Long Dearer Poems
Long Dearer Poems. Below are the most popular long Dearer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dearer poems by poem length and keyword.
Gone is the long day, filled with how and why
Between the morning mist and evening breeze
Fatigue oozing out, time to merge with myself
Life is a hot pursuit blended with cool delight
One’s sweat and sloth sail the life’s ship
Like a divine chariot with wheels of will
labor tinged with leisure complete the trip
Driving on bumpy roads with joy and thrill
Not all that one desires will ever one obtain
Only the option and choice make one’s domain
The sky and earth may appear one at the edge
One cannot get both parted by eternal wedge
One in the crowd may make the difference
Solitary voice may be louder than many
That which comes from the heart with purity
May be dearer than the chorus of many a phony
Many things lost, many things gained
Gain brought pleasure, loss gave pain
Though pleasure and pain filled the life
The creative cauldron remained vain
I’m not a mad man
I do the cheapest deal I can
But of appreciable quality though
Coz I gotta save that dough
I’m not a mad man
I am rolling out my plan
And the only thing you’ll be dealt
Is to tighten your belt
I’m not a mad man
My creed is dearer than clan
Even though my kin feel the heat
I promise you that soon it’s gonna be lit
I’m not a mad man
Come rain or come sun
I have no latitude to retreat
And all dance shall be to my beat
I’m not a mad man
I want it all and now to be done
What was supposed to take years
Whether or not pain and tears
I’m not a mad man
I am the chosen one
To make the hard decisions
However precarious it be my position
I’m not a mad man
Be a hater or be a fan
Be it the throng of friends or adversaries
The coming success will call for anniversaries
K. Muitherero
Cat was very nice to mice:
If asked for cheese, replied,
how big a slice?~ My honor to
please! --
Was also fond of backyard
birds: Wonderful! Marvelous!~
his admiring words.
Now dog, was a bit more ornery...
he barked a lot, even at the laundry --
protector of all, in that way true~
a tinted greyhound, who answered to
Blue --
Though some may doubt, lower critters
can actually speak! Perhaps, likewise suspicious
of my Chattering Creek….
--------------------------------------------------------------
There once was a Chattering Creek,
Mostly happy but sometimes bleak;
for the rains would come, and stir
such a clutter, causing the waters to
ripple and stutter; the edges would leak --
voice, more a holler! A vociferous flow~
Splattering! Splattering! Splattering!
Till a breathless slow – dearer klatsch-like
chattering~~chattering~~chattering~~
I didn’t really know you.
Oh, I thought I did…
in the cocksure way a child thinks
she knows everything.
I didn’t know you until so near the end
then you, were not the you of childhood.
Your soft waved hair had grayed with anxiety and fear.
How was I to know
or you to answer, if questions which stayed
so long unasked and so unanswered?
For a child to see a Mother torn brings it own fear
for fledgling trusts a Mother’s wing to hide her
to wrap her in a safe and warm embrace.
But, it was you who hid, and left me wanting
yet, it was all you could do…so you said.
Had I only grown strong sooner,
flown free faster of my own accord
would I have loved you, or you loved me, dearer?
who knows when fear doomed us from the start.
I held you close and sang you songs that morning
though through a morphine haze, you never knew
of green fields and sunsets all a dawning
Oh how I wished, I could say, one more…
“I love you.”
Poet: D. Guzzi
a pretty face has haunted my mind
all day today hundreds of times
yesterday she sat next to me
it captured my attention to a certian degree
and today i wondered what could it mean
i lost myself with in her dream
my thoughts have now turned into schemes
what to say and what this means
six more days untill i see her
and i wonder if she'll be more clearer
if she intended to be more dearer
like a child with a dream yet i still am
it's not a new thing it's as old as i am
infactuation or what ever it is
something inside me that i let live
what will i do with it, i have to choose
it's part of the game i can win or lose
Patradoot or the Messenger 34/Many……….
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Like a naughty girl, she acts in many ways, dear letter,
To attract our attention by laughing or even weeping,
And often she gets angry on us still she wins our hearts,
When she sings her broken melodies, while sweetly mumbling.
As a lovely doll, she attracts and wins,
Everyone’s attention and heart, dear,
Remembrance of her sweet face,
Has made my heart so heavy,
As a newly come-up charming bud,
She is dearer to us than our life, dear letter.
