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Long Poems | Long Poetry

Long poems. Read long poems, search long poems, and filter long poetry by category. These are the all-time best and most popular long poems by poetic form, category, length, or keyword. See also long poem categories and Famous Long Poems

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12
Long Poems
Long poem by Ronald Bingham | Details |

The Taste of Freedom

                 

My old daddy use to tell me about the war he had to fight,

   He said dont believe those movies, cause killing aint no pretty sight.

He said no one is born a hero you just fight to stay alive,

   Cause when those bullets start to flying your only thought is to survive.



No matter what people may say, freedom it dont come free,

   And I pray you never see the things that I had to see.

And he said son the taste of freedom is a taste worth dieing for,

   And that should be the only reason to ever fight in those damned old wars.



He talked about his comrades, so many now are gone, 

    He said I am a lucky one to see my son full grown.

So many young men back then were buried where they fell,

   You see son war is not a game its a living, breathing hell.



Youre fighting for what you know is right and they are fighting for what they believe,

   While mothers on both sides just pray and weep and grieve.

And when they get that letter that says their son will not return,

    They say one last prayer for others, Lord will they ever learn.



To say you really hate someone is a truly ruthless thought,

   But there are those that feel that way and why these wars are fought.

Son he said I dont think there will ever be peace as long as men exists,

   Freedom is our gift and we must protect no matter how much they persist.



GGod

BBless

AAmerica



                                                                                  

Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2008

Long poem by Carolyn Devonshire | Details |

Fleeting Freedoms

Elderly mans fishing net hangs in his shed

The fish he caught in his backyard stream multiply

Net use was banned; he couldnt afford a pole

Joy and sustenance gone, a tear falls from his eye



House Bill 875 would ban backyard farms

Forcing vegetable growers to invest cash

In overpriced produce on supermarket shelves

Uncle Sam flexes his muscle, makes his whip lash



The right to freely worship is endangered

As prayer is prohibited in public schools

Government intrusion invades all our lives

Public pleas are not heard by those who make rules



Freedom to choose our doctors is now threatened

Socialized medicine diminishes choice

Speech censorship? Just ask the Smothers Brothers

Who canceled their own show with a stifled voice



As crime escalates, look to the constitution

The NRA spends billions to protect Americans' rights

To bear arms against oppressors while thieves laugh

And sue owners of homes invaded in the night



Can this be what our forefathers had in mind

When they sought to escape a kings tyranny?

Our rights are being limited more each day

In a nation spawned to promote liberty



Natural disasters prelude Judgment Day

Eerie escalation  tsunamis, earthquakes

But perhaps when the dust finally settles

Those who survive will learn from our past mistakes



Governments will form only to preserve peace

Not to strip away rights ancestors pursued

Dont blink!  Precious freedoms are now endangered

By those who feel theyre elected to intrude

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Rick Rucker | Details |

The One

<center>



The One

by Rick Rucker





When you have found The One,

That person that outshines the Sun,

Then you will understand  the fuss,

Your heart convinced with the first buss!



Your lack of  focus is normal, don't worry,

Love will guide your heart, don't hurry,

True Love is the force that cures,

Your heart of all the past sutures!



True Love has the power to change,

Your mind, to rearrange

Your whole life,

To take a husband, or a wife.



If all your life, you've lived alone,

Talking to suitors on the phone,

It's so nice to sit together,

Without the phone cord acting as a tether.



Something as simple as holding hands,

Takes on new meaning with wedding bands.

A wedding changes everything,

Makes you feel a Queen, or King!



That this person wants to spend

Their life with you, 'til the end.

What might have started out with lust,

Has ended with a promise: 'til dust!



Marriage won't be only Wedded Bliss,

But if each day  starts and ends with a kiss,

Doing this, and other things,

Will mean you don't have to pawn your rings!



If you don't marry, out of fear

Angel's bells you'll never hear.

That gentle tinkling far away,

The one that makes you want to stay.



Imagine your surprise,

When you look into your lover's eyes,

Your Love, your spouse,

The one that shares with you a house.



Being in Love, after decades still,

Each one  feeling marriage is a thrill

How long can True Love last?

I'll tell you when a century's passed!

</center>

Copyright © Rick Rucker | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Dave Streett | Details |

Teaching you to love Loneliness

Youll wanna forget, but Ill sell your kisses for a bag and a rig.



