Long Course of time Poems
Long Course of time Poems. Below are the most popular long Course of time by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Course of time poems by poem length and keyword.
The making of a Mother
Is not only about the birth
It's more the light that shines so bright
That gives a Mother her worth
It's the wisdom in the knowing
The gentle guiding hand
That guards a child from the wild
How only a Mother can
It's the ear that gives a listen
To the secrets that she keeps
The value in the lessons
That only a Mother can teach
Being a Mom happens
Over the course of time
The most important job you can think of
On the side of life
It's the silence in the moment
When nothing need be said
The fact that she's a woman
That is there above all else
A Mother above all others
Is not only the one that gave you life
No, a Mom is the one
That stands strong by your side
Back in the day living a riotous life in London
I used to walk along Park Lane almost nightly
I was living in Paddington but went out in Mayfair
Often as I passed the Grosvenor Hotel there was a ball.
One Night appropriately dressed I gate crashed
Very soon I was asked to dance a waltz
and as we dipped and bowed around the floor
I found out that he was a policeman.
Quickly saying ty I moved on to my next partner
Only to discover that yes he too was a policeman
this set a trend I had only gate crashed the police ball
tail tucked between my legs I beat a hasty retreat.
I suppose the lesson I learned was very important
always be honest in all of your dealings.
It had a large impact on my life over the course of time
taught me values that are now second nature.
This symbol of my affection, a sign
of my intention, was paid for over time
Tiny little symbol, sacred, so fine,
gently placed ring, in a tiny box
I couldn't help but wonder,
Am I your one...
to remove one's locks or...
could this be a blunder
look in our eyes, this will tell you...
this one symbol or a sign, in this tiny box,
placed on her slender finger, is love so true
so certain, to pic locks, tie new knots...
after all that has been said,
our affection will truly stand this course of time,
thus, finally on your finger, so we will wed
so too, this our sign, our symbol, soon to set just fine
So I've learned when to keep my mouth shut, it's not an easy thing,
I've noticed over the course of time, I've gotten quieter about some things,
Sometimes I can't say a word, or reveal just how I feel,
And it's this supression that humbly disciplines me, yet convicts me to what's real,
I know I've been used and wronged in the past in so many ways,
And I may have looked weak to others in my defense, but this is sometimes how God humbles me,
As the saying goes, there's always more to it than what meets the eye,
It always meets our hearts first and foremost, and I'm more concerned about what's going on inside,
I always question my intentions, and take it to the Lord in prayer,
If his love moves me in that direction, I'll open up and share,
I know that some may refuse to hear, a good response is never guaranteed,
But sometimes you have to accept the good with the bad because it's meant to be.
Let us now name what we pursue, if not in person
In the whole… by our consent
We declare that our economy shall not trample on the rights of citizens
Yet we separate by color and by creed… according to our greed
Refusing thus to freely share the bounty bought by providence
Lest our future suffer some imagined slight… that we cannot imagine suffering
The widow's mite, quite rightly, is treasure to the poor
And that, which now imagined, must surely be in store
For those who have the least in outlook to protect
Will feed and house the largest dogs that guard this intellect
The widow could not possibly forsee what lay ahead
While the miser holds on tightly to what might lead to more
Considering the value lost in the dissolution of that bed
Which becomes now weighed upon the scale of circumspect
Should we perchance regain the value of this purse
We might, somehow also regain remorse in course of time
Before we are awakened and all balance is restored
By the inescapability of the rolling of the hearse
Considering what's lost in cost of that once well made bed
The value of companionship weighs heavy on the scale of our neglect
Of those who have the least in thought they thought best to protect
Left still to own the biggest dogs… asleep and still well fed
Across the miles to where you are
beyond the highways, however far
chasing love inside my dreams
daring to believe you were there for me
even if I may never see you again
forever in my heart I will tend, and
gather my vivid memories of you
how we met under skies so blue
in summer fields beside the sea
jasmine scents wafting in the breeze
kindred spirits, that we were
love was born, our hearts were pure
much was said with only our eyes
neither noticed the dimming skies
over the course of time, we knew
parting had to come, winds blew
quickly towards the eastern shore
restless longings were no more
sullen skies drew us apart
tangled torment gripped my heart
until then, I thought you were mine
verily, I despaired our sad decline
when you sought to go, you left
xenial beginnings were now bereft
yearnings for you, I’ll never forget
zeal for you in dreams I’ve kept.
