Long Apportion Poems
Long Apportion Poems. Below are the most popular long Apportion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apportion poems by poem length and keyword.
EVOL UT I ON ... NO 1 TU LOVE
(The Eden Agenda III)
I have loved most everyone, yet so few have loved me back.
So much good I have done, but suspicions aroused, they attack.
How I so long to drown my sorrows and drown in a tank of arrack.
Is it that they are taken aback, or is it ‘true love’ they truly lack?
How can one with so much love get so little love back?
As long as I have lived, I’ve lived to love so long as I’ve loved to live.
But how can I live for long in a world that does not love to give? ….nor has love enough to give?
Surely I must grieve.
…Or perhaps I shall evolve to no longer believe in all that I perceive.
Therein lies the urge for the surge of my dirge.
Rejected of love, subjected to hate - now dejected with life.
So sensitive that my soul is sliced by the blunt end of a knife.
To whom shall I turn for bandage for these emotional scars?
Even in moments of desperation I’ve looked up to the stars
For out there [I’ve been told] is that which is the Sea of Tranquility,
All I have here is a Dead Sea - in which to drown with my vulnerability.
My shadow refuses to be seen with me - it’s nowhere to be seen at high noon,
Come setting of the Sun, it runs further from me - and stretches out for the Moon.
Why do I not shine such that the Sun beams …and perhaps even squints?
Why do the vultures retch? ….and away from my carcass, the hyena sprints?
I have looked up to the raindrops from heaven - simply yearning to be kissed,
But even they, with accursed stealth - my sad lips they missed.
Who shall cut me a slice of love?
Please apportion a portion.
Who will pour me a cup of warmth?
Please don’t ration the passion.
My spirit is broken, the Spirits have spoken…
The daemons mean to take my life as a token.
Let ‘Caution’ throw me to the wind, I pray;
Havoc, please invite me out to play.
Misery, won’t you hold my hand ….everyday?
Loneliness won’t you be my friend? …Please stay.
Oh, how I feel so low, so lifeless. But then, who cares?
Just another life less….
….another life less
…just another lifeless.
The evolution of my life, I’ve looked at from back to front:
……no 1 tu love.
The creation of my life, I’ve looked, from on high to low:
…….Love from above.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
The Man casts a shadow purulent with stealth
Having seen his apportion of nebulous days.
In fear of himself... too long on the shelf
And a vague memory of far better days.
He then lowers his head.
Overcome with a feeling of dread.
Dreaming of marmalade and bread...
As he ponders the end of his days.
"I'm the Marmalade King!" He shouts
To a world passing him by.
"I'm the Marmalade King," he pouts
To those who are left alive.
"Was I somebody once?" He reflects.
"Who was treated with gentile respect?
But I have a vehement tendency to forget
This thing for which I strive."
"There are vile beasties intent on mischief."
He whispers to a Juniper tree aside his tent.
"They task me when I am fast asleep
In a melancholy slumber of sly torment."
Now the tree failed to address
To the comments so pressed
But the King would have to confess,
"You seem a perfect and absolute gent."
"If I truly be King?" He continued to say.
"Then I should lord over all that I see.
But my Kingdom seems to have filtered away
And I'm not sure where my subjects might be.
So I will remain here on this spot
Until my loyal subjects are brought
Whether they come freely or caught,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"Oh how silly of me... I've made a mistake."
He said as he rose from his chair.
"It is good to have given my head a fair shake
As there are new facts of which I'm aware.
I've been unloading my fears
But it has now become clear
While standing right here...
My Kingdom is right over there!"
"I see you're a conifer of hearty regard,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"We must do well to keep up our guard
As lesser mortals have been known to flee.
But I've come to the conclusion.
The outer world is a fallacious delusion
And if I'm meant for seclusion...
I'm glad it's just you and me."
While a callous world attempts to ignore him,
There is a venue for which he might cling.
Made only for him... less dour and grim,
Where he has control over differing things.
And in that sacrosanct place.
He will find not a whiff of disgrace.
Bathed in the love of God's Grace...
All hail the Marmalade King!!
The End
WISDOM WAS FOUND
The day moves me into this ultimate search
Of the principality that Lords over life
And rules over Kings, nobles, aged and Princes
As my desire yearns for that which is profitable to direct.
Steadfastly aiming to avoid the natural consequences
Invited by my wrong actions and life's fitful fall,
I grope for the path of the higher realm,
Then realise that even the word of God
Is searched and tried in the furnace of fire 7 times.
I surrender my eyes to her rebuke
And embark further into the land of the greats
Even the discouraging and slothful wind
Couldn't strangle my lamp
Amidst intimidating and daring storms
Where men's soul stagger not
But swaggers into celestial hall of fame,
Owing to grace, persistence and doggedness.
If only I find her, discretion will preserve me
From the perversity of the diabolic whose path is crooked,
I thought of the rags of time,
How I had stalled in movements in life's race
Where I was born to take the lead;
My heart cried for an ornament of grace.
Who shall then buy me one?
