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Long Devotion Poems | Long Devotion Poetry

Long Devotion Poems. Below are the most popular long Devotion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Devotion poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long poem by Isaiah Zerbst | Details |

A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.



[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]





Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

Sitting On The Ground - Our Friendship Bond and Our Vital Vows

I’m sure of it – we’ll do good enough in the long run
Let the crazy, busy, and sunny day begin and I welcome the sun
Do you welcome the sun?
You’re a lot of fun 
Let’s run in the sun
Embrace your passions and good side 
Our friendship bond is like a marriage commitment between a good-looking groom and a beautiful bride!

There’s a recompense for doing the right,loyal, and faithful thing…there’s a way out of captivity – don’t be fenced in by ferocious fears and be conquered by life-changing, wonderful cheers and be free like deer, hopping into the fervor-blossoming flower fields…have no feeling of overwhelming fear! You have no excuse for cheating on me - not while I'm around here...
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
Do your thing, oh you darling peace-abiding angel…oh, you peace-crafting angel of light – can you linger by my side everywhere I feel, darling, oh darling angel…believe and be stable – 
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
And do your thing and be my everything – don’t be scattered on the ground like beads or shattered glass everywhere you step…and gloriously sing and bring everyone peace in mind with your unique, relishing ring – flourish like the tall grain in the golden terrain…fill everyone’s hearts with perpetual cheer! 
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
You are such a beauty from every single angle…untangle me from the web of bewilderment and spread cream cheese to my bagel! Read God’s bible – nothing close to a mad myth or a frivolous fable! Place those beliefs under the table and give as you are able! 

You gottah get up and try as P!nk sings in her song
Embrace your passions with me...and you'll slowly, but surely belong!

Go with the flow of the current of the aqua-blue sky
Kiss the abyss "farewell" - sit back and chillax and be high like a kite

Embrace your passions…never let it go…
Bring me to my dwelling place called Dandelion Delight
It’s time to face what we’ve done…
One…two…three…four
Guide me to my heavenly haven called Illuminated Night
It’s time to run the race – we’ll survive the run…
Four…three…two…one…
We’re sittin’ on the fence, 
Catching a glimpse at the sundrenched sight
Am I makin’ any sense?
Watching a marvelous sunset transform into an illuminated night
Hand me a bouquet of stars 
Don’t remind me of my past scars
Who can mend them now?
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
You’re more precious than the best of poetry 

Do you know where the wind does blow?
It’s a mystery to conceal…say that you want to fall in love with me
’Cause I want to practice by admiring you with 100% certainty that you’re the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with…someday, the day will come somehow…this moment with you is so unreal
How can you blossom like fireworks in the midnight sky? I ponder about this as I find myself sitting on the ground – gravity-bound… How? Somehow, you do it…someday, I’ll know how! I wanna learn to give you space when you need it and I’ll know for sure that you’re my Only Devotion...how did these scars heal? Is it you, my dearest angel? I’m not insecure, but I do take things to the next level – it’s no good deal
Fight for the right purpose and fight the good fight…the reason I fight is for your sake…alright?
You and I will earn beyond-brilliant-and-flawless peace….don’t let the bright opportunities fade…you don’t make me flip out, but you allow me to look at the bright side of life – you’re the reason I’m shimmering anew and I’m the most handsome tint, not a shameful shade 
Fight with your might – there’s an afterlife to look forward to – everything will be black and white
You’re quite a dashing princess – gracious evermore – go play that majestic melody of yours – I want you to know that you’re as sharp and tough as my favorite pocket blade

Come, face this roller coaster with me and go along with the ride 
Face your fears…look them in the eye – you’re gonna be fine with me, though we’re not sitting on the ground…but later on, it’s a possibility possibly…
Go with the flow and put your hands in the air like you don’t care – care to be by my side?
Face your fears…face them eye to eye like a wo-man–you’re gonna be OK with me around…I guarantee! Stay with me and echo your feelings of ecstasy! Think of us next to a sparklin’ sea with serene shores washing against our bodies as one gaily…so happily…so merrily, do we sing! 
Bring us accord and don’t sow discord, 
Let your talents, gifts and high spirits take wing
Let’s sip some wine and be as happy as two jovial pigs in the mud – happiness, free will, and joyfulness are what we can afford!

