Long Approach Poems
Long Approach Poems. Below are the most popular long Approach by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Approach poems by poem length and keyword.
When Mortimer Manders collapsed in the street,
his daughter, Muriel, was with him.
Though now seventy-five,
he’d continued to thrive,
in spite of the irregular rhythm
his heart was now keeping. But this was quite grave.
He hit the hard sidewalk real sudden.
When Muriel knelt
beside him, and felt
to locate where his pulse was, she couldn’t.
Soon, passers-by stopped and gathered around,
but no-one had medical knowledge.
“It’s good, I suppose,
If you loosen his clothes:
I think that’s what they told us in college …”
She looked wildly around, and thought that she’d found
a willing and capable saviour.
A red firehouse lay
thirty metres away –
(might as well have been Outer Moravia!)
When Muriel pounded the firehouse door,
a voice answered back through the panels,
“You make think it inept,
but we’ll only accept
an approach through appropriate channels.”
“But he pays your wages,” she argued with force:
and, pointing to where he was lying,
“You’ve got to come quick –
he’s collapsed on the bricks –
my father is probably dying!”
“You don’t understand how these things are arranged,”
said the voice, from the depths of the station:
“You just call nine-one-one.
If we try to respond,
we are risking adverse litigation.”
Running into the roadway, she flagged down a car,
and the driver agreeably shocked her:
with a white coat and bag
and a hospital tag,
he said, “Yes, you are right, I’m a doctor.”
As the quack pulled away, he turned briefly to say,
in a voice that was suitably gloomy,
“I will not touch that man,
for if I lend a hand
and he happens to die, you can sue me.”
The ambulance came, but things got more lame,
as Mortimer started to weaken:
though the ambulance crew
looked resplendent in blue,
the responders were all Costa Rican.
“We’ve lived here some time and our English is fine,
but we can’t touch our defibrillator.
To avoid getting screwed,
we must talk to him through
an officially-sanctioned translator.”
“But you sound good to me, and it’s peachy, you see,
for my father speaks German and Spanish.”
“But your ganso is cooked.
No interpreter’s booked.”
And the ambulance packed up and vanished.
So the moral is clear. Clear of medics please steer.
Your best course, if you’re feeling nervous, is
lay on linguists each day
in Magyar and Malay
– and don’t call emergency services.
A woman one day had a total makeover
she completely altered her body and face
But only one week after all the surgery she had
she found herself standing before God's pearly gates
She said Lord, "what's going on around here
You told me I had twenty more years?"
The Lord replied," I didn't even recognize you
and that could be the reason why you are now here"
What is the ultimate makeover? What is it that we feel we must change?
What are we really reaching for? What do we hope to attain?
Botox injections, breast augmentations, changes that require a surgical team
We sometimes take an extreme approach to obtain the American dream
Pimped out, tricked out the ultimate fantasy car
But without God in your life you won't get very far
The ultimate makeover what you really need in your life
Is to accept as your Savior the Lord Jesus Christ
We all have a God shaped hole in our hearts that only He can fulfill
And no makeover of your fleshly self can completely satisfy that bill
To live your life to the fullest extent you must makeover your inner being
For your soul is the essence of who you are the core that God will be seeing
Neither bulking up nor becoming slim and trim will to God make much of a difference
It's the grace, peace and serenity inside you that will change your outward appearance
So confess that Jesus is your Lord and Savior
and believe His Father raised Him from the dead
For your faith in the Lord Christ should not occur only inside your head
It's not just the consciousness of your thoughts It's how your soul accepts God
So drink of the blood of the new covenant of Christ a makeover transforming your heart
For true belief involves your whole being it's not just cerebral and intellectual perceptions
It's the heart , mind and Spirit of God that should be your personal inceptions
The ultimate makeover the ultimate transformation
Will occur when you accept Jesus Christ's resurrection and salvation
So be recreated with a clean heart renewed and born again
the ultimate makeover that comes from within
But if you continue to hold sin in your heart there's not much that God can do
And you'll have a harder time finding forgivingness if your heart's not contrite and true
So ask the Lord for peace and grace and let the Holy Spirit inside you take over
Be revived, renewed and born again the ultimate Godly makeover
I am fascinated by space science because it is so divine. I am fascinated by space science because everything it entails is sublime. Human operates machine and machine work for human; human input the information but the machine regurgitates it.
