Long Beggar Poems
Long Beggar Poems. Below are the most popular long Beggar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beggar poems by poem length and keyword.
Without a word we get aboard
New lease of life I have to hold
You didn’t tell, but it’s okay
I knew the schedule for today
We’ve got a lot of alco stuff
And dainty food, more than enough
A few musicians, one plays flute
Three others doing strings and lute
Monk is the captain, he’s so nice
He leads the ship by throwing dice
The boatswain’s drunk, rest of the crew
Aren't sure what they ought to do
Nuns play canasta, drinking wine
A beggar prays for sun to shine
Some folks are gazing at the skies
As if they’re taken by surprise
Perhaps they got fed up with sea
Waves sway around you and me
You turn to me your face, so pale:
“We won’t be swallowed by the whale,
I hope, what do you think of this?”
- “I think to get another kiss"
This plot unfolds by its own rules
We're hanging out on ship of fools
There is no course this ship must do
There is no purpose, but a view
Of endless waves up to the line
Horizon darkens, then inclines
Then our ship soars up and glides
Down to the bottomless white skies
And there we go, towards the land
Which doesn’t look like golden sand..
Never-ending aftershocks of yesterday’s tomorrow has settled in my mind’s eye…there’s so much out there to look forward to…I’d rather not die, but indeed, I must live to see the light of day take wing from on high! Cleanse me with your hope, oh Lord of Accord and you are so perfectly imperfect to me…and you shine bright like a diamond in the cave and you mirror my pain with healing, crystal-clear rain! I’m out of my mind in the past, present and future…what’s my fate? What is there in store for me? Why do I hestitate? I hesitate for the sake of Your honor-packed jubilance, not his blasphemed envy! Good news (It’s intriguing! Very!) – I’m suriving and still standing tall; bad news (nothing brand-new or exciting really): I failed the test with a F- for failure to the extreme…your sub-zero eyes see right through me and I can feel the coals heating up in my heart! I’m mad to begin with and I’m sick of breaking apart! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! Deal with the cards, roll the dice. Feel my words – you’re my livin’ sacrifice! We need a happily ever after after all! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! You kill’d me inside and out and I won’t pout like a child, running about! You killed me with your lonesome song and I have no slight doubt about that, if you know what I am speaking of no doubt! Are you damaged by your suicidal depression? Do you have any clue what I’ve been through? Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! I am a money saver, but a worthless beggar or an ungrateful waster OR a real big spender ~ I don’t mean to offend a single soul or drive anyone insane in any way, shape or form…I am just telling you the truth straight out of my brain while I lay down and type this verse up in my solitary, yet unique, wild and stunning-blue dorm…avoiding a bee swarm like escaping a windstorm with stingers flying all around me every direction I turn! Every angle I watch, there is danger looking at me straight in the eyes…replicating the death stare of the Lord of the Flies…my hope and faith withers and dries like a weed, left in the sun…pulled up from the ground by the gardener himself…rotting away…today…
5.
all long the day i beg
i beg rice pulses oil salt
royal blood
in exchange i also distribute
peace… peace… and peace…
and the horses of the gypsies making
a dip-swimming in the peace-water
in the canto of my begging
holding a whole body of love
i learn how to be burnt
by the shadow of the trees
i give up all my courage
to book a room in your youth
only for me
6.
going upstairs on the railway foot-bridge
i see the strong light of neon-lamps
the girl from the avtar of the flex
induced trance
the aroma of chhatim-flower in the air
and the song of a blind-beggar
with tambourine
those neon-light flex-women
beggar’s-song and flower odour
i see they are all alive
in the canto of my begging
under the evening-star
7.
in the canto of my begging
at the day’s end
the moon that rises behind the rain-tree
i put up in her hands
the lemon-leaves the water-balloons the goal-kicks
that i have had throughout the day
by begging
and i beg from her the magic-wand
by the touch of which the date-palm
that was someday burnt by a thunder-bolt
in front of the church
looks very infatuating
and my dress as a beggar gradually
becomes a royal-dress
she gave so much that her tank was running on empty
money worldly possession advice love and heart blood
clothed and fed the homeless
a kind word and a few coins
to every poor beggar in sight on the long windy road
of social mobility going the wrong way towards loss
selfless she stumbled upon utter
misery devastation and destitution
surely some of the tramps would buy smokes and booze
in search for mind-numbing solace from their vile plight
who is to judge unless they marched
in somebody else’s shoes or barefoot
the neighbours chuckled she looks like one of the vagrants
and they resembled each other when the days drew to a close
nightmares filled her aspirations and dreams
but she lit candles and incense in firm prayer
one rainy freezing midnight one of her down and out drifters
set himself alight at the local petrol station in search of the light
inflamed her sorrow and the stench of hot fumes
rekindled her blazing desire to proffer even more
‘it’s my fault alone I should have invited him into my home’
but every nook and cranny had already been filled with bodies
and her pantry was empty with power for the fridge disconnected
she had sold the furniture except for mattresses a long time ago
‘should have slept on the street myself and not him´ but
does hindsight matter when blindness stole present vision
eventually the fuel pipe broke under pressure of emptiness
she would call it angel gas supplied by God’s given grace
a true people pleaser with
no charger anywhere near
the gas oven loomed as she searched for a rope in the wood wormed
attic that had infested her strong resolve and last bit of compassion
she was ready to give up and dangle in bliss
from rafters of seemingly senseless kindness
but Karma would not take her weary bones and exhausted mind
when a barely clothed women cuddled her in a smelly embrace
a toothless smile brought back her own kindness