Let's lock hands and make an agreement and a special bond plus a scared oath...
Like grand lands - just kick back and chillax for a time - you're the one I'll never have the heart's desire to loath
Spread butter to the toast...and slice away all doubt
You're the one I can't help but boast about
You lead me to a nirvana-like, narrow pathway
Come follow me as I blow you XOXO's along the way
Let positivity drive us on and trek that big mountain
Shine on, dear angel of unbreakable, ardeous strength, like the dawn - weep no more, you fretful fountain . . . 
Let God's healing rain heal our pain
That's been driving you and I insane...but we're still sane,
Driving on our love-abiding, painless lane

Promise me you won't break our friendship vows...


Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass
In preparation for the ritual Black Mass at midnight, Rosalia recites the following prayer incantation which must be rendered latest at 6:00 pm on the eve of the Black Mass. This is a six-hour process that lasts until midnight when the actual Black Mass ceremony formally commences. The Vespers’ Prayer incantation by Rosalia reads as follows:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
with a pair of gleaming snake eyes too;
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
with a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too;
And add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater;
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
during Vespers for midnight Black Mass;
Serve this unholy sustenance to my Coven at midnight,
while praying in Lucifer’s name for his guidance
in defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
All in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
by His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
crosses the face of the Earth. 

Rosalia’s Sacrilegious Activities and Mask of Deception
Rosalia was very self-aware of her bewitching and beguiling activities,
and her seasoned ancient command of the instruments of evil and debauchery, whether by plan or at will, to execute her nefast activities against all who were innocent and unsuspecting. Her negative actions left an indelible stain and a wicked scar of evil on the spiritual psyche of all of her victims.   

Rosalia was also vividly aware of the Church’s knowledge of witchcraft and sorcery, as written, codified and passed down by two Catholic inquisitors in the Malleus Maleficarum published in 1486. The power of her profane instruments of witchcraft found many of their original associational relationships with certain sacraments and church procedures, but were later corrupted and brought to the dark side to aid the Devil’s work. What was once good, could become instantly impious, if the witches focused their negative efforts and pagan power on corrupting and harming mankind.   

And so, Rosalia understood and appreciated the power and the knowledge
of the Catholic Church concerning matters of witchcraft and the witches’ devotion to evil.  The Church was not unaware of Rosalia’s evil activities, 
but they were confined presently to a local area and were not of a larger regional nature—at least for the time being.

With this in mind and being so informed of the Church, and with the power and influence of the Dark One, Rosalia continued her ruthless, evil crimes
and her heartless, blasphemous activities during periodic nocturnal visits 
in bucolic villages in the Harz countryside.

It was during these so-called “evening activities” that Rosalia’s dark-side mask, that is, her true witch’s countenance shone through and presented her ghastly Gorgon-grimaced face to her chosen victims—men, women, children—with no quarter given. This was Rosalia’s true self, her “evening mask,” but yet her true self.

Yet while during the day, as part of a masterful chameleon-like deception,
Rosalia would appear to unsuspecting people in her “daytime mask”
as a beautiful and charming blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady of young adult age, with a kind and genial spirit who worked in a local Inn in a village close to the Brocken. This was Rosalia’s perfect cover for plotting and conducting 
her wicked and unholy activities.

Rosalia naturally commanded the insatiable power of the black arts
which allowed her to maintain her “normal appearance” for as long as she chose—and yet, she could summon her real dark appearance on a moment’s notice, but preferred the night when her dark-side powers were at their greatest pitch, whereby she could command whatever hell-spawned demons or earthly elements she needed to help and support her evil intentions and deeds.

With the daily reality of this “perfect deception,” Rosalia, with her coven of disciples, could strike with impunity throughout the numerous villages in the Harz countryside, consummating their evil intentions and horrible deeds 
in the name of God’s fallen angel.

Rosalia’s goal was to deceive, corrupt and destroy the eternal souls of as many men, women, and children as possible, while ensuring the maturation and permanence of her power, and the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.

Who could ever imagine that a young beautiful blonde lady who innocently worked in a local village Inn could be one of vilest black spirits in the history of witchcraft?

