Long Andrew Poems
Long Andrew Poems. Below are the most popular long Andrew by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Andrew poems by poem length and keyword.
I relayed on trust
more than affection;
watching every move,
instead of watching the flowers slowly bloom.
Wondering where love went,
chasing after the illusion
of bringing it back where it was;
and realizing the impossibility, I'm so saddened.
You wanted more than understanding,
warm hands to hold and the fire of desire...
to let you ride on your fantasy star;
and I regret all that I didn't give you with real feeling.
Wondering where love went,
and what is the lesson that
life has taught me? Never wait
for others, just trust your instinct and shun every doubt.
Wondering where love went,
seeing happy lovers, engaging in romance,
who they have found their paradise;
I was looking for mine in someone whom I didn't love enough...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Think of May as a wonderful month, never rude,
bringing beautiful days with warm showers...
to make beach goers wrap themselves in towels,
then the hottest sun will break through!
Why do we love this month that makes everyone fantasize?
Is it the new flowers, or Mother's Day itself?
We agree, its the last one I mentioned with great surprise...
wanting to honor the one we all love to death!
And as I am talking about this special event, which is of a specific sort,
you wouldn't forget to give her a little sweet something
that she likes: from a single flower, or paper heart to a chocolate torte;
many more you can find: like puppets that dance and sing!
Think of May as a wonderful month when imagination is wild and free to err,
and the desire to escape is not limited to sea, sky or a far-away friend;
it can reach, quicker than any whispered prayer, the loneliest heart so afraid,
but ready to embrace mom's heart despite the love one has denied her!
Entered in Carol Brown's contest,
" Memories Of May "
Written by Andrew Crisci
P.S. IT’S POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 5
Many thanks to you selected poets;
Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it;
Each letters and each word;
Reads so very dear and well;
Joys of your souls cheers;
Covenants of choice, reading your voice;
Blessing peace be still;
Please keep writing your skills;
Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S.
Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers
•
• Chantelle Anne Cooke 128, 20, 36
• Charles Knowlton 176
• Charlie Smith 15, 86, 86
• Charlotte Puddifoot 225
• Choice Randell Melugin Jr 294, 424
• Chokri Omri 277
• Chrisdad Kojo Arthur 322
• Christopher Flaherty 302
• Christopher Grieves 203, 455
• Christopher Mwashinga 462
• Claire Thom 440
• Clive Blake 389
• Cole Banner 225
• Constance K. Wong 7
• Constance La France 240, 52, 84
• Craig Davids Cornish 115, 156, 216
• Crystal Toureene 400
• Curtis Johnson, Sr. 326
Dale Gregory Cozart 289, 5, 90
• Daniel John Berg 153
• Daniel Turner 17, 42, 76
• Dave Collins 390
• David A. McHattie 144
• David Allan Williams 103
• David Andrew McHattie 161
• David Drowley 235, 283, 405
Our amazing age has been called both uncertain and troublesome,
and with all the advances and discoveries,
many still refuse to believe that God exists;
gold is avariciously kept by the wealthy, not released to feed anyone!
They march to a warfare beat, to invade, to defeat and mercilessly loot;
and will their militia be strong enough to hold back the armies
of the glorious Christ appearing in the noon's golden clouds?
All the prophesies came to pass, and this one will, too!
The destructive forces, not yet known to Man's blurred mind,
can desolate entire cities and destroy disobedient Nations;
the Black Death that rampaged and terrified Europe can't be compared to this!
But to cause confusion and death, the Anti-Christ must usurp and fight!
What greater pangs are more real than the ones to come in the latter days?
The life-giving sun will sink into the depths of the inscrutable Universe,
and the lovely stars will not appear at night;
that total darkness will induce immense fright!
The prophecies that have come to pass...were completely ignored,
and others more frightful are unfolding before these very eyes;
how long can we not discern their real message and realize
that every Biblical event was foretold by the prophets of old!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
It's so mild in the quite suburbs
with rain falling in October,
and unable to sleep, I face
insomnia for certain;
rain, keep on falling and let me hear
that steady, pelting sound on
the closed windows....a melody for
the saddest song should be written.
I must choose the right mood,
a minor scale to match this melancholy,
and a slow tempo growing into a crescendo,
and I could even throw in a scherzo;
and transport it with a C Major to smooth
some sadness out of the melody,
which tomorrow somebody
will hum, or whistle by learning the easy tune.
Hoping this song will be a hit,
thanks to the falling rain
in October for the sudden inspiration...
when I couldn't think of anything else!
Wishing the rain would stop at six,
so I could see the rising sun across
the eastern sky and listen to the lark
that built his nest under my windowsill.
It's past sunrise, and the shimmering clouds hesitate to leave,
and with nothing to look forward to... I must believe
that the rain falling in October,
can teach me the game of solitaire;
and pinned against my warm pillow,
I don't have anything to share but sorrow!
Flap your wide wings, friendly lark and repeat my song,
note by note; and without a lead sheet, I can't play it for very long...
