Long Cut and dried Poems
Long Cut and dried Poems. Below are the most popular long Cut and dried by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cut and dried poems by poem length and keyword.
If You Were Me What Would You Do?
To You It's All Cut and Dried.
I'd like You to Walk in My Shoes,
Then Tell Me, You Haven't Died Inside.
You Have No Way to Measure
The Pain I Find Myself In,
Or How Much More I Can Take,
Or If You'd Lose or Win.
So Take Your "Ifs" and "Maybe's"
And Apply Them to Your Own Life.
Your Answers Won't Work for Me,
And they Stab Me like a Knife.
Now, I Don't Mean to Hurt You,
But You Need to Understand,
You Are You and I Am Me,
And We All Do What We Can.
Now, You Can't Walk in My Shoes
No More than I Can Yours,
But Let's Try Our Very Best
To Never Close Friendly Doors.
Connie Moore
10 16 93
At birth, the first thing we do is cry.
Once we reach home, in the cradle we lie.
Then we get bored and give our legs a try.
As infants, it’s all about me and my.
Soon, it is time for school, Oh me, Oh My,
and each day an adult wave us goodbye.
When learning gets hard, we complain and cry,
And then we are told, just give it a try.
As we’re growing older, time seems to fly.
School moves from early, to middle, to high.
Then come the years that often make us sigh,
dealing with kids whom our wishes defy.
The demands of life do our patience try.
It often seems we’re living on the fly,
with barely enough time to just say Hi.
During these times our life seems hard and dry.
Some work so hard, they keel over and die,
leaving loved ones behind to grieve and cry.
Others live long before they close their eyes,
But eventually, everyone dies.
So, today you live, tomorrow you die.
For most people, this is life, cut and dried.
But the ones who into the Scriptures pry,
discover this is Satan’s lousy lie.
The Bible speaks of life after we die.
Some call it a tale of pie in the sky.
I believe the Bible and here is why,
Jesus, died, rose, and ascended on high.
Those who believe in Jesus, though they die,
will not forever in the grave lie.
When Jesus returns from His home on high
He will resurrect His children who died.
Those alive, will with them rise to the sky,
To live with Him in the sweet by and by.
He will wipe away all tears from their eye,
and they will nevermore grow sick and die.
If you desire to live after you die,
your ticket to heaven you must buy.
Accept Jesus who for you did die,
And daily with Him your life ally.
Before us lies one, who in Jesus died.
So, even though we may sorrow and cry.
Our hope has in no way been drained dry.
One day soon, we’ll meet Gordon, by and by.
Sound of sea is locked within seashell beached
Just lift a shell to your ear to hear sea sigh.
Morn is locked within dawns red sky horizon
Like flower bud bursts into daybreak.
Sap and sinew of living tree trunk
Is locking within its wood when cut and dried.
Knitters love and enterprise is purled into garments
Finger strokes coiled and entwined, locked within.
Photos frozen, snap shots, shuttered images frozen
Have memories locked within, auras that come to life when images viewed.
Locked within a diamond is flash of light and sparkles bright
Like a star it twinkles its light and shimmers at night.
Locked within a pebble on bed of stream are the clunks and thuds
That have ground it smooth during its passage downstream.
Locked within love locks padlocked to bridge
Is the hope that love locked up, cannot escape and flee.
For nothing is completely new since the big bang exploded
All things solid and spiritual have their birth and legacy locked within.
The threads of time's passage coiled and entwined
Locked within all matter until the end of time.
Everything has some within in tidbits locked inside
'Tis the within of things in lockets.
Should AI, devoid of human emotion,
Be used by artists for self-promotion?
To paint a picture or write a poem,
Creativity allows the mind to roam.
To dispassionately wax poetic,
Courtesy of things synthetic,
Removes the heart and soul from art
Preventing one's feelings to impart.
Data may be cut and dried,
Biased and unjustified.
Subject to the flaws of men,
Like writing with a leaky pen.
I would rather feel the pain
Of angst from a human brain
Or the fire of love burning inside
Felt when two hearts collide.
AI may be of service in some way
But only man can convey
The essence of life in poetry
That moves our soul poetically.
Somewhere in youth I strayed from truth.
And grew up to not have much couth.
The door bell rang the onus chime.
Snuck out the back to bide some time.
I wandered streets in every bar.
It's not a wonder I didn't get far.
There's many phases to the light.
And many choices, wrong and right.
The path is never cut and dried.
The mirror can always tell who lied.
Windows, doors and walls and ceiling.
Can keep the shadow from revealing.
The best that one can hope to do.
Is to not know shame when they are through.
Mistakes we make can be forgiven.
But the one inside needs to start liven'.
They all pranced through some broad-like avenue
and they've placed apart from each other's course
proved they stood full of airs and graces view
from cameras balanced by those they knew
endmost part of the resplendent concourse
Those cut-and-dried to flick those cameras
for the whole world's glimpse with covetous stares
furthered their verve-like, polyamorous
stayed flamboyance and maintained glamourous
those who've known, curved away their classic glares.
They've prolonged the night, they danced, fancy pants,
on stage, showboating like catamarans
him, up-market tux, her, something from France
news crews grew silent, now they had no chance
when finance asked, they became stammerers.
Gone Hollywood, have we, fashionable
they'd be high falutin' like Fig Newton
Nick Nack Paddy Whack give that dog a loan
his old man, "La-Di-Da", a rollin' Stone!
Man-o-man, how do you guys put it on?
Nouveau riche, --hardly, old money, --never
pretentious finance witnessed and confirmed
how can they survive, leave it to wander
or perhaps it could be dumped to wonder
still, they curved away, with chuckling affirmed.
Nonetheless, leave it to them, there's something
right or wrong, hear their song, da-da-da-DA!
Be this black-and-white world so defining
"Imagine all the people," imaging
the creme de la creme and the la-di-da.
Make Jesus Your Guide
Written: by Miracle Man
11-1-2019
My life has been a road,
that has lead many places.
I’ve encountered speed bumps,
and seen anonymous faces.
I’ve faced some mountains,
with seemingly no descending side.
Often searching for answers,
finding nothing cut and dried.
I’ve sometimes traveled roads,
displaying signs marked dead end.
I’d ignored the narrow way,*
where the road started to bend.
So like so many I was traveling,
the road that was broad.*
I found life becoming confusing,
behind my self made facade.
Finally at a toll booth,
the attendant relayed, “you’re lost”.
He said the next turn led to Calvary,
where Jesus prepaid my cost.
Ever since that revelation,
many years ago I’ve found.
Using the Bible as my road map,
means my destination is sound.
*Matthew 7:13
New King James Version
“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it.