Long Cheer Poems
Long Cheer Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheer poems by poem length and keyword.
Whispers to wake up
pull me with grace-prop.
Whispers wafting hope
propel faith midst cope.
Whispers for work height
push prayer delight.
Whispers checking time
sound achievement chime.
Whispers smiting grief
usher joy's relief.
Whispers of my child
special, sweetly styled.
Whispers soul does hear
cause repentant tear.
Whispers of death hush
silence heart's strong rush.
Whispers midst love bliss
never should I miss.
Whispers from God’s voice*
cheer restive night’s poise.
*Psalm 29:4 The voice of the LORD is powerful; the voice of the LORD is full of majesty.
July 18, 2021
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
Pheromones fill the air as the males call the females to their abode
their abdomens linked tail-to-tail, and on the damsels' eggs the male seed are sowed
From thereon, dull caterpillars slowly transformed into exquisite beauties
then, to a new hope, many newborns flew, making gardens filled with cuties
She then whispered that before brightness, there was a very dark darkness~
so don’t give up on your life just because your present swims in starkness
"Learn from my life cycle," she further said, "beauties that once were can still be
so your belief in sunshine after this raging storm is paramount and key"
From then on, she became me, and I became her, and hope of a better tomorrow fills me
far from me, fear then fled—I face my problems with glee, from hopelessness my life is free
sliver of vertical night
visible slit along the curtain centre-line
too lazy to pull them tight
surely nobody outside lurking, peering in
winds rise, branches creak and fight
rattling thud, something moves, somewhere not far away
cosy on the edge of fright
the rain does lash, thrash and thrum on the window-pane
so cuddle in, out of sight
turn toward the pillow, tilted still half-looking
focus drifting, downward flight
eye-lid motion mimics uneasy state of sleep
first birdsong disturbs the doze
veil back-lit as dawn dissolves dim glowing darkness
scan the length, the hanging sweep
beaks announce material folds, suggested deer
expectant, ready to leap
doughy face and furtive shape emerge re-pleating
reality skinny skin-deep
dreamscapes drape the new day with tall tapestry tales
so draw the future and reap
hopeful morning, rays bathing bountiful beauty
as little wings cheer and cheep
clouds pass the sun, grounded feathers in the shadows
don the mask, heave on the cloak
defend against the viral load, heavy breathing
watch out for febrile folk
wild games people play, clandestine intermingling
beware anointed keystroke
shaman, mullah, rabbi, priest, cleric, monk and nun
flames not far below the smoke
guardians of supernatural jealous gods
those who divide, those who stoke
whether hijab, masak or turban, coife or quimpe
jibe, jape or jeer, jest or joke
lives matter much more than statues masquerading
~Christmas Time~
(Hotan/Dodoitsu)
Christmas getting close
It's now around the corner
Celebrate baby Jesus
Trees glow bright
Shine with awesome lights
Folks shopping
Time for rejoicing
Think of others that got less
Christmas, time to give
Spread all thru Christmas more love
Spread during Christmas more joy
Spread this holiday more cheer
Keep your heart open
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
November.06.2016
~Author's Notes:
The "Hotan" is a syllabic Japanese poetry form or style. The Hotan gets its name from it's syllable pattern, being a combination of a Haiku (hokku = ho) and a Tanka (tan).
The "Dodoitsu" is a Japanese poetry form or style.( The last 4 lines:)
I have so much control, I don't know what to do
I have so much control, I don't know what to do
If I get any more control, I think I'm through
The power to have control is a terrible thing
You can tear a delicate bird apart at the wings
And what if you happen to choose the wrong song to sing?
You have control over things both big and small
The lives of your children, the pictures on your wall
You can be a poor son to the mother you never call
I didn't know that I had control over this
The shape of my waistline, even the way that I kiss
Back when I had no control, ignorance was bliss
I can see why God is so mad and unsure
I'd be crazy too with all that to endure
For every disease, why I'll bet He's got the cure
I could be a good man, but it's so goddamn hard
Slave over wages and rake all the leaves in the yard
Control all the little habits I need to discard
All you control fiends, listen unto what I say
And be grateful your life is a series of meaningless days:
Ain't nothing sweeter than slipping back into the haze
So I don't believe in chaos or entropy
I think that we orchestrate what we want us to be
The puller of strings knows the curse of the truly free
The puller of strings -- that's the curse of the truly free.
