Long Behooves Poems

Long Behooves Poems. Below are the most popular long Behooves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Behooves poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member God Sees All

God Sees All
(Short sermon on Integrity)
Written: by Tom Wright
2/19/2018)

Others evaluate us daily on hyperbole and fact,
Never on situations but how we’ve chose to react.

It’s often a reach from what the unknown might be,
Our Integrity is birthed in what peers think and see.

So it invariably behooves us to bring our “A” game,
Giving praise to God, not for some earthly acclaim;

To avoid being found culpable in inducing one’s fall,
Treat others with respect showing God’s love above all.

Our integrity becomes tarnished with each failed test, 
By the unknown eyes which in our shadows may rest.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet


Premium Member No Peril

When entering negotiations with a criminal mastermind
Who just happens to be a dictator, cruel and unkind
   of a country with a long record of opposing freedom
   and crushing opponents to death by choosing to bleed 'em

It behooves one to be ready, prepared to the hilt
To counter the fabrications of truth that are built
   into the warp and the woof of his opponent's distortions
   by which he evades capture through myriad contortions 
 
Would you venture a guess that I'm talking 'bout Putin  
Against whom the whole civilized world is rootin'
   for seizing Georgia, Crimea and parts of Ukraine
   (along with a nice chunk of three U.S. Presidents' brains)
 
I'll bet the farm and the farmhouse that Mr. Trump sees no peril 
   ~ That in Helsinki, Putin left him cuckolded and sterile
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fight the Good Fight

Fight The Good Fight
By: Miracle Man
8/7/2019

We politicize everything
That might help make our point.
But if circumstances change
We get our nose out of joint.

It behooves each of us
To always give life our best.
Because our time on earth
Is just a judgment day test. 

We all know that cream
Always rises to the top.
That’s where we should be
On the day life will stop.

If we don’t pay attention
To the things that matter.
We’ll rest in the field
Among the tares we helped scatter.

As a vapor, our clock time*
Will quickly be gone.
Only then to be judged
By the seeds we’ve sown.


* James 4:14 
says, “Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.”
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Tomorrow No More

When a new day dawns tomorrow
and flowers flourish in all their glory,
When a whimsical wind sets 
rolling ripples in a placid cove,
meandering through the flower-laden boughs
and ruffles the tawny tresses 
of some gregarious souls...
        It will be all right as I see
        if tomorrow comes without me.

Who has ever held onto the day?

So let the sun go down on me
for I have lived my life 
without much strife and stress;
I had my days in the sun
I had my share of the fun,
Now I’ll go quietly
turn around and walk away
with nary a fuss
and get out of the way.

I’ll follow the setting sun
and with the falling leaves
bite the dust and lie low.

Life is but transitory and we leave
a lifetime of memories behind;
The moments we live the best
are the ones spent in fun and zest.
It behooves us then to bury in
the deep recesses of our minds…
	the moments fraught with fear,
	weary with labor, faint with pain
before we can begin to live again.



~11/15/2018
~"Tomorrow" contest by Edward Ieh
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Counting Seconds-The Rewrite

i sit lonely. 

the crowded restaurant is thick with sound 

i pick away at it 

moving back into the stagnant silence 
of my own comfort

the air is nasty here 
it telepathically abuses my thought patterns

still 
a far cry better 
the loud hum of food 
marching to the vacant crowd 
suffocates me

a decorated plate joins my table  
strikes a conversation with the cutlery 
there is no call from the governor 
as i attack my food
fork knife teeth

bites later 
a paper plane flies in 
a swipe of my plastic 
makes quick work of the bill

i exit 
seemingly quicker 
than human eyes can catch

i hate this part
i parley my way through 
too many bodies
all the while staring 
at a concrete maze 
never making eye contact 
with a single soul

i do that
i always do that
keep the entrances of my being 
away from those who would stare me down 
attempt to engage me in conversation 
with a desire to lock eyes

if they looked in they would burn 
i’d be held responsible

FINALLY

 home
the only environment i feel safe in

my therapist will be proud
almost an hour today
assuming i see her again

i am covered in my own dew
my breathing sporadic

i line up an array of pills like good soldiers 
as i continue my attempt 
survive another day

it will take hours to regain my sanity 
all the while questioning the purpose

 why must i assimilate
back into the dungeons 
they call society 

it behooves me 
find one reason
join the rank and file 
plug back into a horrendous grid 
i had escaped 

i 
grow 
weary 
of 
my 
own 
thoughts

ignore my voice

slowly regain my footing

plant roots 
hope they’ll take hold
attempt to return 
into the vacuum of my existence

i sit lonely.
Form: Prose


Time's Hostage

A new 
beginning

An older 
end

Which way
to enter

To Break
or bend

From start
to finish

Who gets
to choose

What time
holds hostage

To win
— or lose

********


Without Care

Women
can love
in an instant

But men
only able
at times

Women 
get lost
in the daydream

Where men
stay aloof
undefined

Women
hold onto
each moment

A man
throws away
without care

Women will
question
those feelings

That men
so evade
— au contraire

********

Passions Shower

Art 
is the wayward
sister
of sex

The
wellspring
of creative
power

Paying
its dues
to what lust 
behooves

Planting
 those seeds
only
— passion can shower

********


Spark And Fury

Daring you
to think
Asking you
to wonder
Step outside
your comfort zone
Meet me
in the thunder

