Long Coming(a) Poems
Long Coming(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Coming(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coming(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Hocus Pocus, Balderdash,
Newspapers print horror and trash.
Oligarchs hungry for extra cash,
To add to their enormous stash.
Nervous police officers feel the heat,
When they caution terrorists in the street,
They no longer walk the beat,
They have cars with safety seats.
Police cars drive around at night,
Warning louts that curse and fight,
Often these thugs take flight
Making the cops chase them with all their might.
Sadly the world needs cops.
We will need them until the crime rate stops.
When you see someone coming, a cropper
Phone the station, and they will send a copper.
Mary when did your joy come most
For your child within not conceived of man
In your womb for nine months to be formed
The world was out to destroy this child
But God blinded there eyes and led you
To a place where this child to be born in a manger
Oh I have witnessed these labor pains
But the joy you must have felt when
You cradled Him in your arms
The north star shined brightly above Him
That we may always see He came from above
The three wise men were lead to you
Bringing gold, incense and myrth
Giving a true meaning so many miss
Gold is the knowledge and wisdom of God
The treasure of the mystery and truth
Incense was to give one there was a new sense
To awaken the five that we have not smelled
touch, seen ,taste are heard before.
The myrth to bring the anointing oil
That one was coming to prepare the dead
To allow one to see they are walking in death
But through this child was coming a new breath
They came from the east, west and south to give thanks to the newborn child from the north.
You witnessed your child teach this wisdom
And knowledge that He did not receive from man
He done many wonders and showed
The power of God in love to heal many
This must have left many wondering
Why this man from God do so many hate
For they relied on human wisdom and praise
Mary the pain you must have felt when
They lifted up this child on the cross
This goes to another level than labor pain
Everyone should have seen this was wrong
But God blinded there eyes to fulfill prophecy
He was then placed in this worlds tomb
For He would remain for three days
Mary did you have enough time to mourn
For on that third day when this Child
Came unto the world in a new body
Mary you must have been overflowing
With peace , joy, comfort and love.
For now your child from God
Is to be born unto all Children of God
Revealing we are dead man walking
He shall breathe life and spirit within
To place in good soil
That shall overcome the weeds
and thorns of life that try to hold one to this world
That God might reign within
To burn away the darkness
And place death under our feet
Tell me boy
do you know how to heal a broken heart?
You’d swear you’ll shatter me
maybe that’s just what I need.
My heart was burned years ago
maybe you’re a spark.
I’ve called you an Eagle;
Maybe I’m a phoenix;
Burn me completely
so I can rise;
I know who’s to blame.
It’s not you. I could see your flame
coming a mile away;
no way to avoid a head on collision
I know all about a bad decision
Tell me boy
do you know how to heal a broken heart?
You think you’ll break it.
I told you not to underestimate me
You are exactly what I need
I see exactly what you are
never tried to change you
never asked for what you won’t give
Come at me and break my heart.
Just leave behind the ashes.
Toys from Yesteryear
Sitting very quietly, looking at a blank page
Prompted me to pen a poem about toys that were all the rage
I had some wooden jigsaw blocks when I was only two
In a wooden box with a shiny brass clasp
And a picture of Winnie the Pooh
I remember at the age of six, when I was given some stickle bricks
Plastic shapes so colourful, with brushes of small plastic fingers
Making a train of red, yellow and green, the memory of it still lingers
Then at the age of seven, I remember ‘coming a cropper'
When dared by my cousins to bounce up the street
On their big and orange space-hopper
When I was eight, my favourite toy was a plastic daredevil skydiver
Many parachute jumps from the top of the stairs, that guy was a true survivor
When I was nine, the Spirograph, a drawing toy based on gears,
Was my favourite toy to play with, watching marvellous patterns appear
At ten years old I found building with Meccano lots of fun
Metal strips and gears and nuts and bolts, invented in 1901
When I was eleven the Rubik’s Cube was really all the rage
With coloured squares, six sides of nine, a puzzle for any age
At the age of twelve, Shinsai Mystery was my fave
Two eight-hinged polyhedra could be folded into many shapes
At the age of thirteen, my baby brother was born
His favourite toy was Lego, my love of building things was reborn
There are many toys of yesteryear, would take ages to mention the rest
But for me, after all these years, Lego will always be the best
HATERS – GET A LIFE!
