Long Wondered Poems
Long Wondered Poems. Below are the most popular long Wondered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wondered poems by poem length and keyword.
The year was 1832 when she slipped out the pub back door
It was stormy and cold as she walked out far across the English Moor
She stood at the edge of a craggy cliff as waves slammed rocks below
Her hooded cape flapped wildly as the wind began to blow
The fury of the rain and wind pummeled her tiny frame
She wondered if they'd miss her or even knew her name
For she was just a tavern maid who sometimes shared her bed
But what she earned just barely left enough to keep her fed
The sailers stopped at the Rose and Crown for whiskey, vittles and more
Then slung their bags and left the pub to sail for distant shores
Although it did not show just yet, she feared she was with child
And some of them who'd bedded her, made her feel defiled
She saw no future for herself nor means to raise a child
Then softly cried forgive me lord and bid the world goodby
Drained from doing too much of nothing at all
Racking my brain to get up and fall
Into things that make sense to make sense no more
Out of a mess we cleaned up to mess up like before
Peace lies in wait by confusion to sleep
So we are left wide awake with things we don't keep
Away from exposure of uncertain truth told
Bound by a faith in our words to hold
Through troubles we mend with answers that explain
Enough to grow and move on from the pain
It has become quite easy not making things hard
When deciding to stay without decision to part
I make without knowing or care to know
Any uncertainty that wants to go
Even if there is heartache or things found out
And I'm left with answers still wondered about
By doubt or belief in anything but
Anything that strengthens our determined love
I promise to stay true with a vow for all days
Continue to love you, with your love I will stay
Form:
Jonathan’s fall had been so rapid down the obstinate pits
Time had not allowed him any chance to read the writhing
On the wall and he could not have deciphered the ancient
-Language of demise-
He had been below in that shoot so often and languished
On downtrodden trajectories of rock bottom squalor
But the symbols would have been hieroglyphic at best
-Smudged in translation-
When all else fails ever more try falling he thought as
He drew at a straw in a stack of delinquent pikes needling
His apathy desolation discomfort and a long losing soul
-A shot in the dark-
Maybe Jonathan wondered that if he fell so often in
Any case it might matter if he jumped on his own volition
Not to end it all but to gather new resolve in difference
-Leaving indifference behind-
It has to be fast as not to change my ambivalent struggles
The pit looms now and I must seize the day before dusk
At least there would be some light for descent at the start
-Before withering promise-
Better not dabble with the rungs I might need them for latter
I’ll spread myself wide once I am ready to nail those walls
Even a sewer might do when its only one long breath away
-Until clearance’s escape-
In the underworld he came across a kind yellow slick road
On it a traveller not unlike himself and a union from heaven
As they floated dangled and drifted as they wedded their plight
-In changing perspectives-
If Janka and Jonathan had never let go had not sought out the
Depths of their withering journeys had not taken momentum
Not knowing what another day would present in new dawn
-Endless loops in perpetual motion-
Would have arrested stagnancy and stale morbid loneliness
The morale of the story speaks that un-ventured journeys down to
Where hell freezes over may be unpleasant but harvest reward
-From the luxury of oblivion-
I wanted to write a poem about hate…
as a way to understand it
but the more I tried…the more this poem…
didn’t go the way I planned it…
I wanted to write a poem about hate…
but the more I searched my brain
I found hate much too complicated…
too difficult to explain…
I wanted to write poem about hate…
instead the best I can do
is write about something I’ve often wondered about
something…I believe to be true….
Something we all need to be reminded….
to remember before it’s too late…
how we were created by love…to love
not created by hate…to hate.
It’s funny:
I wanted to write a poem about hate
because lately…it’s what I’ve been thinking of
but when I sat down to actually write it
all I could think about
was love.
(Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 82)
I see things of favour as Your right
Either fair or not, You never cease
What if You did not do, will I fight
Wrestling You is an unreasonable tease
An unfathomable dedication designs thought
Reasoning flash its lonely light across
And my mind and brain couldn't figure the lot
Then I make no sense of the brief, dear Boss
How can we beat You to anything in life
The strength and scope; yet we strife
Now that the pig cant peg a farm for itself
And rest on You; needs become really rife
I wondered if I let every claim sits in the blue
Wait, when will distress disrespectfully bid adieu
That caring pain will caress troubled gain
For risk to gear up praise and loose the locked chain
Please, let the substitute be off the pitch
In order for my essence to be made known
Just then the effects would have enough to bewitch
The mix of chance, recovery, and plan backbone
Let me have words more to say
And caress in mind alone-- desires
To safeguard imagination's way
That could emotionally cook satires
Oh be harsh to the few fastened foes
That unrelentingly follows the slow flows
They never leave the touchline to enshrine
Which that no lineman assigned unless twine
She was a beauty my sweet Kathleen
With auburn hair and eyes of emerald green
I can see her there waiting for me
Back at our home in Kentucky
She didn’t want me to go that day
She cried so when she saw me dressed in gray
I kissed her and said goodbye
Telling her I’d be back and not to cry
Through every battle her face was in front of me
Kept me going for I knew she was home waiting for me
I did come back a broken man
Weary and wounded with only one leg I can now stand
I’m not the man I used to be
I wondered if she still would love me
I stepped off the train and the first face I see
Was my sweet Kathleen waving and running to me
No longer do I feel like half a man
With my sweet Kathleen by my side it is proud I stand
Form:
agree to disagree
At a young age, I started to realize that the only way to make my mom happy was to agree with her.?When you agree, everyone is happy… right??But no.?I was so busy thinking about keeping everyone else happy,?I forgot to ask myself what made me happy.
