Long Worlds Poems
Long Worlds Poems. Below are the most popular long Worlds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Worlds poems by poem length and keyword.
To watch the dark, and twinkling skies,
Brings joy and love, to my curious eyes.
To think of where we are today,
It sends my interested mind away.
To a place where thoughts and dreams come true,
To a place where all the planets are blue,
And green and round and full of beings,
An alien planet, that’s full of meanings.
You ask yourself questions, when so engrossed,
On what it is like, on the sea coast,
Of an alien planet, so far away,
To make you want, to run away
To catch a flight, to the nearest rocket,
Sail up to the stars, to go into orbit.
To glide by all of the shining diamonds,
To ponder and watch, at endless horizons
How much I would love, to visit the stars,
The velvet of night, the orange of Mars.
The blue of Neptune, the rays of sun,
The awe of earth, held by a gun.
The gun being held, by mankind themselves,
With pollution, mass production, and everything else.
A world gone to waste, our spot in the space,
A fact that no one, can seem to face.
I look up at the stars, whenever I see,
Through the polluted clouds, and satellite debris,
I see some worlds, untouched by mankind,
And think to myself, I hope we don’t find,
I hope we don’t find, a world to destroy,
We’ve already destroyed one, a child with a toy.
We can save the planet, we aren’t done yet,
We need to work, forget about debt.
We need to get rid, of toxic material,
It’s like man kind, is something bacterial,
A virus to the world, so beautiful and pure,
We don’t deserve it, and that is for sure.
To work together, is the only way,
To save the earth, from a gloomy fate,
Reduce the plastic, cycle to work,
Stop the cars roaming, we need to rework,
To come together, man woman and child,
To save the earth, before we’re exiled,
And end up doing what I first said,
And move to worlds, to break their bread
They say love is wicked
until I found you, Thandi.
In the mountains of Lesotho,
your eyes broke the silence in me.
My soul had been calling you—
long before I knew your name.
Before you,
I met swindlers dressed as lovers,
actors wearing borrowed hearts.
My trust was torn.
My spirit bruised.
They say you attract who you are—
maybe the fault was mine,
not the image in the mirror.
But you…
you became the deeper cut,
the sacred wound that heals.
Your eyes were an open book.
I saw your Moon in Leo—
bold, loyal, without secrets.
Where were you hiding, Thandi,
when I walked the long avenues
of love and denial?
How far did fate carry you
to bring you home to me?
You brought bliss
into the softest chamber of my heart.
You became my oasis
in the desert of broken promises.
When I am lost,
you pull me into your world—
and our two worlds
become one heaven.
Your kiss—
it sealed a prophecy.
Your embrace—
it told me we belong.
When you whispered
that you lost your mother and father,
my soul trembled.
Remember, Thandi,
I will be father to your wounds,
and guardian to your heart.
And let your spirit remember
this ancient decree:
“What God has joined,
no man shall divide.”
When the mountains speak,
they speak of us.
They speak of union,
of destiny,
of love that refuses to break.
You are my bride from the mountains,
and my soul bows
to the truth of you.
Big house, good wife,
Bright children, happy life,
To the outside world.
Honest job, good pay,
Foreign trips on there way,
To the outside world.
Flash car, snappy suits,
Smart phone, shiny boots,
To the outside world.
Many friends in favour,
High class meals to savour,
To the outside world.
But,
Hefty mortgage, nagging wife,
Noisy children, tense life,
Inside his world.
Hard work, stresses many,
Always needs every penny,
Inside his world.
Material goods are required,
But credit cards have all expired,
Inside his world.
No one close who he can trust,
Alcohol is a must,
Inside his world.
Will these worlds ever meet?
Elizabeth Kinch
Form:
Over the waters blue, the night winds sigh,
the breakers roar.”
_ by Lord Byron
Beneath the moon, Earth's living oceans breathe
with pulsing tides and swells that rise and fall.
The iridescent blues on rolling waves
add mystery, as night winds echo sighs.
Large breakers roar and crash upon the shore
as gusty winds push forward frothy waves-
displaying unleashed power over land;
a force that dominates beyond control.
So like another world, our oceans seem-
with depths to places down below huge waves;
where creatures large and small in secret worlds
explore their universe- to us unknown.
What lies beneath of life we've never seen
or life that was- now buried deep below
where land was once- but seized by ocean's might;
commanders of this Earth- these oceans are.
Beyond our skies- unknowns bemuse our minds;
neath ocean waves rests knowledge still to come.
On land, we in the middle share a loss
in finding answers to these mysteries.
I'm torn between two distant worlds ~
one steeped in wickedness and sin,
the other pure and righteous;
my mind drifts like oil on water.
Alluring is the glory of heaven,
promised if I remain pure and holy,
yet enticing is the frivolity
hidden in jollity they call "sin."
My mind imagines the afterlife the Bible depicts,
yet I savour worldly pleasures my flesh can't resist.
Even when I long to retreat from every sinful street,
my soul burns within with these endless conflicts.
What if the promise is merely a myth,
and I found out that piety robbed me of earthly pity?
Would that not be a loss of two cities –
one paved with gold, the other left cold?
Relatives hanging out of every orifice, window, ledge, and lawn chair
Hands out, the two starving children beg as people walk by, ignoring them.