HATERS – GET A LIFE!
Haters, Haters, Haters!…Just can’t be positive just waiting to see me fall.
When you need to mind your own life and getting that on the ball.
Your discontent for your own life is projected in the joy you get in being Sarcastic.
Hiding negativity you call constructive criticism, when the reality is…. You just like causing static!
Why do you drop your Lack of confidence in yourself, on others?
All the while acting like you care for them as a friend, or like a sister/brother.
Why does your LACK of SELF-ESTEEM and FAILURES seem to fully ignite,
Every time you just catch a glimpse of me your sight?
I feel sorry for people who like you, just love to Hate,
Always trying to put salt in your game, and piling bad vibes on your plate!
It’s sad you know, It must really SUCK being you!
Finding ways of compounding peoples pains thru and thru!
Heck, YOU must HATE being and feeling sooo distressed.
Having to lie to yourself that you are so much better than the rest!
Your just a malicious, bitter, weak minded, and sad individual,
But no worry, hearing your kind speak, Trust Me is not unusual.
So believe me, I know that when I am happy? I can see you coming a mile away.
Watching you as you get closer just pondering what mean things to say.
I have learned a lesson from you however, that has given me new insight.
And the lesson is...
If I see you coming I know I must be doing something right!
Honestly though?
I pray one day you clean your own house from obvious stress and strife.
Cause I NEVER allow you to take God’s Joy from me. So HATERS - Get a Life!
A teenager with the expressions of a middle age individual
is the wonder-creating characteristic of its accelerating growth.
Dwelling in a land not presented with natural gifts;
it still beat all odds to be a member of the Asian Tigers
and a competing contributor to its domain’s prosperity.
The birth place to the Toilet theme amusement park
and a camp of makeup obsessed men.
The fourteenth day of every month is set aside in romance’s banquet
except that of the fourth month when mourning becomes love’s pirate.
February is for young men, march, three times for the ladies.
Prides in the globally acknowledged Boryeona Mud Festival
and gives socialization a new countenance in the “hoesik” event,
while new standards in robotic technology is climaxed
as prison guards, patrols, anti-jelly fish squad and teachers
actively exist through exciting artificial intelligence.
A humiliating public ritual in a form of crime reenactment,
personality stereotypes emanating from the different blood groups,
a nationwide superstitious repugnance to the red ink;
very cultured to even create a backlash
on Bill Gates’ presidential handshake;
typify a people coming a long way from a turbulent past.
A territory of very bright and brainy students;
the god of the LG, Hyundai and Samsung among others;
and to the largest church in size and congregants in the world.
It is the well preserved garden where plastic surgery strives
all to show an amazing growth once heavily stunted,
suffering a suppression entertained by the comfort ladies;
somehow causing a perspective towards the rising sun
to be similar to the swastika’s view by the Jews.
Despite the Japanese colonization, soviet meddling and North Korean threats,
it’s still showing mental strength to be the world’s 12th largest trading Nation.
I am a woman, and at dawn, I weave wings of light from threads of dreams,
I step on paths of desires, wearing ribbons of living hope in my hair,
I wonder how many stories will cling to my dancing steps,
How many tears I'll hide beneath words that scatter in deep silences.
I am a mother, sister, lover, a support that asks for no price or reward,
A silent embrace that holds the secrets of the world in warm arms,
My calling is sometimes a burden, but I utter no bitter word,
I rebuild myself from shards, constructing castles from fragile desires.
But I am also the shadow that dreams to fly free in the dance of the wind,
To breathe without struggle, without roles, without ever seeking reward,
To let myself be carried deep within like a leaf in autumn’s gentle waltz,
Without being a rock or bearing the guilt of an unattainable ideal.
