Long Bequests Poems
Long Bequests Poems. Below are the most popular long Bequests by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bequests poems by poem length and keyword.
She was diagnosed with a terminal illness and had just a few more days,
Yet, she was in good spirits, joyful and her heart was filled with praise!
She got things in order and with her pastor discussed her final requests,
The songs to sing, her favorite Bible verse and distribution of her bequests.
Her last wish stunned the pastor as he bent to hear what she had to say!
"In all my years at church potlucks as the dishes were cleared away,
Someone would always say, 'Keep your fork; better things are on the way!'
That was my favorite time because I'd seen the many goodies on display!
Wonderful things and with substance such as luscious cherry pies,
Or velvety chocolate cakes; oh, so many things appealing to the eyes!
So, pastor I want to be buried clutching a fork in my right hand,
'Cause I know that 'better things are on the way' in The Promised Land!"
"What's with the fork?", folks wondered as past her casket they filed.
The pastor knowing her last request kept it in his heart and simply smiled.
So, next time you reach for your fork and life seems a bit humdrum,
Let it remind you, oh, ever so gently, 'that the best is yet to come!'
The primary climate pandemic problem
has something to do
fix
overpower
our Big Verbal Dominating
Vocations listing our best LeftBrain answers
pat and privileged
before deep RightBrain feeling quests
are evenly invited
into Earth's deliberating DNA dialogue,
much less the likelihood of full and equal engagement
in healthy ecosystemic destinies,
LeftBrain twitter manifest
or RightBrain OtherWise
Co-invested bequests,
regenerative requests
following generations of inquests
Into healing vengeful wounded climates
by re-investing in cooperative co-ownership
rather than more StraightWhiteMale privileged
competitive
repetitive redhot subclimates
of heated
unhealthy monocultures
of patriarchal LeftBrain
violent degeneration.
Does a banished beacon beckon?
But of course all beacons beckon
But only briefly if not brightly
Though never as boldly as the baritone
Before balancing bagpipes blowing ballads
But it’s got backbone and backfires
Unlike the babbling bellow of a baboon
Baffling unbelievably because it’s so beautiful
Below bitter backlash in its blackened background
It behooves that a backtalking boyband backstage
Betwixt a balmy bamboozled ballet bandstand
Would betray benign bountiful bequests
Between a bashful baroness’ baptism by barnacle
And a bastardly barrage of barroom banter
But yes all in all the banished beacon does beckon
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on July 1, 2019 for CONTEST NO 620 WITH ALLITERATION STYLE THEREIN sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Egyptian goddess
impetuous and pompous
Cleopatra’s conquests
at history’s bequests
wielded a propensity
for dramatic intensity
She snared the great Marc Antony
lured him into salacious surreality
of whirlwind amorous insanity
their thirst for world domination
stirred a most legendary seduction
concocted in the heat of passion
From a cesspool of politics leveraging
exponential cunning and beguiling
struggles in a dance of supremacy
conniving betrayals with godlike fury
their superpower alliance
met all-consuming defiance
Unequaled legendary games fanatical
proving most problematical
honor deceit and lies tragic
loyalties and turmoil climactic
In the end love a destructive factor
with more than one malefactor
hearts hopelessly infatuated
suddenly freed and elated
finally devoid of grief and strife
bound to reunite in afterlife
Read on air by invitation ~ March 20, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2021, 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2022, Front Page Pick 2021
To be immune from aspersions mean and vile
May assuage our hurt feelings for awhile
But to really uphold the Golden Rule
We must also withhold words harsh and cruel—by poet
In an upside-down world
Where self-victimization
is a realization and hatred lingers, it goes nowhere
May not yet get it, and still not self-aware
Now some may think that healing is
Ignoring what is destroying and go on enjoining
others near them to do the same, their end game
Using, medicating with words as ammunition stored on a shelf
Toxicity is there, taken aback, down deep in yourself
Hatred lingers, collecting dust mites
Imploding, suffocating smites and is on reserve
In a mindset where glory they deserve
Personal gut-wrenching bile packaged
