Long Able Poems
Long Able Poems. Below are the most popular long Able by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Able poems by poem length and keyword.
Am I incredible enough?
She smiled at her self-reflection
How incredible am I? Sun wondered
Moon laughed, being a telepath
Get on your way, she thought
And he laughed more loudly
Sun tried to zap a sunbeam far enough to zing him
But of course, she was not able to
How much does Earth appreciate me? She wondered
The farmers began coming out of their houses
Racing toward barns that should have been red but weren’t.
Sun warmed all the dew up, dissolving it.
She gave her Vitamin D to the humans and the animals
Her silence and warmth gave them a feeling of well-being
Am I incredible enough? She wondered.
She smiled at her self-reflection
Beauty...True beauty can't be compared by that
physical image your flesh gives off to your mind
because in the spirit, there is no take a number
and get in line time is of the essence and to
watch this woman it's like poetry in motion
with every kiss it's almost an over dosage
and yeah this is what we call true beauty
I ain't boasting, picture this spiritually... It's
a notion, a mental image, a vague thought,
a desire so just with eye contact you'll be able
to feel the fire, to fulfill her needs you will never
tire it takes a real man to see he to can be
submissive to this woman, it goes further than just
being strong standing tall when she falls but more like
her superman if you're able to answer that call.
I used to be a little different from how I am today,
especially in some beliefs and things I’d do or say.
My mother was (and still is) fanatical; there was no true religion
except for ours; I lived without her zeal – having but a smidgen.
I had no testimony to match my mom’s though half my life I tried
to practice my religion, till one day I put my church aside.
I never had been able to accept some doctrines that for me
seemed senseless. So with no apology, I live now religion-free.
I know God lives; God’s grace and love are all. I know this because
I feel it deep inside. The person that I used to be I never truly was.
When I first enter my heavenly promise land,
Jesus Christ will be willing escorting me
into his promise land. He will be helping me
understand just how wonderfully
grand life will be there.
When I first enter my heavenly promise land,
Jesus Christ will be willing telling me. How much
much he honestly cared for me. And all of my
redeemed friends and family.
When I first enter my heavenly promise land,
heavenly angels will be willing escorting me. Satan
will no longer tempt me, and the devil will no longer
be able to defeat me. and I will be finally free at last!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
January 20,2020
sharks took them one by one
after their little boat capsized
I heard the story from one of their parents
there were thirteen to begin with
they were on a mission trip
trying to stay connected
singing hymns and praying
while fins circled them
a sharp scream one at a time
as they were devoured
praying at least one would be rescued
I sit staring at the evilness of the sea
remembering the parent
full of optimistic hope
that their child had found God
so it was okay to be eaten by sharks at age twenty-one
tears were in his eyes the day he told the story
I could tell he was pretending it was okay
for his wife, but I will never be able to swim at night again
after hearing that tale….
Brother Jesse I never knew you
Gone before I was born
So young to perish
Your memory my family cherish
But nothing but wonder for me
If you had lived and been my big brother
Would I be a better man today?
To have a big bro to teach me
To show me to tease me to bully me to play
To help me grow in his shadow
And be my friend my blood my foe
I'll never know the pain of your loss
It is something I can not share
Something only others of my family
So quietly hold so dear
You were the unspoken boy
Never was your name mention
Your pictures placed in the back
Your memory faded
But somehow I knew they loved you
Son and brother
Just four or five when you died
Then a year or two later
I was born without my big brother
Brother Jesse do you look down from Heaven?
Do you know your baby brother?
Are you in my life without being here?
Big brother I've never been able to tell you
Brother Jesse I miss and love you to
Form:
I see them clearly, although they try to remain hidden.
They laugh, and talk, flirting with each other.
Why can they not see I would like some alone time?
I never get that any more.
This new foreman is a great guy, but there is always music now
Or talking or a pretty girl, visiting, bringing muffins.
I liked the blonde one last week; she brought me an apple.
I stand here, silently, not making fun of them, but wanting to.
Seeing them clearly is my favorite thing to do.
She is not making headway; I know because of his stance.
He is a great guy, but should not play poker.
He has so many tells, I will be able to get an apple.
I stand and wait for the blithering and blathering to stop.
He is too polite. He needs to get rid of them faster.
Plus, he is my man. I do not share easily.
I wish I could step on her foot. I really do.
When the woman you've passionately loved
finds another man who's not honest and quite true;
and that guy happens to be your closest friend:
it's a hard puzzle to solve with a fear able to subdue!
Why write another song with hurtful tears,
remembering what took to express beautiful feelings?
Why write another song with hurtful tears
to remind the betrayal of the one so adored by me?
Will she listen to it and realize her mistake?
There's no sadder thought than being fake,
making me believe that my darling only cared about me!
I went back to the same spot we made love with much passion,
and the possibility to find you in his arms wasn't folly;
how could you trade me in for him, what worth has my devotion?
There was no woman more beautiful than you, honey!
Why write another song with hurtful tears?
Isn't it better for me not to play it on this piano in G major;
an appropriate melody would be in C Minor:
letting all hear my sadness of lost wishes!
Why write another song with hurtful tears?
Let me remember the sweetness of your irresistible kisses!
He’s got a rutabaga butt, a rutabaga butt.
My cousin has certainly got a rutabaga butt!
Jerry was singing this loudly and proudly, like a clown.
We could hear it coming, going and upside down.
I felt sorry for his cousin though we had never met.
You might hurt his feelings I told Jerry; better stop it.
He kept singing, "he’s got a rutabaga butt, and a giant gut!
My cousin Jed has the world’s largest rutabaga butt."
Horrified now, I insisted on meeting Jerry’s cousin Jed.
He is a rotund guy with diverse coloring and a tiny head.
His body is made of a rutabaga, so the sound now makes sense.
I have not been able to stop singing this silly song ever since.
What a precious gift to be a writer
to pen poems of beauty
to be able to create a new form
to write of love and life and nature
of war and problems in this world
of death and grief . . . .
it is a gift we poets must share
oh, some write hate but that is not for me
I respect my gift not to waste it there . . .
for me writing poetry is like breathing
and I am greedy so each day I must pen
oh yes war and homelessness and pollution are real
and I write my sad poems of life . . .
and hope that my words can touch another
I pen in my preferred forms with a dripping pen
not afraid to modify a traditional form of old
I hope my poetic way will teach poets
inspire them to write there own way
and not be afraid to explore
a different way . . .
____________________
October 16, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/In Answer to ''A Poet's Duty''
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1295-621-16
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Poet's Duty
sponsor, Beth Evans, Judged 10/20/2020