Long Call out Poems
Long Call out Poems. Below are the most popular long Call out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Call out poems by poem length and keyword.
O God! Will you answer my prayers?
O Lord! Will you take away my tears?
O Divine! I am so worried about my fears
We pray, but don't know the meaning of our prayers
Of course, most of the world does pray
Not many of us know the meaning of what we say
We just fold our hands and close our eyes
And call out to the one who we think is above the skies
If we pray, but don't understand what we say
Then we don't pray, at best we bray!
It's time to stop and find out the truth
What is prayer? Get to the bottom of the root
Who is God and where is He?
Aren't our prayers for God meant to be?
If we don't know God, but still we pray
Then who is listening to what we say?
We pray because we have some desire
Or because of problems that consume us like fire
Isn't there a reason we go to God?
Or just for fun do we pray to our Lord?
Some people pray because they truly love God
There are others who pray out of fear of the Lord
A very few pray to express their thanks
They evolve in life's journey and cross to God's banks
Prayer has a purpose, to God we do talk
Some stop to listen, they don't just walk
Prayer that works is a two-way communication
A tool that leads to ultimate liberation
There are rituals and superstitions in every religion
They make us get confused and cloud our vision
We are so controlled by what our scriptures say
That we just blindly follow, day after day
Is prayer all about mumbling something to God?
Is it about praying, not knowing who is our Lord?
Unless we first know who God truly is
We may say many prayers, but the main point we miss
Therefore, in quest of God, we must go
We must ask questions until we ultimately know
God is not someone made of bone and skin
He is a Power that lives within
How do we know that God is a Power?
When will we stop praying at some religious tower?
If we must realize the truth about God
First know, who is the one that's praying to the Lord
Self-realization marks the beginning of our quest
It asks questions putting every belief to test
Then we realize that we are not ego, body, and mind
We are the Divine Soul, this truth we find
What is the Soul? Is it different in you and me?
The Soul is a Power, different it cannot be
It is one Power that gives life to everything on earth
It goes when we die and it comes at birth
My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed
SAVE MY MOTHER, AFRICA
Poor Africa, why have you allowed your ancient precious priceless beads taken away frm you while coveting after a common coated carved stones from the foreign land?
Where were you when your artifacts were shipped to the land behind the oceans
And your Children worked by the mill day and night
They took away your treasured garment and sealed you with an ''unsuitable suit'' from a distant land.
They inserted straw in a bottle and dip it in your mouth, but fix hose to your anus and passed it into a tank.
Draining your blood in the name of exchange
They took away your staff of office with which you have peacefully and successfully lead for centuries. They gave you guns in return to scatter your wards around, thereby losing ur respect.
They once respected you, now dread you
No longer the you they knew
Dear great Motherland where is your sense of supremacy of those good days, before u were made to look inferior?
Will you still allow this train to continue with d hopeless journey?
Where all we now live for is nothing but money
Now we treat one another line monkeys
O great Africa hear the call from your womb
The child therein is due for delivery
Tighten not your cervix the passage of life
The future sits uncalm inside of you
The entire world awaits that unique cry
The birth of the future, the new world
Unchain yourself from the shackles of the West
Create your path trough the jungle
This is the forest from where you were raised
Where the paths to the streams and ranches
Paths to the mountains and the valleys
Your children raced and long for everyday
Call out your lost children behind the seas
Scattered across the deserts in their search for greener pastures that never exist
Call out in your slangs they know your voice
Let them come home to rescue the hailing mother
Our mother is sick and losing her breath
Fellow brothers and warriors on sojourn
Rest not in the land of your captivity
Run back home and heed the call of mama
Our mother has taken up a another father
Our step father rapes her day and night
Now about to die with her pregnancy
Come rescue our mother the mother Africa
Save the life of her unborn baby the new world
Time to leave the barn and head home
Home is where we come not their Rome
Romans built their home
Africa must build her own
(FM CONCEPTUAL)
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
I want to make you laugh God
Have you ever laughed so hard that your belly hurts?