Could Rosalia and her hell-spawned soulless minions be stopped and brought to justice for their terrible actions and deeds?  

Who would dare challenge Rosalia’s power and the evil she sought to inflict on mankind?

End of Part Three

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Long poem by Andrey Peysin | Details |

Purity-Love

Freed from my mind
I escape it
I end time
I think it
I think nothing of it
I believe in you
I believe in the American Dream
I think of it
I think nothing
I know you are something
How is it found 
Where are you going
Where are you flowing
the child is christened in the name of beginnings
I think it and it appears
I make it
Golden 
Slow
Shower my notions
Employ my emotions
Destroy my devotion and crush my spirit
Gaunt
So hear it
where do I enjoy you
I see you
How dare you make me feel you
I don't know what to believe but I hear you
I entertain the notion that you are with me
I believe you are near me
But the truth might be sullen
So broken and sudden
Lee...Quite, I train thee
I believe you are not ready
I believe you are rock steady
How quite faulty
You are my enemy
My devoted
My first born
I am so often quoted
who am i
No one
I tell you
I am nothing but me
I dare you
How can I be anything other then me
I am someone who shines
Like it or not I don't care...don't wine
How could you
No you don't know me
You don't show me
I don't believe anything you did anyway
How could I
I am your friend ..not your enemy do I
Look at me
I think of nothing of your desires
I don't care
I think it is so amazing that you think I am flaunting my emotions
I am not
I am devotion
I am heart and saviour
Know my soul
hear it
Feel it and send me on a spirit chasing car ride like a fly trite respite
I think it
Feel me
I think nothing of it
I am enjoying your pain and I suffer
It is so pure that you laugh and I wonder
How could you believe in me
I don't understand thee
You 
I don't get you
How could you be someone I care for and let you
Be me
How do you
I do not know what you do
I just know that you do and you do it well too
How. Destroyer of worlds 
You amaze me
I don't care for your words
I am action word; phase me
Trust
I forgot what it's like
lust
I feel it daily
Like
It or amaze me
plainly
Live die young
and escape me
I am more and more ranked and how does that take me
I don't care about games, I play them too often
I lose quite a bit and enjoy them not too breach it
I think
I wonder
where do you hold regard for my trance verb
I wonder what you'll do next in this causative turd
It is just that
It is just a wonder
I don't care what you do because doing it tears you assunder
Don't
Engage in the enemy
I slink forward and left of me
I see something coming out of you
Something dreadful and something pure
I think it is clean and dirty at the same ****ing time
How can I end it, how can I end this rhyme
I don't actually know, I don't actually care
I wonder where I left my ****ing underwear
Where what who why 
When do I leave the time beat
drummers never learned to retreat
I think they just walk and walk the beat follows
 how could you know the facts when you learned just to swallow
I think...damn girl you know it and you know it well
Question my rythm and cast a damn spell
So..what is left
I think nothing is here for me
But the truth is ...it remains hidden from me
Lolz. I think it is funny as hell
However divine I have never been in it oh well
I think...wait a minute hell is on earth it is not a place deep
it is here and oh damn that curse
I think it is magical, how can it be so ****ing real
I am such a spiel
I think and it happens
It just appeals
I wander
It makes me slender
I think I lost weight when I enter the rhyme world
I enter devine world
I think well oh well how I left it and hell 
It is...Yes it is
It is truly a miss
I am wondering why I have never just kissed ...
you
I am
Wondering
But simply stuttering
I leave myself out of it
I am so plain and cluttering
I think
How dare you make me so plain
I mean
damn girl you hate me too much to say
I think you just wanted to twist the handle deeper
push
I want to make you happy...so just make it hurt
I crush
I think
damn
It is so wonderful
it hurts but it's plainly cursed upon me
I don't care ...just stun me
I am at least careless 
she wanted to just caress
I wanted to make her mine
She wanted to spend my...time
I wanted nothing more and now
I am alone and all the time in the world is left ...shone
I see it
lolz I don't care but I'm deceived by it
I think
How dare you
How can you make me into something or other devine and not like a brother
but really
I am so pure and destruction is so meaningless
I am so feeling less
I think...wait
I can't feel any longer
My heart ripped asunder and I am so blunt
Like an instrument forced by the way you want me t ojust glance at your breasts
but the rest...it's like a beautiful test?
yes.
Just a test
A test in time
I think it is just a rhyme but the truth is I am being tested by G-d 
How could I know what I have done, I have not
When I do it I do it I don't just believe it
I don't care for the rhetoric
I don't deceive it..
I before e except after C and that is the question I place before you
How can you care about appostrophes and comma's 
when there are more important things in life
Like...Love
Isn't that enough?


