Long Accrue Poems

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


Premium Member Rachab of Jericho

Deliberately inching its way toward break of day,
The morning sun begins to emblazon the barley field.
Relaxing and watching the orb find its way,
The lady of the house waits for night to yield.
Like every morning, she is seated there,
Enjoying the dew scented breeze on her veranda.
Feeling its coolness on her scalp while combing her hair,
And the warmth of the rising sun becoming grander.
Her mind wanders back to the city of her birth,
Just over the rise, beyond the barley field’s treasure,
Lies the city with the most famous name on earth,
Where, in her youth, she was a lady of pleasure.

To Rachab went all of Jericho’s possession,
By decree of God, for which Achan was stoned.
For this soldier could not control his obsession,
Though aware the city’s riches were God’s own.
With God’s grace, Rachab’s wisdom grew,
And she made the city’s outskirts her spread.
Her land into a field of grain did accrue,
A breadbasket from which hordes were fed.
Her hires were the finest laborers in the land
And were busy harvesting barley all spring.
She paid the very best wage to every man,
Cause her crop was the best early rains could bring.

The fields and glades, that gave her pasture form,
Seemed sensuous in every contour and rise.
At daybreak, contrasting tones were the norm,
Painted artfully by the brightening skies.
Mounds appeared convexly round breasts,
Lovingly sculpted over a span of human girth,
Whose beauty was able to put the heart to a test,
As the machinery of memory rotates the earth.
Babbling brooks flowed from shady nooks,
Giving refreshment to denizens of land and sky,
Producing a scene of green worthy of  picture books,
That not one skilled artist would dare deny. 

Gingerly she rose the doorway torch to quench,
Watching the shrinking darkness become shadows.
Rachab calmly returns to her veranda bench,
To observe butterflies dance above the meadows.
In her dreams, she envisions a more golden age,
When royalty would be attributed to her seed.
A zephyr flows over her mind turning the page,
But she still aspires the prospect of the throne to accede.
What a lovely story to behold just beginning to dawn,
Rising out yonder, just beyond the horizon of time.
How we yearn to see that age return, now long forgone,
So our hearts may once again be joyous and sublime.
Form: Rhyme


Three Way Collaboration

"Thoughts of a Sexual Nature"


Vivid thoughts of you,
in your birthday suit.
Sprawled on my living room floor,
anxiously you wait
for what you came here for.
Long toned legs,
a rippled mid-section.
I want to hear you beg,
you caused this ********.

Incense burn!!

Sex on the Beach 
heightens the mood.

I allude,
to a massage.
                             A mental mirage,
                                   a dream.

Vivid thoughts accrue,
as I knead your birthday suit.
skin like a rare passion fruit,
and I'm working for your nectar.
You're my aperitif,
and I have a sweet tooth
for your vermouth.
_________________________________________________________

Strumming your neck,
         my tongue is the pick.
Hearing you moan lightly, "Oh your so thick."

         So eager was the lass,
for me to.... hose down her fire.
         You see, the blaze I intensified.
I knew her desires.

         Slow down I pleaded,
              hasten your pace!
         We have all night baby,
              and first base is my face.

I had overdosed on her Vermouth.
         She poured without a care!

Enveloped in lusts rapture,
         it was, to soon to conclude.

Ambiance is important, so I'll set the mood.
        Red lights, mirrored headboard
             & playing softly in the background,
a love songs 
        interlude!!!
_________________________________________________________

Soft moist lips lick you're ear
whispering words of delight
pursuing my plight for your might, 
my tongue rolls down your neck 
peck on peck, 
as my goal unfolds 
kissing chest nipples 
your dimples of gold 
tanned bronze like a god, 
excitement, 
ecstasy 
extension to explode, 
the ride enhances as liftoff begins 
tastier than sins, 
searing flesh on flesh emotions 
enmesh juices of love in thrombosis, 
in oceanic osmosis, 
as we fall... 
spent ... 
content ... 
in orgasmic opulence.....