In Great-grandma McCormick’s teeny tiny farm house, during family reunion.
No more bowls of rice, no more bread, there is nothing left. Hunger sets.
Laughter wafts from the barn, behind the shed, and especially the kitchen.
Their mother hung on as long as she could, but she died of flu yesterday.
Too many women are in there, some wearing aprons, all of them in the way.
Those who took their mother’s body away left her two small children, knowing.
The men are hiding out in the pasture, barn, beside tractors, sharing stories.
They had their own unfed waifs, they could not worry about these two.
Sixteen kinds of pies and two cakes are trying to find a place on a shelf.
It is expected they will die soon. They probably will be gone by morning.
Beef, pork, chicken and fish that prances in would feed three or four armies.
Two urchins are resilient and refuse to die easily; they are alive the next day.
On the time scale of the Maker
Just the blinking of an eye
But on his latest Creation
Millennia had passed by.
The ko-ko-ko birds no longer
Did their burnished daily run
Circling the World under
The steady square Sun
For they, like the Tigrons, were
Now almost completely gone.
In the Maker’s absence so many
Sorts of things had moved on.
The Adam and Eve descendants
Had long left their garden behind
With any recognisable trace of it
Almost impossible to find.
The destruction of the trees
Now almost complete
Most of the areas of each stand
Covered with concrete
The light from the sun
Obscured on most days
By industrially produced
Acrid pollution’s haze.
No white clouds delivering
The rain as pre arranged,
The once perfect climate
Almost completely changed.
A species set on destruction,
Another experiment gone wrong,
Too late now because the Maker
Had left it unchecked far too long.
Moved to Creation’s outer limits,
Now left to either survive or fall,
Sadly the Maker decided to
Finally turn its back on it all.
Lessons had been learned
For that time if, and when,
New worlds would be created
And the experiment run again.
In the tapestry of turmoil, World War 3 unfolds,
Yemen, America, Palestine—stories of war retold.
Hamas and Israel dance on a contentious stage,
Nations entwined in a conflict that fuels rage.
South Africa intervenes, with a knowing heart,
A history of apartheid, tearing worlds apart.
Freedom's taste lingers in their collective soul,
Yet, the present echoes a globe out of control.
Colonizers, architects of exploitation's creed,
Ravaged nations, left scars that still bleed.
Unusable lands, resources stripped bare,
A legacy of pain, a burden we all share.
The problem of wars, a tragic human tale,
A narrative of power, where the mighty prevail.
Brother against brother, ideologies collide,
The casualties mount, as humanity's hopes slide.
Emotion seeps through the wounds of the displaced,
Children robbed of innocence, dreams erased.
Mothers weep, fathers fight an endless war,
In the midst of chaos, what are we fighting for?
Controversy whispers in the corridors of peace,
A world divided, yearning for a sweet release.
Yet, solutions elude, like shadows in the night,
Caught in the web of politics, power, and might.
Could diplomacy be the balm for wounds so deep?
Or are we prisoners, in a cycle we can't sweep?
Emotional echoes, pleading for a global change,
Can we rewrite our story, on a broader range?
Controversy rises, challenging the status quo,
Is peace an illusion, or a path we can sow?
In the heart of chaos, can compassion ignite?
A world united, where love takes flight.
Solutions beckon from the realm of empathy,
Understanding the root, not just the legacy.
Education, dialogue, fostering unity's art,
Perhaps therein lies the key to mend each heart.
Controversial or not, the answer remains unclear,
In the symphony of chaos, can harmony draw near?
Emotionally torn, seeking peace's sweet refrain,
For a world at war, yearning to break the chain.
I have a brain.
But not just any brain — I have a brain dog.
It doesn’t sit. It doesn’t stay.
It runs. Fast. Far. Wild.
It sniffs every thought ever thought.
Dreams in 4D. Overthinks lunch plans like it's nuclear policy.
Sometimes... it chases shadows.
Dark ones. Horror-movie-type thoughts.
So I lock it up.!
“Time-out,” I say. “No more mind mazes today.”
And there — in its little prison — my mind rests. For a bit.
But oh... when it’s good?
When it connects the stars, builds worlds from ‘what ifs’ —
I give it biscuits.
Freedom. Space. Credit.
“Go on,” I say. “Think. Create. Be weird. Be wonderful.”
My brain dog is not broken.
It’s just untamed brilliance.
And sometimes, brilliance needs both biscuits and boundaries..
I say, “Go. Be mad. Be magic.”
It doesn’t always know balance.
Sometimes it breaks the rules.
Sometimes it breaks me.
But it’s mine.
My brain dog.
And damn it…
I love the chaos it brings
body rests and senses recede
resting in the sheath of space-time
with thoughts rested, no dreams arise
all that remains is bliss beat’s chime
with void-centric focus maintained
without effort, just gliding in
as pristine formless awareness
we’re That before life can begin
present everywhere and nowhere
no-thingness not yet manifest
the breathless state thus motionless
fills the void whilst itself at rest
as the all, energised and dense
self-luminous though without form
we pour our Self into our Self
within space-time as a bliss storm
motionless yet omnipresent
manifest forms within us move
orbiting our heart’s magnetism
they dance in our intent shaped groove
there is in truth no this or that
the worlds were formed when we exhaled
in but not of each sensation
we moved not as reflections sailed