Long Admit Poems
Long Admit Poems. Below are the most popular long Admit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Admit poems by poem length and keyword.
Place your bets, you’re just in time
for the game, the fix is in.
What a thrill. Is it a crime to cash in?
The winners do, and that could be you.
You’ll be a witness, as wise guys smoothly step in
- it’s basic greed - and never a sin, as long as they win.
Mr slick ricky, you’ve got to be bold to win gold -
winners never just fold - betting never gets old.
The winners will add your few spare bucks to their pot -
let’s admit, all that you’ve got - isn’t a lot - it won’t fuel a yacht.
Place your bets, you’re in the front row all the time,
don’t be lame, be part of the game, the greasy bigtime.
.
.
NOTE: I LOVE NFL football, but now every commercial is for some sports book like “Draft Kings.” How can the NFL, increasingly in league with gambling books, not end up mobbed-up and fixed?
It’s ruining NFL football - the illusion that it’s a real sporting competition. I’ll tell you, Once they start calling the NFL “entertainment” and not sports - it’s over - the game I once loved will be just like pro wrestling.
I'm set apart from them so I
decided to set the standard, and it
just might be the same reason I'm
having trouble handling it, so I ask
myself does she really have to be
damn near perfect when it's clear
you got flaws, emotions that go up
and down like a seesaw and
promises you're sure to break like
laws. So I segregated me from them
like Jim Crow, my expectations are
high but still I hang my head low, if
I don't make good on what I say
then obviously it was all for show,
my vision is tainted I'll gladly admit
it, looks like my past speaks to my
present so I'm still a victim of my
own sickness, I should take my own
advice right, and admit when I'm
wrong but what I long for seems so
outta reach and even tho God made
that covenant with man he still
deemed it necessary to fill that void
we were feeling with a female, that
one that makes us get back on the
right track when it's obvious by our
lonesome our train de rails when we
try to do it on our own, looks like I
should be the one privileged to be in
her presence because with all my
issues I know in her arms is where I
can say there's no place like home
Awareness about behavior,
present since mine days of yore
an unswerving allie analogous
to peacekeeper ending civil war
belated insight suddenly realized
(better late than never) doth underscore
incumbent proactive communication stance
belatedly bestowed omnipotent awareness
crucial fostering ingredient to shore
maternal bond above
bejesus ear splitting roar
I admit regret (to self), there
dost belie suppressed yen to pour
out sorrows 'twixt this sole him son,
and long deceased mother, he
deprived her his love and outwore
the Scottish tartan Harris tweed
welcome (haz) mat, which pained
materialized soon after her death, nor
can compensation be made,
now ex post facto,
when futility of spilt tears got more
gauged and swept away, when
nary a trace I privately cried
amidst lachrymose lakeshore.
20/20 hindsight brought me unflagging mast
into stark painful focus,
essentially how mine
formative behavior wrought avast
dystopian emotional fractured mindscape,
which non positive coping methods
lit fuse kindling devastating catastrophic blast
from yesteryear to present silent woebegone
desolate gloomy terrain past
grandeur eclipsed by present gloom
finds yours truly stranded like cast
away bleached flotsam upon coast
amidst tempestuous rocky shoals
clinging for dear life with grasp fast,
Where tenuous, precarious,
and ludicrous ship
of state can no longer maintain
even a marginal grip
but with slight equip
age willing, wedding,
and wanting brings relief from whip
lashed incurred (within body) showing rip
pulled scarred taut welts testimony, sans
long electrified with aggravation,
excruciation, and intoleration can easily flip
a figurative switch in summary
ushering final lip
service to charade,
facade, and masquerade
at lightspeed didst clip
this...Potemkin Village,
where everything "FAKE,"
asper envisioning flickr
ring mirage recounting ancient Egypt!
When the seconds don't flow with energy.
Don't wish to fight for the space, to be seen.
Essence doesn't fetch you double jeopardy.
Thoughts break through their own fences on the screen.
When I connect through pages of aged time.
My limbs that have run wild, now siesta.
The years lullabies and nursery rhyme,
being snapped away by an orchestra.
Tomorrow's melody, melting away.
Connect often with family and friend.
I admit my hair has turned silver gray.
Life's last journey - we will meet at the end.
10 syllables per line
It's dusk, almost an hour from sunset
and the wood thrush is not cheery;
his melody is a whisper heard in a lot,
where he sang with others happily!
The wood thrust with auburn wings and round belly
couldn't find a stream in a nearby forest and fled
fled here to drink from the water fountain color grey
brushed by a sudden darkness that spread dread!
Sing out loud, little wood thrush and uplift my low spirit;
evening is approaching quickly with its turbid shadows,
we'll shiver thinking of the fear so frightening to admit...
oh, wait: we can alter the mood of our dreary thoughts!
I'm wondering why the wood thrush is not cheery,
has he lost all the enthusiasm for unclear reasons?
It's a phase he must go though to regain full harmony...
when despair leaves and he'll sing again with his sibilings!
I gained back all my trust
after I freed myself from guilt,
and not suffered much from it;
ah, bravery taught me a lot!
Because of this hurt,
I hid myself behind a shadow,
every thought was full of sorrow;
whatever happened to faith?