Still I hear no answer but one from me
Then I sell all that's within me just for her bosom.
Even my manliness and ego holds me not.
Who can withhold himself from speaking?
For real you have instructed many,
You have strengthened weak hands,
Your words have upheld him who was stumbling
And have strengthened the feeble frigid knees.
By the blast of God you were let loosed
And all your enemies are subdued and fade away.
God understands her way - ask Him 'how'?
And He knows her place - find it now!
For He looks to the ends of the earth,
And sees under the whole heavens,
To establish a weight for the wind,
And apportion the waters by measure
When a law was made for the rain
And a path for the thunderbolt,
Then He saw Wisdom and declared it;
Prepared it, indeed, He searched it out.
To men He said, "the fear of the Lord is wisdom
And to depart from evil is understanding."
Written by: Vick Manuel (VickWizzy)
Copyright© 2013.
Reference: New King James version (NKJV), Thomas Nelson [1978], copyright 1982, Job 28v23,28; pg301.
Pyrrhic revenge
They’d eaten his books, his clothes and lean paper money,
Whetted their teeth against his coins and an old jar of honey.
They’d blown cold air nightly, as they gnawed whilst he slept,
Eating bits of his extremities that lay in the path they crept.
No out-of-bounds, for every nook they could roam,
In his one room shack - the pigsty he called home,
Pooing on his bed and table; sometimes, boldly in his stare,
And, not inside his drawers, pots and pockets, did they spare.
By heavens, for such a man in his youthful prime,
There was none dirtier; whose home had more grime,
The constant reek of gunge - what better invitation,
To every pest; flying or crawling, for cohabitation?
He’d hoped to kill the poverty that to him, had seemed to glue
With the job for which he’d been invited for an interview,
Alas! His file jacket was barely held by its leather threads,
And his results and certificates; partly eaten, were in shreds.
Enough! he’d thought, and bought a mousetrap,
With smoked fish bait, he’d soon heard the trap’s first clap,
Of the fathers, mothers and offsprings, he’d caught one,
With this and others after, he’d planned his vengeful fun.
With glee, to the street he’d stepped with the vermin,
The fate of which, only he could now determine,
He’d doused it with petrol, amidst street kids cheers,
But oblivious of his folly, and fate’s inaudible jeers.
With a single match strike, it was engulfed in flames,
And what happened next, he had none to apportion blames,
For, in blind anguish, the rat had dashed back into his room;
The house had charred, smoking with a mile high plume!
there is much joy to be had during the Christmas season
as people celebrate the holidays of which many find so pleasing
even thought the days are now dark with this global economic strife
we still have joy for the birthday of our savior Jesus the Christ
so how do we take this joy and apportion it from day to day?
could it be by rejoicing in Christ as we journey on our way?
there is joy to be found when one honors and worships Christ
there is a joy to be maintained as we traverse this perilous life
but for the grace of God that Jesus sent when He died on the cross
as His resurrection was the salvation to amend our tragic loss
the joy is in the journey as you travel your life's road
the joy is in the doing it's not in accomplished goals
and in spite of your circumstances, your trials and your tribulations
there is joy in just being in Christ as everyday is a cause for celebration
you won't always be happy, euphoric nor full of cheer
but great joy is found in the knowledge that Jesus is still here
so don't fall prey to drugs and drink to make you feel glad
and don't think that happiness will take away all the sad
as drugs and drink are temporary and happiness is a transient outward sensation
true joy is found with the God in you that eternal hope called salvation
as those who have the joy of the Lord in life tend to have less stress
for they are like Mary, the mother of Jesus, highly favored and truly blessed
so don't worry about the temporary external facade of happiness
by which life's circumstances can destroy
you're on the greatest journey which is your life
and in Jesus there is joy
Whether the Good Lord or Charles Darwin gave Adam his fruit
Regardless of ideology versus faith rules our common pursuit
We need to accept that life is dangerous and fraught with peril
Don’t jump the gun before facing the reaper or his rifle barrel
Instead it might help to live for today and embrace what goes on
Make hay when the sun shines before the finite moment is gone
Roses have thorns nettles may sting and snakes poison for real
Not unlike families who can spew toxins they are unable to conceal
Choose carefully with whom you share your knife to slice bread
Not rocket since that otherwise you might be prematurely dead
You can turn a worm ridden table as often as you consider fit
Oil cleans surfaces and place mats but inherent fissures can split
Share a jug of water with a hint of mint draped with olive branches
Without preconditions or anger when you apportion the tranches
If life only gives you lemons plant yet another citrus fruit tree
Sour seeds hold promise and possibilities not that easy to see
Felines are said to have nine lives but humans have no such luck
It is best to unwind and enjoy current presence before we get stuck
When you stride in your strife remember you might be an example
Children are attentive and they learn fast what might not be ample
But whatever you decide do not toss out the baby with the bath
Don’t put the cat in the microwave as it might explode on its path
25th February 2020
Make for the corner, Fresno-Whittier
(there’s neighborhoods a whole lot prettier):
it’s probably ten-ninety-six,
but don’t draw weapons – that’s a Nix.