"This is a collaboration written by three different poets... Starting with Me...
Samuel Brooks has the middle section, and Linda Marie Bariana concludes...
This turned out well and I am sure all of you will agree.. 
Jared Pickett---Asavvy1
Samuel Brooks----ChocolateWoW-------------------------1/27/2010
Linda Marie Bariana------Sweetheart

Premium Member Pen Wakes, Shakes and Casts Its Darkest Long Frown

Pen Wakes, Shakes And Casts Its Darkest Long Frown

When faithful pen, releases not its ink
heaven and stars refuse usual blinks
moon dims and lets out moaning mournful cries
poison arrows shoot across wailing skies
Paper cringes in desperate despair,
around weeping edges begins to tear.

At such times, poet's heart fearing such dread
attacks with great zeal complaints in my head
wages war with a soul begging release
while my muse and I ask both to please cease
Pen wakes, shakes and casts its darkest long frown,
cries, "in this circus, you sir, are a clown"!

In this battle, where blood so freely flows
my muse wallows in pity, cries out loud
my power weakens, as mighty pen's grows
will heart this epic loss, thus be so proud
Paper gasping, at pleading so sincere
even I the poet, shed salty tears!

When faithful pen, releases not its ink
heaven and stars refuse usual blinks
moon dims and lets out moaning mournful cries
poison arrows shoot across wailing skies
Paper cringes in desperate despair,
around weeping edges begins to tear.

Robert J. Lindley, 7-07-2019,
Rhyme, ( When Night Brings Darkness To Rhyme )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vague Memories Of Slow Fading Melodies

When broken dreams await hard hands of Fate
And willing dark, its powers concentrates
Life slows and diminishes as on cue
All has passed before, nothing is new.
In that wretched place, souls are sliced deep
By horrid nightmares, in disturbing sleep.

This poet's pen often dares to relate
In echoes as if crying for lost mate
With weeping words-tears and resounding moans
Through wide valleys of darker undertones.
In that aching place, epic pains accrue
such is human life, for nothing is new.

As splashed ink soaks onto famished page
One may see injustice, well up with rage
Oft heart's desires stir that miserable soul
To ask for pity's coin to pay the toll.
In that regretful place, black snags abound
Such is dessert to Fate's hungriest hounds.

Robert J. Lindley, 7-09-2019, 
Rhyme, ( Does A Poet's Shadow His heart Display)


Note: As the floor fell away and ground opened up. 
Sad night turned into racing day. Grounded birds forgot which way is up.
And the pied piper demanded more his pay.......
Calamum, nolui per chartam et poetae core......
Form: Rhyme

Anemic Checking Account

This Citizen Banker 
     safely in his compound doth attest,
sans donning his typical 
     gabbling and trumpeting ways, 
     while legally tendered, 
     currently being cents 
     less lee swept away
     soul fully - bellow 

     wing from my chest
(with fortissimo, the
     whirling wide webbed 
     watery tidal swells
     rivaling the peak 
     of Mount Everest)
reef furring to being 
     nearly reduced to poverty

     hence, essentially buck
     king the tide while washed out -
     since day short and dollar late 
     circumstances force me 
     to cash worthless buffalo chips
     astutely as you correctly guessed
from deep pull horrible
     United States economic situation,

     where option non
     existent against invest
ting, nesting, and squirreling
     financial resources jest
accessible for wealthy people
     to sync investment portfolios
     region of popular tax haven,
     viz Cayman Islands lest

hefty costs accrue
    keeping scrupulously stashed re:
     sources untouchable,
     where Uncle Sam canst
     access ex cell lent
     healthy maturing outlook
     king monies, and understandable
     at rage against the machine

     if rainy day funds messed
up, but solvent versus 
     debts drowning oneself
     unable to stay afloat,
where declaring Chapter 7 bankruptcy 
   doomed to bobbing
     within a sinking boat,
and where pointless

     to pull out all the whistle stops
     including abandoning resorting
     to heroic measures
     while additionally futile
     to shed tears and emote
only kidding self to seek out goat
tam ma Buddha, nor will 
     I resort to gofundme

(cuz ma last name NOT Kardashian),
     but matter of fact lee
roll with the figurative punches 
     feigning tubby Jew Dee
or an incarnation 
     of Muhammad Ali
during his ready for prime time Box
sing rebellious jabbering
 
left fist out fox
sing prize fighter un
     defeated champ with mox
see, his champion modesty 
     oozed muscles like rocks,
a bankable one man
     Gibraltar with precious 
     mettle to the core,

not wanting with his pugilistic,
yet homegrown genteel 
     ringing true mark
solid core state athletically valued 
bankable bonded stocks.

