Long Appeal Poems
Long Appeal Poems. Below are the most popular long Appeal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appeal poems by poem length and keyword.
quatrozain
The year is nineteen hundred eighty-six,
the biggest action, music, plots play through.
Behold the crowds are raving, buying ticks!
Top Gun, the movie’s here and overdue.
While brave Tom Cruise, the hero, rims the sky,
it’s really only stuntmen on those planes.
And to be sure, a romance follows nigh -
the female fans expect that love will reign.
Parental guidance warns some shoddy talk,
which gives the picture young adult appeal.
The sexy scenes are clean as new white chalk;
a final song provides nostalgic feel.
The mix for Top Gun 2, as yet unknown -
they must incorporate a role for drones.
Reason A. Poteet
09 Oct 2014
iambic pentameter for Giorgio's Contest III
Feel how you feel with sensuous flow,
Know fond appeal in actual show.
Sense a new day that dawns on you,
Live what you say as times fall due.
Heed the word well in mental poise,
See how you dwell on chosen voice.
Hear the grand sounds that flood and fill,
Zest frames fond grounds where blood frames will.
Touch knows the way to mind and heart,
Laughter fits play as joy imparts.
Scent floral swirls in garden here,
Sweet perfume twirls in fragrance clear.
Taste the good life that comes to woo,
Live without strife in all you do.
Go on your way with happy thoughts,
Love lives each day your quest and lot.
All that you touch can bless and heal,
Live love as such with kind goodwill.
Leon Enriquez
03 July 2015
Singapore
Failure is a weed that sprouts from unbelief,
Choking out the more desirable fruit of faith.
Marvel at how God weeds out unbelief:
The little girl's confidence in God's power,
The prophet's reliance on the supernatural.
Watch Ben-Hadad rely on his own natural ability,
Dismissing the little girl's and Naaman's hope.
"I will use the wealth stolen from the Israelites,
By the brilliant raids of my captain, Naaman,
And start more conflict with the king of Israel!"
And the evil one came and snatched away the seed.
Jehoram, Israel's king, relies on his own ability,
For he has already defected from God in his heart,
And dismisses any help from Yahweh's prophet.
"I cannot cure this man from his skin disease!
Ben-Hadad looks for an excuse to fight me!"
And without sufficient root, his belief withered.
Marvel at how God's plan unfolds:
"There is a prophet in Israel, send him to me!
This did not originate in the mere will of man!
Do not judge until God's purposes are complete!
This will not be just a physical cure!"
And God prepares some good soil in Naaman's heart.
What is the way of approach to ignorant Naaman?
The gods of Naaman will fall in this encounter.
God conceals His sovereign control by Design.
Naaman's proud spirit judges God's choices,
For it is Satan's last-ditch effort to thwart.
And sinners try to erect their own standards.
Man is not the cure for himself-
Expecting cleansing in accord with his dignity.
Humiliation and faith pave the way to remedy.
"Wash in a river inferior to those of my own?!"
Naaman erupts in a boiling rage - ready to curse!
And God breaks up the hardness of pride in him.
The appeal is simple faith in God's provision.
As Naaman obeyed in faith, he was healed-
From both physical and spiritual leprosy!
"Now I know there is no God except in Israel!"
He was changed from self-serving to servant.
And the good soil understands and bears fruit.
There is no substitute for the Lord, Gehazi.
Why put your missionary commission at risk?
Ironically, Naaman's leprosy will cling to you!
What you would have inherited is forfeited.
You have joined the ranks of Eli and Saul.
And desire for riches choke the seed, yielding nothing.
It will be the anniversary of my sisters death,
in a few days and I will turn back the pages of time.
The mirage comes back to my brain with all the pain,
her blood left a stain on the road until the rain;
it flowed down a drain- a memory that will forever remain.
Mother screamed but I froze and became nonverbal,
the days that followed were a nightmare dream;
my sister had a lot of sweet allure and charm to appeal.
And she came to me at night in a gossamer light,
she held my hand tight and her smile was honey bright;
and all around us white dulcet birds were in flight.
