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

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Long poem by Shroyon Dasgupta | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/how_to_read_your_pals_mind_612274' st_title='How to Read your Pal's mind'>

How to Read your Pal's mind

Getting confused between the two
Wondering what they think about you
Who thinks you are trustworthy friend 
And who thinks that you will bring his friendship to an end  
Although you can’t say what they are thinking by how they pretend
But it can help you to some extent
Like Old Phil, he’s looking at the clock
Maybe he is waiting for his daughter to take a walk
And his daughter is looking at her father
Wondering how to get rid of this walking disaster
Now comes stage two, the tricky part
How to be sure that you predictions are right, you thought
Just see their body language and the way the speak
If it is a smile or a squeal or a squeak
Smile means best friends
Squeal means they’re tensed
Squeak means of you they are afraid
My technique works like I said
The third and the final part is the trickiest of all
Do it right, or fail and fall
You have to know how to react
Otherwise they will win in their act
If in an angry or spoilt mood
You should run and hit the road
Staying near that person may be hazardous to health
And as you know “Health is wealth”
If sad or disheartened, wish him well
Let him not experience Earthly hell
Make his mood better, worse do not
Then he will be angry, and you will have thought
If only you had listened to me
You wouldn’t suffer this pain and agony
If someone’s afraid just reassure him
That you are a human, not a Kraken
Go near him and talk with him you may
But never a loud or unpleasant word you shall say
The fear is coming down, it’s still not gone
Just one pint of pressure can make it go all wrong
If someone needs your help but he cannot speak it out
Go to him and tell him to blabber it very loud
Then tell him what you can try to do
If you cannot, just make up a point or two
He’s your friend, your help he needs
By helping him, your friendship will germinate, just like a seed
Though difficult at first trust slowly builds
Even deeper than the oceans, or higher than the hills
If someone wants to no longer be your friend
You should bring the friendship to an end
Pleading just heats up the argument
Just keep touch with him to an extent
And when opportunities rise and they will
Your enmity, you can kill
By impressing him to the full extent
And making sure that his heart is content
You can bring your friendship back
Then ask what quality’s you lack
Then just work to make the bad things better
They will come in handy later
So now I told you what to and what not to do
Reading minds is what I taught you!


Long poem by Viraj Shah | Details |

The Walking Stick

"Louis!",she calls out.
Yes,ironically I am the namesake.
A signboard-Please don't hurt me.I'm blind.

"Are you lost in thought again?
You and your stupid world!"
My stupid world.
I see her bite her tongue in my mind.
A smile on my lips.

"I am so happy today!
Won't you ask why?"
"Need I?"
Laughter.Sameness.Bliss.
Such conversations are a mark of years of friendship.
Unbreakable.Apparently so.

"I am in love!
Oh how beautiful the world looks
The hues, colours.They have deepened.
I wish I could lend you my eyes,
Just so you could see this for me
I wish I could explain everything."

I attempt to seem excited.
But it hurts.
Is the pain 'cause she talks about colours, in mockery of my blindness?
Or is it 'cause she will be gone?
Anyway, pain doesn't come with a tag does it?
I wish it did.

I guess love is blind 'cause even she couldn't see-Reality.
No!It can't be as horrible as cecity.
I guess the lover is blind.
Do I?No,can't be,she's only.
I perceive it is how you long for something,
When you see it being taken away.
I should tell her what she means to me.
I never have.No I shouldn't.
I hate this darkness.I hate this world.

Is it monotony or monochrome?
That which incurs upon the world,
A blind man's curse; my curse.
Monotony I infer,
Cause I never have seen other colours.
Or is it because I never have seen other colours.
That I am anguished in my void.
That, has to be it.
Cause sameness,it’s part of my life.
A measured comfort.Measured in my steps,in my touch.
Change;I hate.