Twisted

You were born to be a filigreed crown
to soar like the swift      never touch ground
but they gave you labels   suiting their thought
words sharpened like knives    in which you were caught
 
Spoken words in unisons                    cacophony
untouchable     not decent      not fit for family
oh the old wounds                and their residual pain
I just want to           see you soaring again
 
The others hated you         without any word
their actions spoke louder         than expressions heard
unworthy to speak to           or even be seen
to be hidden from others     aspersions as mean
 
How on earth    could you possibly shine
when you felt their ridicule    locked forever in time
I watched you dry up       before my own eyes
in the heat of the ire              the flame of despised 
 
Like an animal branded           wearing its mark
cast out like our Lord         flung from the park
on rocks were you broken         too limp to hold
to crawl and to cower          where reception is cold
 
The unthinking know not        the powers of word
wrestle not with ideas       conceptions they've learned
who never consider     that our mouths are the flame
that torture the sensitive       stab them with pain
 
How long does it take       for a heart to die
too scarred to ask questions           or the wondering why
a planet of suffering    the agony of breath
like those barely living          and too slow is death
 
Where you can hold stars           and dance in the day
to sing of life's joy     partake in its sway
be moved by its chords           like crescendo of song
to be not cast down     like everything's wrong
 
The scar like a keloid      to thick to peel
weather beaten hard         shielded like steel
Walls like a fortress     the place you reside
away from misfortune         the dark place you hide
 
Listen my Love      my words are for you
I know where you shine       I've seen them accrue
If I thoughtless hurt you   please let me know
I'm only a student         molded like dough
 
Break out beloved     create something new
polish your character           bid cruelty adieu
set your sights high      seek always insight
let love be your leader     in words that delight
 
 
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
Via Duboff Law Group LLC
Form: Verse


My Wife the Paper Shredder

Buried in an avalanche you
might see on "Hoarders buried alive"
back and foreground
white sheet with limited pay per view,
nonetheless sky scraping heap

(Uriah not kid) nsync with a 'U'-
shaped tube anchored securely thru
solid wood - sporting
towering, leaning, bulging, et cetera slew,
sans huge sized mounds,

this goodfella cockily rue
stirs memories while
almond joying sifting,
(comprising ream mains of outdated queue
vee cee paraphernalia, bank statements, old

fair maidens faded letters, phew
against unrequited lovely lasses
kissed by either gentile or Jew
us gal, during young manhood
confession stated, aye did accrue

now (said besmirched Casanova
wannabe across floor I did strew
said, no longer promising princess,
whose once tenderly fresh rose buds
exuded profusely courtesy ingénue

argh..., how frivolous to argue
with cowardly former self, hence
into the maw of das spouse (Sibyl)
she more than enthusiastically
masticates regarding unblossomed

(romantic opportunity) yours truly blew,
when flickr ring spark flame snuffed out
before profound love chanced to hint
of compatibility, ah... nary a blues clue
maybe best not to fantasize

going down nostalgia avenue,
but cast attention upon motley crew,
no matter I traversed
boulevard of broken dreams
(but oh this...pray lemme tell you

more on this cool spring green day)
ornamented with boughs of churrigueresque
mother nature's divinely wrought
sensational beauty procreative forces construe,
yanking fanciful thoughts back to feeding

pulpy material pages of me child's worldview
scribbled squiggly blurred lines
no doubt gifted artistic prodigies shew
did evince talent this papa doth truly value,
yet an excess of near identical curlique

leaves little breathing room, plus report
cards shows innovative smarts,
frequent affirmations this dada paid due
tee, which gushing praise
my girls never taxed for, yet both knew

this aging baby boomer father decries
being swamped with exorbitant clutter
hence effort now made to save whar grew,
some artistic embellishment and/or

intellectual award, the majority hesitantly fed
into jaw of thee missus the human flew
where hard copy quickly incinerated inducing
me to sneeze atchew!

Belladonna Blue

Belladonna blue.
Scenes in a mystery, do.
Hope, need ye accrue?