I will never forget the day of Suzanne's funeral,
she lay so ethereal, so fragile and delicate;
I stood very straight and still and held my tears,
many gave us the balm of consolation and solace.
Oh, how pale Suzanne looked, so dainty and frail,
I fell into a tale, and wispy wings were my veil;
on an ocean I sail- until the scent of roses I inhale.
My birthday followed- got a doll gift favor I still savor,
I said- be braver and that was my pivot and saver.
_______________________________
January 25, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Delicate Anniversary Death
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1108-139-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Eight Word Anniversary
sponsor, Michelle Faulkner
Fourth Place
From her delicate wings a fine powder exudes and lands on the ground
by the light of the blue harvest moon a touch of Pixie Dust, in nimble magic !
Harmonious weaving, intangible strands of music coming from the sphere
sweet and beautiful arias, melodious twittering from a fairy wing's enfold
Wings not made of nylon, cellophane nor iridescent tulle but made of silk
like spider's webs tough and resilient from the Master Spinners pedipalps
Appendage wings made from embryonic liquid from ejected Neutron Stars
like butterflies they flit and fly through air currents, landing on little twigs;
Fairy dust of old as ancient as the parallels from this world to the next
dare say I, ... if ever you have been subjected to their fairy dust appeal
then flying limbs you shall receive and like it or not you will fly away
inside a land of pure magic where every thought is like a sweet reveal
From her delicate hand a sweep of the wand resting easy on your shoulder,
one single dose is feathered on you and suddenly, you are able to hold her !
Circa February 28th, 1968 - The Former Leiper Estate
Soon after our family settled
into the sprawling estate
named "Glen Elm" approximate
half century old from date
mentioned in title, said treasure
rosy Gypsy foretold fate
Harriet Harris, (daughter
of Antebellum Rebecca great
Kuritsky - Brooklyn transplanted
Southern Belle), create
head "FAKE" story, whereby
former did absquatulate
with jack of all trades (Boyce
Brandon Harris) too late
above named ramshackle
mansion, they remained mate
to each other til death did
thee mum part, congratulate
sans, her high school chums
felt envious - girls did rate
papa (now octogenarian widower)
most handsome (master) bait,
whose smarts earning advanced
degree applying his pate
as mechanical engineer for
General Electric did satiate
penchant solving complex
mathematical equations tete
a tete for super intelligent
entrepreneurial fella alleviate
head real passion rehabilitating
derelict property, allocate
ting leisure time resuscitating
neglected homes ameliorate
head procreative itch practically
rebuilding this did animate
dad's profuse true calling
spending hours fame did anticipate
(though papa quite modest,
and other people gushed appreciate
ting self taught revitalizing
unseen hidden gem and to articulate
unique artistic flair himself
as taskmaster masterpieces intimate
ting creations nobody, but
himself could imagine brilliance pate
drew forth unbelievable
enhancements doppelganger did berate
rarely could family, friends,
strangers...do more than capitulate
with ceaseless praise always
adding final touches to captivate
most flattering aura, charisma,
karma (credit) perfectly calibrate
head aesthetic qualities even
shabbiest building communicate
ting magic touch of, who plied
blood, sweat and tears culminate
ting in unbelievable transformation
particularly, how to designate
ideal amount of appeal to abode
came to screeching halt dissipate
head after mum passed, and papa's
raw talent earned thru educate
ting himself, no amount of inborn
inherent blueprints did illustrate
native bent, BUT no new life could
resurrect demise of his queen soulmate!
Amidst AGGRAVATION of sin-game schemes, I appeal to the Almighty…
Beseeching His pardon for my transgression-caused BOGGLE
Cleaving to His compassion with mercy’s CATCH PHRASE
Declaring earnestly “I’m SORRY; please forgive me”
Enabled with repentance, not religious TABOO, to confess humbly.
Free to pray thru Jesus Christ, never by any CODE NAMES
Gladly I fellowship with Him, purged from guilt’s TROUBLE
Hoisted toward praise-driven heights beyond PHASE 10…
I LIKEWISE delight communing with Him thru His Word
Jubilantly HEARING THINGS of His truth in joyous worship.
