Long Adopts Poems
Long Adopts Poems. Below are the most popular long Adopts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adopts poems by poem length and keyword.
Standing there,
are they prisoners
to the surroundings?
Or, are they part of
the surroundings
themselves?
Toned, muscular
they’ve become nature’s
fastest, as man adopts them
for sport, for pleasure, for hunt.
Some, being
purebred, set records,
become newsworthy, or
even the odds on favorites.
While others, still beautiful
become destined for work
or become glue for
childrens
use.
In respect,
the horse of
today is the very
same horse of the
past and remains
the horse of
tomorrow,
God’s
gift
on
4
legs!
Approached, the Dawn with a musical silence,
The soul hearing the music that the ears cannot.
The lingering light above the horizon, arose the essence-
Of the hopes shining high, that the yesterdays didnot.
Magearna ……a wife, friend and a HER,
Who lived the solemn life of a woman.
But only a dream- to rock the cradle, to be a mother,
And her man dreamt along, a true one.
This and that tests she undergoes,
To add up the probability of her dreams-
Becoming a reality, but truth and fate her foes,
Her paunch ‘ll remain void of life, dreams just dreams.
Doctors kept the ember of hope in her glowing,
For she relied on their science, relied on their mays.
To the abuss of gloom she falls, her Dreams dying,
Confined to the sanctuary of depression, struggling rest the days.
Approached her man with burning spirit,
To embark the way to new life ahead the strife.
A baby left behind, let’s make him ours, then we shall inherit-
The joy of eternity, then you’ll be a mother my beloved wife.
Magearna , from the cradle of lonelineness she adopts-
The baby which crowned her mother.
The beautiful cry it let out and heart of her stops-
A while to hear the cry, that warmed heavy nights of winter.
A happy family ! Witnessed the days of joy,
And the sun blushed out like ripe mangoes.
Everything so bright like their young boy,
Not so long, for they’ll witness the return of their foes’.
Magearna, so pale her hands, somber her face,
Disease conquered her, which she called death.
Lonely as a soul of corners she remained for days,
And shall be a guest for days a few on this earth.
Her sable eyes void of soul ,so is her mortal remains,
And from the Joy death seized her away for eternity.
Crown of a mother she believed her gains,
For she wears the garlands of death, so withers her maternity.
The sun had set in her life, sterile life of one hapless-
And a helpless, for she yield to the eternal fate.
Magearna, the shattered dream of a woman, quite worthless-
The considerations of fate creating thoughts of hate.
Ma’am
By
Jude Kyrie
I remember the first time I met her
It was at the orphanage.
I was going through rehabilitation
after running away for what
turned out to be last of many times
I was a lifer.
Who wants to adopts fourteen
year old boys?
Apparently no one.
She was assigned as my counselor
I don't think I have
ever seen anyone as beautiful as her.
That lovely angelic face.
Oh! her smile,
it was like sunshine.
Unsure of how to address a Nun
I always called her Ma’am.
She did not seem to mind
Her heart was full of kindness
I was hooked.
I think that was when I realized
she was the only friend I had.
What I did not know was
I was falling in love with her.
That confusing rite of passage
from Boyhood to Manhood
left me dazed and confused.
Or perhaps I just needed
someone to love.
I have never seen
as much kindness
before or since.
It flowed from her
like honey.
She stopped me
from running away again,
and taught me
how to read books
great books
by important authors.
To learn poetry
and to talk about
its meaning.
At this point I knew
for sure I loved her.
She took me to
the mission where
the homeless lived
and we served
in the free kitchen.
I would have followed
her to the moon
or anywhere.
She was relocated
after a couple of years.
To a mission in Africa.
I was desolate
Begging to go with her.
I even asked her to marry me.
She smiled and said
if she was free
she would marry me
in a heartbeat.
But she explained gently
to my young heart
that she was already
married to her faith.
Showing me her gold ring.
She whispered see
I am a bride of Christ.
She died a few years later
her letters stopped coming
It was a bout of malaria
that took her.
Now when I feel
alone or sad.
I open an old shoe box
that I kept from
the orphanage
And I re-read her
stacks of letters.
one by one.
Always in the order
that she sent them to me.
And as usual
I feel warm and safe again.