She is even a darling of all the plants,
Trees, creepers and flowers of our garden, dear.
When the memories of her dear father,
Would be splashing in her tender heart, dear letter,
She would be going amid the plants and trees,
To distract the memory of her father, dear.
She is the hope and strength of her mother,
When I am away for freedom struggle or in jail,
In the lovely face of my daughter, you would find,
An image of her father, dear letter.
By the time you will get acquainted,
With this lovely child of us and of nature,
You would recollect immediately, dear letter,
My message you have to convey to my beloved.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 3rd Sept 2010 continue in 35..
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Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
HE’S THE DEAREST
ALEX NELSON
He’s the dearest
The nearest
The man with
The miles
Who took
All the hard
Times
And left us
With smiles
He’s the dearest
Not nearest
For the miles
A long run
Yet when
You pick
Up the phone
The fun’s
Just begun!
He’s the clearest
My dearest
My Dad with
No cares
Just carpet
And some slippers
With black coffee
Sitting there
He’s the always
No hangups
With hands
Always tough
With get up and
Take the time
When my enough
Is ENough!
He’s been there
Not did that
Yet the length
Is a cord
Like pick
Me up
With slow down
AN did you see
“That's a Ford!”
He’s a long mile
A great smile
Yet the brush
Is not new
Like way back
With all heart's
Attached
The missed
Just a few
Like my dad
Not really sad
And happy
All the while
Like see ya soon
And not so
For a 1000 is
The miles
So line them up
The candle light
With no tests
Just the rest
Like see ya
There and
You are rare
And A
Dad
Simple Best
He 's dearer
And clearer
Not near
Yet alway fine
Like up
Here and
Down there
For a son with
A dad that is
Mine
He's the dearest
feathered …
moony beams daub your lips -
the irregularities
shaping little cornflower thorns
but oh, how supple the
pliant press of those luscious fruits
(savored like honey) …
I touch them delicately with the
back of my finger
then move lower to your
daintily-dimpled chin, and down …
I follow the blue beams
with my fingertips
dancing across your surfaces as
little bumps form and
your flesh jumps here-and-there
telling me I’ve found the
sweetest spots,
though I’m winding my way to
an even dearer dermis
and warmer intent …
what is the enchantment of
these moments -
this magic of moonlight that
makes me want you so?
there is a mad mystery to why such
time stops and waits for us,
and were it not for
the responsibilities of morning,
we would hold this moment forever -
painted in dreamy shafts of blue
trading touches like truths
swimming the rill of each other’s soul
and haunting a wonder-world -
whimsical, immortal
and ours …
alone.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden
Laughter bursting on the patio
Kites lifted through summer air;
A tenderness given by heaven
My child, this is where love abides.
Even as we play hide-and-seek,
The affection can be profound
As we watch each other grow
In deeper meaning of sweet unity.
Whether it be jar of marbles or tears
Such moments hold us dearer;
By simply recognizing this oneness
Crowned by tinkerbell stars.
Let's walk along the byways
Your polka -dot blouse tugging mine
With patches of cotton candy,
My child, this is where happiness abides.
Contest on Free Verse
Sponsored by Regina Riddle
24th Sept 2014
Of all the ships I've seen, heard of, or read about;
Of all the ships that have ever braved the oceans and high seas;
Of all the ships that have traversed the rivers and lakes of the planet;
Of all the ships that have broken through the icy-melts of glaciers;
Or survived the beatings and torments of angry and raging storms;
Whether it was the infamous Mayflower that landed on Cape Cod,
delivering the pilgrim settlers of America; Or the great cruisers that
dock the beautiful shores of the Caribbean. There are great ships that
come and go and from time to time, even the likes of the Titanic. The one thing that they all have in common is that they all will sink. But I tell you, there is no ship that holds dearer nor steadier than a real friendship. There is no ship whether past, present, or future that can ever compare and compete with the ship called 'The Friendship'. There is none more brotherly nor so sisterly, so dear, faithful, and loyal as the beloved 'Friendship'.
I have noted with deep concern that recently you have lost some very dear friends*. My dear friend, I am praying for you that The Lord will comfort you in your great loss.
A friend.
100520PS
*LC