Long What if Poems
Long What if Poems. Below are the most popular long What if by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long What if poems by poem length and keyword.
We’ve been apart for a while now
Chasing after all things new
But there’s no gettin’ round it babe
The one I’m still looking for is you
All my friends try to tell me
What’s meant to be is meant to be
And break ups happen for a reason
But what if that reason was me
Why can’t we roll the dice again
I wanna go back to who we were back when
The good times far outweighed the bad I’d give the world for what we had
It’s hard to breathe at the corner of miss you boulevard and lonely street
Baby if there’s someone new now
Can you let him know his dance is done
Cause if your heart is feelin’
What I feel imagine what we could become
Why can’t we roll the dice again
I wanna go back to who we were back when
The good times far outweighed the bad I’d give the world for what we had
It’s hard to breathe at the corner of miss you boulevard and lonely street
Why can’t we roll the dice again
I wanna go back to who we were back when
The good times far outweighed the bad I’d give the world for what we had
It’s hard to breathe at the corner of miss you boulevard and lonely street
I took a stroll through City Market
Kansas City's cultural queen, with vegetables and flowers
Concrete words leaning against their water buckets.
Old women's hair unnatural colors shining from restaurants
Enough of that, inertia at work here, Kansas City's pride
Cracks on sidewalk, ugly giant tracks for new street car novelty
Yelling from hooded youth, anger or attention?
Street car on track for once. Making noise, people lying in windows.
Woman with dog hurries it past me, suspecting me of something
I clutch my purse harder, suspecting her too
Freezing cold was two days ago.. Today is forty-one,
Sixty-three degree shift if you count the windchill and who does not?
The midwest USA, of course, south of Canada a few thousand miles.
A little boy gives me a hopeful glance.
If I say "hi" first will I be the pervert?
I see he wants to also, but dares not.
He has been warned against me at three. So sad really.
My friends are late. Thank God. Ensuring writing time,
And time to watch people's silliness and haughtiness.
I am a voyeur, taking tiny gulps and glimpses
So they will think I am not dangerous.
What if I run and snatch up that boy
To show him that all strangers are not horrible?
To teach him that strangers are friends you do not know yet?
To teach him that the world is not all cynical?
What then?
Breath and walk easily in a night so blue...
under the green branches of the pines;
and see the brisk breeze that lull the daises,
on the trimmed lawns, sparkling with dew!
On this side of town, rain comes frequently,
to make all things grow, and the courteous robins
live peacefully with the jaunty blue-jays ;
what if people who live here acted similarly,
wouldn't love suddenly overflow and immensely gleam...
like an unexpected snow-fall and make everyone dream?
There are no big crowds where one has to jostle,
no sky-scrapers inviting those shadows so thick and frightful;
nobody leaves the lights on and jitters at night...
couples happily stroll down the lit streets and confidently smile!
On this side of town, all stars seem closer and look shiner,
and folks stop and observe their astonishing beauty:
to requite their love, regarding them as friends...
that always listen to their secrets without apathy;
and they see a magnificent creation without error!
In simpler times, life was modest and slow,
kids rode their bikes down a few blocks,
now they play video games and set up awful plots;
they use foul language and slam the door!
On this side of town, poverty is not known as cursed death,
and the beggars don't have to ask for money;
they are fed with the bread of sweet life...
here they find everything: love, joy, comfort and serenity!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
2 seconds
a simple hug
such a short embrace
just a little bit of love
a 2 second hug
and a kiss on the cheek
a little something extra
to make her hug more sweet
a 3 second hug
and a kiss on the cheek
a hug and a kiss
for every time we meet
how wondrous is the magic
in the things that show love
the little things that count
like kisses and hugs
to wonder and not worry
with some form of repose
a hug and a kiss
could make one suppose
suppose she likes me
a little more than that
a kiss on the cheek
is not a pat on the back
it might be something special
or cruelty leading me on
it could be something casual
or something she does for fun
but what if i'm right
and all my second guessing wrong
then it wouldn't hurt to ask her
for more kisses and more hugs
A Dylan Thomas State of Mind
It’s precisely 2:45am...the time when
~ if I’ve fallen asleep ~
I always awake to find
Myself drenched in sweat.
I lie here beside my beloved
~ as I have so steadfastly since
16 November 2016 ~
Thinking about...wondering...pondering
The end of my existence.
I am not talking about
Taking my own life.
NO!
I’ve seen, heard, touched, tasted, smelt
too much...
I’ve survived too much, felt too much...
I value Howard’s sweet...sweet...
Nurturing soul’s devotion
To keeping me alive these past 40 years
To raise my hand against myself...now.
I AM talking about these things:
Where do we go when we die?
Do I have a soul?
Will I be conscious — at the moment it happens —
That I am drawing my very last breath?
Sometimes, when I awake in the early morn,
Howard is motionless beside me
And I stare at his beautiful face.
Dare I reach out and touch it with one finger?
What if it’s stone cold?
His flesh heavy...dead?
Death.
The End of Living.
The End...The End...The End...