The third eye of Shiva!
Demons reduced to ash!
Ego seeking this power-enigma
That ascension it may encash
Beginning thus with a nebulous concept
Identity craving for Godlike enablement
Adopts yogic techniques suspect
To awaken kundalini from containment
Lucky then are those who fail
To prematurely arouse the serpent power
More oft than not we hear cries & wails
Of ill-timed fellow beings who in fear cower
Overawed by body instruments we forget
That the goal is about union of self with Self
Unless in purity of being we stand erect
We best put self-aggrandizement on the shelf
This preamble aside we now plot the path
Of the journey of kundalini from root to crown
Each nuance, each pulse a holy sabbath
In stillness we cognise, in inertia we drown
The foremost aspect to keep in mind
Is that we are entering unchartered waters
Thus all limited knowing we leave behind
Getting to the core of the energy that matters
It all begins (and ends) then with our heart
A yearning burning to connect with the divine
We know not the way or how to start
So in gentleness resistanceless we simply align
Let us liken this journey to a union with our lover
Our beloved who is asleep
In rippleless stillness we are ready to wait forever
For our twin flame to awake from sleep
Such is the determination and the loving resolve
Nullifying the impact of time
Hearts choosing to connect not a problem we solve
We simply surrender to our inner chime
01-August-2020
"Not everything about mathematics is realistic maybe because the world is not ideal"
“Not everything about mathematics is realistic maybe because other perspectives-routes to solving the problem-equations have not been taken into consideration-discovered”
“Not everything about mathematics is realistic maybe because they are various ways-perspectives of solving-looking at a problem rather than the already discovered ways”
"A genius is one that bridges ~ connects ~ explains ~ takes us closer to sanity while enabling us see ~ appreciate ~ acknowledge how farther (our trail is away from insanity) we've walked away from insanity"
"A genius is one who derives, adopts, adapts and creates from the original"
"Wisdom is exhibited by knowing, knowing appropriately, understanding, understanding appropriately, and then doing and doing appropriately-rightly-accordingly-ideally and not solely by subjectiveness (prejudice)".... while learning, by comparison, study, wholeheartedness (totality of effort), diligence, sincerity, impartiality, transparency, openness, reception..."
"A genius is one who has some knowledge or understanding about and between the actual and the ideal (original)"
“Knowing the truth is not wisdom, wisdom is doing the truth”
"Our choices in deciding certain things in life are reflections of our motives, what we
are, and a partial reflection of who we are"
"Who we are is defined and what we choose to do is not an excuse for who we are"
Form:
The old woman sits hunched like a spider,
Spinning bitter dreams from the great arm chair,
Ivory lace, frayed fine and soiled full foul,
Ceaseless inhabitation has shrunken.
Hair matted tight a web is woven strong,
Her nails broken, hooked and clawed pull the threads,
She is shriveled shrunk and crinkled in her mold.
Stale air hangs with her ages throughout the house,
Dust creeps through the cracks to form a carpet,
Mold peels plaster down from off once white walls,
But the clock is stopped with the turn of her mind.
The crumpled remains of a great feast planned,
Lay forsaken on a table in the room.
On that carven table will they lay her,
When dead in her betrayed array shrouded.
Yet still deformed life burns bright in that soul,
Projecting the image of a young girl.
"I offered him my heart, my fortune, all.
He wanted me not, yet he courted me well.
He is delayed, believe not I’m betrayed,
Ever will I wait, in white thus arrayed;
To wait is to come to hate, now too late."
The woman fell, tripped by dusty trains trailing,
Hand out to her other self she cried out:
“Oh I am tired! Pity my troubles…”
The struggle complete, on the table she lay.
