Long Abet Poems
Long Abet Poems. Below are the most popular long Abet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abet poems by poem length and keyword.
Gun addicts sad and looking glum
No lives were lost to guns today -
No tallies to add to their sums,
No reaper swaths with lives to pay.
A somber day - a losing streak,
Gun addicts dressed in mourning black -
Exchanging messages so bleak
And cursing this unseen setback.
Death didn't take a holiday
But, bullets took a day-long pass
While gun addicts just pined away
And hoped this delay wouldn't last.
Yes, longing when the good old days
Brought suffering at their behest -
Gun addicts would soon hope to raise
The flag of mayhem, now at rest.
Ah well, a time to hoard a store
Of guns and bullets for the fray -
As gun addicts prepare once more
To shatter lives another day.
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Obsession: Abettors:
The pervasive "need" When lawmakers pass
for firearms demonstrates Third permissive gun laws do they
World mentality. abet homicide?
If by some coup of divine luck I had to wisely say,
I would enlighten you around your exquisite way.
Notwithstanding, they appear to slip from my grip,
Wet wails are set down, and they correctly air slip.
No, I'm not leastwise, going to attempt,
The gentle words solace me while I wept.
With each murmur, they scream in agony,
The conflict with each peek and squinny.
Finding meaning is beyond difficult while composing,
Others sentiments and erratic behavior in portraying.
It scarcely appears to be enthusiastic and precarious,
They abet in the expression of regret and terrible sadness.
At this point, not a wellhead of bother in my life,
It's not a potential benefit, tragically but strife.
Uplifting affirmations and dominant motivation,
The broke advantages of the historic mansion.
The text reveals a likely path to heaven,
It's up to them to halt what's in regression.
I don't have any power while I'm creating,
I only host the party, and words start coming.
Kindly be sure to write as regards to me,
I'm a poem provide me a spot to see.
I'll unfurl, and I hope to receive gold,
My story is being related but not sold.
Written: April 25, 2022
1st place contest winner
POEM ON POETRY MUSE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
With no end in sight and a year has passed.
Kremlin won’t admit their forces are gassed.
So they keep their foot on the wrong pedal.
Exhausting their labor and supply of metal.
Playing chicken with a globe full of enemies.
Moskow wealthy saw their accounts freeze.
Peaceful banks are refusing to aid and abet.
Forcing the powerful elite to do a full reset.
The world has endured enough nonsense.
The ICC is asking Putin to start his repents.
They issued his arrest warrant for crimes
Of atrocities against children many times.
Abducting and trafficking them into Russia.
Dealing low blows to their parents in militia.
Doing this thousands of times at his request.
Kidnapping hostages & executing the rest.
Without a conscience targeting defenseless.
Forming Barbaric creatures to be tasteless.
Now justice is being served by The Hague.
To put an end to this insane Soviet plague.
We should see Nuremberg Trials part two.
To see the bastards brought their hell due.
Ruining cities deserves equal punishment.
Payback earned for their missile rains sent.
I toss fire down your throat
pour you your bullet, goblet to gullet
glass-jacketed explosions
line my wall like church organ flues
ablution for absolution from desperation
libation-liberations for exaggerated exhilarations
bottled fevers for believers
kneel your mind
choose your raptures
you’ve come to my altar
now your blood I’ll alter
shaken, stirred, swirled, singed with little bonfires
as potent a potion as you like
each percent speeds your ascent or descent
your thirst it’ll wet and abet
I have spirits to lift yours
a cure in every liqueur
bubbly for the lively
painkillers for loners
oh, I’ll hear your confessions too
earshot with your liquor shot, on the house
no judgement nor penance
just a warped sense of time to let you unparch your soul
salvage the day
and get ready to face the next one
I’m your friendly mercenary-priest
enforcing a restraining order against reality
one more?
Wood's voices are loud, and the wind is weary.
It hurts and hurts as the fall leaves turn dreary.
On the saffron-robed eastern dark tally swarm.
Sheets dropped in a thin line from a massive storm.
November arrives, and a cool breeze follows.
Cheer meals and fireplaces are roaring bellow.
Warm passion beguiled the blizzard and brief days.
And December ushers in cool breezeways.
The sun had fallen, and the moon was nearing.
The dawn brings fresh vitality and jeering.
Lights wander into the night without remorse.
Skylights rejoice, and azure woven waves hoarse.
Winter winds sweep across during November.
It was the first snowfall I can remember.
At dawn, a mystical miasma peeks through.
A blade of grass has silvery drops of dew.
The sound of the rain is soft hum on the roof.
Tinkling against the glass window of my woof
Abet me figure out where the muse came from.
Both gentle and substantial rain seems to come.
Tenderly tethered snowflakes flutter downwind.
The realm of presence enters its dozing bind.
The land is fully coated in sparkling white.
Let's remain indoors, where it's nice and quiet.
Sounds and recollections are being consumed.
Dewdrops in the mornings of winter are doomed.
Unmet sorrow, your gaze snatched my breath away.
Winter winds obscure the sun's buoyant display.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: November 10, 2022
Checked by HMS.COM/11 syllables per line.
