Long Account Poems
Long Account Poems. Below are the most popular long Account by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Account poems by poem length and keyword.
God looked down on the sinfulness on earth
what could be done to bring about its rescue
but from eternity past a master plan was devised
God himself came in person of His son most true
Jesus Christ only begotten of the father
fulfilled all the righteousness of the law
displaying the holy character of God
the people were amazed by what they saw
This Christ came to earth to die
to die with a divine purpose in mind
that sinners could receive God's mercy
for the blessed love of God is so kind
Jesus Christ walked the road to Calvary
there He died as His blood was shed
this blood was the price that sin cost
so repenting sinners receive the living bread
On account of the Saviour's bloodshed
the sinner can come back to his creator
His image was made before sin came in
trust in the redemption of Christ no one is greater
Do you ever wish you could be
another face in the crowd
that fades from everyone’s memory
blending in like brushstrokes on canvas
catching no one’s attention or mention
Just a mundane man among the many
laughing a bit too loud in the pub upon
hearing a bawdy joke you found funny
Oiling a squeaky door hinge or
repairing a kitchen drawer that sticks
ticking those tasks off a long list
of everything that needs to be fixed
in the modest house you had to
sacrifice and save so long to buy
Flying anywhere exceedingly rare
the cost of first class out of the question
Never wondering if the woman you’re with
truly loves you or merely the amount
of currency in your bank account
if she considered what hitching her horse
to your name might do to further her fame
Unfettered and free to simply converse
with someone like me
another nobody
Love is now a game of knives.
She arrives in silk—smiling sweet—
But what lies behind that smile?
A mirror or deceit?
She loves with terms.
You, with blood.
Her heart is wired not for truth
But for security.
What engine purrs beneath your car?
Which gates conceal your home?
What digits fill your bank account?
These speak louder than your soul.
You call it love—
She calls it leverage.
Loyalty? No.
Loyalty is interest on her gain.
Change your status,
Watch her mind follow suit.
She smiled, yes, but only
At the mirror of your worth.
You sleep beside a mask,
A face she forged for you.
You think you know her?
You only know
What she permits.
True love is not found in her.
It begins within you.
Let her chase you—
But be both beast and angel.
Know this:
She can leave at any moment.
And you must welcome her absence
Before it arrives.
If you invest, invest knowing:
You sign your name in water.
Society cries:
“She is fragile, protect her.”
But who speaks
Of her soft power,
Her velvet manipulation?
Who warns you of the web
Spun by her silence?
She is not your enemy.
But you were never her equal.
You are not her victim—
You are her volunteer.
Rebirth of a flower
A month ago to the day
black bears came to dismay.
They uprooted everything I had
in the face of doing something bad.
There was no rhyme or reason given
not one hint of an word driven.
No e-mail, nothing, no ears
to my questions of fears.
It all seeded from a contest
a non placing, I addressed.
And true to form, black bears hush
a word, beating around the bush.
They stood sentry with iron fist
deleting my account with Hells kiss.
I cried that Christmas day
of dead flowers in my bouquet.
The next day a flower bloomed
on edge of fear of black bears loom.
A flower sees a little sunshine now
stemming from their plow.
connie pachecho
1/25/17
Suddenly, he found himself floating through the air.
He saw no light and heard no sound, just darkness everywhere.
Trying to remember the place where he had been.
Although he wasn’t sure it seemed to him that he had sinned.
He had committed many crimes in just his few short years.
And been the cause of heartaches and many, many tears.
Guilty of offenses, he even had lost count.
Soon the man would have to face his sins and take account.
The man was given chances all throughout his life.
Lucky to find love, even he had a wife.
But soon he had destroyed their love and she was gone as well.
Plunging the man further into evil, where he fell.
Then the total darkness started turning bright.
He felt that he was being pulled into a warmer light.
That’s when he remembered the scene that had occurred.
Although it wasn’t very clear, just pieces that were blurred.
Again, he had been caught in sin but this time he would pay.
For all the lives he’d taken, this was to be his day.
There was no place for him to hide no place he could run to.
And as he felt the fires burn that was the time he knew.
And yet it was reported clear as day
Headline story
Live on the 9 o'clock news
For all and sundry to hear
So it must be true
Because you couldn't make it up
Could you
As it's getting ever and ever harder
to tell the truth now days
As even the people we are told and
supposed to trust appear to spin
and weave the greatest lies of all
Without seemingly ever getting caught
out or having to account for them
at all
Even in court hand on bible before
god as a witness and child's lives
at stake
Willing to undergo a lie detector test
Because to them the truth is merely
circumstantial and doesn't necessarily
have to based on actual facts
Because that would just be boring and
doesn't justify an end
Quite a vivid late afternoon/
early evening dream
transpired within me noggin
housed deep within skullcap
regarding right wing kooky
conspiracy plot to kidnap
a leary paranoid
schizophrenic king suspicious of trap
upon arising from lengthy nap
yours truly, who sought to pull himself
a generic garden variety chap
up courtesy his own figurative bootstrap
on account of groggy feeling
so methought to download
wake up quick app.