It wasn’t people.?Wasn’t drugs.?Wasn’t love.?And it damn sure wasn’t money.
What truly made me happy??I wondered—and I still do to this day.
At first, I looked for it in people.?But people were looking for their own joy,?and I was just a stop along their search.?They didn’t care too much for me—?not really.
Drugs gave me a high,?a quick escape that made me forget for a while.?But what’s the point of forgetting?if you always end up remembering again??I didn’t want to numb a temporary pain?with a permanent addiction.
Love…?Love was beautiful.?And for a moment, it felt like maybe that was it.?But it hurt—oh, it hurt so much.?Who knew that feeling of being replaced?would awaken a wound I buried years ago??I didn’t even know it was still bleeding.
They say money brings you happiness,?but money can’t hold you.?Money doesn’t ask how your heart feels.?Eventually, you’re sitting alone,?surrounded by silence,?talking to a green paper tree,?wishing it could talk back.
So what makes me happy??I still don’t know for sure.?But I know what doesn’t.?And maybe that’s where healing begins.
Trapped, Scared, Wary
A dimly lighted room,
A boy with no way out,
Heavy metal locks on the polished brown doors,
An abandoned clock ticking away,
Counting hours, minutes, seconds,
Before the predator awakes.
Trapped, scared, wary
Crouched down at the corner of the room,
A boy hugging his legs,
He rocked back and forth,
He moved with the ticking clock,
The air was thick with fear,
His body tensed at the loud stomps behind the door,
Or was it just his fearful heart,
racing like it could tear apart.
Trapped, scared, wary
The floors suddenly creaked,
His deep set eyes widening as they traced the sound,
Finding nothing but an oppressive silence,
He wondered if he'd imagined it all,
A boy with olive skin,
Now pale from the sudden fright,
A predator loomed outdoors,
Of that he was now sure of,
Tick tock, Get up, the clock sung,
Pimpled bumps arose on his sweaty skin,
Did the clock talk? Certainly it could not,
But what if it was real?
Trapped scared wary
A boy with baseless terrors,
Plagued that a predator hunts him,
Basking in misery is a boy,
A boy who unknowingly refers to himself as prey,
Shivering with fear,
A predator he doesn't know,
A predator he hasn't heard,
Yet so terrified of.
Trapped, scared and wary,
A boy trapped scared and wary of the unknown.
A sagacious luster looms
upon lavender lyrics oracular,
spectacular in simple suffer
for atop the electric spire
Her violet fire will conspire
to revive love
that Time consumes...
A purpose placed gently,
in the center of your wisest pulse,
like a gemstone of graceful genuflection
palpitates for poetry
not of threadbare words
but of song soothing
into the theater of your purple glow heartbeats...
They said you were broken
because the hues of your eyes
could not be predicted,
they claimed you fragile
for feeling the fright of love lost
in withering worlds,
they believed you were damaged
by your own defense
against the touch of duplicitous ice,
but you were never defeated
by the dark drama,
you've always been
the wise wound warm...
Cheek bones speckled
with a sapphire tablature of taboo ache
turned to love blush beauty,
your body moves to song
that pitches prettily
in the poetry of blossomed joy...
You already know how
my heart wakes to your wishes,
you already hold the poetry of my soul,
You already know
what love told loneliness
a long time ago,
You already hold the joy
that we craft from iron gold...
Love waits not for Death,
nor for ideal birth,
the moment love awakes
it creates spirit that subdues all fates,
love is changing you into something unpredictable,
independent of imagination,
real as riptides in the center of a rose
sweating from anticipation
of warm lips
on petals of tender adoration...
When you left,
it felt like theft of breath,
I wondered with a wincing,
if the answer for your enigmatic evanescence
was in regret, revulsion, or a revolution of love,
I wept hard,
I made grace from the grief,
I loved you for the price...
J.A.B.
I found you yesterday
Little raccoon in a ditch
I wondered what I could do for you.
You were stiff, and covered with snow.
If I gently brushed you off, would you return to the land of the living?
My snow brush might be too harsh.
I went through my garage, hoping you would know
I was not planning to leave you there.
By yourself for long.
Upon my return, I felt gratitude from your heaven spot.
Weirdly, I was half expecting your eyes to open
And afraid of a big raccoon hug
But when I started gently brushing you
I knew...
Your body had not been used for months maybe.
I put you gently back into your resting place,
And gave you a little prayer,
And gave myself a little prayer
That in the summer most of the
rest of your fur self would be gone.
I did not want to smell
Another carcass
Remembering the spring
I discovered, Shark, the cat's kill room.
Found the hard way on the first warm day of spring.
You would be added to his collection if he found you
Little Raccon, so go back to heaven.
Worry not about this deteriorating body.
You are okay now.
Probably better than ever actually.