I want you to enjoy my poems because you deserve it God
God you know we earthlings always think we know what we are talking about
But a lot of times we have no inklings of what we debate about
We have a tiny idea of what we believe in
And we try to prove our point
But God, we only have just a little enlightenment
But we grab a hold of it and try to make it into a grand theory
God what about the time when we are so sure of what we are doing
That we begin to think that we are in control
Then boom - something goes amiss
And we call out to you “ help us”
And You come to our aid
So who is in control?
You
God , how about our belief in ourselves that we think we are so sufficient
That we think we can do all things
Make all things
Think of all things
-The grandeur of it all
We think we can make it all happen
In our systematic ways
We plan, organize, sketch out
Everything going down to the minute details
We have it going
But we forget that you are in charge of it
And we take the credit that you deserve
Like when we say we love you
But we don’t spend time with you
Or think about you
Or talk to you
Or show you
How many times God?
How many times we said that we will do that for you
But we put it off
We don’t have all the answers but we think we do
We don’t have any possessions but we think we have
We don’t know that
-the only possessions we have are stored up in heaven
We can accumulate them here on earth
To be stored by you
And You will show us how to get it
Do it, actualize it
You are the perfector
You will complete what you started in all of us
Organizer, Redeemer, Achiever
Accomplisher, Planner, Executor
You are all in all in us
Faithless, faithful, undecided
You are the Creator of us all
And you are forever faithful
Forever exalted and glorified
Forever Our All-Mighty, Absolute Being
Our Jehovah, Infinite Spirit, All-Knowing
Forever our Greatest King
Magnifier, Justifier, Amplifier
You are all
Oh, our Good Shepherd
We lift up your name
God you are
All
And here we thought we are all
That is my contribution for today
Hope you enjoy it
Will make you laugh more tomorrow
Love, your reserveless admirer
Insistent analyzer
Persistent assister, attainer, attempter
Forever love
-Yours
A Very Merry Christmas
T’ was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Spoons were stirring the drinks
Held by every souse
The shot glasses were filled
With three kinds of whiskey
Though were often spilled
When Myrna got frisky
The highballs were placed
On the chimney with care
Until Uncle Nicholas
Tripped over the chair
By chance no kids awoke
Because of that slouch
But Grandpa slid off
His warm comfy couch
“What was that,” He asked
“Was there a collision?”
Which in this case there was,
And not one of his visions
Yet, before lying back down
Gramps had one more night cap
Then slumped onto the couch
And squashed poor Nips the cat
While out at the bar
There arose such a noise
Because Myrna was flirting
With some of the boys
I sprung from the recliner
To help my dear cousin
And saw lads sucking shots
From her pierced belly button
Away to the window
I flew for my life
But when looking outside
There was my modest wife
Dancing in circles
Around the snowman
Though minus a coat
Being half in the can
When I hopped to the door
But who should appear?
My dear uncle George
With a cooler of beer
I had to think fast
For my wife and Nick
And for Myrna inside
Yes, I had to think quick
Then came inspiration
To set up the maneuver
Of thumbing my phone
For the app to Uber
I had fifteen minutes
Until the taxi’s came
So I shouted and called
Everyone by name
Now Nicholas, now Myrna
Now dear Grandpa G
Yo Uncle George
Climb in a taxi
I called to my cousins
In the midst of a brawl
It’s time to drive away
For Pete’s sake, drive away all!
And then in a twinkling
I saw on the roof
My wife of all things;
Still high on forty proof
I didn’t call out
Knowing she’d crash
Yet she jumped in the chimney
Landing on the heaped ash
She was dressed in a robe
That turned coal black
And I was surprised
Coz she clutched a small sack
Then my wife oddly asked
If I thought she looked chubby
But I knew that trap
Being her hubby
I spoke not a word
As she quickly rose
But when I picked her up
Tore her panty hose
I sprung to the bedroom
Flopped her on the bead
While the sack she held
Knocked me upside the head
But the bag just contained
A large carrot and stones
And ‘Merry Christmas To All’
Displayed on her phone.