Its AI and automation against human invention, e-commerce and job outsourcing in reverse. If you cannot pay me let me go to those who are willing to hire me, but please don’t use me and then you discard me. You lurk behind the screen saying that you have run out of money and you cannot bring me back to fulfill my dreams.
I don’t join games because I don’t know to play them, I don’t play games because am not good at winning them. I don’t play games because I don’t know the rules and sometimes it leaves you confused. I approach everything in life in a pragmatic and realistic manner.
You place the burden on the commuter saying that it is giving the order; computer is not human and someone must operate it to transfer the information to you, oh what silly deprivation. You are trying to elude reality and not living up to your responsibility, the ship will be at the surface on time and you must give me what is mine.
You have built more than a dozen space ship with words dripping from my lips; you have sent missions to the moon with words burning from my finger tips and vinegar is draining in my lungs; with swollen fingers and broken palm words flow from my heart into the computer gut before dawn, and then you slice it up and serve it for breakfast dinner and lunch and disrespect my painful sacrifice, and you call it AI.
I work day and night and because I don’t know how to fight I continue to stretch myself to fulfill a mandate for the moon. You send me into the space to explore the galaxy and look into the black hole to see where gravity is bold and the space around the corner lit up with billions of stars flickering in the night, oh what a wonderful sight.
Will machine eventually take over human lives after decades of painful sacrifice? Will machine takes over our lives and leave us without a dime? Nights upon nights the human brain toil to fill the machine sitting on the throne but sometimes the gripe is so strong it vomits out on the land and my eyeball spread the words all over the human race and squeeze matter into tiny space. It man against woman and one woman working with computer.
This Christmas, I am moved by the names in the genealogy of Jesus. I find the Biblical genealogy of Israel and Jesus to be a very fascinating study. There are four named women in the genealogy of Jesus and one name referenced. They are TAMAR, Rahab, Ruth, and Mary: Bathsheba is referenced to as Urias' wife.
When one reads TAMAR's story*, there is the feeling that what she did about her situation was over the top, out of culture, way out of line, and out of the realm of Godliness. By the same token, if we put our feet in her shoes, during her time, we might feel the same as she did regarding her plight and how to remedy the situation. Her patience ran completely out, and she felt that her father-in-law Judah was not living up to his responsibility. However, she did not bother to appeal to a greater earthly authority, nor did she bother to consult with The Lord. She took matters into her own hands, and although her approach was deceitful, her outcome was acceptable to her.
Judah's verdict against her, by current human standards, seemed judgmental and harsh. But Tamar forced him to face the truth and to commute her sentence of death. TAMAR proved to be a force to be reckoned with.
Judah speaks to all of us who spend our lives seeking self-gratification and running rampantly in our reckless self-righteousness. TAMAR speaks volumes about taking matters into our own hands, seeking desperately to find a fix for what ails us. More often than not, such fantasy fixes end in failures, and we live with the consequences. Self-righteousness is often very subtle and is capable of wrapping itself around the best of us. It's the type that says, "If I was writing a Holy Book, there would not be space on my Holy pages for the likes of Judah and Tamar". As a human filled with flaws, flops, and failures of my own, I am most grateful for the grace of God that has been extended to me. Both Judah and TAMAR, by no goodness of their own, found themselves in the genealogy of 'The Christ" who presents Himself as the Savior of the whole world. That includes Judah, TAMAR, you, and me.
12042017PoSoupContest, Favourite Poem From December 2017, Julia Ward
*Genesis 38
Silly Billy had no fear, he drowned it in a case of beer.
