Long Adjoined Poems
Long Adjoined Poems. Below are the most popular long Adjoined by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adjoined poems by poem length and keyword.
A moment so precious as they stand and await
Bands that will unite them from their very first date
Coupled to union amidst family and friends
Detours and paths life to their adjoined intend
Everlasting their love as they commit to their vows
For soon two become one as they wantingly wow
Guests adorn gifts as they delightfully praise
Hands on glasses as to the air they do raise
Invitations so polite to the dance floor they go
Joining this couple shouldering their dance slow
Kissing in public now viewed by many eyes
Loving now shared seeing flowergirls cry
Music aplenty as their night flows with notes
Notable family reunions from those so remote
Organised tables introducing family and friends
Pleasing in today's world when happiness sends
Qualities now announced by the parents of she
Requirements to allow he, for they to be thee
Smiles now abound as they thank their guests
Tomorrow's their future for tonight they won't rest
Unlike their yesterday's for their morn they're anew
Voicing they'll be so adhesive in their grew
Wedded this two spread on marital cloth
Xenarthra we won't be, hands faster than sloths
Yes we all thank you here on our special day
Zapping your energy, bow our heads, let us pray
.
Mary and Joseph fairly did it,
That night when they each gave,
Everything to the other,
In energetic zealous rave.
Heaven and earth co-aligned,
Stars shone just on them,
Nature whispered unabashed,
As their voice was of 1000 men.
Morality and good were with themselves,
Unmarried yet with child,
But they knew their baby’s genotype,
His personality, meek and mild.
In fear of reputations pull,
They adjoined him with God, the divine,
And accosted the shepherds interest:
The people, the folks on the vine.
There had been predicted,
By the world’s predictive prophets,
A saviour by name of Jesus Christ,
In etymology’s linguistic minuets.
This man was to be the saviour,
Of the then known world from doctors,
Who only treated the rich and not,
Those who to them were doctor callers.
The baby’s name was already up for question,
And Joseph had complete discernment,
There was a census of the population,
Which Joseph completed with endearment.
There was no god to whisper a name,
His parents had to decide on his needs,
They had to determine the appropriation,
Of the prophesies and the creeds.
So they maybe called him Jesus Christ,
As false as false could be,
And that he became such bold and true,
Is due to his own credibility.
Although in life he may have been confused,
About his birth name from Mary’s heart,
He had twelve close friends and brothers,
Who helped his career start.
These disciples were to me colleagues,
Of the man who could heal,
And for a first mover in equal care,
Twelve is a respectable peal.
So Jesus became Jesus Christ,
By his own work and thought,
And to know this is to have
Knowledge of history taught.
This historical Jesus makes most sense,
Navigates literature’s demands,
Gives interpretation its true space,
And issues no religious commands.
Understanding the Jesus meme,
Depends on reading about the child,
Accepting his parents circumstances,
Forming the context of the ancient world.
Where ever you go, Whatever you do
A keepsake to carry, she's always with you
Nostalgia follows, a sliver of childhood
Never to be lost, that is sisterhood
Both your mirror and your opposite
Everlasting, a bond so definite
A family tree, grown from the same roots
Individual blossoms taking their own routes
Shared experiences, in tune, a wave length
A home to return to, a giver of strength
A safety net allowing you to reach new heights
Cheering you on, hoping you take flight
Designed to catch you when you fall
Stand you back up, nice and tall
A pusher who believes the sky is the limit
A shining light, you can never dim it
A sister is a necessity, a blessing, it's true
L’amour entre deux, love between two
Souls adjoined, like rope intertwine
Forever together, glad you're mine
Let me bring you to a world where love has no limit.
The feelings of devotion lie in between you and me,
You are Adan and I am Eve on the first day that we'd met
We are formed by the prowess of love and faith.
The unconditional LOVE...the greatest gift from God above.
But this love that we have is something veins fluctuating.
We found love in most special ways.
Not in amatory form of fantasies.
Hugs and kisses in the world of black and blue.
Caring for each other without bond and sort of hues.
But often misinterpreted by those minds are less and few.
We twirled the world like roller coaster.--
Meeting up of two souls in soiree place.
Eye to eye we've met and the story begun to clicked.
Friendship that'll remain forever,love that exists 'til the end.
No vow and ties that bind together,
Just two sacred hearts adjoined.
Two people stay together,no pain 'til we get old.
Love stuck in the middle,platonic and bold.
The moon is the compass to more than lunatics
the world shines forth on course to break the habits of Heretics
The void, the miasmic zone
The desert a monicker of mine to show
what on an empty canvas I can do, or to leave desolate as an epiphany to grow
Nomadic trackers seek me out in the signs
in the sands of
the
Mountains of the moon
they brave the desert to find, signs written in the dunes
Craters, calligraphy written of the Creator
the sands of time just rivulet capulet capitol letters
of loves endless sea where miracles are all the better
skylined wink of nursery bard story shine, on
the starlight makes the moon an adorned and pregnant bride, from the Sun
having a little me time as the nativity hears the tales
The sun, the moon and stars
they make nimbus across the sky as the Battle En tales
The stardust makes for night light, blink of the divine
to shine and shine and shine
the light of the stars, and fill the dark like fruit to the vine
Like star and moonglow on the desert snow
The moon and sun meet as two stars adjoined-to each other to know
in marriage,
one shines to, as the other beams, with child, aglow.