I should go for my evening walk,get some stale fresh air,like every day.
My stick isn't where it’s supposed to be.
Did I smell her perfume today or was it his?
Where is my cane?
How long has she kept this from me?
Ah!There it is.
No,this can't be.A crack!
Couldn't she have told me before? Maybe I never took her hints.
But I loved this stick. She gifted it to me.It was perfect.
I know every curve on it,Every dent.It fits in my hand perfectly.
I guess I should move on,she is happy.
I can't do with this stick.
No I can't do without it.
Can't someone fix it?
Damn You God.Damn you life.
I guess even atheists look towards Almighty
When they really are desperate.
Wait!
Am I dreaming?
Is it a nightmare?
After all it is hard to tell when it's dark all the time.
Who kept that there?
Her bag.She must have left it when she came.
She forgets it so often.
Sameness.
A smile on my lips.
            -©Viraj Shah,Po3ngineer


Long poem by Anthony Thomas | Details |

These Are The Portals Of Evil -- Part 1 of 2

The body is the portal to which Evil uses to enter the Universe, our World, and our Lives. Evil could not exist without these three portals:

1. Speech
If all Man, Woman and Child said nothing harmful or misleading, conflict and war would not exist. There would still be differences but they would be resolved in favor for all Man, Woman and Child with words of wisdom and concern.
(Our emotions and feelings at the time make up the words that come out of our mouth. Knowing this you should know that while speaking in a destructive mind state you are about to say something harmful and destructive, and it would be wise at this moment to hold your tongue (harsh and demeaning words you can’t take back, should never be heard…be it directly to or spread by rumor). And no Man, Woman or Child should have the need to mislead or lie to another. To end lying we must look at what we lie for, into what we try to accomplish by lying? We lie to make ourselves look honest, we lie to make ourselves look responsible, we lie to gain acceptance, we lie to make ourselves look faithful, we lie to make ourselves look trust worthy, dependable, concerned and kind, we lie to eat well, we lie to live comfortable. We must acknowledge then teach our children and show our families and friends that people who live truly Godly don’t lie to have or be these things; they just do and are.)

2. Body Action
If a hand is not raised, a person is not struck.
If a sword is not waved, a person is not cut.
If a trigger is not pulled, a bullet can’t fly.
If a fire is not set, a home is not burned.
If a button is not pushed, a missile is not launched.
(Our emotions and feelings at the time; sometimes trigger body reflexes that harms another person be it intent or involuntary, it is uncalled for, unacceptable and avoidable. No one is struck for no reason and out of nowhere; there is always either a difference of emotions, a difference of understanding, a difference in belief, a difference in culture, be it whatever the difference; lack of Love, Concern, Respect or Self-Control, there is no excuse to harm someone else. That is not the way of our Great Creator, God gave us this World to Love one another, to Create and Sing for one another, to Entertain and Invent for one another and to Share Joy with one another. We are here to live for one another, but we live for self. We want to control everything, but we can......... message continued in (These Are The Portals Of Evil -- Part 2 of 2)


Long poem by Peter Duggan | Details |

How my life was transformed

I’m going to tell a story now of a man who having served his time in a war torn country, but due to a very sensitive nature suffered from what they like to call ‘Post traumatic stress disorder’, he was like this for many, many years, with all the symptoms of anger, paranoid, fear and anxiety, and was impossible to live with. He had studied everything from self help gurus, to spiritual teachers to conventional counselling {that man was I} but nothing helped, I just got worse and worse, which ended up in me leaving home, and in the process throwing away every thing I had ever built up, that was half way decent. After a year I went back home, my tail between my legs, to try over. But no, I was still impossible to live with, and there was never any real peace with me around. I had tried every kind of meditation, self hypnosis, positive thinking, and nothing worked. The writing did help me quite a bit, but it was never enough.

Then one day I discovered on the net an American gentleman, named John Sherman. I went on his site, at no cost whatsoever And I heard what he said, when he told me one simple thing to do. He told me to go behind my thoughts and just look at me
The me that is there behind all the thoughts and emotions when everything is gone; The me one speaks about when he or she points to themselves and says ‘me‘. Now this seemed so simplistic to me, and I kind of scoffed at it, but I tried it anyway, because I was rather desperate to bring about some changes, and I had tried everything else. it was so easy for me, and I started to do it whenever it came to me to do so. This was four years ago now, and I have practiced what he said religiously.


Now, four years later I am a different being, the anger is gone, the misery is non existent, My fear of death is all but gone, and I feel like life is one big wonderful dance. If anyone has troubles of this kind and cannot lead a peaceful life… go to 
‘www.justonelook.org’ And let John and his wife Carla help you, there are no conditions no religion and definitely no payments to be made. Just felt I had to tell someone about the Sherman’s, because of what happened to me     Peter.


