Long Against Poems
Long Against Poems. Below are the most popular long Against by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Against poems by poem length and keyword.
When you walk under the watchful eye of a full moon…your mind begins to soar
And you find a variety of thoughts come crashing upon your shore.
For instance: as I see the moon and stars hovering in the sky…
and a host of clouds floating free…
I wonder…since I am seeing them…if they are seeing me?
I wonder how many people have ever mistaken the sunset for the dawn.
Or if anyone has ever ridden on a dragon…or shook hands with a leprechaun.
I wonder about love and hate…in each case…what ignites them…
I wonder if there’d still be wars…if no one came to fight them.
I wonder if there is any part of prejudice and bigotry I will ever understand.
I wonder if instead of taking up arms against one another…we tried more…holding hands.
I wonder if a meadow filled with flowers is where rainbows go to rest.
I wonder if a rabbit ever feels wonder or if a dolphin feels blessed.
I wonder if an eagle or a whale ever look around and wonder…how and when and why.
I wonder what it’s like to be a bird…or a butterfly.
I wonder how many different things can cause a heart to swoon.
I wonder if I started walking now…how long it’d take to reach the moon.
I wonder if what makes us rich is not how much we save but how much we give away.
I wonder if it’s really true…that love will always find a way.
These are the kind of thoughts that come ashore…
they’re always filled with wonder and surprises…
and why I can’t to take my morning walk
when the next full moon arises.
November 16 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Acts 11-13
Key Verse – Acts 11:23 Who, when he came, and had seen the grace of God, was glad, and exhorted them all, that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR EXHORTING US
TO CLEAVE UNTO THE LORD
Praise be to God for exhorting us to cleave unto the Lord with His:
Greatness girding us toward godliness
Graciousness gripping us against our grief
Goodness governing us midst His generosity
Gladness glowing around us along His gentleness
Guidance granting us Gospel-goaded greeting against gloom
Acts 12:5 Praise be to the Lord for making us
persist in prayer that:
Moves by His might
Manifests His majesty
Multiplies His miracles
Magnifies His magnificence
Meets us with His mercy’s marvels
Acts 13:47 Praise be to the Saviour for
setting us to be a light with Him for our:
Holiness against wickedness
Healing along healthy wellness
Hope toward His heavenly ways
Help since He is our Head worthy to worship
Happiness against hateful and haughty worldliness. Amen!
November 16, 2024
Nay, despite failing to make the grade,
this bluesy well red, duff mute
average white band hit,
hard knock school alumnus
jack of all trades master of none bumped along
pot hole cratered steep pitch
while riding the bus
bullies skewered kosher me all, cannibalized
carte blanche timid ego
brandishing exacto knife
threatening jugular, cuss
sing maniacally pulling out all stops
going headstrong for this doofuss
Embracing premonition making me mincemeat
vis a vis via, Atilla the Hun plus
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
after diet of worms
as hors d'oeuvre hug guess
if given a choice, would prefer Loch Ness
monster, or the whale that swallowed Jonah,
either t'would be a quite im press
heave feted feat, versus being poached,
roasted, skewered burnt alive
perhaps sautéed to feed additionally,
the Gothic (Jacks sin) five
the latter adorned with
Bandolier prototype, whence they would jive
to Vandals mess sigh ya,
these last yet another contra band
to play on command, or risk not being
he gee beegee bing a live
all thee above iterated blather spluttered
as punishment against revive
ving human sacrifice by pence hoove lee donning
a new jersey wordlessly trumpeting, and strive
ving assiduously as a one man lobbyist,
and aye willingly negotiate
to take more'n one wive
even though that would be big o' me decor,
thus a last minute reprieve given
without axing por favor
and black keys handed over
to Holy Roman Empire in hoar
rubble ruins (over the Weeknd), thus brutish nasty,
and short tempered surprisingly
(boot not prematurely) ejaculating bon jour
foo fighters actually (grand
aery an nah - did a three sixty)
feting me guest of hun or,
boosting self esteem, the first time
since being a kid in a candy store
which poetic digression
did make quite a dee tour,
and bringing detente amidst marauding
village people hoop reef furred war.
a midnights trip to ocean’s shore
breaking waves, their mighty roar.
The refreshing air I breathe in sips
tasting its bitterness upon my lips.
Against black sky, moon shines bright
illuminating the way, a guiding light.
I walk barefoot along pebbled beach
the waters edge I finally reach.
The moonlight, its complexion glows
as the cold water gently licks my toes.
I take one step and then one more
Its tight cold icy grip, I ignore.
Now the waters up-to the knees
my hair is dancing with the breeze,
I close my eyes and breathe in deep
a blissful feeling a memory to keep.
I wade out further now feeling brave
I wait patiently for the coming wave
my legs are numb, but I feel so alive
as into the waiting ocean I finally dive.
Charlie McKee against wise advice,
Went into Lucas Swamp cold as ice,
Told of savage beast that kills on sight,
Thought he was day’s true king and dark’s bold knight.
