Long Alas Poems
Long Alas Poems. Below are the most popular long Alas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alas poems by poem length and keyword.
A Name
“His name shall be called…”
A great statement of His glory.
Yet immediately we reason,
Let’s compare it to your story.
Many problems loom large.
Deafening sound takes the stage.
Often wronged in the attempts.
Your own advice, you are the sage.
We’re hard at life, trying
To keep from playing the fool.
But, it seems, as saying goes,
You’re whipped like a rented mule.
We see the world a worry,
That great misuse of imagination ours.
Expecting all the worst.
Any unseen good only jars.
Quiet in learned helplessness.
It’s always two steps back.
Blame, that great excuser,
Used as a daily hack.
Conceit, that great disease,
Affecting everyone but the carrier.
Changing truths to fit our wants.
Outcomes couldn’t be scarier.
Smearing lines to get ahead.
Or, behold, the over analyzer;
Fitting obscure things together,
It is the great paralyzer.
Comparison, “Is this the best?”
That great thief of joy.
Fear, the great what if,
Satan’s perfect envoy.
Pride, the great enabler,
Seeing you deserve much more.
There’s always a thing to criticize.
There’s always a complaint in store.
You could do it but why bother,
'The mirth of it won’t last',
Regret, brings on sadness.
That great placeholder to the past.
Discouragement, that great crippler,
'Nothing ever has the good outcome'.
Or you have everything in life.
It feels so nice to beat that drum.
To the sum then; Everlasting Father,
Wonderful, Prince of Peace,
Counselor, and Mighty God,
Will straying never cease?
Alas, tis a simple question;
Where does your power stem?
These, His names, are thus written.
Oh, but what do you call Him?
Love is one of those beautiful mysteries of life…we can’t control it…we can’t obtain it…and so…like most of life’s other beautiful mysteries…we look to nature to explain it.
Love is like the wind…it appears suddenly…out of the blue…
you don’t go looking for it…it finds its way to you.
There are times when the winds of love are gentle…you close your eyes and sway…other times they are strong enough to carry you away.
Like a cool breeze on a summer day that you’re happy to befriend…
once you’ve felt the winds of love…you don’t want them to end.
Alas, we do not control our love…anymore than we control a windy day…
for just as we know not when love will arrive…we know not when it will pass away.
It is only when love is taken from us…when the wind becomes a thief…
we realize its preciousness…and the price we pay…is grief.
But since so much joy rides on the winds of love…every moment of every day…
our eventual sorrow…our inevitable grief…is a price we are willing to pay.
For where would this poem be without the very wind it is speaking of…
and where would our lives be without the joy and happiness of love?
Deep in your “midnight pearl” I have immersed & lost myself,
Without you I yearn to be immersed & lost again all by myself.
Forever ...lost in you,
Aimlessly I wander around seeking with my thirst full wish, to be silently quenched sought.
I wander & wander,
On time's brink I dwell now, my lonely vigorous thrusts to sublimely surrender.
Within your “midnight pearl” I lose myself now,
Without you I find myself wanting & yearning to be lost again some how...
Forever ...lost in you.....
If I could have you every time I thought of you,
Both of us would lose ourselves every now and then to churn passions anew.
Alas my dreams about you & you,
Seem to elude me, but my love for you will always be true.
Will rises again and again from unfathomable depths of my hearts silently without a hue.
Lost in your thoughts “my midnight pearl” I aimlessly wander alone,
Forever to be lost in your thoughts, only to my heart, felt and known......
center>
by sashi.prabhu(zeauoxian)
written on 15/4/2012.
contest "midnight pearl"
MOTHER SPARROW CONSTRUCTS A BIRDS NEST
under the eaves of
the roof mighty mother bird
sparrow building a
new nest eggs laid still
soil/twigs/rain/trash together
tightly woven mesh
barns and stables, on
structures mud nests tuck under
fields under bridges
~
can find Barn Swallows
across North America
sparrow building nest
under the eaves of
the roof mighty mother bird
sparrow building a
new nest eggs laid still
soil/twigs/rain/trash together
tightly woven mesh
~
fluttering perching
bobbing up an down and out
constructs a bird nest
alas, mother bird
feeds her young chick mouth open
wide receives a worm
4/15/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
To be nobody - but -yourself-- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else--means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. E.E. Cummings
Panagiota's Lament
I woke with some sadness this
morning,
Hesitating to write my very
direct poetry, anymore!
I honestly believed I could hide
my fighting spirit?
In some poetry that does not
knock on anyone's soul door.
I cannot be anyone but a soul
stirrer!
I try to get people to wake up
and think!
And too bad the masses do not
like it.
Of my poetry, you won't find
any close duplicate.
I cringe in pain when writing
poetry to please others!
Neither with quill nor in person,
can that ever be.
I am condemned to do exactly
as E.E. Cummings said: write
fearlessly!
To some, I am a a good friend,
and to others?
Alas, they see me with their
squinty, stiff poetic or political
lens.
Wanting me to write to please
them?
No, that will never happen, I
write about what I see as true.
Amen!
I believe so much in poetical
liberty I can't be labeled, try
as many do.
It's just me, knocking at your
heart, pleading with you...
To be wide open and to be the
most joyfully, open you!
