Long Window Poems
Long Window Poems. Below are the most popular long Window by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Window poems by poem length and keyword.
What’s left of Octavia glides down the hall
Past the portraits she painted in life,
Now framed in mahogany, rosewood, and oak,
And they’re hers for the haunting tonight.
She looks for the canvas she started the day
Her desire became indiscrete;
A nude on a balcony under the moon.
It was one she would never complete.
What’s left of Octavia passes the wall
Where her art is the featured display,
Recalling advances she made in the past
That went far beyond being risqué.
She goes to the window and conjures the scene
As it happened those long years before,
And thinks of the model who posed for her then;
A temptation too ripe to ignore.
What’s left of Octavia mourns what she’s lost
Like a dreamer deprived of her dream.
Her husband threw open the studio door
To discover her subject and theme.
He looked at the model, he looked at his wife,
And he saw what a fool he had been
To blindly indulge her artistic pursuits,
Which she took as occasion to sin.
A new moon at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
And she’s out on a haunting tonight.
What’s left of Octavia longs for the time
She felt anything other than numb.
The smell of the paint and the feel of the brush
Being foreign to what she’s become.
A specter deprived of the flavor of life.
An obsession that won’t fade away.
A monochrome canvas, a faintly drawn sketch
From a palette with ten shades of gray.
What’s left of Octavia stands on the ledge,
And considers the landscape below.
The moment of impact still fresh in her mind,
Because time has not softened the blow.
Her family gathered to lay her to rest,
And the ring was removed from her hand.
Though people would gossip, and ponder her fate,
There are none who in truth understand.
What’s left of Octavia comes to him now,
Late at night when he puts on her ring.
A family heirloom entrusted to him
When he married his lover last spring.
He stands in the dark as she enters the room,
And the séance is set to begin.
She watches him pose, while he takes off his clothes,
With her brushstrokes caressing his skin.
Confessions at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
But he's hers for the haunting tonight.
Go away from my window
Leave at your own chosen speed
I'm not the one you want, babe
I'm not the one you need
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who's never weak but always strong
To protect you and defend you
Whether you are right or wrong
Someone to open each and every door
But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe
Go lightly from the ledge, babe
Go lightly on the ground
I'm not the one you want, babe
I will only let you down
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who will promise never to part
Someone to close his eyes for you
Someone to close his heart
Someone who will die for you and more
But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe
Go melt back in the night
Everything inside is made of stone
There's nothing in here moving
And anyway I'm not alone
You say you're looking for someone
Who'll pick you up each time you fall
To gather flowers constantly
And to come each time you call
A lover for your life and nothing more
But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe
It Ain’t Me Babe by Bob Dylan
Not I
I can’t be there for you when you want
I can’t pick you up all the time
I can’t just be a lover and that’s it
I can’t come whenever you call
I can’t just love you alone
I can’t promise to never leave
I can’t defend you if you are wrong
I can’t be strong all of the time
I say leave while you can
Because it is not I you need
It was just two days short of new year's eve,
The decorations were still up on the Christmas tree.
The smell of plum cake wafted through the window,
While I laid by the fireplace watching it snow.
My brother had just finished his fourth run of Home Alone,
And was cooking up pranks of his own.
Dad had just left to clean the driveway,
Distant sound of shovel hitting snow right outside the archway.
The sound entwined with that of my mom's knitting,
While she lazily sipped on her ginger spice tea, humming.
I open my eyes to an empty house,
As my gaze sweeps around in a browse.
My body shivers as I stagger to the kitchen,
No plum cake waiting for me or gifts behind the counter hidden.
My grimy sweater barely hangs on my shoulders,
Devoid of my mother's warmth and all colors.
The snow stands tall and dirty outside the doors,
Hollowed heart heavy while silence roars.
Oh how I wish I were thirteen still,
When December was free of war cries and blood spill.
Surrounded by the smells of cinnamon sugar, nutmeg, pumpkin pie, and evaporated milk,
I sprinkle flour on my dough, and roll it out nice and thick, anticipating frosting these cookies.
Children’s laughter floats in through the window, opened just a crack, to bring in October’s cool air.
Dusty apron makes me smile, worn tens of years ago, by my own grandmother, a sweet soul.
I will go out and watch them playing football, piling into each other like puppies, waiting for the timer.
Then we will come in, all pink cheeked happy, and devour the warm hot offerings, sprinkled with sugar.
If there are any extra cookies, I could make up some frosting, but I know from experience
That children, on a warm October day, want to eat their cookies now, preferring them over the pies.
Five hours until supper, so I pound my roast into submission, before dropping it into my crockpot.
When the children come inside for their tasty treat, one says “It smells like grandma’s house!” in awe,
In the same voice I used to use, with the same delight, at my own sweet grandma’s house.
