Long Catch on Poems
Long Catch on Poems. Below are the most popular long Catch on by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catch on poems by poem length and keyword.
We take in this beautiful candle of life.
Within this sacred moment it becomes our sight.
Though the darkness of fear surrounds our souls.
We light this life-giving candle to make us whole.
What is this candle of life we wonder?
Is it a waxed symbol of our hearts, we ponder?
Yes, we light this candle we hold.
It brings us hope and life as foretold.
But wait, another candle begins to catch on fire.
It’s the candle of our hearts in love with pure desire.
Staring at each other, we became one with hearts light.
Sharing all we have only makes everyone’s heart flame brightly.
We are one, We are Love.
It’s a gift from our father above.
It’s not the candle we hold, but our hearts candle we share.
We are one light of pure love for we do care.
Four days home, and the emptiness runs deep,My tears fall like the gushing Yellowstone,Pouring over the smooth, cold stone of the asphalt.
My soul aches for the mornings I woke to His design,When I stood on the rugged spine of Beartooth Pass,And touched the very roof of God’s majestic world.
Now, my lungs catch on the heavy city air,And human rejection stings like a winter frost.I watched them choose others, heard the excuses, felt the cold shoulder of a crowded sanctuary, but the mountains never told me they were too busy.
The Creator of the peaks does not play favorites, So I look away from the shadows of the crowd, to turn my eyes to the gifts right in front of me.
I hold tight to my husband, I cherish my daughter,And I offer my worship to the One who always listens. I am breathing city dust but my heart is safe with the God who never runs out of time.
We are armchair detectives
My husband and I
Yelling “lawyer!”
When they put the suspect
In an interrogation room, on TV
We are no longer amazed when the perp turns into an automatic motor mouth
Even though he was a tough guy a few seconds before, refusing to talk.
We yell out who we think did it in a
Competitive way, getting excited toward the end
Right before the perpetrator is revealed.
Shaking our heads, feeling superior, safe in the confines of
Our Lazy Boys, we have become forensic experts.
My husband is always amazed when my guesses are correct
It is not that I am that smart, it is that I guess
Everybody
In a half hour, I have yelled out every single person’s name
On the show
Covering all my bases.
Why he pretends to never catch on is anyone’s guess.
Either he has never figured it out
Or he does not care.
Meaning we might stay married another forty-seven years.
Unfair and changeless time: forerunner of fright...
why do your hasty minutes refuse to slow down
as the oscillating pendulum of the ticking clock?
oh,time,accelerate our vigor: let us catch on!
When we are positively young and extremely strong;
when we physical beauty,and search for glory:
we don't notice how
time is spent or spaced out!
When we have strenght and demonstrate aggressiveness;
when we display pride and eagerness:
living seems much too beautiful!
And we wouldn't want to miss the excitement,
but wouldn't wish to know any sorrow...
to bring it to mind later: it's so unthinkable!
Unfair and changeless time: brutal and wise...
why do you race without visibility?
Just when we are into the age of exploring arousal;
when we permit our passions control us:
to prove women our masculinity!
Oh,time, we emit a need for stillness,
sentiment and contentment...
for wanting this satiable accomplshment!
And it shouldn't matter if after we'll be
deprive of any,or all!
On this late June morning,
As distant thunder shakes the window panes
And the grey sky rolls quietly by,
I find myself stuck in a pool of time,
Swirling quietly round in a brief respite
From the ongoing rush and rapids of life
The mistakes in my years are remote yet visible,
Like a mountain range in a rearview mirror.
They recede, but they do not dimish.
The future is still misty and veiled.
I don't know where the road is going,
Though I know where I want it to go.
How many times must I play "Harvest Moon" and "A Thousand Years"
Before you catch on?
Outside, the rain has started.
Podemos Divoz & Concevoie Ce Soir !
the initial stage, and the underwriting stage
and distribution stage were initiated from
the beginnings of these talks.
