Long Adultery Poems
Long Adultery Poems. Below are the most popular long Adultery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adultery poems by poem length and keyword.
"And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."
Ephesians 4:32 KJV
On my living room wall there hangs a plaque which reads
“Be kind”
Ephesians 4:32
Silly me – I had believed that verse
to be the Bible’s shortest!
However, though the scripure is a bit longer than that,
“Be kind” captures the full scripture’s essence.
How difficult can it be to simply be kind?
Yet events in the world today
show how sadly lacking
this attribute is!
Imagine a world where kindness prevailed.
Strangers you dealt with often on a daily basis
smiled, were courteous and helpful, never being abrupt with you;
parents disciplining their children practiced love and consideration;
all people practiced the Golden Rule (another of my favorite scriptures);
husbands showed tender-heartedness toward their wives
and wives to their husbands the same.
How could there be domestic violence and abuse
if those in committed relationships
understood the simplicity of being kind?
How could the cycle of abuse continue
if it were never started in the first place?
It’s easy to be kind to friends and loved ones.
But to those who have wronged us -
forgiveness is the kindness
that will set us free!
Adultery, abuse in all its forms, rape, murder, and mayhem -
all of these would cease to be
if everyone were simply
kind.
June 5, 2020 for Chantelle Anne Cooke's Favorite Scripture Contest
July 17, 2021 for 'A Brian Strand July 18' Poetry Contest
A beautiful nightmare
Holding on to life or letting go.
All the phantoms dream of sleeping away the years.
They now know all that which I know;
I am a braindead dancer, nothing behind my ears.
People sing in groups of three or four,
Beneath the old oak tree; waiting on hidden doors.
Hanging behind them are memories.
Reminders of the shapes they used to be.
Times immortal hand still spins on a clock-face.
Taking their turn in their empty graves.
They have already gone beyond Neverland, to a beautiful place,
Where all is light, with bright blue skies,
Where children run in chase of butterflies.
In youthful good they have all lived well.
A Pleasantville life which remains unstained by sins aplenty.
They are just the chosen few; choices choose Heaven,
But where others may dwell, the hearts are empty.
They have no spirit, nor do they carry their souls;
For their afterlife has already been bought and sold.
They lived beneath the chosen word
And now their screams for salvation are never heard.
They sink into nightmares below the six feet of dirt.
A beautiful nightmare is just a story,
For the faithless people of murder and adultery.
We began as seeds and Great Oaks we became,
But one day the day will come when we all fade away.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Early Times
Panting through a few females.
Running on the spot mostly.
Go to Paris to find myself
find a locally made Gallic STD.
Have a Ringo mustache,
the prostitutes on the Montmartre
think I’m pretty cool for a kid.
Beach bum along the Mediterranean,
bare feet imprinted on sand do not last,
however, sun, sex, and cheap wine
should not be underrated.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Age Twenty
Took her home to meet the parents.
A good girl,
not much sense of occasion.
Stripy rainbow knee-high socks,
mini skirt, pink hair
deeply cockney accent
and prone to casual expletives.
Father kept grinning until his smile froze.
Mother took her cues
from the Arch Duchess of mucky-muck.
~~~
Age Thirty
In the used car lot
sleazy car salesman blindsides me.
I should have been ready
more alert,
driving home in a ten year old Mercedes
wondering
if my childhood will ever end?
I am now a professional,
nurses figure larger in my life
than they ethically should.
Head for The Far East
to administer to the halt and lame
including, metaphorically speaking,
myself.
~~
Age Forty.
Finally qualify for veteran status
in a marathon race.
My athletic son is also running in it.
I fake a sprained ankle,
then disappear for ages
travelling the world.
When I return,
my shoulders grow cold from icy stares,
wife is dating someone else -
family relief all around.
~~
Age Fiftyish
Fish diet, wife still unhappy, son married
and distantly related to Trotsky.
Adorable brats for grandchildren.
Got a mistress who thinks I’m great,
but maybe it’s too late,
testosterone levels going south.
My Boss hates me.
Adultery & divorce,
new wife, much like the old one
but less y.
We roam the globe again,
desperately seeking something -
anything.
~~
Autumnal Years
The police are getting younger.
Dental appointments are reaching danger levels.
I’m not holding any grudges
for I have been right all along.
Turns out I am a poet
and quite enjoy pissing folks off.
Life is good, but then again
it always was.
~~~
Have mercy on me, O God, in Your Goodness; in the greatness of Your compassion wipe out my offense Psalm 51:3
There are severe penitential realms that was sung or spoken can give us much spiritual Help to express our penance. These seven unique psalms are highly recommended to pray during Lent. The fourth and most famous called “The Miserere”, was written by King David when we cried out to and begging for forgiveness after he had committed murder and adultery. Whatever our sins maybe, we can discover in these ancient expressions of sorrow divine forgiveness and healing consolation. Our sins maybe few or many. Yet, like King David, we can offer our sincere prayer to our God of goodness, whose great compassion wipe out any offense.
This Lent, the pleading prayer “Lord, have mercy” is prelude to Eucharistic liturgy and can lead us to conversion and a better life.
He said "Look what you made me do!"
his words that had turned her black and blue.
Her children's eyes are scarred for life,
they saw their father beating his wife.
They don't
remember what their daddy did,
a child's memories can be sadly dismissed..
They grow up claiming their father's stories,
it's the abuser who claims the glory.