It was sunny the day our hearts broke away.
A decade has passed—but some wounds ignore clocks.
The news bloomed like bruises on a nation’s chest.
Shoreham stood still.
Time forgot how to move.
Eleven men.
Men of mornings and small routines.
Lunchboxes. Laughter. Motorbikes.
Some had children. Others were children—still.
And one…
one kept wildflowers on his phone.
Too shy to say, “This made me think of you.”
There’s no symmetry to this grief.
It leans sideways and doesn’t apologise.
It smells like engine oil and funeral flowers.
It hums in the throat of widows and mothers,
grows moss in the cracks of pub tables,
clings to the wings of the plane that didn’t stop.
Somewhere, a bottle of red remains uncorked.
Somewhere, a bike rests against a wall no one will move.
Somewhere, wildflowers still bloom—
and someone remembers
the man who loved flight,
but stayed grounded
for everyone but himself.
Still.
Author’s Note:
For the eleven lives lost on 22 August 2015 at Shoreham:
Dylan Archer, Richard Smith, James Mallinson, Mark Trussler,
Matt Jones, Matthew Grimstone, Jacob Schilt, Daniele Polito,
Tony Brightwell, Mark Reeves, Maurice Abrahams.
You are remembered.
Dear Editor,
I won’t let you stand on my throat—
Stifle my compassion,
Weigh down my shoulders
With a chip — not sweet like chocolate,
But sharp like ice.
Not from the old block,
But cracked from the freeze
You placed in my bones.
You guillotine my fire
And return me only grief.
Dear Editor,
I know your job is important—
But is it louder than the truth
That begs to be heard?
Just because a stanza doesn’t touch you,
Or it ends without rhyme or convention,
Does that make it any less real?
Dear Editor,
Please see the substance beneath the design.
We poets are crucified
For daring to call out—
For letting our voices
Tremble, burn, and bleed.
Dear Editor,
I once wrote about loss
So heavy, it cracked the sky.
A plane fell — and a friend was gone.
And I wrote it raw.
And I sent it whole.
And it came back with silence.
Maybe the timing was wrong,
But the pain was right.
Dear Editor,
I beseech you:
Look into your heart,
And look at the piece.
Admire the craft,
But let truth ring through.
Then maybe more of the unheard,
The undervalued,
And the unpolished
Will shine, too.
Stop! The violent protests and leave peaceful protesters out to make a difference strictly along. Whether you are in law enforcement or the national guard. You need to pray for peaceful solutions! But if all you want to do is assault police officers. Or if protesters burn down business and destroy personal and real property. If you want to incite rioting and violence! You need to be apprehended! I am sick and tired of racist police officers using African American males, Hispanic, and Native American males as "target practice" or unlawful harassment! Black Lives Matter! Today the city of Houston is holding memorial ceremonies for George Floyd. They firmly believe the time has come for closure and for our nation to move forward.
I am sorry about what happened to George Boyd and other minority groups! But letting your explosive anger erupted like a volcano! That Minnesota police officer committed nineteen years of similar acts of racism and violence. He just happened to get caught in the act! He never should have been admitted to the police academy in the first place! The other officers just stood there and watched! It was a national tragedy! In London England, Black Lives Matter are conducting peaceful protests in solidarity with the United States!
Some groups will use any excuse to riot! Some police officers will use any excuse to commit acts of violence! I firmly believe in peaceful protests! Unfortunately, they often end up in tragedy! One bad reaction by one or more groups leads to retaliation by the opposition! Resulting only escalating violence! The president wants to call out the United States military. And it will happen unless senseless acts of violence come to an abrupt ending! The Beatles once sang, "come together right now over me." "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me."
Stop! The senseless acts of violence! Private citizens even in communities such as Snohomish Washington! Are arming themselves, and standing outside of the business to protect them. They are citizens vigilantes. They want to stop looters and vandals in their tracks! In the days of the old west, there used to lynch mobs! We do not want the bad old days back again!
Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
June 02-03,2020
June 09, 2020 edited
Bring me some kind of comfort
I’m helpless upon the floor
You’ve been heartless and it does hurt
That you don’t love me anymore
Where do I belong?
Bring me some light
In these hardships tonight
Bring me some might
To shine bright like starlight
Tonight is the night I fall
Tonight is the night I call
I fall out of Your sight
I call out to You tonight
You’re right that I’m so weak
You’re right the sky’s so bleak
Tonight, I want to make it up to you
That all I say is true - I love you like you do
All I say is true -
All the things I put you through
It means I love you
Do you love me too?
Bring me some happiness right now
I’m hopelessly dreaming
Bring me some hope somehow
I’m constantly screaming
Where do I belong?
Please tell me...
Where do I belong?
I guess I’ll see...
Bring me some light
In these hardships tonight
Bring me some might
To shine bright like starlight
Tonight is the night I fall
Tonight is the night I call
I fall out of Your sight
I call out to You tonight
You’re right that I’m so weak
You’re right the sky’s so bleak
Tonight, I want to make it up to you
That all I say is true - I love you like you do
All I say is true -
All the things I put you through
It means I love you
Do you love me too?
All I say is true...
You still haven’t a clue...
That I truly love you
Still sick with the love flu
Sick with the love flu
With the love flu
The love flu
Love flu
Flu
Bring me some light
In these hardships tonight
Bring me some might
To shine bright like starlight
Tonight is the night I fall
Tonight is the night I call
I fall out of Your sight
I call out to You tonight
You’re right that I’m so weak
You’re right the sky’s so bleak
Tonight, I want to make it up to you
That all I say is true - I love you like you do
All I say is true -
All the things I put you through
It means I love you
Do you love me too?
All I say is true -
All the things I put you through
It means I love you
Do you love me too?
Still sick with the love flu
Sick with the love flu
With the love flu
The love flu
Love flu
Flu
I want to belong with you too
Want to be more than alright
Right, I’ve been wrong about you
Can you forgive me tonight?
Where do I belong all along?
Let’s fight the good fight
To see where we truly belong
To the muses of today; my praise unto thee; my old songs still alive; works now
found everywhere; free unto any and all that are willing to read my words; it is for
humanity itself that Athena had bestowed upon me this gift; the gift of harmonized
thoughts, poetry.
For it was when she herself, Athena; leaving Olympus, came unto me, for
humanities sake; she explained to me the reasons for all the voices we hear
within our selves; “I praise thee Athena, your divinity has taught me how to listen
to all I hear; that which is within and that which is not”.
It was indeed you Athena; blessed art thou goddess, the gifts you have given
me; “May the muses again sing my songs aloud; may men again laugh at the
satirical hymns; may our political opressors again be unfree’d by that which was
bestowed upon me”; by all that is truly righteous; “Thank you goddess, my praise
unto you Athena!”
Now mankind has lost so very much; the wars, famine and plagues of the past;
the sins committed by the churches followers who seek to control
humanity; “Why has thou done such horrid things? Thou has destroyed the great
library of Crete, and for what, again for human greed; I say unto thee, thou has
committed a grievous sin indeed, a sin that can only be repented by the truth of
history; yee that worship god.”
As I did in Crete; here in this new age; where humanity lacks so very much the
soul it had when Colossus stood over the ancient harbor; I have shouted out the
words that Athena has given unto me; I cry now to have them understood.
“Hear me muses, angel and gods alike, I call out to all once more; with my
words help me now to bring back that which has been lost to mankind for O’ so
many centuries; rise in song with me for I am Homerus!”
Within this new life that Athena has set me in; I am bound into the life of a bard;
living in a land that was stolen by those that rule us now; I will be heard by all
those that still value the written words of my songs.
My words, unlike those of the churches; not to be forced upon mortals; it is
those that long for culture, the people that are righteous in their hearts, that I
again write by Athena’s hand; it is upon her path that I walk my life; my dreams
are once again put to paper.