Before hurriedly bidding thee rabbit reader
a bunny fide hasta la vista
linkedin concatenated adieu,
(I bemusedly, kindly, readily, willingly
acknowledge (while zippily wiggling
mine button nose)
naysaying belonging to species and genus
Oryctolagus cuniculus Yemenite
my matter of fact honest to dog aim to write
creating literary masterpiece considerably
far less than one terabyte
no way no how attests
(quintessentially, simultaneously, vociferously...
waving shaky spear less to prove point
versus making verses to feign)
being adept with skill set of playwright
while playing fair and as (unbeknownst
until just recently) privileged white knight
such unfairness motivates
participation with Cherry Hill, New Jersey
Unitarian reparations group
genuine fellowship doth excite.
Caffeine consumption
creative process helps jumpstart
impossible mission to chart
outcome regarding crafting poem
analogous to elusive prey
thoughts slither and dart
to and fro, hither and yon
yet how ideal if literary endeavor
could possibly be mapped out
courtesy devine English flowchart
distinct symbols representing
how branching outcomes show start
to finish plot encompassing
picture of broken heart,
where love labour's lost
where all's well that ends well
pertaining to romantic tragedy
cue Romeo and Juliet
rent asunder torn apart.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Rin
Each one is granted a fixed quantum of time
And each second passes with a silent chime.
Those who handle time without enough caution,
May later regret and land in utter perdition.
Everything should be done in the allotted time n’ space.
By staying idle, we may never get one more chance.
"All we have to decide is what to do,
With the time that is given us" before it is due.
As the moving pendulum of the clock swings,
Each day, to infinity, slowly and steadily wings.
Time is like a diminishing bank account.
Nothing can be added to the existing amount.
Time wasted should be our greatest regret.
It is precious and irredeemable, never forget.
Before infirmities set in, earn what you can,
For life on Earth has only a short span.
I resist the urge to write of what I allegedly know for I am unsure of where I gathered the information and therefor unsure of whether I know it or not. As you can see this poses a strange conundrum as I may be beating a dead horse leaving me with the confusing dilemma of explaining why I beat the horse to death in the first place. Granted it is a metaphorical horse and as such was given life through my personification of its being and undoing. Thus, I keep it in the bath tub for use as a subtly stupid response to inquiries such as “how’s it going”and “what’s new”, to which I reply: “There’s a dead horse in my bathtub”.
I once knew that 2 plus 2 equaled 4. Not so sure anymore as I never accounted for inflation, deflation, tariffs, or the rising heat index as the planet shrinks and the stock marked rates crypto currency and jelly beans have been outlawed. Remember, penny candy, jelly beans, paper with sticky sugary dots, Mary Jane’s. Probably not. But I digress as presently you can’t get a thought for a penny as in “a penny for your thoughts”. It now requires filling out a 12 page terms and conditions document and a 25 dollar filing fee. This may account for the reason so many are presently thoughtless or worse yet that when one person has a thought so many grab onto it and repeat it parrot-like until they start to argue over who’s thought it is or was. This usually engenders a plethora of lawsuits over the violation of someone’s “intellectual” rights.
On a velvet night, under a sky sprinkled with stardust,
realism, like a broken mirror, fails to reflect the whole truth,
it diminishes reality, thins it out, falsifies it, losing its essence,
it does not take into account our fundamental truths and deep obsessions:
love, death, wonder – all lost in the shadows of reason.
Man, presented in a reduced and distant perspective,
like a vague figure in a foggy painting, loses his inner brilliance,
for truth is not found in the strict outlines of reality,
but in our dreams, in our imagination, where magic and mystery find shelter.
In a world of gray and monotony, love fades like a candle in the wind,
but in our dreams, it burns like an eternal flame, illuminating the darkness,
and death, that inevitable end, becomes just a gateway to other realms,
where our souls dance freely, like spirits of light, in the vast unknown.
Wonder, that spark of magic that opens our eyes to miracles,
is lost in the daily routine, in the cold pragmatism of realism,
but in our imagination, it blooms like a crystal tree,
in every thought, in every dream, showing us the way to infinity.
Truth, that diamond hidden in the depths of our being,
reveals itself only in moments of dreaming, when we let reality dissolve,
and we lose ourselves in fantasies, in untold stories, in worlds of magic and beauty,
where every moment is a miracle, and every breath, a symphony of life.
In the endless flow of consciousness, my thoughts float like golden clouds,
seeking hidden meanings, eternal truths, in the vastness of imagination,
and I know that only there, in those distant realms, can I find the human essence,
for only in our dreams, in our imagination, does truth come to life,
and we, like poets of our own existence, can discover
that we are more than mere shadows in the world of reality,
we are dreams of light, lost in the eternal night,
and only in those dreams, can we find our true brilliance.