Long Bettered Poems
Long Bettered Poems. Below are the most popular long Bettered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bettered poems by poem length and keyword.
Sadly I am still here but you are gone,
so all things must pass my loyal friend -
true the proud breast filled and white coat shone
from youthful bedmate to old grizzled end.
I remember that day you followed me home
and wishful begged my heart that you stay,
but you belonged to a family of your own
until they gave you up and moved away.
I think of old times over hill and dale
and how fate or chance drew us together.
In my love for you in this a dog’s tale
you will, old friend, in my heart roam forever.
A scout, a hunter, and a rover cast -
the car chasing fool in outrageous youth,
yet in his lazy dotage I looked past
an endeared mischief too long in the tooth.
That you bettered me I do freely boast
and made less joyless this world unto me -
a playful spirit I remember most
and a tail and heart for dogwaggery.
I think of old times over hill and dale
and how fate or chance drew us together.
In my love for you in this a dog’s tale
you will, old friend, in my heart roam forever.
Written: May 1990
Moving on is what they all want to do,
But the victims can't because they are too traumatised,
Or their bodies too damaged,
Maybe even worse, with all contact in this world severed.
The parents of both victim and perpetrator too desensitised,
With too many questions unanswered,
And lack of sleep leaving them broken and demoralised.
The perpetrators may seem pleased,
With no consequences formalised,
But with no help for getting over what materialised,
While taking drugs and alcohol unsupervised,
There is little hope of them being satisfied,
When, if they have not overdosed,
Or spun out while driving disqualified,
They find they have reached an age that makes them terrified,
That jail will be specified.
The police are mortified,
That the rules prohibit any solutions being applied,
Which means no one involved,
Is able to move to a place where sleep is uninterrupted.
Meanwhile those selling the drugs that the waters muddied,
And those who see no harm in shifting the focus to health related,
With no thought being debated,
About the fact that those selling the drugs are not interested,
In their health being bettered,
As they make a killing out of lives being shattered,
Are moving us all to an even darker place, that is more blood splattered.
Are we that unimaginative,
That we cannot find a way to use our initiative,
And find ways more positive,
So, more of us can live,
Without taking drugs more prescriptive,
For our sleep to be less disruptive.
"Jesus, Jesus there is just something about that name"*
Jesus
He is my friend and shephard
His great love has unfettered
Chains, I'm free
Now as if "devil never even lived"
Jesus' great love has unfettered chains
My life has been bettered
"Difficulties in life are intended to make us better, not bitter"*
In this wonderful country of USA
"Thanking" God, "understanding" his love, "granting" forgiveness, "enchanting" is his name, Jesus I'm "chanting"
For Jesus is my friend
And there Is "Something About That Name"*
Emmanuel, Christ, Good Shephard, King of Kings
Lamb, Messiah, Redeemer, Savior
Jesus, Redeemer
When I look upon His Face and see those loving eyes, happy my heart will be
For my heart now runs on empty
Sometimes feeling condemned,now let
There be today "something in clouds anew"*
*Quote or indirect quote: First line is a quote or indirect quote from a song
*Quote: Dan Reeves
*Song Title: "Something About That Name"
*Quote: From My Poem "Sees Anew"
Contest: Mish-Mash
Sponsor: Tracie~*~Indigo Dreamweaver
Every Wednesday on the dot,
off to the newsagent like a shot.
A solitary sixpence,all my wealth
picking up the Hotspur comic from the shelf.
To read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,
sporting 'extraordinaire',batted bowled and ran.
Soccer &cricket were a piece of cake,
leaving all others in his wake.
Bowling ,on a sixpence seven from eight,
above average Wilson was uniquely great.
He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,
never stopping to take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,
a record breaker without dispute.
My inspiration,this imagined prince,
never bettered ,'fore or since!
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
His gold teeth glistened in the sun
As ‘Long Ben Avery’ turned
To face his captives, head lowered,
Their providence to learn
For Avery was a pirate bold
Trained in the Kings’ Navy
Who, disillusioned with his lot,
Captained a mutiny
He seized ‘The Fancy’, in Cadiz
An act both rare, and bold
Then set out on the briny sea
In search of ships with gold
He plundered every vessel met
With not one man set free
And soon, his name spread fear and dread
Across the seven seas
For two years, not a ship was safe
As treasure he amassed,
But his biggest booty taken
Would prove to be his last
He sailed down to the Mandab Strait
And other ships did meet
Who chose him as their Admiral,
To raid the India Fleet
The ‘Mogul’s’ flagships, tried to flee
Chased by the pirate fleet
But a brutal, two hour battle,
Ended with their defeat
The pirates tortured those they caught
Without a thought, or care
As they searched on board for treasure
For each, to glean their share
The ‘Mogul’, proffered swift revenge
Hunting the pirates down,
Swearing each villain, had to hang
For crimes against his crown
The pirates scattered, far and wide
To skirt captivity
But most were caught, and hung with rope
Strung from the nearest tree
But Avery, was never found
Or his share of the hoard
It’s rumoured that his crew killed him,
And threw him overboard
No matter what became of him
Or what, was ‘Long Ben’s’ fate
No man’s ever bettered his feat
In history, to date.
idi amin; hitlers sins..stalin pharoah ceaser many geezers
Primed with power, poor agendas always a lender' tied together masses heavy levered; watching' the gates and schwab scoros schwartzenegger.colin powel mengle mussolini and xi. I'm out on on putin..yet no disputing..'No
War is peaceful.' Many descriptions sow deceitful.' Poor
White people..Poor black people..Take the burdens observe
Not the curtain' (or woven web) world net..Spider set?
