Long Change of direction Poems
Long Change of direction Poems. Below are the most popular long Change of direction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Change of direction poems by poem length and keyword.
Too many changes, differences and loss
Some changes are necessary,
Others don't count the cost
Of change
Change of direction
I am sure I don't know,
This way or that way
Which way should I go
The indecision is driving me mad,
Because some of the changes
They are reckless and bad,
Change for the better
I'm all for that
Should I clap,
Or pat the person
On the back.
Who makes changes for the better,
Why mend something?
That does not need mending
Especially when serious changes
Are always pending.
And need urgent attention,
Climate change, for one
It is a bone of contention.
The force of nature is strong,
Where are we going wrong?
There are viruses in the air,
They are everywhere
Causing death and sorrow,
Heartless people who have power
Give no thought about tomorrow
Devastating winds, fires and floods,
Famine, unrest and wars
Bloodshed by many
Is this what we were born for?
Who shall we blame,
At the end of the day.
Point the finger and smugly say
Things have got to change,
As we look the other way!
Searching here and there, hither and thither not knowing when to stop
The road is long the path is narrow the hill so steep, is there a top?
Each twist and turn, a new obstacle, something else to overcome
But there is a way, a map for your world, no trail of biscuit crumb
Love finds you when you are lost, when the mist swallows you up
It clears away the storms; it keeps filled the cup from which you sup
The road becomes a pathway, the pathway becomes a road
The hill becomes level; love even carries that heavy load
The road well driven may not be the best, just because it’s used oft
Sometimes a change of direction helps find us when we are lost
Our road still driven need not make us worry, and should never us daunt
The road we are on needs a bump or two, it needs a little tease and taunt
A road so straight and often used, becomes a boring drive
We need a few little obstacles to remind us we are alive
So take your love hold it close, use it to guide your way each day
Then the road still driven will not be arduous, you will always find your way.
©
10/12/2012
Entry For Contest 'A Road Still Driven'
Autumn phrases as a river are being read
A man flips the page and glides his hands
He purposes a new chapter with firm eyes
And reads the river with a fresh new look
Every fold every crease is viewed by care
He steadies his course a mind of purpose
Give a quick look ahead to assist his glide
An abrupt move a change of direction
A journeyed page now concluded to anew
His story goes on down a rivered volume
Colorful edges enhance his read pieces
He furthers a read river of liked passages
Enjoying the scenery of every page shift
A river stated, a route records time entry
Eased day met of an extra Autumn book.
2019 September 22
I dream of the feeling, of not feeling too much
Being pleasantly mild, unbothered by touch
I imagine, I’m average and pleased to know
Achievements take effort. I’ll go where I’ll go
As for uncertainty, I’d choose not to dwell
But go with the flow, through life I would sail
A change of direction would not stunt my growth
To new opportunities, I’d dare not be loath
I’d swiftly adapt as my options evolved
No chores left undone. No problem unsolved
I’d begin living life, beyond my emotions
Concrete and 3D, new doors would be opened
But even this longing, is only dream deep
The cost would be high and path, far too steep
To compromise intensity, passion and brains
Would flush my own gifts down society’s drain
I’ll accept my quirks, extreme highs and lows
I’ll live my best life, without letting “me” go
Tanka, didn’t work for me you see.
Sorry for the wait, I’ve been as busy as a bee.
I see PD is getting a lot of praise
I’m confident, PD, it is not just a phase!
I had to wait to view some of your writes
I had little information, but I let you out of my sights
PD, I have recaptured my Soul today
Shoot me down if you want and have your say
I read your Haiku and it would be easy to hurt
But my friend, that time has gone, no more dirt.
I open my arms to embrace you true
Change of direction, writing about the colour blue
Blue is the colour of protection and the spirit
I give it to you, you can walk forever with it.
Poetry Destroyer IS the wrong name
Poetry Supporter is the correct term, but what a shame.
I wish you luck on you future hits
The day will come you will enter the grand old Ritz
So, the offer is there stands there my dear PD
Hit me hard, knock me out, send me to sea.
Is this the white flag, you tell me?
May be it is, lets wait and see.