Long poem by Les Pruitt | Details |

Architects of Humanitarian Crises

Copyright © 2008 #03
4/12/2008 // (Edited: 1/22/2013/lp
(a historical glimpse of humanity's rise)

*This poetic epic begins with the
greatest sin against humanity

*This poem is dedicated to all
serving and protecting the
¨Basic Rights of Mankind¨

Once, mankind was forgiven from sin
but continue to embrace it like a trend

After the Flood many nations strolled
some didn´t want true history told

All mankind has got to realize
humanity had been vandalized

A few condemmed HIM to a Cross
and mankind became a hope lost

His testimony was like no other
a promise bonding men as brothers

So, was it hate, shame or pride?
The Shroud of Turin now abide

Something embedded itself into minds
their egos separated mankind thru time

From images of Christ to the Sphinx
mankind altered their faces with ink

Societies increased across the land
but some became marauding bands

Enslaved many to learn their ways
called indentured servants nowadays

Learning finally opened many minds
forbidden to most throughout time

Conquering became a lust
many thought they must

Barbarians embraced warfare
believing in war over prayer

Some journeyed to build
but most decided to steal

Robbing nations precious gold
slaughtering the young, and old
another story that was not told

Saw oppressing others was nice
ensnared some as their sacrifice

Oppression increased in the land
because of the barbarian's plan

Their business began to boom
and corruption shot to the moon

America, land of morality and hope
still someone was signing for dope

Capital´ism made a few very rich
sin and immorality, Islam tried to fix
paganism and Communism a glitch
a conflict to shove Christianity in a ditch

Old governments embraced the Klan
still got history's blood on their hand.

Kept society busy with Santa Claus
knowing its origin is spiritually false

They knew global warming was real
maybe too late, this just sent a chill

Interested learning secrets of the brain
Drug gangs driving societies insane

Kids with little future left in sight
hopes dwindled like the Knight

Then, later came Robin Hood
with good news from the wood

Someone revived human rights
still, some decided not to fight

No need for humantarian crises
diabolical plans rolling the dices

These sinful plans between hands
slaughtering the lambs of the land

We need to fix this mess
before we come to rest

Most of  world history twisted
some are now rying to fix it

For some Nations, it was too late
capital'ism quickly sealed their fate

Africa was a continent very rich
...now realizing it is in a ditch
never should´ve trusted Mitch

I even heard the Rossette Stone
was hidden in someone´s home

The secrets of Giza
painted in Mona Liza

Even the Eyptian Sphinx
tried to give mankind a wink
now hides her missing links

And, the pyramids contained a sacred Key
stolen by those not wanting us to be free

Someone hide Pandora´s Box
with final desination Fort Knox

Even, saw the Bible's Holy Grail
shipped by Fed-Ex Express Mall

Most gold, and precious artifacts
was found stolen, and hijacked

It´s hard for most to understand
they kept us busy with their plan

So, in this life we must cast our vote
moving forward with faith and hope

Those affected have become a scorn
got them hungry from dusk to dawn

World economies causing a recess
ego and pride got us in a big mess

The Middle East became a feast.
I wonder who planned that piece?

They say Mohammed started this fuss.
through history who dare finger Guss?

These differences in world religions
still affecting mankind's decisions

Humanity began in Africa and Irak
but millions destituted in a shack

The Americas to China has similiar pain
but yrants' view them as a social stain

And, there was oil for food
but someone became rude

So, once again East meets West
fighting over another treasure chest

Expenses reaching trillions
recovery costing billions
death in the millions

The greatest gift is charity
why concentrate on disparity?