Handy Andie so adept, kept so busy, she never slept.
Dirty Donna did what you wanna, she lived just down the street.
You didn't have to ask her twice, she was so nice and very sweet.
Hairy Larry all alone, made the women grimace and groan.
Very scary in his approach, girls would crush him like a roach.
Steady Betty, always ready with what ever it took.
Found a way to save the day, be it by hook or crook.
Stan the man does what he can no matter what it takes.
Always appalled by what has happened, then says for goodness sakes.
Gabby Abby giggles and talks with nary a concern.
I wonder if there'll ever be a time she'll ever learn.
Bob the slob wouldn't get a job, he did nothing all day.
He looked a mess, and yes I guess, there's nothing left to say.
Chatty Patty talked so much, she developed lock jaw.
You'd think that that would slow her down, but nah.
Dorky Doug had quite the mug, he looked a little askew.
When he'd greet you on the street, you didn't know what to do.
Nick the stick was very quick, always on the go.
He never walked, he always ran, the word slow, he didn't know.
Guilty Milty quite the guy. He never looked you in the eye.
If you caught him at his game, instead of shame, he'd rather die.
Ditzy Mitzy, not a clue, in her ear, you'd see clear through.
Sandy Sandy, on the beach, the young men she would beseech.
Their young minds she couldn't reach, but that's not what she tried to teach.
Loser Lenny always played, what it cost, he never weighed.
Didn't know when to walk away, should have left, but always stayed.
Pervy Peter made skin crawl, I'm guessing his was pretty small.
You felt like you'd catch a disease, even if he would just sneeze.
Surly Shirley, not too girly, and not very nice.
You can ask her once, a question, but don't ask her twice.
Bendy Wendy in the breeze, did everything down on her knees.
The young boys she'd always please, when they would leer up in the tree's.
Kent the gent, his kindness spent, decided it was time.
To let them know just what he meant, but still did it in rhyme.
Holy Holly, quite contrite, prayed sincerely every night.
Oh, good golly, how she yearned for things to be just right.
In the interest of keeping your interest, I think I'll stop it here.
Like Billy up in the first line, I think I'll have a beer. :)
Rubrikain!
My chest tightens as I find myself without an umbrella. The wind in my face is refreshing.
My hands are cold and I'm holding them on my chest as if I'm desperately trying to draw more air into them.
I feel the rain on my cheek, and I keep my head up, but it's only sprinkling. My backpack is gone; I was too distracted by my friend's thick voice to pay attention. With each downpour I walk more closely
with the trees and the rain keeps falling. There's an unearthly glow around me, much like the gash I made in the sky. The air is thick, and my body seems to move in slow motion. I keep getting closer to the storm.
As I approach the beach I realize I don't have an umbrella, which is okay since I don't have any friends.
I see the rows of umbrellas attached to random people who are in such a hurry to get where they're going that they don't realize that a hurricane has hit. As I stand next to them I realize how utterly alone I am in my life. I am nothing without you. I feel helpless, like I am in this storm alone. I stand next to you until you finally notice me and look over at me. The rain is falling harder, and I see the ground is beginning to swell. You ask me what I'm doing, but before I can answer you step back and turn your back to me.
After a few seconds, you turn to me again, but this time your face is tear-stained. You open your arms for a hug, and I walk into them. The world around us, while still extremely wet, stops moving. I'm in your arms as the water floods through our t-shirts and seeps into our skin. It's cold, but we stay in the puddle, arms wrapped around each other, until the storm ends. We break away from the hug and look at each other in the ocean of tears
that were once covering your face. You smile and lean in to kiss my my forehead. You smile and tell me I should have asked if I could come with you. Your embrace was everything I could ever hope for. There are no other words to describe it.
Oh Rubrikain!
I kiss your forehead. It's a goodbye kiss. You open your eyes and smile. You make a big gulping noise, and throw yourself into the ocean. The water covers me and I begin to sink with you into the abyss. I hope that you'll find your way back to me. Follow You open your arms for a hug, and I walk into them.