Collecting more dust, disgust has an impact
It only makes you a stronger hellcat
One that hasn’t let go of the baggage
Is in an upside-down world of their own
On their own and may think they’re OK
Flies in the ointment, stagnant, a delay, decay
In a world where “making it better” ails, and means
Undoing what has taken lives in time in details
Only bequests, and is deeded
A new form of healing is much needed
Healing is embracing the newest challenges
There are bigger issues, bigger things
Then just you, heed the warnings
It begins within
“Civil war tested the proposition that America is one nation indivisible”—from the book “With Malice Toward None"— Stephen B. Oates
Signor Fellini
Imagine us
Respectful of your shadows
Held in suspension by your cinematic mirror
These dreams of yours
Realized through creation’s gift
Offer such ethereal answers
To those of us aroused
Beyond the screen
Your genius remains omnipresent
Extended for touching by hearts and minds
Beseeching all to embrace
Granting acknowledgment and insight
Beyond usual cinema bequests
Yes Signor Fellini
You brought your vision to our eyes
Asking not we accept
But merely contemplate the little boy
Made man behind the camera
For such curiosity
You granted patience
Never asking we believe your honesty
But to consider our own truth
Your essence remains present
Resounding quietly above life’s noise
Easily accessed with but memory
Thoughtfully embraced with smiles of trust
May the purity of La Dolce Vita’s final scene
The echo of silence
From distance unamplified
Whispering from within
Ever haunt those unable to listen
Those unwilling to hear
Postcard perfect- a picturesque town
Where the locals come to wind down
A hidden gem, a park of simplesse
An oasis, heavenly, it's beauty bequests
An art form to behold, a sculpture; nature's showpiece
Serene and tranquil in the heart of the city
A stream lined with a plethora of trees
Every color showcased upon their leaves
A vast variety, Each the opposite from the last
No comparison, within it's contrast
Harmoniously standing together
A strength against stormy weather
Surrounded by majestic abodes
So grand, each and all, becoming stories told
A backdrop- regal mountains- not seen before
Only Nature could compose such a musical score
Sunrise in the morning fills the heart with glee,
a new day, a new start for you and for me.
Quote - Poet’s own
To Each Devottee
Sun raised her head in a blaze of glory
Rising from behind a picturesque tree
I stood in awe as she rose to her space
To shine down on the world with lustrous grace.
The sky was a sight to glimpse this morning
Bright blue with wispy cloudscape adorning
Sunrise is stunning, as is the sunset
Alluring bequests of which earth is blessed.
Ofttimes I ponder o’er planets mystique
How round the universe asteroids creep
Of the moon and stars that light up the night
Though by morning have disappeared from sight.
Praise to the magnificent creation
Being viewed worldwide from every nation
In different time zones though it may be
It’s God's precious gift to each devotee.
* * *
23rd October 2022
“A hug from me, now..close your eyes.
Tomorrow is both a gift and a surprise!”
Panagiota Romios
Pangie was a sweet yet spicy soul
Amazing poetess with words of gold
Navy blue tears roll down my face
Angel’s never fear in heaven’s place
God bless you sweet and so kind
Indigo truths written speaking mind
Onyx nights looking up at the sky
Tangerine sun set bequests July
Amazing rainbows as you fly high
Roses are red in remembrance tribute
Olive in the drinks we toast to you
Miss your words and unique attitude
I hope like birds you fly away from blues
Onyx times here despite heaven’s gain
Still missing you is a poetic purple pain
Drink the water of mountain brook
Sweet and clear, it fills you with joy
Try it once, very soon you’re hooked
Much like ale, in thirst, to enjoy
Ancient music, from ages gone by
Is like stream, crystal clear ’n light
Stays as friend of my soul and ally
Simple sounds are total delight
Flute and oboe, old fiddle and harp
Horns and pipes, much forgotten today
Notes of centuries past ringing sharp
Viol and lyre shall take you away
Timeworn ballads of baroque guitar
Songs by lute so unlike of this age
Did forefathers, their times afar
Stood in awe, so enthralled and engaged?
Lucid tones, those of Handel and Bach
Strings Vivaldi bequests to eons
Their gifts outliving the clock
Olden music is still marching on
Plain sounds that go to the heart
Cleanse and soothe in perpetual stream
It survives the time, what an art
Shall live on, by not being extreme
© 2022