Indeed! Heart, why bleed?
Lead? Others or ye? Be! Sea;
Four seasons; change? Strange...

Cold core, darkest door?
Ancient lore, forgotten shore?
Anything for sure?

Weathervane, point! Taut.
Stretching out without a doubt?
Shout? Pout? Win? En route...

Sickle of death god?
Hand, hold on! O carrion;
Seen thy crow? Slow? No...

Poets, why write? Sight.
Procession, no end? Night? Light.
Gods of thunder, roll.

Oracle, thy fate.
Sylvan, honeysuckle, wine.
Fates Three, Muses Nine.

Choose? Which direction?
Suffering, set us free? Plea!
Flea, heard ye of she...?

Yes, so lose heart not!
Automaton, run robot!
Thought, caught? Got the lot!

Deep creek, art thou wound?
Hurting? Me too. Life? Strife, knife.
Blink back, tears of years...

Ravine, emptying?
Silken purse on cotton string?
Sling, shot out? Without...

Great queen, thy machine!
Devour, cursed dog! Smog, slog.
Waterlog, thy bog...

Illuminate, Fate!
Crossing o'er the double strait?
Staggers in my gait...

Soldering, soldiers?
Aim for whites of eyes? Surprise!
Criticize the flies!

Tympani, turmoil.
Garden soil knows when to boil!
Ask and receive? Sieve!

Generation, gone?
Kingdom maun on grassy lawn?
Carrion crow, caw'n...

Pick up and flee? When?
Old master, disaster: been?
Yes, and, then again...

Fireplace, hearth! Hot stone!
Sparks on loan to thrones of bone.
Loan what ye own? Cone.

Ahead? Tread well, step.
Causality, thanks.
Fortune, maybe. Soon...

Vespers, thy bell. Well.
Fish, in ocean stay, today.
Runaway? Of course.

Black abysm, home?
Void, employed? Thus say some. But...
Just what is a job?

Hand of God? Well, no.
That's a position. Mission!
Purpose, define! Shine!

Shrine, thy offering.
Magic, thy ring. Ladder, rung.
Under tongue? Sing? Sung...

Glasses, clean? Seen? Lean.
Prospects, time to rise. Hies? Prize.
Hurricane, spin! Span...

Plan, made? Ocean, shade?
Game, played? Forest, glade? Trade? Slayed?
Anyway, delayed...

Gaunt gangrel, golden?
Stolen. White snow, hide nothing.
Loving mother, you!

Sail for home? Poem.
Stern caps on huge waves, flavor.
Salt, deep water, time...
Form: Haiku

A Soul's Journey

A day started out, it really looked bright
no one could recognize just what was in site
how was I to know, the heavens were about to flow
soon I would be escorted, to that place we all must go

When those angels came for me, I was ill prepared
didn’t pack any clothes, wouldn’t need anything to wear
yet I knew that it had to be good, whatever would be
because G-d is calling the shots, to this we all do see

Lost opportunities to reflect on life, and all that my body once did yearn
how it has now been reduced, to little more than food for the worm
stoic indeed was I now, since during my life I maintained my belief 
preparing my soul for this journey, so that I could now expect relief

I knew, therefore, when I was young awaiting me was this court case
even though it was much in the future, eventually, it I would have to face
so I made sure to invest the time, helping both friends and strangers in need
for I knew the secret, heaven would certainly treat me likewise, indeed

Measure for measure does our Creator deal with us, for this is part of his design
not always perceivable to man, because it emanates from the realm of the divine
ultimately making known his true righteousness in judgement, for all to see
A day of judgement truly awaits, and our very souls will be forced to agree

Only in this world are we constantly challenged, many tests emanate from within 
because there has been put inside of us, an evil inclination trying to get us to sin
having made known to us, there is a medicine for our benefit he has deployed
patiently hoping for us to choose wisely, our constant sinning for us to avoid

This medicine is a secret, and is made known to only a select few
and is given over to those, choosing to staying far away from the untrue
I have recognized this fact, a fact that is difficult but does hold true
when you starve your body from sin, merit for your soul do you accrue