Marvel do you? Yet maybe not? That information speeds.'plans in feeds? For Nations mediums false-prophet-less.) Souless! Attack the wholeness..Human need
Not bettered by greed' I also address one point.' I confess
That might be right? Of all above brokers above ( most are
White) priviledged white people? Some Swiss are ' or other?
And if that changes? Will there still be grift.? I call for
Jesus..Who alone can lead us ' suffered while in power.)
So fine His mission.' Deep decision..Religion is broken.' By
His body By His pain. He who walked the earth..Who smashed the reins.' Now hell is open..Look and see.' Turn
Away don't take part..Let His Love set you free.!
From Moonday to Sinday = A Week of Horrors
On Moonday the orb above turned red,
To awaken the famished dead.
We've beaten them back ever since,
And still, when I bash their skulls, I wince.
Duesday brought the settlement of all our hates
The weaker perished at the gates;
The strong forced all within their gifts.
Woundsday followed with storms of blood,
Nothing could stand against the flood
Of wickedness unfettered;
It's power to destroy could not be bettered.
On Thirstday we drank deep of every vice
Each depravity indulged at least twice.
Then we rested, numbed and barren,
While all around, the scent of carrion.
Fryday came: we set it all ablaze,
Moving along towards some final phase
Before the coming of some closing end
Chaos now our only friend.
On Shatterday we shook with fear of fear itself
Though there was no longer poverty nor wealth,
But mere equality of misery,
Spread far as ear could hear or eye could see.
And at last Sinday came,
When, properly accepting blame
We scant survivors lay down beneath an impassive sky
In weary hope that it might tell us Why.
We pull into a Winding Station,
Hand the Attendant our key,
Head into the Station Inn
For a snack and Earl Grey Tea.
In less than an hour,
Our machine being oiled
The tension being adjusted
And our spring tightly coiled,
I slip the motor into gear
And we are off on our way
To the next Winding Station
One hundred miles away.
At Fifty miles an hour,
A once undreamed of rate,
Along the new Travel Road
Such a joy to navigate.
We pass Steam Waggons
Pulling their heavy loads
Along the mostly parallel
Heavy goods roads.
With canals and railways
The country is connected
And once long journeys
Take far less than expected.
The Waggoner with his lad
Pulled by their great Shire
Makes the local deliveries
Always there for hire.
Can this world be bettered
Clockwork coal and steam
Let us travel at speeds that
Were once but a dream.
i suppose they will all
be soon to depart
the danish girl
has removed her top
the germans will soon follow suit
the french girl
will arrive soon minus everything
there goes the male tourist
down the beach
time to stroll, exercise
amidst the breasts residing on the sand
isn't it funny
tables emptied of annoying badinage
i owe so many clear views
of Mexican beaches to Europe
but the sad aspect
is that amidst
all of this tropical beauty
the male tourist is unable
to rise above the preoccupation
of viewing breasts
myself, i prefer legs
they represent a short blip
a blink of the eye
to the pelicans coasting upon
the wave generated wind
the sky filled with marauding
magnificent frigates
surfers hanging in for the wave
where they balance in nature
on a ride into shore
where some will banter me for a poem
i reply, your eyes (fill in color)
are birds who steal my thoughts
my breath, my heart
go away now
and it ain't look at that ass
it is a callipygous goddess
yes i wrote short love poems for them
and bettered their vocabulary
San Blas 92
I know very little about life a fact of
which i am freely willing to admit
And I take it not as an offense when
I am proven wrong although I am
headstrong
But stubborn ain't a fault I am willing
to be labeled with
Otherwise why on earth am I so
proficient at it or am I even lying
about that
If anything what I have learned over time
is that trying to argue a case or point
with a certain type of person
You can do so till you are blue in
the face but all you have in fact done
or achieved
Is wasting your own time because
they call do all day and love nothing
better than their own voice
Matter's not a single thing what is
coming out as they have never once
been beat or proved wrong
And they have taken on all comer's
however intelligent they are or what
argument they offer up in response
They all every single one of them
tried but gave up due to to their
superior intellect they eventually
realized
The self-righteous can not be bettered
nor overcome as the only thing they
truly believe in is what comes out and
is said by them
Everything else is superfluous and
not up for debate or changing
Even if they were on fire and you we're
stood in front of them with an extinguisher
telling them they themselves were on
fire burning did they want putting out
They are still and would be so inclined
to say thank you very much but no sorry
I am cold
You don't per chance have a spare
jacket on you do you
Because id very much like to carry
on where we last left off before we
got so rudely interrupted by this
freakishly cold indoor spell
Unfortunately for both of us when it
comes to this here game the rules are
clear as black and white
2 individual opponents stacked against
1another playing by completely different
rules
1in his own head making it up as he
goes along to suit himself completely
oblivious to the fact that he is cheating
With the other trying his best to catch up
until he eventually gives up realizing
How on earth can you let alone compete
much as win against an inferior opponent
If at the very outset they don't or never
will possess or understand the meaning
or definition
Of what winning is or that loosing equates
to defeat