The man before you’s not a “perp”,
so don’t come on like Wyatt Earp.
Latina (claims she’s J-Lo’s cousin)
talking nineteen to the dozen
says she almost bought the farm,
but totally (we think) unharmed.
Find the pale-blue shotgun shack:
he’s out front, and she’s out back.
Ten-zero, boys. Proceed with caution.
Blame’s not something we apportion.
They love each other – had a fight,
same as any couple might.
Bear in mind one simple thing:
no-one wants a Rodney King.
So, L.A.’s Finest, when you swoop,
he’s sitting on the streetside stoop,
and spouting incoherent crap,
samurai sword across his lap.
Don’t pay no mind to what he’s blurting –
the guy’s okay. He’s simply hurting.
Don’t see a spic from Zapopan,
look at him closely. See the man.
Don’t think, “one of the wetback horde”:
think what it took to make that sword.
Someone tempered, shaped, embossed it.
And Juan’s a man. He simply lost it.
He came up here in eighty-eight,
and settled in the Orange State.
Wielded wrenches, welded axes,
raised his kids and paid his taxes,
and now he’s slowly catching on:
there’s nothing else. His youth is gone.
He mops the floors at Taco Bell,
and Carmencita gives him hell.
He’d wail a horn, like Bobby Prewitt,
but doesn’t have the art to do it.
So let’s forget the “better than”.
Go easy, fellas. See the man.
My Father’s Hand!
My father left me when I was a baby
and all that remained of him… was his hand!
The hand that edged its way
into the last photo he took of me!
As I grew, I used to study that hand
searching, rooting for details of personality;
a reflection upon my possible characteristics.
Did I see a loving hand, skinned in kindness
or a selfish one, boned and heartless?
So I aged, feeling different, aware of scarring.
Occasionally, I tried to break free from solitude
but my partner kept whispering me back
until I would try to cry
but not understanding the steps.
I was poor on love; overfed on loneliness
but sensing the tremors of isolation in others.
Thirty years later and a father’s day email!
Then gradually, slow as molasses,
I unlocked, I opened my front door,
tentatively, anxiously allowing him into my life.
Eventually a pleasure, a confidence, a warmth,
began to seep, to trickle into my soul.
The abandoned child had been found
and the next part of my life could begin.
I discovered a father, one who wanted forgiveness,
and, at last, I could part company with
the stings of rejection, the stabs of loneliness
which had serrated away at my life.
I could now think about all those memories
that I used to share with myself,
hoping that now I had rediscovered someone
I could apportion, ration them with.
I yearned for a father who would listen,
who would share…..
and in time, he did
and in time, I learnt to forgive.
Ian Souter
DIARY OF BOYS TO MEN
WHEN WE BECAME A MAN:
Entrant into the promise land of adulthood
Where the wanderings cease and building begins
Where that unstable thing in us solidifies
Where the irresponsible become committed
Where you rise up to confront enemies,
Subdue territories and attain property by conquest
Because the worrier has now become the warrior
The promise land is where we keep our promises-in-hand,
To ourselves, to our wives and to our seeds,
Where our words can be blindly trusted
Because God keeps His promises over His gods!
WHEN WE SORT FOR EDUCATION:
Despite his handicaps, David rose to the top
Somehow, he learned about responsibility
In those fields while alone with God
So, give me responsibilities else I die
If not now, the inevitable death of the tomorrow
Not the timely death of 120 apportion to human
RESPONSIBILITY AND BOLDNESS:
Give me a lamb and I will rescue her
From the Lion and the Bear in the woods
Decisiveness and quick action is in the promise land
In this land, manhood requires leadership
And leadership requires commitment to lead
Only way to be fit a man coming from the boyhood journey --
Be a god after God's own heart,
You will be separated so you can be operated on and certified.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2017.
Do you thank the Sun
On any day for duty done?
Due to Sun, life is no burden
As He makes World a garden
Do you salute the Moon
For His giving a cool boon?
Never postpone, do it soon
He challenges night-tycoon
Do you applaud the Air
For its being always fair!
In giving to all equal care?
To thank, now prepare
Do you respect the Earth
For giving us holy mirth?
Respecting is damn worth
As, treasures, we unearth
Do you notice stars in the Sky?
To look at them, did you try?
They to cheer us there lie
Though the Sky is so high
Do you have gratitude for water
As our lives it does finely better?
Is not water a truly holy matter?
A superb one in life-chapter
Have you not admired the ocean
With a truly affectionate emotion?
It gives nectar-rain as its portion
Which whole World could apportion
Don't clouds give a deep surprise
When they are seen by the eyes?
Isn't sacred rain a gift so nice?
Isn't it our duty to kindly praise?
Isn't God a kind and noble soul
As He gives a chance to control?
Doesn't prayer with love console
When we are afraid of fate's role?
So many niceties surround us all,
Then, why do you fear or worry pal?
God helps you if you make a call,
So, joy in your mind, wisely install!