All the trees
majestic
The sky bright
crimson red
Where voices that
your birth set free
Call out to you
again

Your home 
where spark and fury
ignite the fire
inside
And welcomed back
you’ll not return
To where excuses
— hide

********


Your Fate

When you incorporate
with the devil
A junior partner
is all you’ll be
The I.P.O. seals
your fate forever
Your soul 
 — no longer free

(The New Room: June, 2026)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member New Year Resolutions

My New Years resolutions were never anything to write home about
they usually involved losing weight, giving up smoking…you know…the traditional route

But I have never smoked and on most days I am happy with my weight
so a new list of resolutions it behooves me to create:

I resolve to tread a little softer, to walk barefoot on the Earth
to remind myself every animal, 
every little thing that grows 
every creation has its worth. 

I resolve to walk a little slower…no matter how fast time moves around me
to find the joy and beauty and the wonder in all things that surround me.

I resolve to watch a few more sunsets, more waterfalls…
to watch a few more rivers flow
and to be a little kinder to those I do not know.

I resolve to be a little quieter…to while more time away
to listen to the birds, the trees, the wind…
and to what other people have to say.

I resolve to sing
to dance
to smile
to laugh a little more
to be a better person this year than I was the year before…

Hey, who knows if I can fulfill these resolutions…
these new guidelines I’m invoking
I’ll have more time to gain some weight…
perhaps I’ll take up smoking.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Give Him Those Extra Meals Please

Marmoset directs traffic better than monkeys or sloths.
He stands in the highway and walks his feet off.
We have hired other species. but they do not hold a candle.
To Marmoset who can do it at every single damned angle.

He is demanding a raise, sixteen more meals a week.
For he has plenty of mouths to feed, and his offspring squeak.
It behooves us to give them to him, and I will tell you why.
If he trains all his children, we have a replacement if he doth die.

The way he stands in the middle of the highway each day.
Is the absolute craziest mess, and I doubt that marmosets pray.
So let's cough up those extra meals, while he is still alive
Before he demands a ridiculous amount like thirty or forty five.
Form: Rhyme

Don'T Miss the Shift Part 2

An angel of the Lord said to Mary
God has need of you
A shift is about to occur in your life
Something bold and brand new

If you allow yourself to be redirected
By God's mighty hands
You must then recognize and remain obedient
When God reveals His mighty plans
God moves, God behooves
And His actions may affect more than just you
There will be a paradigm shift
Where multitudes will be influenced too
But your godly dividends will come on the back end
When its time to trade in your spiritual stock
Once you reclaim your hope, trust in your faith to cope
As that shift may cause you some shock
You just need to believe, in order to perceive
That shift may change the course of your life
To now be resigned that God will redesign
Like when He gave Mary His son Jesus the Christ

So let go of hopelessness
As it only capitulated into dead dreams
Reclaim your hope and refocus 
As God shifts to bring forth a new thing
It may be a political proclamation
Like that which gave importance to a younger virgin girl
God shifted to make her the bearer of His son Jesus
Thus changing the whole world

So don't ever discount yourself
When it comes to your purpose and possibilities
We are all blessed and highly favored
As we wait for our godly victories
So when God calls you forth remember
All the planning and networking has been set in place
The inventory and supplies have been already delivered
With the shift full of His mercy and grace

Mary reclaimed her hope
And realized her significance in this life
She embraced her shift
And welcomed becoming the mother of Our Lord Christ
Form: Didactic

Premium Member Life's Model Role Is To Be a Good Role Model

While I may never be remembered as a trail maker,
I most assuredly mark the trails I follow.
Even when void of conscious effort,
As footprints indent wetted ground,
I leave tell tale signs of having been there.
The innocent may follow me because I'm trusted,
Some may follow out of love or respect,
Others, like gulls following a trawler,
Await some tidbit that I might cast aside.
But whatever the reason,
It behooves me to acknowledge,
That many are the eyes that scrutinize my every move
And perhaps, even though uninvited,
Unfamiliar names and faces,
Have taken temporary refuge in my shadow?
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.

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