Last January I begged for surcease...
For an end to the pain...
An end to the physical torture...
An end to the psychic suffering...
The constant thoughts of:
“Is there a Hell?”
“Will I go there if I take my own life?”
“What does ‘eternity’ mean?”
Now this morning of 19 October 2017
I am thinking...feeling...praying:
Please...Please...Please...
God/Goddess/All That Is/The Universe/The Spirit
Make my neglected hated scorned body
Healthy and whole.
So I may live
today...
tomorrow...
next month...
next year...
Do not let me go gentle into that good night.
I am alive now...
And I rage...
I RAGE NOW!
....against the dying of the light.
Barbara Dickenson
19 October 2017
We were finishing up our morning walk when there beneath our feet
we saw a snail on the sidewalk…getting up the nerve to cross the street.
As I looked down from up above I felt somewhat conflicted
for my world is so far-reaching and the snail’s so restricted.
I felt bad but then I thought perhaps my thinking is defective
for, when it comes to a snail’s world, I imagine
the joy’s in the perspective.
From where the snail crawls…bringing his shell for safe refuge
I imagine he…like me, thinks his world is pretty huge.
And there’s something to be said for a life with little worry…
where you find your food along the ground and you’re never in a hurry.
I thought I would help this snail…that the normal laws of nature we’d defy
So I picked him up and took him across the street…
in a way I showed him how to fly.
I set him down in the grass where he now had more time to eat or dance or play…
“No need to thank me Mr. Snail.” I said as we happily walked away.
I was feeling pretty good about myself…this I must concede
even though helping a snail cross the road…is but a minuscule good deed.
“What if that snail had already crossed the road?” Deborah asked
“What if you threw off the day he had planned
by picking him up and putting him back in the place where he began?”
Of course she was correct…
for I surely had no way of knowing
If, when we first saw Mr. Snail
He was coming or he was going….
But I have learned my lesson…
even though with this snail I couldn’t atone…
The next time I see a snail beneath my feet…
I’ll leave well enough alone.
A deeper look within my realm
will find where pensive thoughts have dwelled
On outward glance what's fair in face
has often hid a longing trace
Of other times, or other lands
This life that took me by the hand
Has it fulfilled my destiny?
while others trekked new worlds to see?
I've made my peace, contentment...yes
yet often wished adventure's kiss
That wistful part of my escape
will take me to a distant place
This path I've taken, without regrets
was often one of cautious steps
What other things I may have known
was not to be, as I've been shown
What other worlds I may have seen
Would they compare to where I've been?
My world, though small, I would not part
It's home, and love, that fills my heart
......But longing for a far off place
.....still beats my heart, with quiet pace
That book I stopped reading,
After chapter thirteen,
Its covers judging me back,
For months its left unseen.
Chapter twelve was like breeze,
But thirteenth fell apart ,
The fourteenth didn't draw me in,
It failed to touch my heart.
Today, I pick that book again,
Only to resume where I left.
But what if it doesn’t meet,
The expectations I’ve kept?
I’m losing hold of it,
The new one looks more hot,
The one I got this week,
I think that’s worth a shot.
I left it on a swift note,
No cliffhangers in sight,
And letting it be as it is,
Just felt like it was right.
I think it’s better incomplete,
I loved it thus so far,
And reading it for sake of ending
Might only leave a scar.
Or maybe,I will come back to it,
If there’s no book left to bloom,
Only then I think it’s justified,
To give this one a resume.........
As veil of darkness falls, and stars caress the sky,
this poet’s playful passion comes alive;
within an ardent mind, as thoughts of love apply,
a frisky, sultry scheme I must contrive.
She reads her boring book, while propped up in her bed
without a passing thought that I exist;
I must now find a way, to get into her head
so maybe she will finally get my gist.
Perhaps I shed my clothes, and prance around the room,
I’m certain this will surely catch her eye,
but what if she should laugh, and cause my pride’s deplume;
the darkness is my only alibi.
With cell phone by her side…perhaps I send a text
expressing clearly all my wants and needs.
it’s solely up to her, whatever happens next
we’ll see where naughty cyber message leads.
Yet still she reads her book, and still I wonder why;
I guess in boring book she’s buried deep;
and so as darkness falls, and stars caress the sky,
this poet’s playful passion goes to sleep.
May 28, 2019
Your country, my country - I guess we do not
Own assets of such validation
More likely they own us, pretending we’ve got
The innate desire of nation
How do we recognize our ethnicity
Must be ingrained in the genes
But what if my genes sign of non-specificity
Regardless what nation there is
From the basis of my DNA, can they tell
Who is me, am I real or fake
What will generalize the AI from my cell
If I came to this world by mistake?
I feel morally exculpated
Every time I get blamed for the tribe
To which I’m formally related
But I don’t get that tribal vibe
People tend to have idols they trust
Something easy and wise, like AI
Out of a clay back to dust
Same old route through the horoscope sky
I wasn’t inventing a nation or country
If you’re going to charge me for this
I was born to live far from my favorite sea
So have mercy on me, wave a kiss.