Long By the hour Poems
Long By the hour Poems. Below are the most popular long By the hour by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long By the hour poems by poem length and keyword.
In vermillion light an ancient, arthritic sentinel
cast its shadow upon my unsuspecting psyche;
I heard its voice whispering in the leaves,
and felt its heft and delight at
my admiration for its great age
as this being sat upon earth’s stage.
The many years it graced the land
provided homes for squirrel bands;
hatchlings were born within its arms
of love and nurtured by a gentle breeze.
I would listen by the hour
beneath this aged story-teller
and listen to the whispers there
empowered by elemental energies
whence to my spirit its gifts bequeathed;
as sun did set upon this body
and time allowed its stories shared,
I thanked this being of nobility
for sharing many precious secrets;
and hugging breathed a sigh.
Words "can" get you killed these days, they can inflame primitive passions in prehistoric minds!
What's worse, if those words pose a threat to power, by the simple act of
speaking the truth, (even if you congregate a big enough crowd that will listen),
and(if that crowd gets too big for bigger eyes and ears), then bigger egos,
with power, will see you as a threat, therefore making you a bigger target!
Yep, you really got a be careful on what you say, to whom you say it to, and more importantly, where you say it at!
With all the surveillance cameras, microphones, and satellites monitoring everything you say, or do, or dream, poses a threat to all of them!
They control both your dreams and nightmares! And they're more interested
in making all your nightmares come true!
And if they don't, you can bet, that there is one of their minions, just itching
to scratch their itchy trigger finger!
And you thought your hopes, your dreams, and your words were yours?
Silly Rabbit, tricks aren't for kids anymore.
The big boys got 'em, and tricks are getting dirtier by the hour!
I feel like I can't get clean enough, after basking in the bile and bacteria bred
by the "Barbers of Fleet Street!" My skin chills to the bone!
So, be cautious of their cut, cuz all of your open chatter, really does matter!
Your words linger on a razor's edge, and that edge is sharp, it cuts deep,
and it cuts quick! But, it never cuts both ways, you can "bank" on that!
Thus, we're living in a time where it's prudent to self-censor your own speech!
Words themselves may not kill, but the minion with a gun in his hand...can!
And will "kill" you for what you say these days! Whether you speak of your
passions, your faith, or lately, your political point of view. Just because "their"
view has been skewed by the rude, by the crude, by the ones with a foul attitude, "We" are its victims, its pawns, its prisoners!
So...Good luck everybody!
And more importantly...watch your words!
If
If I could turn back time, and change a single act
What pressure there would be, how would I react?
Would I stop Jesus' crucifixion, make Hitler a peacemaker?
Would I snuff out Bubonic Plague or kill the first cells of Cancer?
I could warn of Nuclear damage, the burn of radiation
I could help the natives in their cause, protect their sovereign nations
I could equalise the gift of wealth, and slavery abort
There's all manner of historical hysteria I could sort
But knowing that each tiny change will lead to new endeavours
Who's to say that all the consequences would be better?
So what if Hitler's noble peace prize makes a German hero
Only for Goebbels to emerge, as Fascism's De Niro
So what I'll do, I'll accept fate is fettered by said powers
And focus on tomorrow, which gets nearer by the hour
I'll own my regrets, I'll stop blaming and start living
I won't look back or change the past, I'll spend my time forgiving
Putin's finger lingers over the device
That activates the bomb
Against the best advice
He teases with aplomb
Shall I, shan't I
Oh, this is kind of fun
Power Hungry Putin
What have you done?
You are inhuman, a monster, not a man.
Those astute Ukrainians
They threw a spanner in your evil plans.
Who would have thought
An insurrection would last so long.
Has this taught you,
That your plans have all gone wrong.
Can't you see the destruction?
And the carnage you have caused.
Don't you think it's time you started to live by the rules?
Are you losing confidence and afraid of losing power?
In the distance, can you hear the sound of victory?
From the Ukrainians, as they get closer by the hour?
Stop the blackmail and the constant lies
If you press the nuclear button
Everybody dies!
Across the ocean
Across the sea
I live in Lagos
the city to be
Where business activities has become something of a frenzy
And her economy is a thing of envy
I come from Lagos
The Old slave colony
but now it is a free state because God has destroyed all her enemies
I live in Lagos
Once a real estate of Queen Victoria
But now it is a land of fun and hysteria
With the British Colonial past lingering on
Lagos is the land of coconuts and burning sun
I come from Lagos
with no flowers and trees
and you will be lucky to see a single bumbee bee
But now we have glass houses and many a tower
And hundreds of automobiles that speed of by the hour
And that is the Lagos I see
I live in Lagos
Precious paradise close to the Atlantic
With a view that makes travelers so romantic
But with a teeming population
which seems dramatic
the heat of Lagos is getting traumatic
I will be your bold, blissful, blessing,
your willing, blossoming flower.
Walk in windy, winding ways with you
by the hour.
Shower you with succulent, sweet kisses.
My lips, sweeter by the hour,
Even wash your back with fragrant soap
in the steamym bubbly, shower.
Is this my fantasy, of course it be.
But you are my man of magic.
Just a sensual dream to be.....