King of my heart, He can SPOT IT it among iniquities and doubts
Lord of my life, He leads me against vain TRIVIAL PURSUIT
Maneuvering me by His omniscient holy MONOPOLY
Nurturing my spirit with His serenity, midst din of MAD GAB
Opening to me opportunities for love-filled service OPERATION.
Propelled to ask from my Provider thru faith’s PASSWORD
Quoting Scriptures of assurance-SEQUENCE, I tell Him my needs
Reaching out to me, He rescues me from discontentment’s RISK
Satisfying me with blessings’ SPOONS that SPEAK OUT abundance
Testifying of rich grace for my TRIP TO RIDE to eternal sufficiency.
Unwavering omnipotence my Saviour radiates in PERFECTION
Victory, too, vanquishing Devil’s MOUSE TRAP of attractive CLUE
Worthy is His wisdom waking my weary CRANIUM to work well
X-raying my spirituality against iniquity SCRABBLE thru the Holy Ghost
Yielded to Christ I know and trust vis-à-vis varied GUESS WHO masters...
Zealously, I’ll run the race*, winning for God's glory over worldly bouts of 5 SECOND RULE.
*Hebrews 12:1-2 “…Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith.”
February 19, 2019
1st place, "Anyone Game?" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Carol Connell; judged on 3/15/2019.
Cheer knows the way to happy days,
Live what you say with joy that stays.
Peace of mind shows the way of flow,
Learn how to grow a life that glows.
Start with clear heart that inspires art,
Dare now to start with precious parts.
Do all you can to live bold plan,
See where you stand to dream and scan.
Lovely words tell your story well,
Discern fond dwell on thoughts you spell.
Come with delight that flavours sight,
Let touch take flight to do what's right.
Poise styles action in clear fashion,
Pay attention to sensation.
Sense how you feel for feelings fill,
Work fond appeal as love reveals.
Walk with sure grace that lights your face,
Vacuum your space that more floods trace.
End as you find fond peace of mind,
Truth shows in kind where grand laws sign.
Seek that true light that thrills fine sight,
Live with insight that guides swift flight.
Leon Enriquez
19 November 2015
Singapore
“Is 'Mathematics...not only [a] Truth,
but [a] supreme beauty—a beauty cold
and austere, like that of sculpture [uncouth
to men for whom this concept is too bold],
without appeal to any part of our weaker nature,
without the gorgeous trappings of painting
or music, yet [is still more] sublimely pure,
and capable of a stern [un-feinting]
perfection such as only the greatest art
can show?'” So, thus geometrized Euclid
(to Russell's youthful mind and fervent heart),
and taught,—by a draped, stone caryatid
at the Library of Alexandria;
from whence “The Elements” spread without lemma!
Leaves longing on settled limbs, tongues of green
savoring sweetened rays of saffron Sun,
claim this crowning hall a new day to be.
Mother's morning prayers hath long begun,
first, love for family and friends, naught than,
later, herself. Hail, day of correction,
Father and Holy Spirit, --the Triune,
this Easter Day of Christ's resurrection.
Bless this glorious Sun's uplifting deal,
an envious sky look onwards with glee,
for an agreed Spring occasions appeal,
seems cool tempts rising, refreshing, can be.
Petalled hues growing softly, rains--tricky.
Taming, like Mount St. Helen's--revision?
Nay, pieces of a puzzle ... a beauty,
this Easter Day of Christ's resurrection.
Nutritious roots scoring blindly, beneath,
undergrowth always engaged, confirms life,
forests, fields, valleys, mountains, earth--bequeath.
Wildlife, pro-life, low-life, my life, --all life.
Spring truly the Best of Four Seasons ... rife,
Americans, Tax ... time ... few ... evasion?
Majority ... Christians or naught ... less-strife ...
this Easter Day of Christ's resurrection.
Easter constants Spring time: larger than life,
Easter wins the General Election.
"My Good and Faithful Servants ..." ... afterlife,
this Easter Day of Christ's resurrection.