Long Years Poems
Long Years Poems. Below are the most popular long Years by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Years poems by poem length and keyword.
Ethan was determined to be the best,
to put to shame all other guitarists,
to rock the world in tight, leather pants,
touring like a God across the land.
So at thirteen years he learned three chords,
didn’t think he’d really need any more,
then went to play at the school talent show,
his ‘performance’ brought harsh laughter’s blow,
ghe first time he saw people so cruel,
his first taste of that bitter, failure fuel.
But Ethan was no so easily shaken,
and with hard rock he was quite taken,
so he learned the fifths, mastered drop-D,
and practiced the scales ’till it looked easy.
At sixteen he formed a band with friends,
played house parties with the best of them,
then one day a Battle-of-Bands came ’round,
to see who was the very best in town,
but by the cover bands Ethan was schooled,
another hard short that failure fuel.
Still Ethan was not the type to quit,
changed his line-up, new singer and bassist,
after graduation he bought an old van,
he started touring, and building up fans,
his band started being known in night-clubs,
he even stayed clear of the booze and drugs.
So focused were they that a new label
signed then up and paid to make a single,
but it went no higher than number sixty-two,
his best song was nothing but failure fuel...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
For years I’ve suffered through people’s actions
No one helps
Just me by myself
Been slandered for their satisfaction
No one knows me
They’ve all got a view
Twist my words and I stand helpless
being stalked by people looking for the worst
they see it if it is not there
I always get true love and care
is it you who I don't see
don't communicate directly
hear others twist my words
and think it gospel think the worst of me
No question of weather intent is true
Their actions sit blind to my words
Interpret my actions as the worst
It’s not the stabbing but story that hurts
though unseen I’m always perverse
friend and foe drag me through dirt
Live my life place me in the dirt
I’m sick of people out to hurt
I’ll end your pain and my life too
Think the worst, that’s all you do
Even though I’m in my fifties,
I’m just getting started in this life.
I’ve gone through fears, years and tears…
Still I long to do and see and be more
I have a yearning to reach past the past,
Find my muse beyond the worries and grief.
I’ve had my share of internal struggles…
But I know that tomorrow brings renewal
As the days lead one into another,
I’m reaching for my wildest dreams.
In every color of blue, green and purple…
All the rainbow calls out to my soul
I have a deep longing to fulfill my wishes,
Reach into the future with all my heart.
Whisper sweet nothings into tomorrow’s ear…
Hope, faith and love – alive in my spirit
Inspiration succeeds at wooing me,
I feel reassured that I’ll create what is right.
When I find the vision falling into me…
I reach into a place that moves my thoughts.
I have a desire that dives into love,
Painting pictures with compassion and joy.
All my ambitions are alive with energy…
Despite my age, I believe in gifts lasting eternally.
God has refreshed my life with rebirth,
A new day, a new hope, a new way to pray.
He looked down at me during this stage of life…
And sent me second chances to grasp pure delight.
September 13, 2019
I'm just getting started Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
My sister almost missed her flight,
But made it by a hair.
An accident and traffic
Slowed her down from getting there.
It made me think of years ago,
When you could reach your gate
Just minutes from the takeoff
And it wouldn’t be too late.
No TSA, no pat-downs,
Friends and family by your side;
With shoes and belts and jackets on,
You took things in your stride.
One memory stands out when we
Were late and we were told
Our seats were gone but we could fly,
If we could be cajoled
To fly first class. How much? we asked.
Oh, there’s no extra charge.
We laughed and so enjoyed that flight,
A taste of living large.
Buddy Whiskers
“Here Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty
Here, Buck, Buck, Buck!
Here, Buddy Whiskers!”
I was so sad when you disappeared
and even more when I heard a shot-
afraid my best friend might've been murdered0 though
I didn't want to believe the possibility, at first.
Then the day gradually came, that we had to move
I was sad I would never get to call to you from our window
and truly felt guilty leaving you in that depressing city
uncertain to this day if my fear was truly what happened to you!
Many years later, I still wonder
and continue to think of you
I know that kitties all eventually pass away
but you were so dear and important to me
if I could still watch your TV show, I would
Although it would be hard without you, my unique kitty!