Yes, hesitate not, to come to me!
9/3/2021
1P
in order to get back to Eden to live on top of the world
there are a few things from God which need to be heard
here in America in the democratic land of milk and honey
African-Americans are disproportionate when it comes to power and money
our healthcare is poorer, our finances worse, few of us in seats of power
at the bottom of most demographic indicators and our circumstances diminish by the hour
the most unemployed, the most discriminated, the first to be laid-off or dismissed
more of us in jail, a lot of us illiterate, there are too many problems for me to list
fewer marketable skills, fewest high school diplomas and don't mention college degrees
African-American men in America need to take off their blinders and see
to those who stand behind stained-glass windows and look down on those who have less
you need to take your brothers back to Eden and put an end to all this mess
you might not comprehend their reality but you should attempt to understand
that as true servants of God you should help your fellow man
if you consider yourself to be a true disciple of Christ
what have you done to enrich someone else's life?
who did you clothe? who did you feed?
who did you minister to in their time of need?
who did you mentor to on how to be a man?
who did you talk to or stretch out your hand?
there's a lot of work that needs to be done to get our brothers inspired
we need to help them build a relationship with God and do as Jesus aspired
in order to get back to Eden we need to start at the very beginning
with the basic instructions that God is recommending
to fellowship with your fellow man
to develop a trust opposite to slavery's plan
to communicate with positivity
to no longer promote negativity
to pull up your pants and walk like a man
to be productive and not destructive
to be supportive and not abortive
to act like someone's father and not like you're being bothered
to teach our brothers to put down the guns and take up the cross
so they will no longer act like thugs but to think like a boss
no longer will we be divided with jealous envy
now united as brothers under God's authority
getting back to Eden to be on top of the world
to living our lives according to God's Holy word
to get back to Eden and up from the basement of life
living on top of the world as brothers with our savior Jesus Christ
He was a good old mountain boy from the state of Kentuck.
His Pappy taught him some fiddlin' and a banjo how to pluck.
He was mighty good on the mandolin and the guitar too.
Sippin' a jar of 'shine, my oh my, how his fingers flew!
He'd sit on the cabin porch by the hour a-strummin' away,
Shirkin' his chores, much to his poor old Pa's dismay.
But his Ma saw innate talent in that boy of her'n,
And she cheered him on for the career that he did yearn!
He'd fiddle a rousin' "Orange Blossom Special," bow a-smokin';
On the mandolin a Strauss waltz, his fingers gently strokin'.
He'd learned to play a harmonica as it rested on his chest.
His fame was whispered about throughout the great Midwest!
He formed a little band and played at all the county fairs,
Union halls, the VFW and other such local affairs.
They had a piano, drum, strings and bull-fiddle bass.
Saturdays their gig was at a honky-tonk called Lenora's Place.
His fate was sealed when a talent scout happened by.
"Son", he said, "You can kiss this smalltown stuff goodbye.
Come to Nashville with me and I'll make you all the rage!"
He became a sideman for stars on the Grand Ole Opry stage!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Sniff out the garish lights, loud music, and drunken discussions.
Breach the party uninvited.
Conceive uneasiness and instant disdain.
You try to tango with strangers who quickly slide away.
Somewhere in the intercourse of a reddish night
they feed you to a pack of blue dogs.
Willing to drag you down to their side of the tracks.
Loneliness warps all reason, lowers the standard.
Opens the vein to jagged strangers.
Liaisons come and go like a Roman legion.
They begin the journey bold as muddy devils.
Ranks thinning by the minute, by the hour.
Till only one soul remains beneath a parchment shield.
His destiny is to forever cower.
When cries do echo the walls of the ward,
Bringing you down on your knees with the pangs of emotions,
Watching tears trickling down your eyes,
Shaking the core of your very being,
As you watch the time tick away-
And every bit of joy seems to fade away.
So you bury your head in resignation,
As the atmosphere remains still,
Casting a eerie echo through your vacuumed mind,
Swaying you off balance like an hopeless being,
Then darkness spread its shadows upon your soul,
Blinding your visions of the relevance of existing.
Then you break down and like yesterday you faded away.
So were you wheeled away-
And all that surrounds you was the air of pain,
And the smell of medicine and the cruel face of the surgeon's knife makes you sad,
And you know not if your face will ever grace the light of tomorrow.
Those you loved; none by your bedside
Those you stood with by the hour,
None passed to drop you a flower.
You wobbled at life's foolery
And your face creased in fury
I think of you
Wherever this hour may bid you be,
I yearn to hold your hand-
Like a lover looking in the other's eyes
I yearn to be that vaccine
To heal you of your ailment.
Hear me as I penned-
This feeling of mine in verses
Be not scared-
As a poet shares in your plight.
Do not be worried,
Lest your mind be troubled.
Let this incandescent metaphors
Lift your spirit high
And make you heave a sigh.
You are strong,
Your heart is that of a lion.
You are an achiever,
So believe in the hands of the divine.
You are a motivator,
You bring us words of inspiration.
You are a loving father,
Your presence we all do cherish.
You are a friend,
Someone loving through the trend.
You are life-
That's why I wrote you this incandescent metaphor.