day.
From across the sea some have come today
These are your hometowns and I will say
Tamworth, Evesham, Birmingham city
Burnley and Colne a town so pretty.
Cardiff and Sutton, London too
All gathered here for this reunion do
Closer to home Dublin Galway and Clare
Roscommon and Meath great places I swear.
Marriage brought other names into the clan
Meaney, Johnson, Gill, Cunningham, and Mann
Other names too and united we be
All members of the Finucane family.
Let’s go back to where it began
Where are the roots of the Finucane clan ?
It started with Edmund and Mary too
Their children had children that’s me and you.
In Effernan, County Clare the seed was sown
Like a thriving bush we’ve grown and grown
But where did they go to that I can tell
Ireland England Australia as well.
But wherever they went they kept in touch
With Ireland their homeland that they loved so much
The legacy they left us is like a gold mine
We’re all descendants of the Finucane line.
Edmund and Mary, they’d be so proud
Looking down on us here a large happy crowd
Fide Et Fortitude is the motto on our crest
That sums us all up because we are the best.
We’ve sometimes met briefly to say goodbye
To our loved ones we lost and to have a cry
But today is different, there won’t be tears
Just lots of laughter and maybe a few beers.
To see you all here is a wonderful sight
And we’ll do it again if the price is right
Somewhere hot or even back here
Or maybe Dromoland if it isn't too dear.
I thank each and every one of you
For making the journey to come to this do
Sadly, not everyone could be here today
But they’re here in spirit I can honestly say.
Written on 29th July 2017.
Deep in the harbor it's rowing our boat,
does it have the map to where we float?
Far in the woodland it's singing our song,
why didn't it follow us, to come along?
Up by the farm it's buzzing the cornfields,
hope it knows not to blow away the yields.
In open land, it's spinning the windmills,
people on the hill are happy with its skills.
What just caused the sun to blush,
and why did he wave goodbye in a rush?
Is it about the kiss, that the wind blew apart,
instead of landing directly in your heart?
Or about butterflies humming with pollen,
playing cupid to pollinate buds swollen?
Why did the twilight fade so soon,
is it time already to welcome the moon?
Did wind shrill about our romantic dance?
I saw the moon winking in a glance.
Is there a message hidden in their wings?
I hope to find out with a beautiful ring.
August 22, 2017
Placed 4th:Blowing in the Wind contest by Nicola Byrne
HM: Your choice (9) contest by Brian Strand
I couldn’t find my glasses this morning when I got out of my bed…
and as my hands groped around feeling for them…Asia popped into my head.
Asia was a beautiful, blind Autistic student I had many years ago…one I tried desperately to reach…which, thankfully, also left me open to all she had to teach.
Asia lived in the world she was born into…the world her fate designed…
she taught me I had to enter into her world before I could welcome her into mine.
Asia talked to herself incessantly…she had this running conversation going on inside her head…and it appeared this running conversation was way more interesting than anything I did or said.
One day I got this bright idea…I sat down and listened to the conversations in her head…then I began repeating…everything she said.
I remember the first time I did this…Asia paused, smiled then slowly swayed her head…
and when her head brushed up against my shoulder, “Is that you Yerman.” She said.
When I told her it was me who without being invited had encroached upon her space…she reached her hand up gently and began to feel my face.
She didn’t care what color my skin was, my age, my weight, my sex…these things she could not see…she only cared that, through the magic of her hands, she was beginning to recognize me.
From that moment on whenever I sat next to her…in the glow of her smile I’d bask…
and when I started repeating what she said…”Is that You, Yerman” she’d ask.
Then she’d feel my face and laugh…sometimes, I think she laughed a bit too much…which made me wonder if my face which I thought handsome in the mirror…
wasn’t as handsome to the touch.
And this was how we taught each other…with my eyes I helped, a little, to set Asia free
and in her blindness she taught me…you don’t need eyes to see.
Perhaps when it comes to getting along…being blind to our differences is the key…
Perhaps closing our eyes and opening our hearts is the best way for us to see.
When I finally found my glasses, and my blurriness had cleared…
for what it’s worth…
The first thing I did was close my eyes
and wish we had more Asias on this Earth.
The Truth Is
David J Walker
The two-story houses
aligned on Main Street
host ghosts that are
free to come and go
because they know
where their bodies are buried in
backyard moments captured
in stunning black & White on
the back of Kodak paper
the truth is
life did not
welcome them home
death is all they’ve known
since leaving for the war
the truth is
they gather with others
who last wore tattered
uniforms in some form or another
finding refuge in familiar form
the truth is
this place used to be part of
a 640-acre section of
a cotton farm
purchased at10 cents for each
by a distant grandfather
now it's all part of
the outskirts of a town
the truth is
ghosts like to hang around
it’s the least they can do
or the most depending
on your point of view
The truth is
There is no need to
Strike up conversation
It is enough to acknowledge
They are there