I will never be the cook she was, or the baker, but this does not keep me from trying.
Positive words float
They lift the fog on a quiet morning
Soft and bright
Warmth with goodness
Easy as sunlight slipping through a window
Without seeking permission
They take no effort to lift
A single syllable…sometimes two
Suddenly the room feels wider
The air feels kinder
The day feels possible
Negative words arrive heavy
They clatter in the mouth
Thick with extra syllables
Dragging shadows with them
Like overpacked suitcases
Say gloomy
It lands with a thud
Say bitter…somber…dreary
Each one pulls at the tongue
An unnecessary labor
An unsuspecting weight to carry
It’s strange isn’t it
How lighter words lift us
Heavier words ask us to lift them
Maybe this is why choosing kind words
Feels like choosing ease
Choosing breath
Choosing ourselves
The part of ourselves wishing to rise
inspired by nature contest theme
The wood pigeon
awoke on her roosting perch
fluttered
with a nervous jerk
warily searching for sustenance
above
the peregrine
made a fateful entrance
The winter harsh
&icy cold
driven far
from its familiar fold
seeking food
further afield
an urban garden
might increase its yield
Under the biting
wintry sky
the falcon hovered high
an efficient killer
from above,
more than a match
for pigeon or dove
Taking its chosen meal
in flight
swooping sudden
from a great height
its momentum imprinting
our window pane
throat slashed she soon was slain
Talons sunk deep
into the pigeons chest
this finicky eater
pecked at head and breast
The lawn strewn leavings
of a ravenous raptor
wherd nature's journal
leafs another chapter
Cheer up! Springtime’s here,
Ready to collect the winter’s debree,
Open to flush the desolation away,
Of January’s frozen inquisition.
Birds sing outside my window,
I have no disability to their call,
Bent on approach and situation,
Where they sing full throttle to me.
Blue **** remind me that men,
Can be good and shine as genuine,
Lovers, friends, mentors, acquaintances,
With no refrain to stain and chide.
The brown thrush delights in toddling,
About the cemented path cold,
Occupied but pleasantly interactive,
With something to give from himself.
Rhoda Monihan
How dim the stars when sullen and fading
as songbirds warble, their trills pervading.
When the world still sleeps at dawn's blush,
there's a lyrical melody in the call of a thrush.
I listen with my heart, and most attentive ear
to the harmony of doves. Cooing voices, I hear.
But in such moments, life seems dreadfully dark.
I long for a consoling chorus from a meadowlark.
With wistful memories I am oft' denied sleep.
In loneliness, I sit at my open window and weep,
recalling how we danced in the glow of moonlight.
Now, I mourn for dreams that will never take flight.
My time of love was quilted in layers of years,
and yesterday's memories flow with my tears.
Morning spills: my heart is tempered by sunlight
and though I tossed and turned through the night,
in a restless dream I heard him say, "Do not cry."
In my reverie, it was as if we never said goodbye.
~ ~ ~
June 15, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 2 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written on 3/25/21
Fragments of Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Excerpts from: In Morning's Sweet Silence 1/22/21
How Dim the Stars 1/9/21 Fragile is Life 11/3/20
A Shadow in Moonlight 10/17/20
As if We Never Said Goodbye 6/27/20
An empty room filled
with silence,
I want to remain,
I want to dream more.
The wind pushes
the window wide
open filling the room,
no longer empty;
yet, nobody’s there,
dark, cold, empty,
middle of nowhere on top
of a hill. I can't fly
like the flower petals over
there. I step outside,
and lay on grass under
a sky filled with stars.
Maybe I can't
reach the sky, but
I want to stretch
my hand out
and still try.
The stars remain eternal.
As I walk north,
I continuously walk
among this darkness.
My happy memories haunt
me and question my
choices. I too wonder
what will become
of me, yet
I still want to struggle,
not knowing
which path to take,
I now consider this
my fate,
times of sink or swim,
life surrounded
by hardships, but
I cannot give up,
this is my fight.
Maybe I can never fly
to the sky of stars far
out of my reach, but
I still want to try.
Its only night,
the morning always
comes,
a long journey awaits me.
Autumn dream
This morning cloud is a healing quilt on my mind, from my window, it radiates rain cristal
What is happening today? What will? I am in prison, this is my solitude room, past done
Cold shivering world, cool time’s life, this is a gold moment in my life, live of a real heart
Dreams always open me to a new sky; clouds, rain, sunshine, snow, dark, wished desires
Living in a dark life, glittering this night, shiny my black life, invisible light in my cloudy night
The dream is my life, but how can I get life? From autumn, I just possible it from the dark light.
Autumn dream
My life’s kind
Loved love
Destructive desire
Dream
Love you
I love you
Stay love
Love
Life
‘Do not dream
About the future's life.'