We need to fix this mess
or earth soon to rest

Mismanagement of world funds
resources available by the tons

The poor and depair need more
still someone's locking the door

Feeling no guilt with pride
and the fortunes they hide

Corruption and terrorism sown
by a few of government´s own

Someone´s selfish plans ahead
have now made us very afraid...
maybe baked or nuked instead

Distitute's nourishment is baked dirt
nothing else or their stomachs hurt

Most of the time with nothing to eat
weeping for a peaceful night sleep

The 3 pathways to Heaven are narrow
selfish can learn from the sparrow.

When the next ATOM splits and divide
some gonna try to run and hide
knowing they deceived many and lied

So, don´t worry about a thing tonight
soon GOD will make things alright

Then, all children will be able to play
The Prince of Peace will come to stay

So, remember before it´s over
they too needed a shoulder

by: LP


Long poem by matthew harris | Details |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

Your Inner Inspiration

(##background singers##)
Honestly, things are getting out of proportion (Do your part, man!)
Give me a portion of your love (a portion of your love)
You’re my ultimate luck, desire and devotion 
You’re as beloved and spectacular 
As a dove, taking divine flight, soaring up above… 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Things were getting out of hand; 
(But oh my word!) Don’t you look so grand!?

(soloist: Ooooh so grand…oooh you look so grand
Do yah need a helping hand?
Oooh baby don’t break my heart or I’ll remain blind!
This young heart is . . . ye-yearning for your love to repair my state of mind!)

*CHORUS* 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Gi-give me your hope, your inner inspiration 
Your sugar and spice . . . ooh, darling, don’t you look niiice . . . 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Spread butter to the toast!
Sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor!
You’re a gift that has been granted from God – 
My heart jumps merrily with elation!
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 

Frankly, things were getting out of my control (control yourself, mate!)
Give me a tool to unscrew myself from my pitiful state
(My abominable fate . . .)
(Soloist: ’Cause ~you’re my x2~ sunrise!! You have a sympathetic soul~! 
You make me feel so cool! Don’t mistake me as a fool!
I don’t want you if you’re an inadequate tool . . . )
You’re as thrilling and fun-loving as an adorable puppy – 
A present for my personal achievement! 
(Soloist: It puts me in a happy state!! *operatic*)

(S: Ooooh in a happy state…oooh you look so sexy in your outfit!
Do yah need a helping hand or are you so . . . full of it?
Oooh baby don’t break my heart or, like a baby, I’ll throw my 2-year-old tantrum or fit!
This young heart is . . . ye-yearning for your love to repair my state of mind! 
It’s something . . . I must admit!)

*CHORUS* 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Gi-give me your hope, your inner inspiration 
Your sugar and spice . . . ooh, darling, don’t you look niiice . . . 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Spread butter to the toast!
Sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor!
You’re a gift that has been granted from God – 
My heart jumps merrily with elation!
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 

Things were out of my reach
When I was an innocent, happy-go-lucky child
I’m like a frivolous, wild child on the playground, 
Gaining inner inspiration on his sweet leisure time!
(On his sweet, sweet leisah time!)
You were made of cheap shtuff, 
But, nevertheless, you’re a tight toy 
That I wouldn’t have the heart to get rid of!
(S/background singers—Get rid of it! You have the guts in you! x2)

(soloist: Ooooh you got the power…you got the guts
Do yah need extra support to carry your load?
Oooh baby don’t break my heart – no if’s or but’s –> b.singers: about it!!
This young heart is . . . ye-yearning for your love to repair my state of mind!
You were my friend and my awesome Abode . . . 
Where are you now? Are you driving or treading another road?
Are you alone and distressed? I’ll get yah out of that uncanny moooode!)

*CHORUS* 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Gi-give me your hope, your inner inspiration 
Your sugar and spice . . . ooh, darling, don’t you look niiice . . . 
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
Spread butter to the toast!
Sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor!
You’re a gift that has been granted from God – 
My heart jumps merrily with elation!
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 

*BRIDGE*
You were my Kreative Kite, 
As fearless as a golden eagle, about to take wing 
You are a sundrenched, appealing sight…
I’m glad you’re alright . . . you are just flying with your all your might!!!
Bring it on! Bring it on! I wasn’t aware that you can sing!! 

You must sound amazing . . . I wish you happiness all day long!

 I wonder what your hopeful gift will bring!
You and I feel like we . . . actually belong! 
Don’t get me wrong! You are a remarkable song!
You were made out of gold, dear! 