Long poem by Chris Boskovski | Details |

Fame

Inspired and dedicated to the famous, to the Royal families, to the actors and actresses, and pop stars, who live lives of Uncharishable Fame.

"Fame is a struggle and the lives that surround it are not happy." - Christopher Boskovski

Fame, have you ever walked down the streets of stars?
Have you stood on a stage with a beam of spotlight on you
at center stage, delivering a sweet monolouge of peace and love?

Fame, do you know how it feels to be followed along city streets,
and bustling cafes by flashing lights, and Poperazzi?
You strike a pose, you sign an autograph, and you are late for a dinner reservation.
You grow dark, and hungry and you seem not so happy,
but yet you smile?

Fame, do you like to be famous?
Is it a fun life to live?
Somedays living in Mansions and others out of the suitcase.
Somedays eating lobster by the bay, and others, cold pizza on Saturday.

Are you misreable, not knowing the womanthat you love, loves you back, or loves your
wallet that is so fat?
Books upon books of love poems staked towers of romance that scrambles your brain,
and leaves you with tears of sorrow in your eyes.

Fame, enough of the fake smiles
and red carpet wardrobes and be true to yourself.
Stop and smell the morning roses that bloom,
walk through the parks with smiling faces on every corner,
before all that beauty goes away.
Fame you don't see color, you see black and white.
Contracts, nothing about love, only about wages.
Live life, before everything around you dies.

Be happy and true.
I ask you fame,
come away from your money and expensive cars and cell phones
and live life, instead of living a fabricated one.

Read a book of poetry,
that shows true beauty.
Stop making yourself happy, reading tabloid viewings,
in morning newspapers of yourself.
Look in the mirror and smile.

Fame, I tell you now, you are not happy.
Come with me
take my hand, and sail with me.
For Fame, I shall show you a golden dream in reality.


Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

The Realm of Rainy Bliss

A few moments after a hard summer shower we went to get the mail.
It was something in which my son, his dog and I certainly could prevail.
A trickle of rain ran down the drive, something not to be ignored.
With a splash, splash, whomp, whomp, he sent the water really far.
Heaven forbid that raging torrent should wash us away you know.
So he stood in front watching, making a formidable dam to stop the flow.
Then a leaf became a boat, sailing rather quickly down the drive.
He stayed in front, mesmerized, and then he finally watched it float on by. 
With fascination on his face, he watched the trickles’ every move.
Then a burly frog came up, a monster king, that from the dog quickly flew.
The dog had saved my prince you know, from imprisonment in yonder pond.
For the frog was the villain, and within every good story, one must be found.
The hero became my prince, as he saved several lowly worms that day.
The worms of course declared undying loyalty, as on higher ground they lay.
In fact, the whole of the wormy world voweled to help him, that day henceforth.
And you never know when the wormy world, will be needed to sally forth.
At this time we found the mailbox, and my little prince quickly became engrossed. 
My neighbor and her daughter were getting theirs, so my son hid behind the post.
When she smiled, he smiled back. A truce between kingdoms, now we could boast.
And they ran together that day, to every puddle that we did not find remiss.
At that point it became apparent, that the prince had found his little princess.
They lived happily ever after in the sun and in the rain they couldn’t resist.
And all because they’d found each other, that day in their Realm of Rainy Bliss.

CSEastman Contest:Litle Kids Again Child: Preschool (3?)


Long poem by keith baucum | Details |

Our Father Chapter One

"Our Father which art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil:
For thine is the kingdom, and the 
power, and the glory, for ever.
Amen".
The two sisters Mary and Elisabeth said the Lord's prayer 
every night.  On their knees, in unison, in the room of their
father and pastor Zechariah Love Israel as he watched.
"Very good Mary and Elisabeth.  Now get the Bible and read
a verse".  The oldest sister Mary got the Bible off the nightstand
and turned to Genesis chapter six.  "And it came to pass when
men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters 
were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters 
of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all 
which they chose".  Raising his hand for Mary to stop reading.
Zechariah walked over and took the Bible out of her hand.  He
then had the two sisters turn towards each other and undress 
each other.  "Daddy please not to night.  Elisabeth and I don't 
feel well".  "Now Mary you both know the Lord God will heal 
you through me".  The crimes and acts that Zechariah commited
that night was unspeakable.  Every morning Mary and Elisabeth 
would try to scrub the betrayal of their father off their flesh.  
"Our dead mother must be crying her eyes out in heaven"  Elisabeth
said to Mary as they got ready for church.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Brown Philosopher
aka The Green Poet aka Red Seven