They sought love and found it.
and became wealthy from doing so.
she concentrated on accomplishing
thing were thoughts were manifested into
tangible items. Sung, spoke, and rehearsed,
they toured together for the re-new'd value of needing
to sing something. If I sing love might I find love.
than what would echo, from the louded word's
concerted, front the masses of people.
romantic whispers spoken loud amiss the masses.
thus these words shall enrich the lives of those who wish them
to sound right, pitched at those
who want to catch-on to what goin on !
The Analylis and the Afford, The doing's of his Thang
Making the woman Reel from Freakin. Business of love
Getting the Thang Done !
They move through the maze,
Papers wavering like
thin-skinned truth,
Each signature a quiet uprising
Against the slow- grinding
Manuel Materials
That call themselves order.
Their voices catch on procedural
irritants
Cracked syllables lagged
Across desks,
Needs folded into Manila envelopes
That wander office to office
Like pilgrims pleading for
Charity.
Red tape coils around them-
A serpent made of statues,
A ribbon intertwined from regulations,
A binding charm diffuse by
Hands
That promise representation
But deliver hesitation.
Paper pushers sit behind the
Writing desks,
Shuffling lives like loose
Documents,
Moving stacks instead of
Solutions,
Measuring urgency in forms
And stamps,
Instead of human obligations
Still they push forward,
Bearing the bulk of civic expectations,
That drag of political formality,
The discomfort of being heard
Only after being processed.
And in the end,
Their persistence becomes revelation-
Proof that even disordered
Systems
Cannot silence a people
Who declines to be filed away.
Spiffy spiders in a bag.
Each was donning a top hat.
Each was holding a bright flag.
Just what do you make of that?
The top hats were silken black.
Each flag was flying so high.
Each spider lay on his back.
Just what to wonder and why?
Eight legs rose up in the air.
Each one waved his flag around.
Each hummed a song of Eau Claire.
Just where musing jolly found?
The flags moved from leg to fang.
Each signing change of baton.
Each now in cocksure voice sang.
Just why did that song catch on?
I left them in that black bag
Each one now dancing around.
Each one stepping wig and wag
Just how can I grok that sound?
Cup Cake
Your favorite food is cupcake, so is mine
I cover my wife Cupcake in layered chocolate
The recipe is simple, defined with love and hunger
She does not always use the sauna
An oven hot will do just fine
Baking for two hours at a time till she is done
Bent over, burnt a little at the edges, turned on her side
She does not mind the heat too much
But hates blenders for some strange reason
The recipe must be kept as follows:
Two cups of flower and one for her hair
One stick of butter rubbed tenderly along the thighs
Three eggs scrambled but not about the eyes and ears
A spoon full of honey to keep the glow
Place the aluminum pan inside the over
Centered, then flop it in….but gently…must not forget the Mrs.
Set to 450 degrees to remove the grime and grease
Make sure the skin is tender to the touch
Sugar powder lightly on her body
Don’t forget the nose
Add cinnamon with a pinch and kiss
Caution! Cloths could catch on fire and are optional
Don’t over cook
We don’t want Cupcake to lose her looks
I like my cupcakes warm and sweet
With a glass of milk, late at night, between the sheets
Created by: Earl Schumacker on 9/23/15 for Tammy Reams “Didactic Foods”- Poetry Contest
A big man
Stands
Roasted pink on the ocean beach
Unleashing his gut over his bathing suit
Holding a can of Miller Lite
Surely a used car salesman in real life
Shows off
In front of a group of friends
Lifts his free hand like the Statute of Liberty
To a flock of hungry seagulls
That swoop to his pinched fingers
He laughs and laughs
“Those dumb birds! Look at me training them!"
Shouting so loud
That all the beach sunbathers look up
Aroused
But the witty birds catch on quickly
Settle back to pecking the sand.
Annoyed
He bends down and rips open a bag of chips
Returns to his gross pose
Whistles like a Robin (I don’t know why)
And the gulls rise again
Snatching one chip after the other
Squawking fighting
He can’t help himself
Amidst the maelstrom of wings
But feed them the whole bag.
He loves it!
But with his friends still cheering him on
His wife casually smiles
And snaps her own two fingers
For him
To please please sit down.