NOTE:
In Dicken’s classic novel, GREAT EXPECTATIONS, Miss Havisham is jilted at the altar by her intended and spends the rest of her life locked away in her mansion wearing her wedding dress. She adopts young Estella to bring up as her daughter and teaches her to hate men.
a cog in the wheel and a log on the fire
of dreams I hallucinate unless the days
are visions of sleepless delusions of truth
its real and surreal when nights close in
I used to be a knight in shining armour
kissing the princess after conquests won
life matured and dreams changed their way
I became chipped wood shaved into pieces
abrasions of a sculpture unfit for purpose
a brigade of chainsaws stunted my growth
the forester ruled relentlessly and debrided
what was left of saplings and torn offshoots
roots failed to spring up from the underworld
weeds’ thorns cut deep into vulnerable skin
and festering wounds oozed poison at will
one day however a creek crept up from below
viscous tears gave me a springboard from arrest
I plunged in slow motion to follow the stream
when I reached the ocean I feared to submerge
too vicious were tides and the surf sucked me in
drowned me but spat me out ‘return to sender’
still dreaming I built a beach hut by a rock pool
drift wood sea shells and white flag of surrender
octopus’ arms released me to become a dolphin
no more do I have to save the world on my own
because a small marine fairy liked my abode
fixed my anchor with love passion and kindness
the sand quakes and spray caresses our bodies
embraces night terrors adopts them as friends
for honest companions can weather the storm
14th April 2021
Exposed verily to signs of the times
I believe as prophetic divine chimes
trusting God Who knows perfectly what’s best
matters most amidst resetting faith-climbs.
Toward paradigm-shifts’ endeavour gain
cognizant of global changes’ terrain
my mind checks flexibility ripples
still advocating love and peace to reign.
As for health concerns like pandemic blight
my knowledge bank props me from panic flight
while strengthening immune system at work
dealing well with issues on vaccine plight.
In educational pursuits these days
through virtual, online, live streaming ways
my commitment as a teacher stays firm
communicating life along God’s rays.
With community-lockdown enforcement
social distancing and mask-adornment
my heart complies to safety protocols
doing part for functional fulfillment.
Going through adjustments since there’s a need
my spirit adopts the “move-forward” creed
while adapting with serene resilience
transformations wrought by the Lord I heed.
Anchored upon Christ, I’m set* to soar high
with hope in His assurance against “why”
facing mysteries by miracles’ truth
upon great Revelations that can't lie.
*Psalm 78:7 That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments.
June 18, 2021
5th place, "Global reset 21" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joe Maverick; judged on 7/11/2021.
Present Difficulty
No further trouble for satisfactory adjustment,
Will long over on puzzling dilemma,
Pleasure of inhaling soothing in empty soul,
Adopts such measures over striking juncture,
Most carefully the point of heart and mind,
Will perceive the settlement on standpoint,
Circumstances entertain such an arrangement,
Willing to extend the terms of all the time,
Under separate cover of reasonable
assurance,
Thoroughly convince the needs of certain time,
Compelled again the solicitation of an opportunity,
Is extremely ambitious to change past patronage,
The present instance refers to past for esteemed favour,
But long since occasion collects outstanding debts,
Have gone astray of accounts of beyond its control,
Margin the allownance which denies with emphasis,
Depressed with fear and yielded to reason,
An illustration conceives all blind faults,
Dull brooding puts panoply of evening,
Through every possible phase of shifting of outlet,
Tides streams of heart to subside memory,
On the junction of mingling of revolt ,
The tyranny of nipping winds and frosts,
Discuss the matters which humanity teaches.
Sajid Hussain Pakistan ©
My Home
Diurnal prayer, "Praise the breath in me."
I plucked the honeysuckle of the Sun,
And grouped it on the chamber windowpane,
Save a trip during senses pair, smell, sight.
Painted a bird, perceived that it held firm,
Circumnavigated, adopts the sky,
Possessed during flight, the heart from my niche,
Acquired its course on some nest, where it stays,
While rare wonderment, some docile sheet prop
Against patterned desk, ambushed orbs boost plus
Dips, an African safari relief,
I perceive a remarkable presence
Encompassing me, a baseball in mitts,
Leather scents the room, succeeding flowers
From morning growth, promptly eve waives the Sun,
Seizing method, grooves of a desk melds,
Cascading warm wetness lifts per young heart,
Retreating through a room via some lights,
The gods, Lunar succeeds Solar, trade blows,
Constellate the beyond all Stargazers,
Soon sights observe a stellar relief sky,
Delinquent, charts the weightiness of lids,
A sole soul fumble chambered memories,
Nocturnal prayer, "I will be there soon."
2019 August 17
*3rd Place*
My Home
~~Lu Loo