You aren’t gravity-bound (and that astounds me greatly), so have no fear!

It’s so crystal clear that I love you, so draw near to me…stay here…

You’re as sparkly as the ocean and its warm sand
You’re my faithful flower, 
Swirling in the current of the untamed wind
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 
You’re simply a surreal . . . sensation!
(ooh ahh oh oh ooh) 

(Soloist: To tell you the truth,)
Y-you are beyond temptation . . .  
(S: Could we take a picture in the Photo Booth?)
’Cause y-you are my inner inspiration!!!
I’ve experimented with love and you’re my first legitimate one out of the bunch,
But you are another story…oh, Love – how I adore you so much! 
You don’t deserve a face-punch! 


Long poem by Keith Bickerstaffe | Details |

Obsession


...inspired by 'Portrait Of A Lady' by T.S. Eliot


On winter days the view outside is nebulous at best,
within, the furniture is as it always was, and I am waiting,
waiting for a glimpse of you to silence my equivocating.
Somber is my attitude, the light is dim, curtains at rest,
as dust mites dance, the clock ticks unobtrusively,
marking time, the chamber maids make ready for my guest,
and dust the tables, clean the silver, place the flowers perfectly.
You return from 'La Boheme,' affected by the tragedy, 
emboldened by Puccini's art, transfiguring his sadness
to an everlasting theme of hope eternal, with no misery.
A small group of confederates who seize the meaning clearly,
examine his conceptions with a true and honest face,
only those who can conceptualize his grace.
And we are bereft of conversation.
The curtain falls between our faces,
we are left with little else to say.
Gone are common talk, and airs and graces,
walls have grown, and bars along the way.
Your friends have grown in stature, tried and true,
reflecting what you feel within your soul,
and you must follow them and share their view,
as long as it will bring you to your goal.
Friendship is a bond that can't be broken,
even though you dally with your heart,
you cannot spring the lock, that sacred token,
that keeps your deepest feelings true to art.
Your friends are pure disciples of your creed,
they will legitimize your need
to pave your way to conquer and succeed.

Within the mellow of the violins,
the sweetness of the celli and the horns,
I hear a tattoo beating all alone,
the tympani begin to pound 
a loud crescendo of their own.
I listen, there is something out of tone.
With cigarettes and sherry, unconcerned,
we wander through the garden unaware, 
take in the sights and pass without a care,
as if our similarities don't matter,
we give ourselves to nonsense, idle chatter.

Roses now are brightly blooming,
to your friends now you are calling.
I know not of what you speak,
I cannot fathom your delight.
You say: 'Try to understand my mission,
learn to trust in things unseen,
I must find what nature seeks
and fathom its eternal meaning.
Youth will never gather roses,
never see beyond the garden.'
I will stay for now, trapped in the cold.

Though I'll remember nature's wonders,
sunsets and the breath of spring,
feel the wind blow through my hair
and know the thrill of sunrise cresting.

We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the private notions of the other,
even if we take each other's hand.

Coming close to your destruction
you will see the other side,
who says who has satisfied
requirements for a better life?
Friendship, if we could but find it,
yields the seeds of greater profit,
greater than the seeds of strife.

I now remain just as I ever was.

I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted 
to recall a certain lady, gifted with
a new perception, I must sadly 
take exception, for the moment anyway.

The chill of morning, people yawning,
I am tired, the blush of dawning has me
feeling ill at ease, my spirit sags,
I barely reach the second floor.
'When will you return? Is Paris so much more
than you have here?' is my unanswered question.
I drag my heels to breakfast, 
listless as a lazy dog, and nibble toast,
my countenance as pallid as a ghost.

A letter would be welcomed. 
I shall miss you; there, I've said it. 
I am your friend, are you not mine? 
Tenuous and strained, two casual 
acquaintances who share so little time,
we brush elbows, like strangers passing
on a platform, sharing sidelong glances,
afraid to say hello. I watch you as you go.

Others swore we would be close,
peas in a pod, familiar.
Instead there is no warmth, not yet.
Were you to try we might combine
and nibble toast together, and take
a walk, your hand in mine, and
stammer conversation 'til we knew
there was no reason e'er to rue.
I shall sit with pleasant thoughts of you.