He had a master’s degree in English literature,
to speak in an ostentatious style was his nature,
the elegance excelled, that was what he’d ensure,
an acumen he displayed for people to endure.
When I met him for the first time he asked me,
what did I do in my spare time I found free.
I said, that was when I let my muse write poetry,
in his eyes I thought an interest I could see.
On his request, I guessed made with sincerity outright,
a couple of poems I ventured to reluctantly recite.
He was exuberant praising the theme and the rhyme,
said, I would become a famous poet in course of time.
Of my position in the literary scene I was well aware,
but in his usual expression of flamboyant flair,
whenever we met he’d hail me as the poet of fame,
from a poetry fan to an obsessed teaser he became.
As a student of literature how much he liked poetry
I wanted to find out to satisfy my sheer curiosity.
So, I presented him a poetry book of mine,
from his looks I deciphered he wanted to decline.
Days later he told me he couldn’t go beyond the cover,
that was the last time I met the bull crap poetry lover.
January 11, 2022
Contest : King-Size Bull Crap
Sponsor : Charles Messina
I Passed out on the couch while the Friends song is on.
She said first you must love yourself, before you can give yourself to someone else.
My singular identity withstanding tragedy.
With only one life to live, you have to work hard to attain oppertunities
I wonder whether people consider what it would be like
to become a human stonehedge??
Because that is the type of person, that could withstand just anything.
What I really want is to take a walk hand and hand with my faults
Have a moment with my confidence and Pride.
Tell them that I love them and always to come out whether the world is rain or shine.
I want to tickle my shy, and chastize the sound of my dreary sighs
I want to set my sails high, so Posidon will blow his heaving breath pushing my doubts and
self pity away
I feel like a young Galileo.
Staring at the sun, while all the others played jauntingly along
It's going to take so long......
I have a foot race with me and only the course of time
Form:
Thank you for your friend request.
Poem For my Poet friend Joyce Johnson.
MY WARM BEST WISHES FOR 4TH JULY TO ALL MY AMERICAN FRIENDS.
Dear Friend Joyce
I am unable to write back to you
Or even to send you a message
Due to technical reasons
I am sure
You would understand
Why.
I may leave that platform
In due course of time
Whatever big and famous it may be
Where freedom of writer
is controlled and crushed
Without any reasons and grounds
by the selfish interests of
The new rulers of internet and
By its prejudiced guards.
In my long associations
With my PS friends and even other friends
I have never used any language or
even words against any person, country, religions or
friend both male and female,
so it would not be a loss to me
Rather I would have more time
for my Musical Yoga, Paintings, Song writing and
Singing etc and other things.
With best wishes for you and
your good health and
Best wishes for all my poetry soup friends.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 3rd july 2021
A memory is like a rock in the river
The longer it drifts the smaller it gets
Possibly distorted by the waves
Like a memory over the course of time
It gets whittled down and fades
And eventually you wonder if you just made it up
But perhaps the idea is greater than truth
To say we need the idea is perhaps an understatement
To cling to some ancient ideals
The way a man might cling to a fading memory
Even as it drifts down the river being whittled away
Perhaps then that rock is something more
Not just a memory or something to cling to
But a living embodiment of all we stood for
Perhaps the rock drifting down the river
Slowly being whittled away by the rushing water
Is the rock we call the American Dream
And the longer it drifts down the river
The more the American Dream gets whittled away
We start to wonder if it was ever truly there
Or if it was ever what we truly stood for
Perhaps it was merely a grand illusion
A facade in memory that we repeated enough
Thinking that through repetition a lie becomes a truth
That, no, there was an American Dream
An American dream we fought desperately to save
That the consternation we suddenly felt would fade over time
And we'd all go back to holding hands
And dancing through the river with joined arms
Singing about the good old days
Because over time the memory became smaller
It faded as it traveled through the river
And we replaced the missing pieces with prettied lies
For when that rock finally settles on dry land
It's not the same pretty rock we all saw in our minds
It's an ugly and pathetic little thing ravaged by time
Ravaged by the river of people who sullied it
Though it was never righteous to begin with
The American Dream is simply that, a dream
It's something we sleep with at night to keep us cozy
To help us get through the harsh reality
That much like the ugly rock that went through the river
Our nation has become that very rock
We're painting America with pretty lies
Because the truth is ugly
Perhaps the lie is greater than truth
And eventually wonder if the truth was ever a truth
As it got whittled down over time and faded
Like a memory over the course of time
Definitely distorted by waves
The longer it drifted the smaller it got
The American Dream is a fading rock in the river