My glory rides on a brick and a gram

Youll never get more then half my mind.

Ill eat ya to put you to sleep 

Cause my dick wont step up half the time.

Your eyes shut to tapping my vein

Dancing through shards of moonlight, emptying your purse.



I can score while your searching your plastic case for your pretty face.



Sweet poems and construction paper cards were pregame.  

Now I finger through  your parents drawers, quarter rolls are good enough.



Do you still crave me babe?

Hows third place, my two best buds a needle away?

Even when my eyes arent dotted up it isnt fair.

Just a routine, credit card debt and jail dont scare.  

With me were always in the midst of thunder

Recoveries pink clouds in front but out of grasp.  



Absence of luck permits you to hang on to my spirit embezzling tears.

Ill be smiling at the freedom, Ignoring your texted stabs.  

Long sleeves and 50 hour work weeks fooled your parents, but 

The mirrors sunken and pale my features lost to warmth artificial from my heart.

Everything is gonna be cool as long as no one sees my arms.   



Penniless,  Ill dissolve all my cravings under my tongue for a week.  

Steaks marinated in Pabst followed by talks of your creation.  

We can lay in bed alll day watching Hulu and melting time.  

For once Ill be all yours no more rocks disrupting my brain.



As soon as pay day hits Ill sprint out the front door.  



Copyright © Dave Streett | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Marcedies Rhodes | Details |

The Years To Long From Before

The Years To Long From Before


How the years go by from the time your just learning to walk till the time you walk out of your parents house.There are time when you ask "Where did all the time go?"
Life is a dangerous games filled with birth life and death.If I could rewrite thing I think i would danger everything with only one note.Life isn't fair life is to short life is twist and turns and around again, one day we all will be faced with your death beds our coffin and then the dirt over us.I wish i could fall until I fall there no pain in falling there no worry in following there is no death in falling,can you ever relive falling until you fall to hard that you hit the ground that you fall broken? How do I steal your emotions so you can't ever worry again? Should I try harder to make you realize that the trust you put into me won't cause you grief won't cause you to leave me in a black box? There is this ever lasting light this perfect time to tell you that time before you grow up trust in me.Dear child dear sweet one what have I lost you to? you was young once bright you made my day full of joy and full of worry I can't believe that now I can't do but worry but then the way you stride yourself make proud.How many years gone by from your first words now look your to old for you to ask me to help.



This i dedicated to my mom,my younger brother and sister who even to day have stop needing the big sister and to my mom who know this feeling all to much,I love you guys so much

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Robert Ball | Details |

Pets and Children

Many people in this world love their animals.

From cats, dogs, birds, all imprisoned in kennels.

To own one they pay for shots, and adopt.

The pay for licenses, fees, finally they are bought.



Now we as animal lovers care immensely for them.

Making them part of the family, like next of kin.

Sadly they care only for pets, not humans.

Plenty of children need adoption, left alone among men.



People all over the world are starving and dying.

Little children go hungry, many are weak and crying.

Did you ever have to go to bed sick or hungry?

Wondering where your next meal will be, its not funny.



In Africa, Libya, Sudan, Ethiopia, children are suffering.

Many nations try to help; many dont try, not caring.

The Lord says let the children come to me.

His children are important, he wants them spiritually.



Children go hungry, one in five in the USA.

Inner City, our Cities, feel the crunch everyday.

As parents, desperation and panic set in.

So crime rates soar, as they try to feed their children.



Something is sadly wrong when pets are fed and children suffer.

Caring for animals, while children go hungry, Sisters and Brothers.

Desperately they turn to crime, drugs, robbery, is an epidemic.

Animals over humans, something is definitely wrong;

While humans suffer pandemics.



A new world, with Jesus at the helm.

Will bring an end to suffering, we will overcome.

A new thought Love will appear on earth.

Its been promised by God what before our birth.

Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by James Horn | Details |

Crabby Walking Through the Abbey

We are going on a trip to the British Isles

and Channel Island of Guernsey and Normandy.

This sure should be quite a cruise. Here is my

first poem I am writing about it even though I

have not been there yet. Here goes.



Crabby Walking Though the Abbey

by James Thomas Horn before we

go bye.



Can't leave London without having fish and chips

Which originated from slick, sailing ships;

Could ride by restaurant in horse drawn coach

See beautiful women while wearing a broach. 