A wife who suffered from his blows,
his actions that cut her very soul.
His tongue spit words of violence and hate,
hiding, she wouldn't allow her pain to escape.
She held them close, with every single word,
then took them with her out the door.
She said "Look what you made me do!"
her words, like his, rings true.
She left him sulking in all his pity,
his begging bringing about a religious committee.
The elders wouldn't let them divorce,
unless adultery was the main course.
But she was determined to leave her abuser,
she knew he'd always be an abusive loser.
All these things were over looked,
by the committee, the elders and the sacred book.
No one helped her in the end,
they all turned against her, family and friends.
She battled against all of them,
her strength and will by them condemned.
She left them all, and never excused,
her favorite quote, "Look what you made me do."
This poem is sad and accurately true,
behind closed doors,
her bruises faded from black to blue.
She recovers in due time,
And celebrates a wonderful life.
Now spring will bring another time of change
As apprehension raises my eye brows
I welcome beauty to these days so strange
Though family values take an exit bow
The closeness that we cherished long ago
Has slowly faded like the winter days
While everything we use we now dispose
Including principles of moral ways
Technology replaced talks face to face
Divorce now grafts new branches to our trees
Adultery is viewed as commonplace
And vows to God and spouse we break with ease
I welcome beauty to these days so strange
But wonder what the next thing is we'll change
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Thou shalt have no other gods
Atheists abandon God
Let there be no other idols
We worship at the altar of Mammon.
No taking the name of the Lord in vain
Christ,can you believe it?
Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath day
What other time is there for shopping?
Honour thy father and mother.
What else are nursing homes for?
Thou shalt not kill.
Let us exclude abortion and euthanasia.
Thou shalt not commit adultery
Fornication now comes in many sophisticated forms.
Thou shalt not steal
Bankers' bonuses by another name
Thou shalt not bear false witness
Just don't get caught
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's goods
How else can we keep up with the Joneses?
And Men, have you no honor?
Sagging your dignity below your knees,
You walk shirtless, muscles exposed,
as though your body were an idol to be worshipped.
lost in a cycle of rebellion mistaken for freedom.
For pride sake, you strip yourselves,
turning your flesh into a snare.
Cover yourselves, for God is watching!
In the name of fashion, nudity is praised.
Girls, stripping bare, selling their bodies to the gaze,
men devouring them with eyes that burn—
but tell me, when did shame become confidence?
When did modesty become outdated?
"He who looks at a woman with lust
has already committed adultery in his heart."
Yet we dress to tempt, and call it empowerment.
sin is called normal, and purity is called foolish.
In the name of celebrities, we mimic demons.
Demonic styles, painted faces, occult symbols—
we tattoo our flesh with curses,
We worship the things that will soon perish.
We alter our bodies and question God,
"Why did You make me this way?"
Oh, the audacity! Oh, the rebellion!
Even I, I confess
was caught in the chains of vanity,
worshiping the gold around my neck,
not knowing I was binding my own destiny.
In the name of music, we defile ourselves.
In the name of quick money, *********** thrives.
In the name of entertainment, holiness is mocked.
And now, the church that once preached righteousness
has become like the world it was commanded to save.
Repent! Repent! Repent before it is too late!
Before the fire consumes, before the judgment falls!
Oh sisters, oh mothers, oh brothers and fathers return!
Before the gates are shut, before mercy fades,
before the truth you called a legend becomes the fire licking at your heels.
REPENT!
For this is no myth—this is truth!
Things fall into place.
Wait long enough for love to arrive and things fall into place.
Brick by brick, fountains are made.
Building a future of titanium before the grave.
Happy days are back again.
Make no mistake.
I am happy when it rains,
But I live in the rain, so that is ok.
Meteors may crash into Earth,
And once more I shall rip up out of the dirt.
You cannot predict the weather; never mind the change.
Things remain and in time we are rearranged.
Through all the hurt I will continue.
Nothing remains when we are through,
But the ripple effect of who we were;
Changing worlds. I will find her.
Thanks for the memories; gone to never.
Nevertheless, always more to give.
A true bond is never severed.
I am just a boy who wants love to live.
All things change and this new day,
They will continue their affairs until they are grey and replaced.
The list of rejections grows with age,
Until you’re nothing to see;
Live it your way, or hide away.
Natural selection; self-inspection.
Show your true face and become replaced
And replicated and reproduced,
Until the mold is in ruins,
And there is nothing left of you.
Inside I just feel used.
Leave them to their searches.
Adultery deserves it.
Younger version, fading wishes.
This love you claim is covered in stitches.
This twisted mess of a head began with pain,
And that is how this will end;
But faces change, as we age and the mind continues.
Back at the beginning, only time to spend.
The mind grows, until it goes;
It flexes and becomes a new place for sorrow.
No matter what you may do or say,
Still the love remains.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
In Backwards Land where ladies worship me,
And never cut my brilliant speeches short;
Where women celebrate adultery,
And feel the same as I; they’re merely sport;
Where broads don’t care how many kids I’ve got,
And care far less how many mothers by;
Where chicks acknowledge make-up makes ‘em hot,
And no mascara runs if bunnies die;
There, because then I’d be a perfect man,
Freed bulky baggage through which snoopers dig,
I’d rarely have to fear the frying pan
Greased up ‘n aimed at this chauvinist pig.
Ah, but a pipe-dream. How am I single?
Nevermind, dollies. Who wants to mingle?
1/30/17