I hoped for a serene tomorrow
to explore joy and feel its worth:
all turned out to be a quirt...
digging gold into dirt!
I wanted to feel alive,
transform bitterness into sweetness,
flee from the adumbral prison
where I was held captive by fears;
I admit to have been too lonely:
a complete wretched in isolated region,
no naive to befriend and run away,
where folks loved to drink and connive!
Nobody offered empathy
and true understanding,
they never reached out
but showed embitterment
sneering, staring and wondering
if I deserved the harshest
and cruelest punishment,
for having done much harm
to others with malicious rage!
I shouldn't have treated then evilly
and remained gratified and calm!
Because of this hurt,
nights are brighter than a desert,
moonlight has a luminous glow;
I'm a ghost aimlessly wandering,
not knowing his destination!
I'm the doer who failed to follow
his aspiration and ambition,
not redefining thought and feeling!
Young and middle-aged ladies, who wear sundresses
when summer days sizzle, make the opposite sex notice
how lovely and sexy their soft skin is; curious guys,
of course, can't help staring at them...not once but twice!
Watch them chatting on a bench of a park,
or just strolling down a busy street...
pushing their baby's stroller in the July's heat;
come closer to hear their silly talk!
Jan, my niece's friend, attracts me like no lady ever can,
she wears a colorful sundress she made herself,
and she talks funny to make everybody laugh;
some thinks she's crazy, but I'd love to be her man!
Many women go to great lengths to get one of these...
the one that makes them stand out and get winks
from men who are easily distracted in the baseball's field:
they wish their wives looked like that...more strength they'd yield!
Fashion models draw admirable glances from an applauding crowd,
but they wear sundresses for recognizition, not for their soulmates;
so ordinary ladies wear them to find that ideal boyfriend or husband,
and admit among yourselves that it is a style of attractiveness!
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Constance La France's contest, " The Sundress. "
Remember that I have loved you,
When you remember me;
Though at times I must admit,
We did not agree.
Life is a mixture of experience,
Some good, some not so much.
It's what we choose to learn from it,
That gives the added touch.
The added touch of mystery,
The added touch of fun,
The thing that makes life worth it,
When all is said and done.
You have been that thing for me,
That gave my life that lift.
You've been my source of added strength.
You have been my gift.
Wherever life may take you,
Wherever you may go,
Whatever life may bring you,
One thing you must know.
I have always loved you.
Remember that I cared.
Remember though I made mistakes,
I still held you dear;
And you were always in my heart,
Your welfare my concern,
And though I tried with all my might,
I thought you'd never learn,
That I have always loved you,
And I always will,
Though sometimes our paths will part,
My love will hold you still.
Life is like a harvest time.
What we sow we reap.
We let the straw fall to the ground,
And the grain we keep.
It’s good to lament. Or maybe not.
A glorious future, never brought.
I remember her, I did adore.
We were to be, evermore.
That’s what love can do. And did.
How quickly from my grasp it slid.
Love ended on a one-way track.
She loved me not as much back.
Heartbroken with no cure.
Love a fairy tale, that for sure.
Never again, I did swear,
The world proved love unfair.
Down a different path I wandered.
Love an illusion, no longer pondered.
Though, I must admit a lament or two.
Brief they were, but true.
Surprised was I, love didn’t last.
In time, the pain, the heartache past.
Whittier’s words of Tongue or Pen,
The saddest were, “What might have been.”
Illusions etched in memory’s wall,
Leave a blur in the withdrawal.
To lament is to fantasize,
A picturesque past and romanticize.
The mind perceives what the heart desires,
A path lighted by hopeful fires.
Love, a perfection not found,
Becomes the path to grievous ground.
That treasured time was unkind,
It left divers dolors deep behind.
Older, but am I wiser by the day?
Alas, I lament, I cannot say.
Those lost years I disregard,
Cherished moments, I still guard.
Times when she ruled my heart,
Before reality pulled us apart.
Love lost forever, is to lament.
Love must be evermore, not something lent.
Love is priceless time, do not burn.
Love those who love you in return.
Thirteen years until another to adore,
Now not a one-way track,
I loved her, she loved me back.
A perfect love evermore.
The sun replaced my mental cloud,
She said, “I love you,” right out loud.
Waves of love made me warm,
A love that became the norm.
Life is now the dream I sought,
Living love, the way life ought.
Yes, time moves with no grin,
My dream faded not with aged skin.
To the one whose love is no ghost,
To forever love, I propose a toast:
We grew old with love and fun,
I love you. My heart and soul you won.
This poem is also on Vimeo
https://vimeo.com/440756997
Quatre-vingts jours
On Duolingo and I’m still
in the present tense which
is fine as I still make mistakes
masculine et feminine are a bit
of a toss but I’m getting better
lesson by lesson and I have
cent et dix-huit crowns et
trois cent quarante-six lingos
whatever they are.
I’m best at translating français écrit
to written English and am getting
better at transcribing français parlé
but to be honest, I must admit that
mon français oralé is halting at
best and it’s not helped by the
covid-19 self-distancing/lockdown
as my Continuing Education course
FRENCH II is in limbo with every
thing else and we haven’t had a class
for weeks and when I look at the
class notes it seems we’re stuck
au milieu de passé impartait
et futur proche.