Long Aboard Poems
Long Aboard Poems. Below are the most popular long Aboard by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aboard poems by poem length and keyword.
At church I ask the priest for absolution,
and I am ready for any atonement and Penance;
I Quiver thinking of it- for I am angry,
oh, so angry with God for taking my grandma away.
Last night I had a dream or at least I think it was,
it is a Quandary really because it felt so real;
for standing so Poise and elegant was grandma,
with her beautiful Platinum pearly, snowy hair.
I recognized her fragrant Perfume at once,
we were standing in a whimsical Quaint place;
it felt strange to me that a boat was waiting.
in a Quay and grandma stepped aboard it.
No words were spoken as she waved goodbye,
and I watched the boat fading into the distance;
till grandma was gone . . .
_______________________
February 7, 2021
Poetry/Verse/Grandma is Gone
Copyright Protected, ID 02-326-863-07
All rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Mind Your P's and Q's
sponsor, Michelle Faulkner, Judged 03/06/2021
In the office, he smiles so charmingly.
Saying and doing all the right things,
he puts all his female patients completely at ease.
Even the women hard to please return to him,
for he is famous for his bedside manner.
He surrounds himself with a staff of beautiful nurses
who rush eagerly to his aid when he needs them.
Each of them, whether single or not,
imagines herself with him and how it would be
to be alone with him, aboard his fancy yacht
submerged in the mesmerizing gaze
of his warm hazel eyes.
In the evening he goes home to his wife,
a lovely though docile woman, fragile like a flower.
Immediately on seeing her, he starts in
with his usual barrage of complaints,
belittling her and poking fun at her homemaking skills,
the dinners she has waiting for him, her style of dress,
and every minor physical flaw she might possess.
She accepts it all with her pretty blonde head bowed
like that of a wilted lily,
for she knows that to oppose him
will only result in a more tangible type of abuse,
and he is always careful when he hurts her.
Doctor that he is, he knows well to leave no marks.
She retires quietly to bed,
worried little about any sexual advances toward her.
Although she longs for the touch of a man,
she is grateful to be left alone by her spouse.
Meanwhile, with liquor in hand,
he’s gone into the den, shutting the door behind himself.
Logged on as Mr. Hyde at his favorite website,
he peruses the myriads of Adonises available,
peering salaciously at each nude explicit photo
with wide hungry hazel eyes taking in every little detail
as he plans his next big adventure out of town
and fantasizes trysts on his fancy private yacht
with the sexiest of the men that he can solicit.
posted 2/21/12
Submitted 9/23/22 For One From The Dark Side Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
we have now come to trust bliss borne cool heat
so may say we have crossed the tipping point
throb of magnetism makes us feel upbeat
as each bliss beat God Himself does anoint
no one comes, no one goes, we alone are
witness to the ebb and flow of bliss tides
form suffused with the light of the soul star
that presence in the void easily glides
the truth is affirmed as it dawns for us
oh hermit, there is no limitation
we soak in God’s light aboard His bliss bus
poised by day and night in meditation
all these doings are done by God alone ~
that in time we may come into our own
Writers are lured or find their way
And when they arrive they write their say
Welcomed aboard their words are shared
On arrival are they, cared or scared
We read in the blogs, about that, about this
Sometimes it's serious, sometimes it's bliss
We are here to write, and share our work
If that doesn't work, our roads have forks
Decide if ye may, if it's here your to be
If you are, it's to be in harmony
If it is not, democracy rules
Don't become one of them, a literary fool
For this is the site that rises above
Indiscretions if any, we are bound to shove
Our writers have been lured, and lured to stay
If this site's not for you, please be on your way
Soul’s innate creative urge,
causes in heart, an upsurge,
creating in space, a rhythm,
throbbing in mind-body prism.
Entwined with the universe,
our mind then conjures a verse,
which ego claims as its own,
although seeds are by soul sown.
Attuned to love’s vibration,
unique is each creation,
penning patterns on paper,
the way we like to caper.
The music’s not our handwork,
so we best wipe off our smirk,
but nevertheless since we’re here,
we let the fragrance draw near.
Just like petals in full bloom,
soul’s vibrance too likes to zoom,
which works for poets like us,
joyous aboard God’s bliss bus.