November or December Quatrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
The way of talking is exasperatingly bellicose.
The paradigm of longanimity has been dulled.
Presence, tragically, can't gather a full megadose.
Exceedingly, it is delicate and cracking cold.
I was prone to bouts of gloominess and fatigue.
More sureness would have been suffering an intrigue.
However, I improvised a helping to bestow the way.
I steadied my head on someone's shoulder all day.
We are all doomed to ruin, It will finally awake an end.
We invest such a heroic bid to render what we yield to tend.
We yell and scream in agony in an attempt to escape, it's all in vain.
Seclusion has owned me, so why should I swallow the pain?
Before praising your charm, I had asserted a qualm.
I felt as a flimsy leaf hanging from a brittle side, calm.
In an accrued state of utter and genuine regret.
And bowed over your wicked sight and felt warm abet
Trust empowers us to prevail over life's challenges.
It reveals the promise to support bloom into large fledges.
From seed sown by our parents, as we were conceived.
It can foster striving social ills and retain us relieved.
Sporadically I expected to shout and unwind.
However, I invited someone to listen to me that was kind.
Feasibly I wanted a nearer than a partner or brother.
Be that as it may, I quite bore one? I called her Mother.
1st place contest winner
Written: March 07, 2022
Title Chosen: Longanimity
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 29
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
Awake in a cold sweat, try to forget;
The monsters gathering a head of steam.
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
His mind awash with reams of scary schemes;
Dreaming of frightening images, yet
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
Awake in a cold sweat, try to forget;
The monsters gathering a head of steam.
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
His mind awash with reams of scary schemes;
Dreaming of frightening images, yet
Awake in a cold sweat, try to forget;
And give your nightmares no aid and abet.
Written 6/7/21
I stood on the tip of the top of the cliff and looked down,
Though valleys seemed colorful, scenes deep down were grey and brown;
A few freshwater streams were springing from filmy fountains,
Lo, why these ants-colonies roam on the Rocky Mountains;
The entire landscape looked like a huge monster's mouth yawning,
Are these sounds and noises around foretelling some warning...?
This scene of the yawning of the cliff valley of nature,
Reflected, like a mirror, the rich-poor caricature;
Dining on Ayan Black Chicken, Wagyu beef, Kopi Luwak,
Iberian ham, Moose cheese, Black watermelon, Blue Duck...
Wearing clothes of velvet and silk weaved for them alone,
Adorned with gold, gems, and diamonds - the rich have their zone...!
Does even the Public Distribution System assist?
Each hungry moment of the poor has an ironic twist.
Stories of humans eating grass, lacking food, lo, pity!
Malnourished, lacking jobs, many poor beg in each city;
Fawn-colored messy clothes - only rags they can afford,
Having no house they sleep, like dogs, on footpaths of the road...!
Systems and States, like ladders, aid and abet the wealthy,
To grow, progress and develop through ways, often, stealthy;
Schemes and plans and strategies for the poorest are plenty,
Yet, in reality, do the poor get any penny?
Gulf betwixt the rich and poor, like cliff and dry land cleaves say:
Fraternal love of caring and sharing is the true way...!!!
Autumn brings colors to uplift "summer's soul"
"washing withered" greens with bright patina;
the eyesight delight which brightens and abets,
with "fiery fusion," new scenes old summer will accept-
highlights, imparted justly, as her season's last hurrah
while she leaves, bereaves her lost Xanadu,
in the brilliance of red/golds swirled with orange/amber,
crowning trees and carpeting sprawled bald lawns with cheer-
to "soften summer's" exit within "Autumn's arena"-
until she returns again- post next year's Spring Rebirth.
September 11, 2022
~1st Place~
Contest: The A's Have It
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 10/02/2022
Theme/Title: Last Hurrah
Bold = Alphabetical order of 3 words
Quotes = Alliterations
Italics = Internal Rhyme
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Contest Rules:
2 or more lines with 3 words in alphabetical order. It can be
more words but the minimum is 3 words.
3 or more lines with alliterations.
2 or more lines with internal rhymes (perfect rhymes)
Spell out a word with the last letters of each line,
That word is your Title and your Theme
Written: May 09, 2024
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Acquiring a partner soul entails a careful dive,
In calm depths, their true nature comes alive.
Only then do waves prevail, twisting their prey,
Can we track a hint of empathy in society today?
All life begins below; we are just on the surface,
It's a labyrinth of anxiety, a bay of turbulence.
The objective is to grasp peeves and apprehensions,
Despite dread, we will learn to swim via emotions.
Shadows, depths, and darkness intertwine,
We drift along in the current, seeking our line.
We bear the weight of their weary waves,
They share their aches and abet safe paves.
Yet it was a deep gaze, not one of shallowness,
Stepping into another's universe, fallowness.
To appreciate their journey and their plight,
Let's embrace depth to find peace in the night.
So, we'll all jump into the same pit in tandem!
Where does the wind lie, where truth is random?
Down memory lane, in a passionate embrace,
Can we utterly claim to comprehend your grace?