Long Admissions Poems
Long Admissions Poems. Below are the most popular long Admissions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Admissions poems by poem length and keyword.
We commend ourselves for all we have learned
And chastise God when our dreams have burned.
Are not our gains from God's provision
And loss oft times from our decisions?
We credit ourselves for all we've achieved
And blame our dear Lord when the blessings leave.
Are not all good and great things from above
And our losses not part of life and love?
We praise ourselves for all our wealth and our fame
And curse and blame God when our fortunes wane.
Are not all the means for wealth from our God
And losses creep in when men lose their awe.
We award ourselves for our successes
And ignore the Lord who lifts and blesses.
Are not all our breaths and each heartbeat gifts
And losses advance when due thanks we miss?
We bless ourselves with fit designations
And ignore our God without reservation.
Are not gains made by right hierarchy
And losses and pain by man's malarkey?
We heal ourselves with right attributions
Let's bless the Lord with contrite admissions.
Are not all good things from His lovely face
And loss made gains by His mercy and grace?
The night before the eve,
Of a New Year that's overdue.
Where tomorrow's celebration hastens,
A sole reminder to define virtue.
This move to a current season,
Can be a fresh start for some.
While yesterday's baggage is still carried,
Unpacked quickly, to the present asylum.
No matter how much one seeks renewal,
Prior seeds must be remembered and used.
Since our prior journeys have left their footprints,
Casting imperfections to be abused.
As long as change is chosen and resolute,
A constant memory must be tethered to the past.
Because if we forget the realities and hardships,
We'll underwrite tomorrow to a short-term, not to last.
It's not only critical, but also fundamental,
That we don't tire through all the prior events.
Since the volume of noise can often deafen,
Those listening and fatigued by malcontents.
If we see change with this passage of time,
Then reason stands freely to confess.
Where admissions of our regretful behavior,
May relieve the burdens that reduce and depress.
So pay attention, stay alert and focused,
Because another year won't forget the one before.
And when the truth reaches out, to hold and cherish,
Beliefs can be reshapen, while those at fault, can now ignore.
Dearest Prof –
I did not title them:
These ever-ready logs
Ready to assemble ants of cowries;
They dance from sea to land
Wishing to be titled by exigent gods
Who watch over their lonely coronations
Lavished with sacrificial songs!
I did not title them:
Pot-bellied officees of faculties
Chewing mouthfuls of the land’s laws
Their neighbours:
Half-truthful goblins of tax-collectors
The smiling kick-backers
And officees of admissions –
Who titled these men?
Dearest Prof –
Many are these titled men of today
Are they found everywhere?
Do they mount uniformed road-blocks
As we pass safety-roads without eyes?
Head-strong: are their skulls also fragile?
Could the husk of a tax-collectors mouth
Eat the husks of his pot’s bottom?
Who titled these men?
Matching boldly with wrong titles?
Of course, the red-caps of the under world
Visited the newly world-renowned ref
(Prof, a roused lad heard it told!)
Did they leave the corpse by the ref?
Sadistic: are they also shrewdly fraternal?
I cannot lavish the sacred lines.
Form:
I like to exercise my mind, but how I hate to work.
Whatever needs exertion is the action that I shirk.
Labor with the brain is fine. I do it all the time.
How I love to sit and read or think of words that rhyme.
But send me to the bathroom with a brush so that I'll scrub,
and I'll barely rub the ring off. Then I'll lie there in the tub.
Peek inside; you'll find me, a novel in one hand,
resting as I'm soaking in my own little Bubble Land.
Clean the oven? What a joke. The most that I can stand
is loading up the wash machine (a task that's merely bland).
Maybe run the vacuum once a week across the floor,
and quickly dab where dust is bad; most stuff I ignore.
As my jobs all pile up, housework's even more a chore.
Why must work that's physical be such a dreadful bore?
My well-ingrained aversion to utilizing muscle
does have one exception: at the gym I like to hustle.
To kick box is so fun although it makes me sweaty.
Step and dance are choreographed. For those I'm always ready.
But I wish that just as quickly as from running on a tread
I could burn up calories doing workouts in my head!
Lawyers propose and courts dispose,
Promptly adjourn but seldom close
Cases, as snails go on,
Goes on case explosion,
Helpless we grate teeth to what goes.
_____________________________________
Happenings |20.01.2023| limerick
Poet’s note: There is an explosion of pending cases in Indian courts: Over 40 million cases are idling in subordinate judiciary, another 5.6 million in high courts, and 70,000 in Supreme Court. Every time this issue comes up, demand for more courts, more judges, more resources is raised. Does anyone think of three A’s: adjournments, admissions, and appeals? No one talks of cutting down delays, long affidavits/arguments/counters, long winding judgments. And why should judges have long vacations as in the British time? But no one wants to bell the cat, as this ditty cries out.
