Long Well Poems
Long Well Poems. Below are the most popular long Well by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Well poems by poem length and keyword.
I was an army-brat town boy
of ten when we moved to the country.
I recall arriving in a village
called Cold Springs.
My dad purchased
a century-old house
with five and a half acres of farmland.
But it had no running water,
no bathroom, and no furnace.
An outhouse was
attached to a barn
some distance from the house.
And a rusty outside pump
was our only means of water.
For heat, it had a pot-bellied iron stove;
that we had to feed all day and all night.
It felt spooky and haunted.
At first, I hated it!
At night, I'd hear groans and squeaks
that invaded my dreams.
But Dad dug a well, painted the outsides,
had copper plumbing installed, put in a septic tank,
built a bathroom, and added a furnace,
turning that house into a home, I've learned to love.
My heart has gone on a wild frenzy.
Love makes you leave all the tensions behind.
It makes You enjoy and go crazy, it lives on.
In love, the heart becomes a beggar,
Heart & soul asks for the good will from others, it lives on,
Don't pamper the heart everyday,
Love has a happy impact,
Start loving Yourself first.
You know everything about the world.
But You are unaware of Your own real love,
Take care of Yourself too.
Tear down the walls, make an outcry,
In the fun-filled love, You sleep and You awake,
She is doing as she desires and
She is not caring about how the world percieves it.
The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,
Not a footprint to be seen,
A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like,
she is the queen.
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside,
Couldn't keep it in,
Heaven knows she tried,
Don't let them in,
Don't let them see,
Be the good girl you always have to be,
Conceal, don't feel,
Don't let them know,
Well, now they know,
It's funny how some distance,
Makes everything seem small.
And the fears that once controlled me,
Can't get to me at all.
I am one with the wind and sky,
You'll never see me cry.
Here I stand and here I'll stay,
Let the storm rage on.
My power flurries through the air into the ground,
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around,
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast,
I'm never going back,
The past is in the past,
And I'll rise like the break of dawn,
That perfect girl is gone.
Here I stand in the light of day,
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway.
You are air, water and fire,
You are a betrayal, a donor and a stain.
Whatever You wish for, You become.
In my Heart,God pure love stays.
My God is never separated from me.
When I find myself, I find Him
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
No matter what he did and whatever he had tried
Feelings aren't easily hid as he sat there and cried
All that he had done and all the places he's been
Without the Light of the Son you only got your sin
Even way back in his childhood at times he did long
Yes life was good but in his heart there was no song
He just put it aside as many of us as well also did
But no matter what he tried the more he had slid
It was that Christmas Mass when he finally seen
He almost decided to pass, not into that scene
But for some reason he had just decided to go
That was his season as Jesus he came to know
Now he doesn't hide anymore or push stuff aside
A heart in song will soar so sad having never tried
You'll see him on Sunday and often during the week
Oh it's so good to pray, for Lord, I am far too weak
Whose baby is that? I think we know.
Her creators are quite aglow.
Full of joy like a vivid rainbow,
we watch her laugh as she cries hello.
Mom gives her a shake,
Baby laughs until her belly aches.
The only other sound's that break,
Are of distant birds who wake.
The baby is Luciana, LULU I take,
One day she will have many
promises to keep and a bed to make
After baby formula and lots of sleep.
Sweet dreams come to her very cheap.
She rises from her gentle bed,
With thoughts of nothing in her head,
One day, she will swap formula for hearty
bread and get ready for the many days ahead.
Thanksgiving Day is once again,
This time bringing a new friend.
Well, LULU this comes to tell you
That you’re lucky as can be
To become the newest member of so loving a family.
When I see a black person go
and vote for a Republican,
I do not think I’ve seen a more
self-hating and disgusting man.
Do they not know of the struggle?
How can they even show their face?
They deserved to be called ‘Uncle Tom,’
they are a traitor to their race!
…wait, what? What did he say?
And when I see a Hispanic
chose to cast their vote for the right,
I can’t believe they’re fool enough
to every think that they are white.
To betray their people like that
is an unforgivable disgrace,
all those Latin Republicans
are just damn traitors to their race!
Is this guy for real?
I also see those women who
do not call themselves feminist,
who stand in the way of progress,
dumb stay-at-home moms who resist.
Not voting for their liberation,
their minds turned against themselves and wrecked,
if they still cast for Republicans,
they’re a traitor to their own sex!
Holy crap, he really believes this stuff…
When I look at the Indians—
Hold on, hold on. Just a sec. Uhm, so I notice the only people you give choice to are the white males.
What?
Well you said that blacks, latinos, and women all have to vote Democrat, or they’re ‘traitors.’ But not white men. Why is it white men get to make up their own minds, but nobody else?
I don’t understand.
Why do white men get to make up their own minds, but everybody else is a ‘traitor’ if they don’t vote Democrat? It’s kind of racist, if you really think about it. Shouldn’t everybody have that right?
You’re a fascist.
Excuse me?
You’re a goddamned fascist!
You do know that name-calling isn’t an argument, right?
I’m gonna get you fired from your job!
I’m self-employed.
FASCIST!!!
Okay…there’s no helping people like you. Tell you what, you stay here and keep screaming ‘fascist—’
Fascist!
—while I go home and make love to my brown-skinned wife…Did I tell you she’s a Trump supporter?
BWAAAAH!!! Race traitor!
(Sound of chuckling) Oh lordy…it’s just too easy. They’re like friggin’ wind-up toys.