Many smiling people everywhere we shall see;

Some may even be from upper high society

Who all have much money they can spare

Yet, still can seed noses held high in the air.



While we were looking did see a lovely doll,

And ended up having a big barroom brawl;

After we left and what soon was a little later

Americans were accused of being an instigator.



From it all we started having terrible cough

Maybe it was from riding get on and get off;

Over pages of those punished started to skim;

No wonder Tower of London looks so grim.



But, at last, lovely parade now had begun;

Women had fun wearing hair in a big bun;

After seeing hats and hearing all of the hype,

Wanted to hear band who played a bagpipe.



Saw some important people in front of a manor

And out in front of it could find a big banner,

But you could see me starting to get crabby;

Wife said we will walk though entire abbey.



James Thomas (Out of Breath) Horn

www.poetrysoup.com

www.story-telling-around-the-world.com

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Gail Foster | Details |

They Never Went To War



They never went to war; they stayed at home

The young, the old, the unwell and the dead

The women who were not allowed to roam

The men who tilled the fields and baked the bread

Some sat in darkness waiting for the rap

Of letterbox, and soft white feather fall

The silence broken by a dripping tap

Dark shadows cast by street lamps on the wall

The little lads who ran behind the train

That took their fathers off to certain death

Who waved until their arms ached in the rain

Who ran until their lungs ran out of breath

Old men who yearned for youth; just one more chance

To feel the blood flow, hear the battle cry

To wear the uniform and take a stance

To stand with other men, to fight and die

The crippled and the mad, the deaf, the blind

Escaped the fate of many thousand men

Some angry that they had been left behind

Some thankful that theyd never fight again

Women, who with their sleeves rolled ploughed the land

Lit candles, raised the children, hid their tears

Made ammunitions with a careful hand

Kept watch and saved the night time for their fears

So many stayed at home, and stayed alive

And suffered pain and loss, regret and guilt

That they were left, that they were to survive

Within the house such sacrifice had built

Their many names are not inscribed on stone

Those sorrowed souls, so haunted by wars ghost

Were left to stand and mourn the dead alone

Listening to the trumpet sound the post



by Gail











 



































Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Geraldine Douglas | Details |

Jewels of Africa

Jewels of Africa.



The saffron Queen spins the lilac sky,

her rays flick crimson cinders into Royal Blue Oceans.

Submerge, sizzle, frizzle...going, going, gone! ...But Not.

Cumulus clouds drizzle pepper fog over pink Flamingos, homeward bound.



Tea-green Botswana bush,

teeny, tiny Hummingbirds hover over brink-pink Balsams,

feast on elixir of nectar.

Royal Albatross rides the last whip of wind.

Sulking Stork swoops through veiled mists above marshy meadow ponds.



Sword sunbeams lash chrome, coppery twilight.

Mooned dusks, a violet cape cloaks bathing blooms.

Nightscape sky sparks, preparing mornings thin blue...aurora hue.

Camouflaged branches stretch, tickle studded clouds

as ribboned roots cling to crevice homes.



A spook- silver ring appears from nowhere, pearling ripples aluminium.

Beams spill across the sea like lines of glittering fire.

Ethiopian wolves howl composed solos, 

phantom echoes shudder Tarantulas lair 

as Flax Lily spurts scent...Frankincense and Lime.



Sultry Savannahs secrets passed on by rhythmic lip-smacking Baboons,

cracking jokes in the knitted canopy, 

teasing and tickling clowning Hyenas below as

a blinkered platoon of Jet Wood Ants march to their Majesty.



Dawn draws indigo voiles over Nephthys, Goddess of Night

slashes of Sunrise surge shadows as the Bush Lark spangles jewels in the air. 

The Alize wind dies in respect to heavenly panorama...

Mountains reflected, seen to be varnished into still, smalt-blue sea.