I am a woman and I love even when I collapse in silence,
Even when I can no longer, I stay and rise, for forgiveness is always within me,
I feel my moment coming, a second to whisper to myself: "You are good enough,"
To tell myself I am enough even when no one watches over my path.
I allow myself to be weak, to be silent, to not always heal the day's wounds,
To remain unknown, to lose, to wander, and to not know the way,
From all these simple things, I will be reborn more alive, more true than ever,
And when the moment topples me, I do not flee but sit in peace at its deep core.
For yes, I am a woman, but I also have a secret refuge in my heart,
A place where it beats even when there's no purpose or clear answer,
I embrace all I've gathered on life's journey, and forgive myself with love,
For I am a woman, and my love is a sky without boundaries or end.
Today, I seem to be consumed with an idea about tears.
The Bible records the word 'tear' 13 times, and 'tears' 36 times.*
I do not recall giving any thought to this in the past, but this morning
it popped out at me. I'm certain that the thought process grew out
of a memorial service that I attended yesterday for a Christian friend.
I consume, or should I say produce, a lot of tears at Baptisms and funerals,
and it might sound silly, but this morning I wondered if it is possible to run out of tears. Is it possible to laugh or cry myself to tears that run out and
leave me bone dry? I understand that there is coming a time when God will wipe away all the tears from our eyes, But I am speaking of present times
when God puts our tears in His bottle. I am sure that each tear drop has a silent-speaking language with which God is very familiar. Well, I have to
conclude that since God is going to wipe all tears away, I'll just keep tearing away until then and not be concerned about running out of tears.
112020PS
*Tears are a fairly common theme throughout the Bible, in fact, in the KJV (the word – tear – appears 13 times* the word–tears–appears 36 times** :www.openbible.info/topics/tears
the beatles
were right when
they wrote day
tripper instead
of night
~
flight of the bummble
bee could have been a
hummingbird but
heard played on
a tuba was an
elephant that
couldn't
waltz
~
the warning label
clearly states that:
if combined
with alcohol
may induce
sleepiness
~
my doctor's warning
has always been my:
medication
if combined
with alcohol
may induce
sleepiness
i'm just
trying to
redefine:
mixed
drinks
~
so the poem
~
in the tentacles of floppy
chathuluesque suggested
relish not chutney but
relishing something
that might be more
than reefer madness
or the badass
happiness of
a once in a life
time opium ride
things don't seem
to slide or collide
they really are what
your guitar strummed
them into becoming
never flat as a tire
or a Dali watch i
can't hang
around too
much unless
i truly want to
confess and
make myself
dead
dangling
hang man's
noose told
the truth so
the truth be
told since i'm
just hanging
around i at
first thought
but now my
brain is just
stuck on an
oxygen loss
but this is
unusual
since
most
at this
moment
have ginger
bread neck snaps
and have pooped and
peed their own pants
butt i'm receiving
like an antenna
ant tv telling me
i need to keep
my teeth clean
not forgetting
to floss so
what's up
with that
pubic
hair
after
eating
a slice of
her hair oh
my her pie in
another poem
where sweetness
just dropped in the
other or what wait for
the other snowflake i let
her drift
in my head
all day maybe
be coming a
snow torn
ado
a do
a deux
i did
so, si, i do
Form:
Oops, they pushed their captain off his own ship,
made sure the deck was slick, black-boot polished,
waited ‘til great white sharks surrounded it,
until sharp sword swells upended its whip.
They turned their back, mocked, laughed, pretending to
be very serious - glasses pinch nose.
They swabbed the deck whitewashing its bleak sin.
OvErThRoW overthrow, not noticing
a tidal wave is coming — a rogue wave
ripping and roaring, exploring — the bore
soaring, sore like Noah’s flood overdone,
as the fallen angels drink from its cup.
12/4/2019