The ecliptic a carriage and around we go.
Family, children, Husband, Wife, Creator, its written in the stars.
Heaven a front row seat in a vast ampetheatre.
God has his actors His scripts and His laws, that plan for the Future.
They say their lines without flaw, learn to love!
The main attractions and the special features.
We had searched for empty houses to play
Haunted, not a soul in them would stay.
At far end of the village we had found one
From afar it looked mighty but undone.
Its tiled roof was broken in many a place
As nature elements weakened its timber base.
All rooms adjoined to the spiral staircase
Its grandeur once had spread far apace.
We loved to play hide and seek in there
I hid in the attic as no one came to snare.
The porch wall still had a carved rosette
In its wet groves dark moss had got set.
Ferns randomly had spiked out of creeks
We jumped high to get its bunch tweaks.
Garden in front of house lay in high weeds
once it surely had flowered many a seeds.
The majestic front door smitten with algae
Told stories in whispers as wind blew in alley.
The forlorn villa still haunts my memory
My childhood yet enconsed in its reverie.
20.7.2020
WHERE ARE THE MEN
Where are the men that once lived here
few men remain of yesteryear,
Beautiful masculinity,
Artfully carved of dignity
The command and gruff within his voice,
The rough and tumble is his choice,
His love for femininity,
choosing the woman he'll wed to bear his seed
First a crown to his own mother's head,
Adjoined in the authority of his father's stead.
Takes his place within the world,
Only leaving his mother when he finds his girl.
Where are the men braving the fight for truth,
for the branding of mankind from his youth.
Where are the men, the way men were meant to be
God is calling his creation, "Come back to me!"
KP: With embellishment aborted,
sidewalk and street talk wail from paper.
Tears vividly seen because cursive one's don't wipe away.
An intrinsic institution allergic to plagiarized allegiance,
we're born and bred to bleed blue from womb, and the wound.
Traits of our soul incarcerated in a pen case
presenting selfies that speak volume without an impediment.
Lingual masseuses with mischief marinating, depending on
which taste of epic we prefer.
We write to pulverize color barriers because underneath the shell
tethered laughter is majority. Lumen repair technicians
dimming differences, a cultural mend from cultured men
adjoined through their pen.
Siamese artistes with an umbilical transporting manna from our
third eye to feed the famine.
Brother of mine, break bread with your pen
RL: I too do not wish to embellish
So I place my ear upon the sidewalk of discovery
For I wish to hear the colour of your steps
Our souls are meant to breathe upon paper
The fibres of the papyrus bleed into our convoluted minds
as we give of our panicked moments
Ours is a calmed darkness
A mimicking hope
Yesterday flows over tomorrowed possibilities
as we attempt to rewrite answers to those questions never asked
Differences float above our commonality
So we choose to dive below the surface
For beneath our papered skin resides the hearts of free men
Paper converted by pen becomes flesh
The bond of brotherhood
Tethered between minds
Transported beyond societies perceived differences
For we choose to anoint our spirits in blue ink!
Thanks Keith for joining me in this creative adventure.
It is a pleasure to write with such a talented writer.
Written by: Keith Papyrus & Richard Lamoureux
September 25, 2015
As the pixels of our images' imagined- dance
in magics binary
as chemicals mingling between us-
in touch's refibering, as element_OFelementals
entrenched,
drenched in of love's territorial ink
in it's.environmental sea
at moonlit cove
as stars scream in digital blink
In the silence of a starlit night,
I hear the whispers of the moon,
your serenade of gentle grace,
satelliting a mood,
as nature paints a tranquil face,
Time hands brushed strokes to interlace,
claws for an embrace.
Magic chronochromatic_poetry virtuates
automatically, as
fallen leaves of the tree of Life,
are we, like the nows'
fondest fronds of imagical memories,
drifted by and by inbetween reality sea, driftwood
carried,
buried in a crypt on the wind's soft sigh,.
the eternal cosmic expanse of adjoined mind,
In the diodes of pietry of infrared and canvas of
4D-shade, Spirit Never Fade,
find our way to our dream- that finds a way.
High up in the loving crook of two adjoined cottonwood trees
I spent my eleventh summer reading seven library books a day.
A sandwich, glass of cold lemonade, these books and I
would climb up into that treehouse in the morning.
As I read, I would study ants and other minute creatures.
Mrs. Rutherford’s voice would float up.
I could hear Mrs. McDowell’s funny titter.
I might look up occasionally to see kids playing tag,
or Red Rover Red Rover.
The soft breeze might try to lull me to sleep if it was a boring book,
in which case I would begin another.
I was an eclectic reader. I liked mysteries, biographies, science fiction, and thrillers.
Agatha Christie became a favorite after “And then there were none”
None of her other books lived up, but I read them still, hoping.
My daddy built that treehouse, and I will be forever grateful.
I’d climb down in the afternoon to return these books to the library.
Collecting seven new books to read the next day
because our small town library limited me to seven.
It was okay, for this was about all I could read in one day anyway.
I learned a lot about the world from these books,
but even more about the world
As I spied on the neighbors, watching their lives unveil, as their
excited voices carried themselves to the top of those cottonwood trees.