Long Dating Poems
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Please don't take offense when we don't pay you any mind
Not all the time are we expecting to be wined and dined
Yes we are aware that we look good and very proud of ourselves
We don't always need attention and compliments from someone else
You say to us "ladies first" but it seems to be the new pick up line
It's either that, an angel fell from heaven or wanting to know our sign
How do you know we're not a woman scorned from past pain
Maybe we're not sure you're a dead beat looking for material gain
Most of the time you're not looking for any serious commitments
A one night stand is the reason you're requesting our seven digits
We know these things about you and refused to be played a fool
Yes we vary in size and shapes but it doesn't make us useless tools
Don't get me wrong we could all use a gentleman or a Mr. Right
But, Dear Men, you're not always a necessity to our lives
Caedmon's Hymn
by Michael R. Burch
At the monastery of Whitby,
on a day when the sun sank through the sea,
and the gulls shrieked wildly, jubilant, free,
while the wind and time blew all around,
I paced those dusk-enamored grounds
and thought I heard the steps resound
of Carroll, Stoker and good Bede
who walked there, too, their spirits freed
—perhaps by God, perhaps by need—
to write, and with each line, remember
the glorious light of Caedmon's ember,
scorched tongues of flame words still engender.
Here, as darkness falls, at last we meet.
I lay this pale garland of words at his feet.
Originally published by The Lyric. "Cædmon's Hymn," composed at the Monastery of Whitby (a North Yorkshire fishing village), is one of the oldest known poems written in the English language, dating back to around 680 A.D. According to legend, Cædmon, an illiterate Anglo-Saxon cowherd, received the gift of poetic composition from an angel; he subsequently founded a school of Christian poets. Unfortunately, only nine lines of Cædmon's verse survive, in the writings of the Venerable Bede. Whitby, tiny as it is, reappears later in the history of English literature, having been visited, in diametric contrast, by Lewis Carroll and Bram Stoker's ghoulish yet evocative Dracula. Keywords/Tags: Caedmon, hymn, angel, inspired, inspiration, inspirational, first English poem, Old English, oldest English poem, Anglo-Saxon, Bede, cowherd, Christian, monk, spiritual, god, sonnet
The only thing I still see going in you
is a small piece of your heart
That love for one another
left behind for your own dart
Where all you knew of love
was a simple plan
Just to love a man who loved you
and a fold of land
While you never stopped to wonder
what of love unplanned
Where the others all around you
were the grapes you fanned
And the wrath of God who'll tell you
that there's other men
Who you opened up your heart to
Who included then...
Were the brothers of your heart
who you'd kept it for
All when dating your own man
that you left for more
When your love was never worthless
and was meant much more
And your trust was never faithless
as you're worth much more
As the love for who you loved
was never meant as sure
When your love for all your God
is a love you're sure
And he'll take you to a man
when he's filled you sure
That your love for only one
means your heart is pure
And the one you chose to love
isn't meant to match
But see through you for the loveless
where your failure passsed
And to take you to the higher ground
where you won't ask
Does he love me for the moment
or is he cost task
For your love to flourish mostly
from the knowledge dear
That your kept by love who'd rather
see you free to fear
When the love that you are feeling
is a love quite grand
All encompassed by the lord
and his holy hand
So you go on to his living
in a world to stand
For the love of one another
where your love is fanned
By the flames of all the others
who would see you pale
To the love of only one
who can see your tale
Where your love is all for him
in a package frail
And you stand up for the wind
in a love he'll sail
For a love for one another
where your sure to be
Just the only one who loves him
just for being he
And you go about your business
being all he has
When the love you feel for others
is the love he'd pass
Every moment that your with him
for a love to last
For the moments that he loved you
for all you are cast
And you're solely loved for you
up until you're clasped
By the love you feel for others
filling him with bast
When you know all love's for others
when you hold him tight
And you know no loves a man's
till you see him right
Maid of Honor’s Posy
Wearing her fuchsia gala dress
She walked the aisle and went ahead
With fresh posy as thick as cress
Weird fantasy popped in her head-
I’ll be the bride
Man by my side.
As wedding song took its progress
Plans unfurled like unwinding thread
First, to ask him his home address
Then dating path, she hoped to tread-
Get more posies
From crush, Francis.
June 19,2022 1.41pm
https://www.howmanysyllables.com/syllable_counter/
8.8.8.8.4.4 /8.8.8.8.4.4
Totals:
64 words
80 syllables
377 characters
For Posie Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
He knew both
How to impress and express
He wanted to surprise her by being different
He wanted to play the same dating game
But he wanted to play it different from other players
Men are never different just their methods are
That he knew better than any
So he asked her out
On a date
Not in a posh restaurant
But in a posh city grave yard
A place she is ever afraid of
Always
So he chose to show her love
In the place that harbors a magnitude of her fear
It was not in day light
It was in the wee hours of evening
When ghosts are rising from the spirit world
They walked together
From grave to grave reading names of the dead
Her fear increased when told her about how each died
And then he told her about the reality of ghosts
Her fears rose
She wanted him to hold her
To protect her
Which he gladly did
Standing on one of the graves
He held her with a romantic twist
And she surrendered
Everything there
Even her last flesh
was surrendered to him in there
In the grave yard
And she said yes
when he proposed
In dating and relationships
-------------------Fermata:---------------------
He was raised to believe that marriage is an affordability, where partners enter and agree to be at least faithful in acquisitions and procreation and such.As it where from her point of view a man needed to afford her as she wished and required certain thing, like her insectary required her to be person to what she believed she deserved..