Fascist!
Form:
I visit the Serengeti plains in Africa occasionally,
as well as the beautiful wilderness of Alaska known as Denali.
The Amazon rainforest is also frequented by yours truly.
I've seen such beautiful wildlife of many varied specie.
I've viewed landscapes so beautiful that I found it difficult to breath.
but this is my virtual life displayed on my monitor's large screen
as it plays my 6 hour custom made Nature DVD.
I've witnessed awesome animal behavior of so many specie
and wonders of the world like you wouldn't believe
and although this isn't reality
my virtual life for 6 hours is ever so serene.
In my neighborhood, this is enjoyed by everyone.
I'm talking about my virtual aquarium.
One of my flat screen TVs
fits perfectly
facing outside my window for all outside passing to see.
Before long a crowd has gathered outside my window.
An audience stops briefly to enjoy a show
of sea lions beneath water frolicking and having fun.
Magnificent coral reefs supporting so many intricate eco systems.
Grizzly bears swimming underwater during the salmon run.
Dolphins, whales and other aquatic mammals giving birth and raising their young.
Everyone in my neighborhood loves my virtual aquarium.
This is another 6 hour DVD
custom made and produced by yours truly.
“I hold a delightful being and an undesirable being inside of me.
It’s up to you which one you meet”
~~The Poet~~
dismally destructive
yet charmingly creative
unabatedly chaotic
obligatorily perfection
unsophisticatedly naïve
graciously worldly wise
uncouth and ill-mannered
poised etiquette
audaciously rude
enticingly eloquent
unsuitably slovenly
exactingly efficient
decked in Shabby attire
styled with cultured couture
disheveled, dingy
polished, well-groomed
in company of many in ill-repute
thoroughbred acquaintances
robotically draconian
artistically graceful
They called him dearly, Guru, a creative seer;
He was tall,built well with features sharp,
Grey hair on head, face and even brows too;
With strong and straight a gait did he move;
His sharp and keen eyes did search and warp
Aye ,into the depths of things all over,did peer
His gifted fingers felt beyond the impetus
Of what he saw or heard : a percept unique
That was with ease and spell -bound, fraught
With the sly obvious and the latent unsought
Drives and prompts happy or depressions bleak,
His canvas divined even the wild desert cactus
Casting a blank look across the hills he stood
Watching the cloudy symbols in the sky,distant
That gained into a chaos of beauty and charm;
As he just felt the touch of a little hand warm,
Turned round, startled to find a child the instant
Posing to beseech and get the feel of the good
Forms disappeared shaping the new ones bright
And the heavens seemed to charge afresh, anew:
The glorious, invincible creation aloft :a rainbow,
All at once spilling beams of the hue,chroma row
With both the hands pulling the aged hands skew
The child implored with a feeling of blended right
'Paint for me that happiness, now if you could '
Delighted,thence the achiever to his atelier led
Him and offered many and various lot to choose
From the flora,fauna with scenes in motley hues,
The pets and beasts seen or unknown, instead;
'Nay. I just want the one over there, if you could'
"Look here, Sir: I want just that one for sure"
The little finger pointed to the far away sunset,
And the bright and beautiful rainbow distinct..
Nothing looked so real, so lovely and succinct;
"Oh dear! God is a painter greater than all yet "
"Master Depictor, of everything serene and pure!"
How many times over these years gone by
did you hold me in your arms as I cried?
Now, the tables turn as time slips passed
our bond remains renewed and steadfast.
The reality is, we travel well together
thru dark tears and stormy weather
it was in that joy and sorrow
that we celebrated all our tomorrows.
The difference now is you walk this path alone
to a place that for me is yet unknown
and I cannot share the road this time
alone you take on the mountain you must climb.
I kiss you once, twice, in our last goodbye
as I remain here asking why
my living strains at being left behind
with memories of love and trust most kind.
It's the road's end I once feared most
but your accepted smile lingers like your ghost
and because of you, I am well prepared
to meet you at the crosswords there.
“I’m sorry, sir, but our bathrooms are only for our patrons.”
“Well, I patronize this restaurant all of the time, I am just not eating here today.
And, I really need to use the bathroom, so, if you could please, get out of my way.”
(Funny how I talk in rhymes even when I don’t intend to.)
Not only did he not move, but another employee joined his side for reinforcement.
“Look, fellows, it’s up to you; I am just out on a walk and my stomach suddenly feels upset and I am quickly reaching the point of no return. Either you can let your silly rule slide this one time and get out of my way, or, you can stand by your silly rule and ruin the lunch of the patrons that are here today. But you better decide fast, because I am not going to last.”
“Sorry, sir, rules are rules.”
Now I and, my guess would be, about twenty-five other people, no longer frequent that establishment.
Even though I was now covered in – well, you know – I agreed to stay while the police were on their way; after all, my emergency was now over and all I needed was to get home and take a shower.
The police officer was very sympathetic and understanding.
“There is nothing I can really do here. Next time, I suggest you let him use your bathroom.”
“Aren’t you going to even make him clean up this mess?!”
“No, I think you earned the right to do that yourself. This man is sick and needs to go home and take care of himself. A little compassion for his situation on your part could have avoided this whole mess.”
I politely declined her invitation to drive me home – I didn’t want to mess up her patrol car – and walked the remaining two miles home in soiled pants, but with some sense of dignity in my stride.
Maybe, sometimes, rules shouldn’t be rules. Or, at least, enforced with some sort of common sense.