Climbing the tree,
The tallest one of course,
Because it’s just where I belong,
It’s not like someone would notice me,
Because a Kitsune who loves is only a friend,
A Kitsune who cares won’t get comfort or sympathy,
Kitsunes like me are ment to cry and cling to the tree,
Someone won’t poke my tail to call me down,
My ears won’t get rubbed or patted to flop,
And Thas just…fine…perfectly utterly fine,
While others actually their back against the wall,
While others are bathed in someone’s warmth
I’m fine…I’m just utterly and perfectly fine,
All alone on my tall and long tree,
I mean,
It’s all I’m really worth,
Like my time and the things I hold dear,
Utterly,
Completely,
Worthless.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
He packed his snacks with reckless cheer,
three pine-cones gone before first gear;
he zoomed uphill without a care~
this squirrel’s bound for mountain air.
He stopped to pose by every pine,
claimed each tall peak as “truly mine,”
took selfies with his windswept hair~
this squirrel’s bound for mountain air.
He chased a goat up rocky ground,
then waved at hikers all around;
the switchbacks spun him everywhere~
this squirrel’s bound for mountain air.
And when he reached the summit’s crest,
he puffed his chest and squeaked, “I’m blessed!”
then glided down with style to spare~
To my Dad...
If I could travel to and fro
The winds of change would meekly blow
And Heaven's Gate, that opened wide
Would stay shut tight, Dad at my side
Our campfires, when the firelight danced
You'd find me safe,
wrapped in your glance
Upon this path, which trail to take
Close by my side, clear choice you'd make
And when the future seems forlorn
You'll summon Angels, squash the storm
Missteps, success, I know your here
Your steady hand "jamesy!" your cheer!
On down the road, around the bend
I know you're there!
Dear Dad,
My friend!
09/20/13
© All Rights Reserved
July is the month of monsoon rains in our part of the land when there will be incessant downpour and flooding in coastal areas and low lying lands
In the vast expanse up so high,
In the caliginous July night sky,
A lone star trailed along from Heaven’s arch,
And through hindering clouds it did march.
Its lambent rays dancing in gleeful light,
Making everything luminously bright.
All starlets cowered in shame,
Hiding in corners, fearing blame.
It got stationed above a thatched manger,
Where baby Jesus lay swaddled in rags in rainy weather
Promising the gift of love and joy to mankind
Assuring everyone salvation and peace of mind.
The wind that blows is icy chill
Freezing cold is the water of the rill
Trees stand washed in rain
The sky, in greying clouds remain
Lights from nearby houses shine
Sending out a radiance divine
Christmas trees stand finely decorated
Cribs are colourfully illuminated
Stars and festoons can’t be hung in the open,
As in pouring rain, they may be broken.
July is not a month fit for the king to take birth,
Who has come to bless the world with cheery mirth
Yet, the whole land is vibrant with festivity.
The pouring rain hasn’t doused the gaiety.
Sunshine or rain, no matter the weather,
Friends and family are happy together.
Christmas wraps every heart in cheer,
Though it falls in July, the rainy month of the year!
July.11.2022
Christmas in July or July celebration Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Tania Kitchin
No matter what happens to you,
You have to be your own sunshine
machine in all that you do!
Angels will cross your path as if
from nowhere.
What a waste of time moaning
about what is gone, somewhere?
A lover left? There are billions left
on the planet.
Way better than the one who left,
who was boring and stagnant.
So much in life to cheer, yes mam,
even now!!
What you want~ create it, see its being
born before it is~ holy cow!
Go comment more, call your friends on
a real phone.
Play music, dance, do not moan!
Turn fear on its fat rear, waltz in the sun
and prance.
Dream of a glorious future and of course,
romance!
Play your sunshine machine loud and clear.
You know you are a winner.
Climb mountains, not anthills, my dear!
Go for it~ with hugs,
Panagiota
September 17, 2020
7:30am PST