too much decay to change her heavenly abode
23rd September 2020
Givers Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
BUBBLES THE FISH
Bubbles the fish decided a day in the town, would not go a miss
So; with a water pack strapped to his back, he didn’t miss a trick
Bubbles waited until he heard Ginger the cat as started to snore
As slipped out of his fish tank and then slid across the vinyl floor
Bubbles; who was rather quite clever, on account he had brains
Then hopped on one of the kiddie’s, battery-operated toy trains
The crafty beggar; who was like no others had in his pocket a list
A bottle of vodka, a cheese pizza, as a large bag of cheesy crisps
After done with his shopping list, hopped back home, on his train
Whilst whipping passed the sleeping snoring Ginger the cat again
Back in his tank Bubbles the fish then got stuck in to his eat lunch
Opening the bottle of vodka, then whole fish tank became a punch
Ginger the cat, woke up to a sight, that to him more than amazed
Bubbles skipping loops, a pizza in fin, with his eyes then all glazed
Ginger the cat thought he had lost his nuts, so signed in as insane
Bubbles relaxed, his home was his castle for him, he still will reign
So
The moral of this story is never underestimated the brains of a fish
Who had no intention of being a meal on that Ginger the cat’s dish
Indiana Shaw . . . : )
Dreams taunt and memories haunt
Yet when awake, we tend to flaunt
Possessions material and mental
Neglecting soul transcendental
We go about with zest and zeal
Clinging to fleeting desires unreal
We look not for truth that is undying
Truth of our luminosity go on denying
Religions are but a control mechanism
No ism ignites our mind-body prism
Empty words offer us no reprieve
Show us God, His light retrieve
God search, if we intend to start
First things first, meld head and heart
Divine aligned, following the scent of love
We invoke grace, blessings pour from above
Our disdain at the beggar outside the church
Is surely not the way to begin God search
Praying from the pews in deep trance
Alters not our piquant circumstance
Slow down thought, soften attention
Let each life breath be soul’s meditation
The light of the sun shines equally upon all
Peace beyond understanding we finally recall
21-March-2023
Setting is a beggar on a street in the middle ages
It was very hard for this young man who felt he was in cages
He walked upon a dark alley and laid down on the rocky soil
As he lay down he could smell gas or oil
He notice some shadows and whispering voices
The young man had heard that they were making choices
The shadows said lets burn it down
As they spoke kill the royal people wearing crown
Suddenly the young man yelled as a beggar they did not listen
He throws rocks and bottles at the shadows he felt he was chosen
He was chosen to warn these people who did not care for him
As the shadows disappeared guards came out and the fire dim
The beggar was ignored and soon the royal came out
As a young lady walked out she smelled the oil and gas
She spoke her mind and said with voice rash
Did you stop the building from starting on fire?
The guards said we heard a beggar yelling and he sounded dire
The lady who just became royalty crowned and blessed
She wanted to find this beggar that saved her crest
Many months passed and finally found the beggar on the side of the street
All burned up and nothing to eat
She knelt on her knees and told the beggar stand up
I shall reward you for you saved my life and gave him a drink out of a cup
Fortune smiled on the beggar who did a good deed
Without any questions as fast as a steed
Life gives a present with each good choice made
This Beggar was not afraid
Life goes on
Is never gone!
This man had more than he needed so much more than most
As outside his gate one was seated leaning up against his post
A poor beggar who was very sickly asking for but a small bite
If that was you or me we also would be praying for an invite
But the beggar was ignored in leaving the dogs to lick at his sores
For all his wealth he'd horde as his own guest now came in scores
And as they ate and drank all night there Lazarus laid upon his gate
The man did as most of us might but in turn he sealed his very own fate
For that night both men passed this being the point you need to hear
The rich man thought life would last just as your future seems so clear
But that night as he slept in bed his sorry soul was called to judgment
And because his soul was already dead it was to hell that he was sent
Now Lazarus was a different story as he ended up by Abrahams side
Surrounded in so by God's Glory for as his own soul was never tried
The rich man was in complete torment and called out in such thirst
One drop was all that was meant but it wasn't to be in being cursed
Luke 16:19-31
The Biblical version
My joyful world had abruptly stopped, Beloved, to exist, believe me,
When you unknowingly faded away gently in the mist, believe me.
Like a heartbroken beggar, with intense longing, I wept to see your face,
Craved ardently and mournfully to be passionately kissed, believe me!
A broken-winged bird, pitilessly parted, I crooned a sorrowful song,
All loving memories, every day, fondly I reminisced, believe me!
Like a commanding Queen, demanded, what I believed to be only mine,
Wished our love to be all pervasive, eternally subsist, believe me!
Everything that happened in our life was an unforeseen catastrophe,
Leave dismal sorrowful days totally behind us, dismissed, believe me!
Fate has brought us back to where we truthfully belong, for all days and nights,
You remain perpetually with me, no one can resist, believe me!
Let enchanting flowers in xxxx's garden blossom in full bloom again,
In each other's eager arms, we unwaveringly persist, believe me!
Spare me some love, Fidelis—
the way a beggar spares a coin
from the hand of a saint,
or rain spares one roof
while drowning the village.
Give me what you have left
after you have fed the wolves,
after your heart has paid its taxes
to every stranger
who called it home.
I do not ask for the moon.
It has disappointed me enough—
always hanging above the ruins
like a witness too beautiful
to testify.
Give me a cup of your silence.
I have learned to drink from empty things.
I have kissed the rim of absence
until my lips forgot
what warmth was supposed to mean.
Spare me some love, Fidelis—
not all of it.
Only what remains
when the house is quiet,
and the last door closes.