He held the Swamp’s risks were oversold,
But threat of dangers had been foretold,
He yielded to his gigantic ego,
And misjudged the Swamp’s vile entrapment pro.
There are eyes on you, a vile fiend,
Dark probing eyes of livid green,
O'er the jaws of a razor-sharp grin,
Pearly whites much like needle pins.
On windy nights, folk can hear howling,
From out of Lucas Swamp, loud growling,
Bloodcurdling screams fill their souls with fright,
Charlie went in the Swamp, but didn’t come out.
I have a dog name Peanut;
he's a long-haired mutt.
He's my shadow halve,
he's the closest friend I have.
He's sorts of a blend of goofy
I'm not sure why, but his snoopy.
Though his housebroken, but fiddles
unthinking quite tickled and piddles,
when company comes, on the rugs;
he's still met with warm love and hugs.
Like a child he drags his toys out to play,
would never change his nutty way.
When grandchildren come to play,
he's fast, sleek, and finds places to hide away.
Never take this little boy's toy,
he'll find a way to take it away with joy.
If, you want to be bathed with kisses
just lay on the floor he never misses.
When nighttime arrives my charm, like norm,
we cuddled against each other to keep warm.
9/28/2019
Children Story
Poetry Contest: Write a Rhyme about your favorite PET, living or not'
Sponsored By: Regina Riddle
You may have heard the devil was banished to hell,
there was no place in God’s heaven for his misdeeds,
when thrown from heaven, on our planet, devil fell.
His offsprings are many and they have cast a spell,
here on earth he survived and thrived and spread his seeds,
you may have heard the devil was banished to hell.
He pitched man against man made reasons to repel,
barriers of power, colour, religions, creeds,
when thrown from heaven, on our planet, devil fell.
Blind justice, goon police, street horrors make crime swell,
hatred, greed, ignorance, prejudice are the leads,
you may have heard the devil was banished from hell.
Once a bell of freedom but now tolls as death knell,
shot on streets, in schools, while earning family needs,
When thrown from heaven on our planet, devil fell.
Hell is a furnace with boiling oil so they tell,
yet on earth such horrors in newspapers we read,
you may have heard the devil was banished from hell.
Education is flawed with corruption and greed,
for power, wealth, man does anything to succeed,
you may have heard the devil was banished from hell.
when thrown from heaven, on our planet, devil fell.
N/A
Written 17/04/2021
12 lines each line 6 tercets ( instead of usual 5) followed by last 4 lines
L Milton Hankins sponsored
A Major World problem
There is in each of us, hiding,
deep and imbedded in our hearts,
a darkness, unseen by others.
It is a power that can overtake our lives
and cut us off from the world.
We don't always show it or recognize it ourselves,
at least not immediately
nevertheless, it lays in wait
for that moment to make itself known
and hold us hostage to its power.
It doesn't always speak loudly
It keeps silent but alive
waiting in our fears and anger
like unhealed wounds that hurt.
Our souls recognize it, know it well
as we struggle in our silence
withholding the words of what we really feel
and of how angry we are.
In the darkness deep within
we are afraid to reveal ourselves
or our intentions
as it may show our vulnerability and pain;
but it is there
the very truth of the dark within.
In the unlit corridors and halls
this is not the personage we wanted seen
or known by those we care about and love.
Prisoners of our innermost anguish
we fight against the revelation or exposure
of our secret self that lay beneath the surface.
But understand and know
it is there, open and waiting to be exposed,
hurt and bleeding before the world,
hiding in the loss, sorrows, inner struggles.
Let the darkness come
it is not insurmountable,
it has been beaten before,
it can be beaten again.
Deep inside and with your help
we are stronger than the darkness
What does it mean to break the ordinary
to lift a pen like a chisel against stone,
knowing the first stroke
may draw blood from your own palm
before the marble yields?
The poet stands in rubble,
not as scavenger but as archaeologist of the unspoken,
sifting through what civilization discarded:
rusted prayers,
half-truths wrapped in silk,
the hollow promises fed to hungry mouths.
Here, in the space between collapse and creation,
we learn the grammar of phoenix-speech
how ash becomes ink,
how destruction whispers the blueprints of what endures.
To shatter,
is to reveal the fault lines already etched beneath the surface,
to name the cracks we've learned to ignore.
And so we build:
not monuments to beauty,
but altars to the beautiful refusal,
where truth burns clean,
where words rise like smoke signals from the wreckage,
calling to those who still remember how to see.
I used to move like music,
Aggressive, my trauma speaking volumes.
In recent years I've tried to dance from light,
My divinity, I attempt to exhume.
Still, it's more difficult,
The pain extends through my limbs.
My fists clench and I stomp,
Head circling, the fight against tears I cannot win.
Movement is my fight,
The dragon within the meat suit soars to no end.
Muscles sore and burning orgasmically,
Though no clothes stripped and partner present.
The battles I couldn't win in person,
Wave through my core as I fall to the ground.
Aging not so gracefully,
Moving like an ape in tune with rhythm, unbound.