Send me to the stocks or chain me up
Poetry police, long term i'll never give-up
Delay by Him has taken its toll,
Waves of doubt rollover the soul,
Despair extinguished the Spirit,
Wax-filled ears would not hear it.
"Listen, you have left My way!
Wait for My providence and pray.
Change of direction is needed."
But His correction went unheeded.
The restless spirit wrests control,
God's will is no longer the goal,
The anxious heart is not ideal,
So, failing eyes, meet banana peel.
Seeking refuge in my enemy's camp,
I was turned into a foolish scamp,
Philistine mouths were agape.
So, I feigned madness to escape.
That was dumb, I'm ashamed to say,
Letting fear and doubt cloud my way.
The Lord's shelter never fails,
His faithful acts tell the tales.
Keep seeking the Lord in a trial,
Relying on Him is worthwhile.
Instead of becoming milquetoast-
In Him, a reason to boast.
"Come children and listen to Me.
Fear of the Lord will set you free!
Wait for Me to settle the score,
David teaches in Psalm thirty-four."
Chasing this into that, chasing that into this.
Chasing silhouettes into a half-assed crevasse.
Echoing, "Boy, what is your purpose on this good earth?"
Poking the dark for a piece of velvet, a note from a harp.
A claw pokes at the skin of the soul.
A change of direction is needed again... pronto.
Mamma was right. Nothing good comes out of the dark.
Eating the light like a greasy moth.
Pitting parched lips against brightness.
Just another false prophet holding an empty Bic pen.
In the cul-de-sac of middle-class wish.
At least it was an honest attempt to find a grain of meaning.
In the dusk of my breath, the same silhouette yaps...
"Man, what is your purpose on this planet"?
The ancient Hindu text mentions the story of the celestial dragon,
the serpent that drinks the nectar of Gods holding wagon.
Indicating that abundance has its limits, get to the grips,
beheading the manipulating leech causing the eclipse.
The temporarily obscurity being in the shadow of another body,
or having another body pass between it for the viewers lobby.
Abandonment or the darkening of heavenly lights,
transformation and change of direction by celestial traffic cites.
The dragons bite virus in control of fears and misconception,
false perceptions and slippery tongue promised protection.
Orbital motions repeating harmonic patterns,
those who trust them know all what matters.
Revelation of ancient testimonies reveals the truth,
while others trying selling you the ferry tooth.
When words and promises have no meaning,
marbled sculptured humanity is rabidly declining.
The ecliptic dragon as spiritual liberator,
when pretenses desires are the generator.
The truth even obscured is the solution,
observations by twilight eclipse conclusion.
The dream maker of life and its credits,
time snaps where change is necessity edits.
I have an aversion to prejudice
Judging a pond without sampling its ice
Consorting with others eating large melons
Passersby judged as free men or felons
Women condemned as whores or harlots
While tormenting men turn the air scarlet
Then sit in the pews reserved for the saintly
Ogle the preacher’s wife ever so daintily
For judgement you see is a way to look down
On those, as they pass, on which you may frown
Knowing that god has made you superior
When in truth you couldn’t kiss their posterior
For consciousness doesn’t offer correction
Unless you can make a change of direction
That is, of course, dependent upon
How much of the ice you take from the pond
I knew a man who always traveled,
he worked hard and was ever on the go.
He said that he would like to own property,
a Squire or Country Gentleman, as you may know.
I could not believe it,
as one day he came with cash in hand.
He said he wanted to get away to quiet,
but all he wanted was the land.
I thought it strange that he do this,
as he never liked staying in one place.
He said he still wanted to travel,
but would use this for his base.
I wondered why the big One-Eighty,
for he turned completely around.
He said it was just a change of direction,
one he had never before found.
I hoped that it would settle him,
because he was strange enough.
He said that if I did not want his money,
that he just leave and take all of his stuff.
I wanted him to know my feelings,
about how his life would change.
He said that I was not to worry,
he was not going to join a Monastic Grange.
I sold him the property he wanted,
and put the money in several banks.
He did not have very much to say,
but just gave me a word or two of thanks.
I wandered by there the other day,
not trying to raise any alarm.
The place was run down, unkempt, and shoddy,
apparently...he "bought the farm".