He didn't believe such and said he barely even knew her and, she'd been evasive and excluded herself from doing certain things. Her believed she was using him, and he said that a right to be first, in there exclusive partnering entitled him certain things that he wished from her.From sub zero to zero wasn't easy he said , yet from zero to were ever they where then was the hardest obstacle he'd ever endured. He told her all he felt for her was love. He refused to be the guy who stood there and watched while others spoke of her as there's in unprofessional collaboratives.
FLOWER IN THE POT
Young girls,
When God made thee
He made thee with the richest soil of the earth
Where the remnant were found in the Eden
He now planted a glorious flower in a flower pot
To dame you when all man shall stand up for you
When the world shall dance at the party
In the celebration of your regeneration.
When you are fast asleep in thy teens
Thieves came in the form of date
And uprooted the flower out of thy ignorance
Now thy husband is asking
Where have all the flowers gone
When God shall ask for thy account
How the dame got missing
I searched along the corners of dating
And researched the hooks and crannies of the street of love
Where i came late to ask in a date
About the flowers planted in the dawn of thy form
When your cry brings excitation and shouts of joy
Flowers are no more, honours are dented
The beautiful ones were all gone
In the way of unaccountable dates
Remember! Matrimony held deep respect
When flowers in the pot is exchange with
A rings of holy matrimony.
She studied the Space exploration
act of 3033 to find where
in history she might
use her Time traveling Machine
It had been said that
she was likely to be seen
as one who interferes in
the activates of space
and would cause others to
form a distrust of her..
Yet she pursued her freedom
to explore space
with the People of Earth in mind.
The functions of Functions
Where Space is Topic and Topic
All things are Space and
the Preservation of Space
Space to be used by Mankind
It's recourses explored and considered.
She made a List of People and Creatures who were" The Enemies Of Space"
On planets and Moons: in Nebulas, On asteroids and
Cosmic storms she Captained her Vessel: until she became the enemy in space
and her co-captain rivaled her to secure his position
as Captain. They used force feilds to create her residence on the lower deck.
Their she built a secret tine machine using the onboard computer which spoke to her as she was twenty year prior. Somene made a program that addressed her as the captain she had replaced." The men Called her
An enemy Of Space" due to her dating practices.
Many years ago, I was in a down-heartened funk, after deciding to get a little bit drunk.
Beer guzzling queens won’t tell you, but liquor tastes bad going down and coming back up is truly no joy.
Some will tell you how great drinking liquor makes them feel, happy, and wonderful. But they’re full of bunk
Being wasted, angry, crying, and a bit mean is no way to meet any kind of a man or dating boy
And if you are completely silly, to hug, or touch or god forbid fore take in a sloppy drunk kiss
I must tell you the story of a naïve woman who got herself in a real pickle in St. Croix
If you are already completely wasted, and angry, and mean, this warning you will probably dismiss
This sordid tale of a girl, a boy, a golden pony, a red flute that laughed, and a shiny green Shamrock
The way this tale was told to me, by my gram, it entered my ears totally unbiased and Faultless
There was a pipe, and a honey bee, and a well-intentioned, prettied up edible pink and plump Ham hock
I do remember someone laughing, and a foot being broken, and a yellow three cent postage stamp.
There was a nickel’s worth of lead, and an angry man, and a princess in a lavender and pink Frock
The men crowded around to watch Trixie Lou dance, for she was a well-known, conniving, trickster of a Vamp
In my inebriated state, I can recall but one bit of the story that has any bearing now.
Grandpa’s dream girl was a devious witch of a woman according to Big Ma, a hard-hearted Tramp
Told by Big Ma, Trixie was a flaunter, a floozy, a conniver, a flute-playing nasty old cow,
She had pink cheeks, sky blue eyes, and she wore her red curls pinned with green shamrocks; she was all kinds of pretty.
This information was slipped to me in whispers by Grandpa, who considered Trixie a giant wow.
Skull where is your brain,
where inside this abandoned cave is your mind?
Did God leave you like this
your jaw open in that crazy grin
the wind echoing under your cracked dome?
There are fields of skulls, walls made of skulls
catacombs just for skulls
and still nobody has found you.
DNA and carbon dating may tell us
when you were
but your teeth chatter no tales now.
I look upon the scattered scaffolding
and wonder if your house
is now built high in a boneless heaven,
and if that house has an occupant -
a skull of starlight?
Yet are we not made of stardust even now
and are we waiting with bated breath
to depart these double barreled eye sockets
like bullets from a smoking bone-handled gun?
And will we enter the light
naked as hermit crabs into another shell
or must we lay here
slack-jawed and grimacing
blind even to the sky within us?