Pope Joan and Joan of Arc
Mysterious women
Both known
For their parts
For hundreds of years
Hidden by history
But time would reveal
What some would not let be
Women dressed like men
Having Divine reason
Chosen by God
Each in her season
The Thirteenth and Fourteenth centuries
Is where each lived
Did one know the other
Or was another life lived
Saint Hood and disgrace
Would divide
Their purpose in life
In which the one lied
The other a warrior
Undisguised
Making France what it is
Though a martyr died
History still hides
What men would divide
Why was it disgrace
For a woman in that place
But the two yet different
Are still the same
What they did back then
Has the same name
We now ask the question
Why a Saint and the other a shame
We now look to God
Who has given it a name
When I heard an old friend from high school was sick
I picked up my high school yearbook from the shelf were it has stood.
and when I opened it…I paused…it smelled like childhood.
I hadn’t seen this friend for many years but we’ve kind of kept in touch
and much to my delight
I found a picture of the two of us…looking good in black and white.
We were in our high school football uniforms…a wonderful moment from our past.
If I remember correctly…
I was short, and weak and slow…he was big and strong and fast.
I have always loved this picture…we looked mean…because that’s what our coach preferred…
Although, again, if I remember correctly…neither of us were.
When our high school and football careers were over we parted
wondering in the world what we might find…
excited at the possibilities…grateful for the friends we left behind.
I did not know back then…I was much too young to see
how this friend like others in my yearbook…would help determine who I’d be.
I did not know back then…but have since become aware…
that I wouldn’t be who I am today…
If I hadn’t been with them back there.
I never had the chance to thank him…or them…for how they found a way…
to help transform the boy I was…into the man I am today.
So now…my prayers and thanks go out to him and his family…
as I stare at this photo from 1970 again…
for I don’t know where I’d be today…
without your friendship…way back then.
It’s amazing when you think about it…once you’ve made a friend
no matter how many years have passed…or how long you’ve been apart
two room are always reserved for them…
one inside your memories…and the other inside your heart.
I neglected my faith for years. It was a planted seed that needed water and fertilizer to grow and bloom. When I finally nurtured it, it bursted up from the roots and has been growing ever since. It has made me resilient. When adversities bend me like a horseshoe, I don't break because I've surrendered to God's loving grace. My faith is now strong and unwavering.
I'm resilient
My faith is unwavering
Surrendered to God
My Faith Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina Riddle
Dates written: 07/06/2020
The Silvery Scenes
By Stark Hunter
The silvery scenes,
Above the sensuous Mexican bloom,
Of transcendent yellow, red and orange,
Back there – in the digesting side garden,
Next door, adjacent the obscene lemon flowers,
An old sot sits and peruses
A darkened shuttered window upstairs.
Blue sky and creeping streaks of contumacious white,
Soar as sky ghosts,
A pitch above the silent stares,
And the forgotten entreaties;
The old sot remembers a long-ago morning in May,
Thirty years hence, years indeed
Filled with wandering gazes and
Imagined gaspings at day’s end.
You, the young girl of Mexican skin,
With eyes of the earth,
18 years old, and at last ready,
Ready for the great cosmic conquest,
You, spying and staring at the man,
Up there on the hill.
Using strong legs and decisive fingers,
I tended my garden, seemingly oblivious,
To your silent inert gazing,
Your self-embraces of squealing frustration,
There in your secret steamy spot,
Behind the darkened unshuttered window upstairs,
Translucent as a dragonfly,
You, thinking forbidden thoughts,
Of wild silvery scenes in the secret shadows,
With the man tending his garden,
And though alone and detached,
You, the young mexican girl next door,
Hiding behind that unshuttered window upstairs,
Knew nothing of his wild designs,
Nothing of his intended episodes,
The silvery scenes in the secret shadows,
Back there- above the sensuous Mexican bloom.
That autumn morning, when I first saw you
Tall and handsome, draped in a suit,
I felt life, throbbing within
Never to leave me.
Shorn of love and feeling for days
Burnt screams of emptiness
Had resonated in my heart’s crevices.
Without a name.
You brought me relief and rescued me
from bearing the burden of historical anchorage.
Swept me off my feet, resonating
Ceremonial celebrations.
Your careful maneuvers, knowledge and style,
in structure, orchestrated a symphony of dreams .
in the rooms, in every corner and breath
Culture resonated.
.
Disconnected, yet with a regard
You shaped me in your taste.
I felt my being rapture, with a sweetness
Unspoken of.
No longer empty, I felt myself glow.
Chandeliers, banisters whispered gratitude.
I felt life ripple through meetings over dinners.
Anniversaries over years.
Then one day you left.
A change. Catastrophic.
Knocks or footsteps no longer sound.
Nor curtains or candles lightened
The gloom of emptiness
Dark and deep.
A mass of broken brick and mortar now,
Shorn of cemented hopes in my crevices---
I feel shattered, ashamed of being
damned. Dilapidated.