Desperate, I ponder on your death,
scant breath expended twixt the two of us,
and loneliness an ache too harsh to mention,
pen in hand and no one to subscribe.
I'll scarce recall the softness of your skin,
or search your heart to find what lies within.
Should I be bold, or take a gentler path?
encourage you... would I incur your wrath?
If you were to die I'd never know your truth,
and I should lose the vigour of my youth.


Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

A Spark of Hope

A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came 
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way… 
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.

The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways… 
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…


Long poem by Andrey Peysin | Details |

Isothymia

Catharthis...
neglect of the art and it's form is such a beautiful start
let go of the pain
let go of all emotion
the hatred is spread thin
Touched and such beautiful notions
I know you are striving
to be with you're true self
You need to be spirited away
to heaven from hell
Learn to be with everyone
equal and ..just as well
We want you all to give and to give well to others
to become one with all
and to receive one another
Leave me to pieces
break off another
Give me respect
treat us all like one brother
Let go of all hate
Let go of emotion
Isothymia...it is such a notion
Leave the shell behind
leave me when I'm blind
I can't see through the misery
I can't see through the hatred
Leave all emotions behind me now bate it
Let them out through a general great big shout!
Let them out...employ the best and the greatest
Even the meekest shall learn to not chaste it
Break off a little
bring me the rythm
Be with me a while
let me now cringe
I think I've cast enough of a tinge
breathless emotion
desire you I must say
You are in heaven
I am a step away
When you break me
I break down and cry
all of the feelings
let them go
and now die;
Drive off all imbeciles
we need none of them
make us immortal
make us all equal
let us be touched 
not by the evil
We want to be true to our spirit of choice
and recourse in the course
of the master that's yours
You are one with the beat
one with emotion
but you are not clear as to your own devotion
You need to be true to the rythm you've set
do not regret
Nor simply fret
I know you have feelings
You must not hide them
or Catharsis will never let you deny them
You will explode
Upon reaching a climax
You will react so violently
Endless
Do not be afraid
Do not recourse
Change not a thing
No not anything twice
I want you to know you are free from the spirit
you are free from the livid
the ones who don't hear it
you are quite plain and solid
stoic and brave
you will inherit the earth and not the tame
You must remember however all are equal
the reason as such is that we are so sinful
This works out too much like a plain brilliant display
I think of it now
let us not stray
I know you think me instant
insane and so distant
I never believed in the merchant
but he breathed
a sigh of relief came from the moment
the one we don't know it
but something is motioned
he wanted to give us ...no sell us
some drivel
or was it a brilliant form of a swivel
I am not quite sure,
but he came at a good time
Honestly when...is there no simple rhyme
I worked with the dead
I've worked with the living
The simple and meek
the drone and deceiving
I know what it's like
to be told what to do
to be guided by life
to be sinful and true
I know that it's different when you are so plain
Can't you just see it?
are you that tame?
When is it then is it over and under
When the plain and the pain of the drivel is thundered
I know you are equal
Cathartic and sequel
Impart all emotion upon earth and be full
Plato concerned with the thymos
and spirit
Was always so near it
so plain and not fear it
I Thought to myself
how is it that there's justice
I know it is lustless
So simple and bustless
Erotic and frolic
I know it is all moot
the point is ofcourse that I am not at all put
We all have our dignity
our pride in our work
contribution's we make
to our daily breads spork
I know...kind of funny that rhyme makes no money
I think to myself, oh gee
Then I'm not at all sunny
not equal to anyone 
not equal to me
Not equal not stranded
not branded by thee
I can't be bought
I can't be sold either
defend me so lively
I slide and I slither
Escape from the grated carfull of hatrded
I dance and am elated
by a sinful of damned
Emotionless hateful and something so penned
I know what to say but to say it means work
I despise all of that and I simply just quirk
I'm different
yet similar
all of us are vehicular
We drive others crazy
and are driven by cynica
cynical dive
I despise the pure strive
I can defend you and you are so alive
I know you are crazy
I know you are blind
the way of the motionless mess is so trite
Escape me
Make me
Dance with the wildflowers
take me into your heart
and make me yours.


Long Poems