When confessions are needed and due in course,
Mine may leap ahead to the front of the line.
As if my superpowers have given me new wings,
And where I can admit to , not decline.
So then I kneel and bow my head asking,
For some forgiveness of the time in between.
Since it seems like a month of Sundays have passed by,
From the last time that was to intervene.
After passing the buck of guilt to Father time,
The admissions soon point towards solitude.
As if my lack of commitment and community,
Was not my own, but all others attitude.
Yet my thoughts soon reflect causing concession,
Taking ownership for all the misdeeds.
Only then did I notice my burden lifting,
As if my prayers directly answered my needs.
This was the moment where grace fell upon me,
And where forgiveness took over for all sin.
Even though my efforts will try not to repeat them,
My history shows I learn slowly, so I'm likely to begin again.
Please Donald if you'd disregard ,
my antics for a bit ;
I will tell you how I'm feeling,
and share of it a bit ...
I would never wish ill will on a man;
or with his employ,
somethings my Dad instiolled in me ;
since I was a boy....
My Dad was a hard working man,
took care of his family ;
And as I grew into a man,
that was the plan for me ...
In my family we spent time each night,
to eat a meal and watch TV,
we even gathered for the News ,
where of you I got my first views ...
I remember hearing that ,
you helped some families ;
acts of kindness I suppose ,
or payment for assistance ,
not sure just how that goes ....
Anyway it went along ,
the Towers and much more ;
even WWe wrestlin,
with McMahon;
the ing whore .....
As a son though to a billionaire;
always in the limelight of the city,
why didnt you find some older girls ,
or for age doo you not care ???
It could be alot of scammed delight ;
though tell me did you pen ;
Ghislaines admission from her prison cell,
Cause that dont seem right....
And why was Bill even mentioned ;
it puzzles me much more ,
like we all know about Monica,
and no she was no whore....
so tell me please and do not distract,
or the topics not to change,
will you go on Steve Wilkos ;
so your admissions do not change ......
When temperature becomes unbearable
When energy becomes a scarce resource
When destiny becomes an allusion
When needs becomes necessities
You know......
When decisions becomes consequences
When mistakes becomes a lesson
When habits becomes a norm
When opportunities becomes realities
You know....
When predictable becomes a mystery
When goals becomes achievable
When dreams becomes unbelievable
When admissions becomes acceptance
You know.....
When triumphs becomes challenges
When identity becomes a restoration
When implementation becomes a formulation
When culture becomes the future
You know.....
Acts of contrition, on knees if I recount
Beatitudes, eight, sermon on the mount
Charity given, is blessings received
Dalai Lama, a Buddhist deity
Ecumenism, it understands and unites
Fascism erodes individual rights
Gaia, Greek goddess of our mother earth
Heresy, one's belief, another's mirth
Idolatry, the worship of false gods
Jehovahs Witnesses, the sidewalks they trod
Kama, Hindu god of the erotic
Lex talionis, is somewhat exotic
Mary, Christmas holds that she was a virgin
Naturalism, this belief seems to burgeon
Orthodoxy, keeping with old traditions
Penance, requires sin and admissions
Quaker, informal for Society of Friends
Ramadan, are you relieved when it ends?
Sabbath, is it Saturday or the day after?
Talismans, sometimes, subject of laughter
Universalism, bring us together?
Values the thought of happy ever afters
Whatever your dogma, does it really matter?
X amine your heart, reject idle chatter
You should maybe contact your Spirit Guides
Zenith of acceptance with us resides
beautiful photo of the church taken by Jackie on Instagram @jacci_eo
Queueing for busses
Even though not going far
Been queueing for busses
Ever since I sold the car.
I still can’t believe
What a bus passenger hears.
What have i been missing
For all of those years?
I sit there quietly
Occupying my place
Trying go maintain
An unmoving face.
I hear about adultery
Uninhibited sex
Heaven only knows
What I’ll hear next.
Delinquent children
Beaten up wives.
Don’t people these days
Lead such disjointed lives.
The best are young women
On their mobile phones.
They seem to think
They're in worlds of their own
Yet they all seem to speak
In a manner so loud
As if they are fighting
The noise from a crowd.
Admissions of guilt,
After fun filled nights,
Lurid descriptions
Of esoteric sights,
Three in a bed romps,
Translucent underwear,
Just some of the things heard
While quietly sitting there.
Sometimes I’ve travelled
miles further than I intended
Just to hear how
A good story ended
Queueing for busses
Even though not going far
Been queueing for busses
Ever since I sold the car.
I still can’t believe
What a bus passenger hears.
What have I been missing
For all of those years?