Long Behooved Poems
Long Behooved Poems. Below are the most popular long Behooved by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Behooved poems by poem length and keyword.
Things sacredly sworn should last forever.
Wedding rings aren't meant to be removed
but love doesn't always end like a fairytale.
This is a rendering of what was forsaken,
in a painstaking tale that wounded my heart
but all's well that ends well... after a sale.
Vile words spewed from inebriated lips...
daggers drenched with the stench of liquor.
Upon my left hand, I'd worn a wedding band.
For a year after leaving, it encircled my finger until
it behooved me to take it off.
There's no sense holding on to what is over.
Marriage isn't always as palatable as waffles
covered with honeyed clover syrup.
Removing that ring was easier than I thought,
but getting rid of it was something I fought to do.
I almost tossed it out, but put it in a box,
still feeling tethered though I'd weathered
the storm of sorrow. Courage to do that
came the day divorce papers arrived with a
"Please sign." I did and never felt more alive.
I smiled knowing he had to pay court fees.
I looked at the ring later that day,
knowing what I needed to do with the thing.
The one that once meant everything to me,
but now it was an agitator, an aggravator.
It dawned on me that I should pawn it.
So, to a hole-in-the-wall place called Fast Cash,
I drove without giving thought that my heart
would make me turn around.
NO! Not this time. I was going to win this round!
It may have been a rash decision,
but I took what I was offered because
divorce papers don't come with a provision
that states, "Rings given must be returned."
'Marriage adjourned' the document stated.
Give back the ring? I'm not addlepated.
I was better off without a wedding band,
no longer on the third finger of my left hand.
I sold it for less than the measure of its worth,
but felt like I'd given birth to a new me.
Free from the emotional chain around my neck.
Heck, selling it gave me more pleasure
than I would have known had I tossed it out.
“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” Galatians 2:20 of the King James Bible
Ascending upward faith-performance gain
Behooved to stand against falsity stain
Circumspect while walking midst harsh terrain
Delighting in Christ’s blessings of grace reign
Enabled for service midst labour’s pain
Fervent, combatting grievous boredom bane
Guided by God’s wisdom while goals do attain
Hoisted for life-building upon truth’s cane
I yearn to stay in the Lord’s domain
Joyously sharing love He does sustain.
(ABC in Monorhyme form)
November 30, 2021
1st place, " 'Y' Contest, New Poems" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 12/3/2021.
When I Was Small, I Grew
by Michael R. Burch
When I was small,
God held me in thrall:
Yes, He was my All
but my spirit was crushed.
As I grew older
my passions grew bolder
even as Christ grew colder.
My distraught mother blushed:
what was I thinking,
with feral lust stinking?
If I saw a girl winking
my face, heated, flushed.
"Go see the pastor! "
Mom screamed. A disaster.
I whacked away faster,
hellbound, yet nonplused.
Whips! Chains! Domination!
Sweet, sweet, my Elation!
With each new sensation,
blue blood groinward rushed.
Did God disapprove?
Was Christ not behooved?
At least I was moved
by my hellish lust.
Keywords/Tags: God, religion, Christ, Christian, Christianity, lust, sex, sexy, passion, desire, purgatory, hell, damnation, puberty
“If you put a really small value upon yourself, rest assured that the world will not raise your price." --Anonymous
Hi heels equals low feels
They can be uncomfortable
So what’s the deal
Bad in the long run
For your hazel health
Do you wear for them or for yourself
Painted face masking you
Dare I ask
What you trying to prove
Do you feel better
Hiding your truth
Will you ever
Know that beauty is the real you
Wigs and weave
The new standard today
Hopefully
You know you are great
Not saying
It’s ok to hate
Just saying authenticity celebrate
For you dudes
Maybe you feel it too
Judgement cloud over you
Maybe you are short
Or you feel behooved
When you court as the real you
If she is a lot lizard
Or she sins as gold digger
You too must know your worth
Saying no to her doesn’t make you a jerk
To yourself
Please be true
Grow in health
To love authentic you
It was a nice romance, she loved to dance
to the music's beat, but I had two left feet
The circumstance made us take a chance
And we enrolled for ballroom lessons.. (sweet)
I gave it a try and by and by
I began gliding across the floor
My confidence was high
I learnt tango, cha-cha, and many more
We practiced still when we were home
The Christmas Ball was near
These steps we honed for the ballrooms dome
To prepare for this elegant affair
In tux and gown we left the house
To the Ballroom we did go
Where others gathered with their spouse's
To glide to rhythms flow
The Ballroom grandeur was something to behold
With lofty ceilings, and decorations ornate
Perhaps to match the dancing that would unfold
My nervous feet couldn't wait
In rhythmic grooves we made the moves
In motions to and fro
To cha- cha steps, latin flavors flowed
The rumba wooed, as rhapsody behooved
We slid with grace to tangos pace
As I held her close to me
Our hearts raced, our souls embraced
As we became one with the melody
The Ballroom dance was such delight
As we dipped and twirled in movements quick
To trip the light fantastic
A waltz came on, we danced it slow
But it was late and we had to go
But we could have danced all night
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth", I question.
Research on this ancient proverb, of course
finally brought me to this aged suggestion:
"the longer its teeth, the older the horse."
Remembering a blue-chip London bus trip
we took a journey to T-Square perforce.
There upon the fourth plinth, we dared not to skip
the stellar sculpture called Hans Haacke's "Gift Horse."
Borrowing from equine pictures drawn by George Stubbs,
Fulfillment for posterity, Hans' ace of clubs.
Readily, H. Haacke now spins a skeleton
which features a ribbon of ticker tape
from the London's Stock Exchange's latest run.
Money and power set in a new shape.
But recently, fate has behooved to remove
this sculpture to Chicago's latitutde.
Proverb's warning: Looking at its teeth for proof,
you slay a gift horse with ingratitude.
August 19, 2019
https://www.artic.edu/exhibitions/8944/hans-haacke-gift-horse
Sponsor Robert James Liguori
Contest Name A Notable Horse
For you, I carry heavy issues difficult to bear;
varied themes with bleary depths as carved by you.
You want me to dismiss all darkness you name light,
to secure your pride’s weight in my ocean of shame
and declare aloud your behooved truths are priceless.
There are no limits to all that you diminish
in me when holding me immobile for your use,
to move me around as your desires so choose.
You know I struggle to be free from your rules,
you have read my clues but are completely immune.
Floating as tossed in your issues, I feel ropes securing
agitation upon all my twisted, pushed and pulled guilt.
You intend to keep me crippled in this fashion.
I often tread in my dream threads wishing to swim
far away from the darkness you always fasten.
Someday, I will lose you as a nightmare captain.
Yes, I will disengage, I will make that truth happen.
You will sink or swim in seas you cannot harm or please,
that roll aloof despite your achieved skills to control
and I will thrive living a sanity scrolled, honest life.