The world around us, while still extremely wet, I knew .
:: 03.05.2022 ::\
The death penalty, a practice rooted in antiquity, continues to evoke controversy and ethical dilemmas in modern society. Despite its purported role in deterring crime and administering justice, the death penalty stands on shaky moral ground and should be abolished for several compelling reasons.
Firstly, the irreversible nature of the death penalty is inherently flawed. In a justice system prone to human error, the risk of executing an innocent person is ever-present. Numerous cases worldwide have revealed wrongful convictions, highlighting the fallibility of judicial proceedings. Once a life is taken, there is no recourse for rectifying such a grievous mistake, perpetuating an irreversible injustice that stains the fabric of society.
Moreover, the death penalty undermines the fundamental value of human life. By sanctioning state-sanctioned killings, societies diminish the sanctity of life and condone violence as a means of resolving conflicts. Such a stance contradicts the principles of compassion, rehabilitation, and forgiveness, which should underpin any civilized society's legal framework.
Furthermore, the death penalty fails to achieve its purported goal of deterrence. Empirical evidence suggests that the threat of capital punishment does not significantly deter individuals from committing heinous crimes. Instead, socioeconomic factors, mental health issues, and systemic inequalities often drive criminal behavior. Investing in preventative measures, such as education, poverty alleviation, and mental health services, would yield more effective and humane solutions to reducing crime rates.
Critics argue that the death penalty provides closure to victims' families and serves as a form of retribution. However, vengeance should not be conflated with justice. Studies have shown that the prolonged legal processes and endless appeals associated with death penalty cases exacerbate the victims' families' trauma, prolonging their suffering rather than offering closure.
In conclusion, the abolition of the death penalty aligns with the principles of justice, compassion, and human rights. By rejecting this antiquated and morally dubious practice, societies can move towards a more enlightened and humane approach to criminal justice—one that prioritizes rehabilitation, reconciliation, and the inherent worth of every individual.
I once saw a man one early misty winter morning. He was crossing at the intersection as I was preparing to make a U turn. Upon seeing him, not in worn out shoes, but completely without any shoes, I felt duty bound; so I gave him the shoes on my feet. This memory came to me as I thought about a song I heard years ago about a Mr. Bojangles who ran a string of bad times and was wearing 'worn out shoes'.
I was deeply moved when I first heard the song nearly 20 years ago, and it has stayed with me since. When I heard it on the radio being performed by Sammie Davis Jr., I fell in love with Mr. Bojangles whose life demonstrated someone down on his luck but still tugging along and doing the best he can with a little confession about 'drinking a bit'. The story also speaks to people with talent and artistic abilities, reminding them that their call, their purpose, their assignment to touch the world, is far bigger than them. Sammie's opening with a whistle was rather soothing.
Whether it's age or addictions, people or circumstances that stepped on one's life to crush them like a roach, we need not stop or give up on ourselves or our gift. If we are blue and sad, Dance! If victimized by manipulation or loss, Dance! If we have come to or toward the end of life and find ourselves feasting on bitter herbs, Dance! We still have a story to tell and one to leave with the coming generation.
The language of life is to love, to laugh, and to Dance, and need never die for any reason. I never learned how to Dance physically, but sometimes when all alone and no one is looking, I Dance. My inner spirit and attitude have learned to Dance. If not as high as Mr. Bojangles, jump as high as you can; can't jump while tapping my heels like Mr. Bojangles, but I can tap the floor.
I suspect that I have Mr. Bojangles to thank and so many others like him who over a span of years have taught me not to cry over spilled milk but to wipe it up and pour another glass. Sammie's closing with a whistle is rather telling and speaks to our approach to life regardless of what it throws at us. Yes, We keep whistling and talking, sharing our lives with whomever will listen, and move on to the next chapter, because it is never over until God says it's over.