Promises sweet promises of the melancholy
Swaying too and fro back and forth aboard a rocking chair
In tandem and in tune to the rhythm of the wind blowing through the chimes
From the front porch looking out above the greenest
hedge and white picket fence
Waiting for the warning bell on the gate to sound the alarm
Danger , Danger trespassers approaching
They have breached the last line of defense
No longer can it be known or said
That a man's home is his castle
When not only does he have to defend his home and borders against foreign forces but is also dogged by the enemy within
So gather all the shell's and stockpile all the powder the muskets can muster and cover them in ink
Border up the window's and emblazon them with the slogan in capital letters that leaves no ambiguity
We won't be taken alive
If all we value and our way of life is to be lost and pulled from underneath us
Better then to fight and die by the sword if it be proven to be mightier than the pen
Than to live enslaved under hate metered out by ignorance
and violence
The Light of His Word relieves all of the darkness
In not having heard you don't even see the mess
In so a mind wonders having no point of reference
As when it blunders you haven't the slightest sense
As man pushes God away then repeatedly God warns
Telling their kids not to pray as all society now scorns
Now take a look around... do you recognize anything
Unstable sandy ground, the consequences it does bring
First things just crack but in time when there's no repair
Just a missing peg in the track one more no longer there
The train picks up speed as the passengers pay no mind
Feeling there's no need too busy going to the daily grind
Just a little bit of shaking as this time they made it past
But each day that it's breaking their own lots they cast
In hearing All Aboard maybe you will take another way
Maybe going with the Lord, hearing what He has to say
2 Timothy 2:15
Study to shew thyself approved unto God,
a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,
rightly dividing the word of truth.
The last few agonizing moments aboard the ill-fated Titanic,
Were no doubt filled with horror and unabated panic.
She slipped 'neath the waves to settle on the floor of the sea,
To create a watery grave for 1500 souls who rest for all eternity.
I dreamed that I descended to her resting place 13000 feet below,
Where eternal darkness reigns and deadly currents ebb and flow.
As I neared her eerie hulk I felt that I trod on hallowed ground,
Taking care not to step on the many personal items lying around.
There were many poignant reminders of life on that cluttered floor;
Ladies shoes, leather caps, crystal wear, china and so much more.
I saw the two massive outboard propellers in the distant gloom,
And the towering mast lay upon the deck where it met its doom.
I entered her interior and viewed the once magnificent dining room.
Remains of fine china and silverware were scattered in the eerie tomb,
Reminders of exquisite dining by the beau monde on her maiden cruise,
And nearby the beautiful reception room where the elite met to schmooze.
I awoke from my dream with a start and later upon reflection,
Mused upon the 'unsinkable Titanic' and man's strive for perfection,
And concluded when man in his foolish pride doth egotistically exclaim
That his schemes and follies are indestructible, he is doomed to shame!
Entry for Rob Carmack's "Dreams Contest"
The Train of Darkness
The train of darkness barrels down, I hear the railroad clack.
Shakes the baghouse now, standing next to the tracks.
The ground beneath my feet comes alive, with a pulsing, steady vibe.
My first intuition is to hide.
I see the train coming in, a monstrous, breathing beast.
Eating up the track, invited to a feast.
Out of the darkness he rolls, alone,
A king of iron, on a bed of stone.
Rattling in the night, pulsing through my fear,
He rumbles into view, then boldly disappears.
The ground beneath my work boots quakes, as a pulsing rhythm makes,
Leaving behind a cloud of dust, that the iron monster wakes.
Dragging the crew, to the emptiness of hell,
A story they have told before, a story they know well.
I wave goodbye, a wish for luck, aboard that tyrant, roaring fear.
Into the dark it drags its prey, upon the turning gear.
Spiritual Welcome
The Step Aboard
Thanking the Lord
Thought of Heaven
The Promise
Years through God’s will
His Gospel Mission Fulfilled
Honor, Glory and Uplift
Heavens enter a Gift
Blessed it Spiritual Warriors
Your Reserved Seat
Devil in total defeat
Chosen ones
Enter my Saints
Sanctuary of Praise
Days and Nights in Heaven evermore
Faith proved sure
Come and Dwell
Enriched with all the ceremonial goodness
This is your story
All found in Glory
Heaven’s desire
The place where praises never tire
Your Heavenly Shout with no expire
Peace and Comfort
Heaven’s spoken words
The gates are open
Luggage not needed
Enter proudly and boldly
Permission gracefully granted
Shout Hallelujah