Copyright © Geraldine Douglas | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Freddie Robinson Jr. | Details |

Only Found Here

<b>

This is the land

known for its unique diversity

You don't have to search very hard,

just look around at the different exotic trees

The baobab and the coconut,

the eucalyptus and the almug

History books have done this place an injustice,

tried to sweep its uniqueness under the rug

But it's truly the animals that make this land a rare place

Search around the world and it becomes clear,

these one-of-a-kind creatures will only be found here:

The rhinoceros,

a real unicorn possessing one mean horn

He has a surly disposition,

it's best not to get in his path

He will trample you given the least provocation

The gorilla,

a real gentle giant, king of the jungle

He has incredible strength

to match his calm demeanor

When passing through his domain,

understand who in the tropical forest reign

The giraffe,

the real guardian of the realm

She alerts all the other animals when there's danger

Has the ability to see things afar off,

it's good to have the tallest sentry standing at the helm

The hippopotamus,

a real river juggernaut

She moves with the grace of a bowling ball ingot

Has the temperament of a smoldering fire,

will rain pain down on you, should you spark her ire

The zebra,

a real zoological rarity

Has those signature black and white stripes

He lets you see him in the daytime,

she lets you see her in the night

All of these one-of-a-kind animals

can only be found in this very special place ---

Africa,

sweet Africa

Birthplace of the human race

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gloria Benton | Details |

I LOVE YOU



                                              With all of my heart



                                                 At first sight



                                               From the very start



                                              Simply cannot explain



                                              How you make me feel



                                                  I just know



                                          My thoughts of you are truly real



                                                 Just want you to know



                                                 I need to really share



                                                  How much I do care



                                               This letter I write today



                                            Express my feelings in every way



                                                  You are so kind



                                               thoughtful and devine



                                                 When you are near



                                                  I feel no fear



                                             Just knowing you are here



                                             Words are hard to impress



                                               I'll do my very best



                                                  To let you know



                                                     I love you

Copyright © Gloria Benton | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by Monica Contreras | Details |

THE UNIFORM

I noticed the uniform, and the heavy soled shinny black boots

Not the man within it, I apologized.



I remember the clean fresh smell of maleness, as they stormed into the house,

Broken glass, ripped down hangings, a slashed sofa, a pulled curtain,

A sudden maneuver to throw my brothers bear across the yard,

Such military worries, hidden bombs in a childs best friend.

Your broken cross I buried in our garden after they left.God, come back to my house, I am 

waiting.



All I saw were figures painted the colour of grass and bark,

with gilded edges traced by some crazed church painter's brush,

faceless with pockets full of bullets and chords,

Their arms intertwined with red eyes and swollen hands of my teachers,

Stiff figures against the soft jeans, sweaters, and knitted hats below.

Standing witness in the yard above watching, I waited for her to die.



Shinny black like the dirt dug from the mass grave,

Full of crumbled human bits, decaying coloured cloth,

while the sun scorched the group sorting the cellular samples

I saw the black boots etched into the bone fragments.

Lost bones of lost loved ones from empty families,



Standing in the desert, I wait for a name.



No, I do not see you the man, just the uniform.

I see the butt of the gun, the dent of the boot, the slickness in the air,

the cruel power of the swirl jungle green print with gold trim.

As a witness God left me, and I was waiting.



Change, let me meet the man,

maybe the waiting is over.

Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010

Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details |

if you crossed ELVIS with michael jackson you'd get michael presley or vice

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET



Tis the infancy of yet another day

And I hear it crying for its bottle now

But I know the sun is no child anyway

It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  



I live under a tunnel on the highways right

Yet wrong I may ever be

I found an old mattress the other night

so discomfort doesnt bother me



Today yesterday is but an artifact

An ancient find to hunters of the past

But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact

Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 



Im lucky enough to live with my lover

Shes agreed to live free along with me

And often when it rains we neednt run for cover

The umbrella is our love to be



The term shelter means different things to different people I know

Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France

To people like me and my lover shelter means just somewhere else to go

Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance



To us rain, cold or snow doesnt mean we get up and go

Its the tortuous sun we know will eventually come

So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know

For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb



Now lets get back to the infant son and the fear of its adolescence

Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude

In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult sons insolence

And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  

                © 2011..free cee!



 















Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details |

i NEED a quarter o, i AM sorry I MEANT A QUART OF VODKA

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET



Tis the infancy of yet another day

And I hear it crying for its bottle now

But I know the sun is no child anyway

It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  



I live under a tunnel on the highways right

Yet wrong I may ever be

I found an old mattress the other night

so discomfort doesnt bother me



Today yesterday is but an artifact

An ancient find to hunters of the past

But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact

Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 



Im lucky enough to live with my lover

Shes agreed to live free along with me

And often when it rains we neednt run for cover

The umbrella is our love to be



The term shelter means different things to different people I know

Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France

To people like me and my lover shelter means just somewhere else to go

Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance



To us rain, cold or snow doesnt mean we get up and go

Its the tortuous sun we know will eventually come

So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know

For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb



Now lets get back to the infant son and the fear of its adolescence

Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude

In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult sons insolence

And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  

                © 2011..free cee!