071620PSCtest, Same Old Song, Beth Evans. 1P
I sing the praises of Sterilite
(even Mary Poppins would tout
a plug for said company she would spout
forcing playthings scattered helter skelter
retreating into their respective bins
analogous to a defeated army
beating a hasty retreat after a major rout
against all odds fighting off
the aggressive incursion
of a trumpeting lout,
which troops use weapon of choice
namely breath issuing "Kraut"
which in German, "Kraut"
primarily means herb
or the leaves and stem
of a plant, as opposed to the root,
also used in compound nouns
to refer to various cabbage products,
most notably Sauerkraut,
which is fermented white cabbage.
Additionally, "Kraut"
can be a derogatory slang term
for Germans, similar to how "Frogs"
used for the French,
according to The Guardian).
which accolades vocalized
on behalf of a company
whose sturdy products
helped transform the wife
from a potential candidate
of Hoarders buried alive
into a rival for the Odd Couple
neatnik character Felix Unger
though room for improvement
the spouse tries to abide
by the phrase
"a place for everything
and everything in its place"
an idiom that promotes
organization and orderliness,
where maximizing the space
afforded by a one bedroom apartment
here at Highland Manor
taught us the necessity
of maintaining an ever closer approximation
to becoming the reigning queen
of spic and span
affected by the mandates of management
(reinforced by dictates
of urban housing for low income
linkedin to yearly "violations")
toward instilling acquiring
"the model tenant award"
by regular inspections
which if I ruled the world
would include a month of free rent
as an extra incentive
leaving no room
for the likes of Oscar Madison,
which objective becoming
neat and tidy truth be told
finds me relishing living
according to the gospel
of several people offering
decluttering and organization methods
similar to Marie Kondo's KonMari approach,
focusing on simplifying and creating
a more joyful living space.
Some notable figures
include Gretchen Rubin,
known for her
"Outer Order, Inner Calm"
philosophy, and The Home Edit duo,
Clea Shearer and Joanna Teplin,
who emphasize visual organization.
Other methods, like Swedish Death Cleaning
and Peter Walsh's approach,
also offer alternative strategies
for decluttering and organizing one's home.
Don't worry about her they said
Her bark is worse than her bite
But what they didn't know
Is that she used her claws to fight
Suddenly she changed before their eyes
The abusers stopped and stared
She had finally had enough
She would make them hurt and scared
She felt the anger boil and rise
Her soul turned black as night
She knew she would enjoy the chase
As the abusers all took flight
She would make them see
The hate through her own eyes
Make her the one they fear
With torment like their lies
She chased them through the town
Down alleyways and lanes
Chasing them towards the sewers
The water tanks and drains
She would show them helpless
Show them bullied and abused
She would show that people
Are not play things to be used
They sought the safety of the tunnels
But little did they know
That she would drive them forward
To the place she used to go
The black and swirling water
Looked like a giant eye
"Please make your last requests,
Its time to say goodbye"
She crouched down low beside them
In a predatory stance
"You could apologise you know,
I'll give you one last chance"
One girl dropped down on bended knees
Sobbed and begged for life
She felt her anger subside a little
Took her had off the hunting knife
The second girl just stared below
At the swirling water deep
And floods of regret and sorrow
Made her collapse and start to weep
The last and final girl
Decided to stand her ground
They faced each other solidly
Neither made a sound
The girl extended her hand
Towards the girl that she despised
And saw her breathing calm a little
The blackness leave her eyes
The girl took one step forward
Her fingers reaching out
Not knowing how this was to end
Or what it was about
Her fingers pushed through anger
Through layers of hate and lies
The nights of pain and anguish
The unheard and unloved cries
Her fingers touched the skin
So old and thin to touch
She felt the pain and sorrow
And finally knew how much
She stepped into the body
Crouched upon the floor
And felt the ice that froze her
Right to the very core
Together they moved to stand up
To approach the other two
This was when it had to end
The point that they all knew
Now the soul was shattered
In four distinctive parts
But they must learn to work together
For they don't have separate hearts.
Form: