Long Border on Poems
Long Border on Poems. Below are the most popular long Border on by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Border on poems by poem length and keyword.
As I lay listening to the steady thumping of his heart,
I can't even begin to explain how much he has become a part
Of me of my life of my heart
It began at the very start
My mind drifts away
When we first met on that day
His eyes his smile his outspoken yet quiet way
God I love him what more can I say.
Time has passed altho still only a bit
My heart beats for him louder and doesn't quit
Sometimes my tummy still gets butterflies fluttering in it's pit.
I'll love him forever you can
believe that .
I was so guarded so leary of feeling
My heart was on the mend but still only slowly healing
Little did I know it wouldn't be long and that heart he'd be stealing
My love would be showing brightly revealing
Tonight as we sit here in our home peaceful and content
The days roll by the happiest I've spent
No limbo no drama no one hell bent
Breathing deeply thinking how blessed I am that this is how my life went
After all my struggles and setbacks
The sleepless nights and all that my day lacked
I'd change nothing from this day back
For life wouldn't be the same my heart would still be black
My days are now some of the best I've had
Even the ones that border on sad
I wake up each mornibg now happy and never mad
Life is will remain good to hell with the bad
It wasn't easy to see you
As the enemy.
A lot of love replays
In my memory.
I live in the valley of
The Damned.
You ran off with a
One-legged man.
What happened?
Not easy to explain.
I border on the land
Of the insane.
A comfort zone of
Disagreeing.
I didn't see it until
You were fleeing.
Outside things are alive,
Inside I'm dying.
How ed-up,
I stopped trying.
Love destroys the
Mind and soul.
I will never again,
Get to feel whole.
Memories etched
In time.
Forever seared across
My mind.
You were my something
To believe in.
You were the Yang to
My Yin.
I felt every second
Since you're gone.
My music a depressing
Sad country song.
I can't even walk because
Of my hip.
As I rock back and forth,
In a vice-like grip.
Turbo1904 ?
Hej and Shej made everyone cry, and they did not care.
It was fun for them; for they were a mean god and goddess.
The sun observed their meanness during the day.
The moon rolled his eyes at their evening antics.
You are the best! Hej said to Shej.
Not, it is you! Shej said, giving him the high five.
You made more people cry today than I have irritated in a week.
Their antics were beginning to border on cruelty.
Let’s appeal to the Goddess of the Hemisphere, the sun said.
The moon agreed, and so they did.
The Goddess of the Hemisphere took their notes and shook her head.
I do not want them to disappear completely. Let me think on it.
The next day the sun appeared and the moon said
Before I go, I have to show you something.
God Hej and Goddess Shej turned to stone forever
Never bothering anyone again thanks to Goddess of the Hemisphere.
There was an eagerly keen schoolboy,
Who when used the Greek term ‘hoi polloi’,
His teacher, a pedant--
A kind of stinging ant,
Corrected it to ‘the hoi polloi’;
Sir, my apology,
Ain't it tautology?
No, use grammar, boys as would a toy!
___________________________________________
In Greek, hoi polloi means ‘the people’. Thus, hoi is the article ‘the’, and when we say ‘the hoi polloi’ which is the way the expression is used in English, there doubtless is tautology. But usage determines grammar, not the other way around. Further, when we say ‘eagerly keen’, there too is some tautology as well. Further, the word pedant comes from French and Italian, and perhaps from Greek ‘pais’, whose teacher is called pedagogue. Pedant earlier meant only a teacher, but later on acquired its today’s meaning: one who lays excessive stress upon trifling details of knowledge.
My fellow poets might have sometimes faced comments that border on being pedantic.
______________________________________________________
Ways of words |04.06.2020|
Topic: humour, school, boy, teacher, apology, tautology
a ghazal
She needs a separation, you can understand,
it involves subjugation, you can understand.
Her boss at work chooses only female colleagues,
some may be a temptation, you can understand.
On break, his frequent jokes border on harassment,
it is only flirtation, you can understand.
Often we see him out in public with his wife
in pleasant conversation you can understand.
But when he’s at work, he’s much too touchy-feely;
it’s not imagination, you can understand.
Quitting her job, she proceeds on to better things;
though he’s the aggravation, you can understand.
Relief is coming to her senses, she proclaims
her self-emancipation, you can understand.
Some are born into a house
With no love.
Some learn quickly how to
Push when they shove.
Some are born with a
Silver spoon in hand.
Some live off the
Fat of the land.
Some are emotionally stunted,
A tormented soul.
Some can buy their way
Out of the hole.
Some are physically
Abused.
Some are permanently
Bruised.
Some survive
Sexual assault.
We all know who
Is at fault.
Some never get
A fair shake.
Some are nuttier
Then a fruitcake.
Some can process and
Move forward.
Some can stay
Forever tortured.
Some learn to deal
With the pain.
Some border on
The insane.
Some are lucky they
Grow and bloom.
Some feel the
Presence of doom.
Turbo1904?
From a favourite spoon or pet,
AI’s turned to cutlery set.
From wholesale flattery,
To flat sycophancy,
To queries, easy balls to bat.
From a fish-catching stork,
From plain spoon to warped fork,
True pet nor yet vigilant cat.
_____________________________
Happenings | 06.12. 2025 | cat, fish, flattery, humour, truth, limerick
Note: A study reveals that AI, ‘agreeing much more than not, sucks up to people’. Even more than people sucks up to each other in face of vested interest. Their answers often border on sheer flattery. Its performance much below the expectations. It seems to have promised much more than can deliver.
Hold out arms, hands and fingertips,
spread shoulders…shake loose.
If you’re not clouded by flesh
you’ll feel it - your verge shifts,
sometimes an inch,
sometimes a million miles.
A bright brim begins to look at the stars
as if they were your own eyes looking back.
You might even shoot inward
into your own glitzy center.
Maybe Her tulle skirt,
and sparkly, silver, magnetic panties
will draw you into Her cosmic Ferris wheel.
All this is just over the tip of a reach, the brink
of a fingernail, where you ride the milky cosmos
seeding worlds with the art of your mind.
Let yourself border on the fringe,
the hem, the flossy slip of Her short sassy skirt -
shimmy a while.
Elderly men have been known
to dance a step or two right there
at the glitter-edge of life,
as they fall for the same girl.
again, and again.
I looked at my Mom in her 60’s and mused
I have 30 more years that’s unused
Before those wrinkles start to show
In this smooth face gazing from the mirror
Smug in my sureness
Yet also showing my immatureness.
I looked at my mom in her 70’s and again
Believing I had 20 more years in my brain
Even though I now see a wrinkle or two
Brushing it aside was my error
Time did not wait for me
Then she was suddenly eight three.
This time I only had years ten
Before I would considered myself old
But when did all those wrinkles descend
And dreams border on terror?
Then I remembered my soul’s true direction
Age and death are just a preview
Beyond the vail we live in blissful perfection
Where everyone’s soul is once again new.
©?Deborah M Kelly 2023
The night shift settles, a quiet hum of lights,
Where fragile dreams and fading days reside.
The CNAs move, a blur of steady might,
The truest anchors, with nothing left to hide.
I walk the halls, not with a med-cart key,
But eyes wide open for the weary hand,
A silent plea, I try to help the CMA,
The things they have to face and push right through.
A pitcher needs a fill, a linen changed,
A call bell's chime they can't quite reach in time.
The intricate schedule, always deranged,
Nurses charting truths that border on sublime.
Then the kitchen door swings wide, a flash of heat,
Where steam and silver meet the day's routine.
I don't dispense the meds, or chart a vital beat,
But I'm the engine keeping every setting clean.
The rush begins—the residents are wheeled to dine,
My eyes track trays where the service must begin.
The plates come back, a study in demand,
I clear the clutter, working with a steady hand.
Bussing tables, making sure no mess is left right there,
I quickly wipe the spills and sweep the floor.
The Nurses gain a moment they can save;
The environment I tend, gives back the time they crave.
This steady rhythm, stacking dishes high,
A clean, safe setting means they can give so much more.
From tray delivery to the final scrub and shine,
Supporting the staff, so their essential light can shine.
We are a single function, serving one great need,
And every small assist, every extra glance,
Buys back a minute, a necessary seed,
To simply pause, and breathe, and keep their pace,
While bringing comfort to this sacred space.