 















Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Details |

The Powerfool and The Powerful

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

And I saw the duo on the road,
Together on a journey in a tussle,
Behold! The powerfool and the powerful.
The powerfool: a powered fool, the power-fooled:
Tooth and nail he fought,
Burgled the mandate, picked a race,
Unwary was he that
Power-fool-ness is not powerfulness.

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

I was fated to behold it all:
How the powerfool took the hold by force,
The power bought he, with the blood of the innocent and the guiltless,
Who in allegiance went, their duty to do.
How the powerful came calm with query;
And chased after the powerfool 
In a slow steady struggle sealed 
In patience, persistence, perseverance

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

I was fated to know it all:
How at the first three junction of the road
Which was destined for four,
The auctioneers label was hung on the truth;
Our trust betrayed for a trifle;
And our lynchpins victimized with riffle.

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.


But the fool cannot but fool a fool.
At the fourth junction I saw it:
As the powerfool in a derisive confidence
Met his dreaded waterloo in a corner,
Where stubbornness is stupidity,
And where all help is no help;
Caught unawares; the end of the road in sight.
And the powerful in a gallant gesture,
Given the power that to him belonged,
Sighed VICTORY AT LAST!

He that laughs last laughs longer;
He that laments last laments longer. 

Copyright © OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Details |

The Powerfool and The Powerful

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

And I saw the duo on the road,
Together on a journey in a tussle,
Behold! The powerfool and the powerful.
The powerfool: a powered fool, the power-fooled:
Tooth and nail he fought,
Burgled the mandate, picked a race,
Unwary was he that
Power-fool-ness is not powerfulness.

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

I was fated to behold it all:
How the powerfool took the hold by force,
The power bought he, with the blood of the innocent and the guiltless,
Who in allegiance went, their duty to do.
How the powerful came calm with query;
And chased after the powerfool 
In a slow steady struggle sealed 
In patience, persistence, perseverance

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

I was fated to know it all:
How at the first three junction of the road
Which was destined for four,
The auctioneers label was hung on the truth;
Our trust betrayed for a trifle;
And our lynchpins victimized with riffle.

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.


But the fool cannot but fool a fool.
At the fourth junction I saw it:
As the powerfool in a derisive confidence
Met his dreaded waterloo in a corner,
Where stubbornness is stupidity,
And where all help is no help;
Caught unawares; the end of the road in sight.
And the powerful in a gallant gesture,
Given the power that to him belonged,
Sighed VICTORY AT LAST!

He that laughs last laughs longer;
He that laments last laments longer. 

Copyright © OLUWANIFISE MOSES | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Sahitya Poonacha | Details |

The Injured soldier


He fell, fell to the ground
At the gunshot that created such a sound
Nobody took notice of the injured soldier
He was left there lying as the war grew thicker.

He screamed from the pain growing in his shoulder
Nobody realized the pain he would suffer
Trampling feet and screams grew monotonous
The injured soldier tried to ignore the pain that was so venomous.

He made a decision for himself
If he was to survive he'd have to help himself
Nobody was going to come to his aid
Not when each one was looking out for their own head.

He winced in pain as he got to his feet
He wouldn't give up now, not when he still had an army to beat
His shoulder cried out to him in vain
He had already chose to ignore the pain.

He took his rifle up
He adjusted his helmet and refused to give up
He kept fighting till the war was over
Each soldier fighting for their country, their home and their lover.

When the war was done and the battle was won
Every single soldier put down their gun
the injured soldier's shoulder still bleeding
now blinded him with pain and made him lose all feeling.

This time they gave him attention
This time he was treated to friendly affection
He wondered what would have happened if had given up that night
Would they have still won after all that fight?

But he was glad he hadn't for he would have been seen
As a pitiful injured soldier who wasn't keen.

It's the choices we make
And the chances we take
That set us apart
Only when, of course, the decision is made from the heart.