Copyright by Andrew Crisci
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. "
It's the unfair society:
from lenient judges
to corrupt attorneys
and with some bad cops
who claim that their motto is:
" To serve and protect "
Oh, no don't tell me that I am crazy: I don't trust the Law!
It's an insult to society or to the ones who wrote it!
Oh, don't tell me that murderous thoughts
don't double-cross me to want to toss those offenders
into the slammer where they really belong!
I should be on that bench and give sentences
without showing sympathy or forgiveness!
One guy who had a bag of weed
was released the next day...
because it was his first offense!
It's foolishness...there were
two minors in that car:
wasn't it the fault of a lenient judge?
Hookers, so-called Ladies of the Night
are more protected than the ordinary citizens,
some wacko sees them as worthless beings
and kills them dumping them in marshes...
I am saddened by such murders,
but they don't lead a clean life!
Oh, don't tell that God doesn't have murderous thoughts like me!
But when some of one of them tap on your window, as you wait
for the red light to turn green, solicits sex for money...wouldn't
anybody have a murderous thought and give them a nasty look?
Oh, don't tell me that sex doesn't sell everywhere!
It's so disgusting to see ads with semi-nude models
advertizing for the big companies: it's the buck, not the morality!
And worse than that some guys watch **** as they drive!
O society so filthy and shameless, you have become so immoral,
putting away the Commandments that Moses God carved with fire!
It's wrong to hate a brother or sister,
and seek revenge with either curses or bad deeds...
slandering is not humane and compassionate;
if he or she did something wrong...show love,
don't have murderous thoughts! The hatred
makes the gun go off quickly and the knife cut very deep!
So goes for your neighbors, love them
as you would love your own and by spreading kindness:
darkness will be replaced by light,
and hate, ignorance and avarice by love!
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Susan Burch's contest,
" Getting Away With Murder/Murderous Thoughts "
This night i have had
This 7th November day
It's one of my best
I have to say
The occasion was
A birthday party
My son's girlfriend
A couple so hearty
Parents of this two
In tribute proud
On a Munro i would stand
And shout it out loud
Ann Marie, Murdo
Nicola and James
Proud parents we are
Of our sweetheart flames
To watch them grow up
Into the people they are
Bright lights in our lives
Our heavenly stars
To Leanne and Andrew
As i look back on this night
This November day
This world has done right
It has brought you together
As it has requested you be
No better couple has stood
In front of me
A few words from a proud parent to the
most wonderful couple, with all my heart
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me-2.php
If materialistic things were the only ones they sought,
they would be satisfied with them, and discard those of little worth;
and like anxious gold diggers they would trample on rocks and dig very deep:
to unearth their glittering treasure and be so exultant and very proud
of bragging about it with a vanity only appeased by mirth!
And will others pity them or follow them in their greed?
If believers are shielded by faith,
they don't need to watch over their worthless treasures
and always be afraid of thieves who may steel them;
and that's all they desire to have:
envy the invariable notion of their intention,
not being fickle, but relying on one's intuition
to preserve that candid faith...like their forefathers
who received it from the God who never failed them!
They'll mock them and curse them for their integrity, and as lepers
they'll cast them into the cadaverous abyss of living darkness...
calling them mad preachers of false ideals, taking on His divine image!
And are they the delirious prophets or impostors who yearn for fame?
But how will they respond to those cruel accusations or death threats:
by swaying their angry swords to wage war or surprisingly choose silence?
O disgraceful people, assuming of being just and fair...
haven't you noticed how truth menaces your strategy
to get rid of the righteous ones who do not fear animosity?
O implacable people, admit you inability to cope...
to remove these opponents from your torment, dare
to heed those prophecies that are as authentic
as the true words they speak...when they are shielded by faith!
And if they were pretenders, why would they endure trail and death?
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Since a child barely eight,
I watched puffy snowflakes
with dreamy eyes, seeing myself so merry...
making a snowman taller than I;
his nose had to be brighter than a cherry,
and his cobalt eyes deeper than any sea...
then lying back, I rested in delight:
to admire my creation and sigh!
Snow on a quiet night of December,
every worry and fear I surrender...
to lose myself awaiting for deeper silence:
when a star will appear to announce
to the hopeless world the birth of glorious joy...
will it be greeted by all as that shepherd boy?
Everybody was asleep, the wood-burning fireplace
crackled as someone walking dredged a long path
with fast footsteps...it was daddy shivering as a cat,
holding in his frozen hands a box gleaming as glass;
I looked closer it had a red bow that brightly glowed...
and running I screamed, " Merry Christmas, dad! "
Snow on a quiet night of December,
make me dream of that wintry night already past...
when my soft face was sprinkled with snowflakes so thick,
and melting they tasted like the water of a river!
Snow on a quiet December night, take no rest...
keep on falling and creating a wonderland filled with mirth!
Entered in Gail Angel Boyle's contest,
" Winter's Blanket "
Written by Andrew Crisci