Long poem by Chris Boskovski | Details |

12 hour phone card

12 hour phone card...
I found one the other day
sitting there minding its own business
waiting for a phone call.
I picked it up,
he looked at me annoyed,
and I smiled at him
and he tried to bite me.
The 12th street bus to Michigan and West Chicago
pulled to the curb and the doors opened grandly
and the driver looked at me...
He spit and closed the doors
the bus hauled off,
leaving me and the 12 hour phone card in a grey cloud
of muffler snot.

I found a payphone(yes they're still around)
and I punched in the number that was on the front.

A couple beeps later a voice picked up
and seduced me,
I looked at the card
and laughed,
the voice laughed and told me to hang up.

I had no idea who that was, or what drove me to doing that,
I placed the 12 hour phone card down on top of the payphone
and walked to the next bus stop.
A bus pulled up and the doors opened grandly as I were a King.
I got on and rode to the closest stop to the Suburbs
and walked the rest of the way home.
I smoked a couple cigarettes on the way home
and my mother caught me,
she yelled at me,
I laughed and said I would quit.

I later remembered that 12 hour phone card
was for gamblers anonymous to help coop with addiction...
and I found two blocks away from the MGM Casino...
I pulled another cigarette out and lit it,
and I walked with my mind racing and there I found myself
rambling on and on about irony and metaphor
and how we all should just take one big shit on life
and flush it down the toilet we call death.


Long poem by Earl Schumacker | Details |

Mystery Box

             Mystery Box

A gray morning made of concrete, bricks and clay
Where rain ceased, thin tributaries, stayed calm 
Final elements of wet, evaporated in the thin streams
Faded into small crevasses on the street 
Soundless on the emergent day

It was easy to see, above the road by the bridge
A faceless hard ground cracked by age
A green cube, sitting there, waiting 
At the functional spot, at the center of attention
With singular precise proportions sealed, a box in angular perfection

Buildings looked up with windows closed, in disdain, in disbelief
Refrained from making roof top speculations about the thing

Rivers too looked away from this location
Moved babbling rapidly on
Hid under bridges, under rocks, with every drop concealed
Then ran like fugitives over brooks, overlooked and flooded 
Avoided confrontation in the dark cornered waters
Hexahedrons could be contagious
So all things in nature moved away

Green box was out there all exposed in broad daylight 
Made of metal or something else or so it seemed
There were no openings for that matter
Just six sides residing
No proofs that it was solid like a block
No facts laid out that it was empty like lost souls 
Speculations indicated nothing but a box

Quiet fell around it like a hammer
Looking for a nail that was not there
Clearly, the cube that sat in plain view 
Had nothing better to do

To bring this matter to conclusion
It was avoided at all cost 
Box or not
This was its final stop

 






Long poem by Sarai Romani | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/hope_life_is_as_sweet_for_yall_532621' st_title='Hope life is as sweet for ya'll'>

Hope life is as sweet for ya'll

Country girls are a special breed
Their love is straight from the honeycomb
The simple life is all they need
For love is the heart of their home

Sacrifice resides in their DNA
Their work is never done
Tender hearted is the country way
But so is shooting a gun!

Her horse her boots
And those painted on jeans
Are staples in a country girls life
Like her garden growing lusciously green

A day in the dirt smudged on her nose
Simple beauty from her head to her toes
Cut off shorts and white cotton top
Brings a country boys world to a stop

Fields of daisies brighten her day
Content with her neighbor miles away
Her Hilton is a musty barn full of hay
In the arms of her man where she lays

Stealing kisses 
That taste of sweet tea
Cowboy hats and Dusters 
Make her man look heavenly

The spurs the blood
Eight seconds of glory
All the dust and mud
In love with a rodeo story

A country girl dances alone
Yet together all in a line
Sisters shaking hips making a scene
Till her man arrives and twirls her 
Where dancing with class reigns supreme 

Sunday drive on a pretty back road
In a jacked up truck snuggled close
Country music and a six pack of beer
Simple pleasures the country life knows

Yes indeed we're a special breed
The country life ain't for all
But it's the only life for me it seems
Hope life is as sweet for ya'll <3
























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