Copyright © Sahitya Poonacha | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by karl marszalowicz | Details |

Images

"Images"
The God that never was, puts one shoe on at a time
And spends four hours in the make-up room 
Putting on mascara and eye liner for the darker look 

Occult man of seemingly rebellious nature 
Is deified by the masses that show up to performances
He, a man of strong portrayal even at a skinny 155 pounds 
Grows stronger with every compact disc sold and the overuse of base 
Blowing out of a sound system which rocks the car next to you
While you wait for the light to turn green
Abandoning social mores of quietness well into the night

The appeal grows everyday for a man really just making a living
Out of his fans age group they have no idea what he is
Whether the media builds him up or tears him down
As a good guy to hate and a bad boy at heart
Any press is good press, though infamy might be better for sales

Topping the charts and making parents sick of his songs
He is a beneficiary of childhood splurging and so inclined to be
The adults wish for a mere fifteen minutes of his fame
So their children would listen to them with the same respect
But who were they when listening to cassette tapes?
And the bands of the eighties put on make-up then
 A man of mixed persuasion people are drawn to his ambiguity 
The role model singing about jail time and Hennessey
A toughness to some is a weakness to others
It makes you wonder if the man knows who he is! 
Whoever that is and for all it's worth
There will be more than enough of him to go around
In his image that is larger than life

Copyright © karl marszalowicz | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Details |

Jesus Christ' Parable - Master's Return





Being Prepared for Judgment

MT 24:45-51

MK 13:34-37

LK 12:35-48



"Gird your loins and light your lamps, be like servants who await their master's return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks.



Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival.



Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them.



Should he come in the second or third watch and find them prepared in this way, blessed are those servants.



Be sure of this:



If the master of the house had known the hour when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into.



You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect.



The Son of Man will come."



But if that servant says to himself, 'My master is delayed in coming,' 



Begins to beat the menservants and the maidservants, to eat and drink and get drunk,



Then that servant's master will come on an unexpected day and at an unknown hour and will punish him severely and assign him a place with the unfaithful.



That servant who knew his master's will but did not make preparations nor act in accord with his will shall be beaten severely



The servant who was ignorant of his master's will but acted in a way deserving of a severe beating shall be beaten only lightly.



Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more." (Taken from LK 12:35-40, 45-48)

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2011

Long poem by Shaz Cheesman | Details |

Rude, Drunken Pen

Bloody rude drunken pen has enjoyed a nib of ink or two, reminiscing on a few 
Bad and ugly times, we both admit at times things were, a bit of a mess, 
All kinds of intertwined, confused but along the way making some progress
On the grand masterpiece of all masterpieces  writing bliss 
At first polite, we take in turns, to interject with collaborative words,
Until the air hits us hard, take a breath, wheres your etiquette, manners and respect, 
My turn pen, I command, continue on to write, scribbling like an erratic birds nest. 
Pen resists and spits its ink, a dirty blob from its nibhow rude 
All smudged and slurred is a dribbling rambling of everything crude
Across the page leaking its ink, clearly from excessive drink
Dancing on thin ice, my drunken pen decides to try and entice
Inviting me to envelope, his muscular body with smooth fingers 
Such fraternisation you drunken sleaze, how do you expect to please
The love of your life, giving you permission to write and express your ink with ease 
Drunken pen is at a loss as reflects on his drunken state, its very late
Blubbering relaxed words across the page, deep within and obscure
Then I realise that my drunken pen is sometimes a little insecure
He has a way of making me melt when I think of his 50 shades of blue
Each drink of ink that fills his nib, that prints our words, that stains my skin 
Is in every way the partnership of creative bliss and my perfect hue


2nd October 2012
Written for Drunken Pen - Part 2 Contest

Copyright © Shaz Cheesman | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Mark Vander Poppen | Details |

Path we Persue

Life as understood by many resembles a journey traveled in a daze.
yet you feel lost, we can't help but carry on.
As we travel up the hill not knowing whats on the other side, 
where the next curve begins,  when to speed up,
or when to slow our pace.
Even as it seems at times we are blindfolded at very least,
human nature tells us to keep pushing through.
our best interest at that time is to put the path of life on hold,  
and asses our situation. Even if common sense makes you believe it would be difficult
or even impossible to resume the path started so long ago.
When it all seems impossible or hopelessness stares you in the eye.
Now is the time to grasp our greatest tool in life, just as God said let their be light.
let our light be the knowledge and support of your friends & family.
Use this and not even the devil himself can use his power and influence to corrupt us.
When we have 100% faith in ourselves combined with love for all that is good and pure.
And t