August 14, 2019
In a rewind world, we could live without regret
if, as in a movie, we could do another take.
Erase the messed up scene and do a fresh reset,
and on the new recording, avoid that bad mistake.
No need to mend them all, but some of them we should:
some act that hurt someone, some words we can't take back.
We'd still learn the lessons; I hope that's understood,
if we could fix the times our judgment jumped the track.
Alas, a rewind world in truth we can forget.
We’ll have to do the best we can to set our errors straight,
admit our bad behavior, and live with some regret...
if not, more sleepless nights will likely be our fate.
Alas ,the entire farm is swallowed by the bird flu
Only one chick is escaped from the eyes of influenza virus The poor chick is taken asylum with me true
Daisy is the good name given for her by us.
She is accompanied by me all day and night. Every place is occupied by her pleasantly Sometimes she walks on the dinning table quite. I can't abscond from her keen eyes apparently
She is sharing even my small bedroom really Her low clucking sound is attracted by me lovely. She jumps on the steel cot quickly. And she sits near my face in the blanket humbly
She clusters slightly on my forehead funny To indicate the early morning surely. She likes to eat our family food for hungry. Her life is unseparable with me fully.
Days are rolled and she has grown well evenly She is abnormal in size and weight openly. One Sunny morning she has gone suddenly Her memories are still in my mind hopefully
But until, O Lord, until you bid me joy
And allow one world we all can enjoy,
Love to savor and love for all to share
with those who have woe alone to bear,
Happiness covering each sorrowful face
In this one thing I but blame your grace,
None but me alone shall bear this rancor
and pin the blame on thee with anger…
For I’ve looked for love in every stranger
And no, never did I find me an answer.
Why so few among us live in peace
Their problems with years increase,
Weary of life’s never-ending struggle
Finding no reprieve in a world of trouble,
So how, alas! How then may that be?
It’s dark and you have forsaken me.
Lord, in this one thing you can be sure
My devotion to you will mostly endure,
But when clouds of doubt ever engulf me
Hope’s the prayer that should set me free.
~01/25/2022
~Joy, Hope and Kindness
~Sponsor: Angela Tune.
Suddenly over the sudden years
I have felt an encumbrance; I sense an albatross -
the weight of sundry uncharted days.
Times I chronicle today as if I were a wax cylinder
and not the broken spool in a cassette tape.
A subfuse goose whispers: Record the sky for me.
I must write ‘sky’ ten times a day
so that the abated will not be forgotten.
Yet how to keep a goose-gray sky fresh
when the days are so metallically shiny and blue?
None recall the monochrome stories
we once told our color-blind children?
They have grown beyond such things.
I have so little time, yet must set down
the legend of little boy gray,
his history has almost passed away,
now eyes have no corners to see.
I knew him well, alas the roads to that tale
are backhoed by cartoon rainbows.
History calls me out into the park
where a lineage of dog leads the nose
to a yesteryear, a brawling time
free from the wow and weight of newness.
we lived then as historians leading other historians
upon trails of immemorial sensations.
Meadow larks meant something once,
but now look at them, they strut like roosters
over the journals of the dead!
History cannot now be cured; it is far gone,
its prone, hump-backed form encumbers
like a speed bump.
Wordsworth and his damn golden daffodils -
as if we did not know already.
I hover over histories sickbed
my impedimenta droop like the dewlaps
of a prodigal deity.
Only a moment ago history ran through hill and dale
as naked as an infant,
its fields were alive with love, war, and kapok -
a stuffed, full metal jacket;
a saucily heraldic Kevlar.
I breathe into histories colorless lungs,
there are flocks of moribund geese tucked into each
alveoli and bronchi,
they have plucked themselves naked,
they long for the ten sky’s
named in my cinereal histories.
I shoulder this burden of faded things,
this molting albatross,
all the trappings of then and thereupon,
these I place now in an ash lined
and crumbling
vault.
Alas, we've elected bozos on both sides to again guide the nation!
(Some folks are sobbing in their ale, others are filled with jubilation!)
To rid this great nation of such knaves, here is what I would propose:
Elect retired noncoms who are well qualified to lead, heaven knows!
Noncoms are known for their integrity and by the way, lead from the front!
They don't take shhhtuff from anyone and are known to be rather blunt!
There should be a crusty Master Chief to head the Navy overseeing the fleet,
And a Marine Gunny Sergeant should occupy every congressional seat!
A Staff Sergeant who's been in the trenches should be the Secretary of Defense.
Chief Master Sergeants qualify for the oval office (Obama, take no offense!)
Sergeants First Class would eminently qualify for the Secretary of Labor.
They'd put deadbeats to work so as not to mooch off their neighbor!
There's a horde of Navy Petty Officers who'd qualify for Treasury Secretary,
Who've faithfully paid their taxes unlike some Yale czars to the contrary!
There's a brigade of Sergeants Major who'd excel as the Secretary of State,
Who'd tell other nations where to go if they didn't deal with us straight!
Master and Technical Sergeants are well qualified to occupy a governor's chair.
Their prime concern is the welfare of folks, not just building castles in the air!
Retired Noncoms are a special breed who believe in and uphold the Constitution!
Patriots who'd oust the current clowns, some of whom qualify for a mental institution!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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