After leaving this world, we hope to paradise we all shall surely go
not wanting to contemplate, the existence of that other place down below
the message is a simple one, tailored for all those earnestly wishing to know
do many acts of kindness in this world, and in the next your soul will surely glow
Form: Rhyme

Discover Ring Visa Vis My Fanbase

As long term aspiring
     gurgling (stream of consciousness)
     paperback writer, there doth appear
an imponderable quandary

     most likely experienced
     by fellow neophyte authors,
     one pesky bugbear
that just dawned, (within the mind

     of this former tony
     MainLiner) crystal clear,
i would bet mine
     bottom dollar and declare

unequivocally established writers
     mentally tussled (or still do),
     how to accrue “Art of the book writing deal” 
     contract subsequently endear

an increasing number of people,
     that definitely feel drawn
     to thy unique flavonoid flair
with words this scrivener displays,

     where oft times decrypting
     (mine block chain) dost jam
     at least one cerebral cog and gear
no matter how far away from me,

     this mind can telepathically hear,
colorful epithets, thus
     seriously considering donning,
     summoning, and trumpeting

     his swiftly tailored,
     harried styled interlinear
difficult to interpret ma Bella cos
     mean mien, thus ready

     (lock, stock and barrel)
     to ship me on a one way junketeer
attired in a combination
     all force he zen,

     (and Caesar) knitwear
and (thrift special red tag sale) leisurewear
oh...preferably gender neutral,

or specifically frilly pink menswear
which could be either
     day or nightwear

yet absolutely non gaudily
     outlandish most unlike
thine convoluted other worldly
     unfairly punishing stentorian

     verb hose noun sense sic cull
     idiomatic ling goo whist tricks
     driven by a harsh grammatical taskmaster,
     (nonetheless one

     gentle non-slavish overseer)
summoning positive
     feedback to reap peer
burgeoning my popularity,

     yet without being *****
yule us, yes...of course retaining rear
penchant inventively steer
ring an unsuspecting reeder

agonizingly testing their
pay shunts, perhaps inducing her/him
to race out the door like a a mad person
     clad with (impeach 45) underwear

calling for men/women in white coats
     to lock up Matthew Scott Harris
     possibly commuting his
     long runonsentence tea
     ching fellow inmates without ten year!

Kismet

Holding hands with Shannon Leigh
Enthrallment consuming me
Trees flex their dusk filigree
Bobbing as if they agree
Pitch blank possibility

Revel in this day's decay
Bemused I should feel this way
Summer blooms share their bouquet
Nature's splendid verve soiree
As we bask within that sway

Moonlight glints from your clear eye
While we speak of days gone by
Tears roll as you say goodbye
Your uncle, that caring guy,
Fled this realm towards the sky

Your damp cheek feels my caress
As we share your grim distress
Calm your woe while I confess
Grave tethers dance with finesse
Faith of soul I must profess

That proud chapel on the hill
Called my spirit to fulfill
Divine promise and His will
Served by consciousness until
My father was stricken ill

Within this most humbling state
I began to doubt my fate
Circumstance wields massive weight
As I toiled through that debate
Father Tom helped consecrate

The gracious priest fell sick too
Yet defeat didn't crash through
To quell the word that sang true
Mortal fears shall not accrue
When covenant cleanses you
 
My last visit to his bed
Filled my heart with so much dread
I could see his fragile thread
His selfless prayers asked instead
To flee to God in Dad's stead

Summoned angels praised his creed
As my eardrums heard him plead
Dad's dilemma did recede
As if even God agreed
To favor Father Tom's deed

I witnessed a noble prize
As the life drained from his eyes
Lessons snared my heart most wise
Pride in knowing Tom's demise
Proved a blessing in disguise

When I feel my soul drag low
And depression taunts my flow
I view Father Tom's brave glow
The benign hope he did show
His sacrifice helped me grow

I watch you quiver near me
As your jaw drops to your knee
That warm face lights up with glee
Even those perched birds can see
All your torment start to flee

Surprise shreds me like a bomb
Your uncle was Father Tom!
Righteous brother to your mom
Grace shields us from the maelstrom
Mysteries collide with aplomb

Share a hug under brave skies
As gratitude forms to rise
Building to an immense size
God's charm summons a reprise
As our love flows to baptize
© John Weber  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Monorhyme

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