Long Delete Poems
Long Delete Poems. Below are the most popular long Delete by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Delete poems by poem length and keyword.
When the program isn’t working like it should,
No rabbit’s foot, nor horseshoe’s gonna bring you any luck.
When the techie’s not around to make things good
Ya gotta figure out a way to get yourself unstuck.
All it takes is just three fingers, and you’re sweet:
Ctrl-Alt-Delete.
When the system won’t cooperate, oh dear,
You don’t like what you’re looking at and need to move along.
If your monitor is frozen, have no fear.
I’ve got a way to break the ice. It really can’t go wrong.
It’s a clever way of turning up the heat:
Ctrl-Alt-Delete.
If it fixes my computer when it’s jammed,
Then maybe it can help with other problems in my life.
Since it’s useful when I’m really getting spammed,
It might be good to try it when I'm badgered by my wife,
Then her nagging might be something I can beat:
Ctrl-Alt-Delete.
The organic chemistry of memory
is faster than light.
it cannot be deleted, only defeated.
That cellular crucible deletes itself
by an entropy of catalytic reactions.
Stop stoking the flames
then the ash will then fly away.
Whose your daddy, whose your ma?
Who parents your life, now that the parents
have become your children, progeny recollected
by old images of yourself.
The world, that part of the brain we know as us,
it is always incomplete,
it does not evolve, it only recalls itself
over and over again.
We are unborn, the progenitors of
an imagined ancestry.
Our legacy is a rootless mirage,
and we can never delete
what never was.
There is a convict king..An omnivore
Who eats the atrocious, yet showed
A brother the door' for lesser offences?
Though bad no doubt.' He's also put in the shade, by dark pontifs, where is the
Righteous shout ? The hue and cry.' The
potus's call.? The vigilant news corps
When did things fall.? Perhaps when the
Serpent slithered hugging the tree that
Held all knowledge, through as a mist i
See.? A form of growth a system that
Branches rich in foliage, yet that covers
Your chances..Lost in wonder of what can
Be by man-made.? Muscles become lax, as
So dense the messaging under this type of shade.)
MY SOMEDAY PC
Someday when I’ll lose all my fading imagination
I’ll ask my PC to bring from the clipboard a poem for me.
It’ll inscribe a sonnet on the splendor of the rising sun
in programmed words formatting dreams I failed to see.
Someday when I’ll miss the melody of my mute music
I’ll ask my PC to play from its music store a sonata for me.
It’ll select and play Mozart’s ninth symphony, a classic,
my heart will pulsate in the tracked tune of rhapsody.
Someday when I’ll feel desolate and forsaken
I’ll ask my PC to project on monitor a lively friend.
It’ll display an animated smiling face I’ve long forgotten,
the hyperlink to the photo archive it’ll instantly send.
Someday when I’ll be depressed and a loner
I’ll ask my PC to open the inspiring page of history.
It’ll decode the encrypted tale of life from an uploaded folder
to set me on a browsing journey of self-inventory.
Someday when all colors will disappear from my palette
I’ll ask my PC to show me a picture of sunset hued sky.
It’ll retrieve a Monet from the database searching the internet,
I’ll copy and paste on the blank canvas where my mind will lie.
Someday when it’ll be time to close window on the world to exit
I’ll ask my PC to delete my story it had saved in the binary code,
because I’ll never want to virtually exist bound by strings of digit
in the electronic memory that nobody would ever download.
October 3, 2018
The days lose their length
The trees turn to gold
In comes the cold
That is Autumns strength
Fruit still abundant
The evening still warm
The winds start to calm
Calendar redundant
Still take a long walk
The heat it has gone
Days later dawn
More time to talk
Autumn wears on
Soon it will go
Then you will know
Winter will come
So right at the end
Winds start again
The coldest of rain
Fallen leaves blend
Time marches on
The Winter is here
Can still be good cheer
Timepiece goes back
Clothing of wool
Keep the skin warm
Protect from the storm
Keep the cup full
Sunday 29th September 2019 - An Autumn Woolgathering - Edward Ibeh
May not have a grasp of this, please delete if unacceptable
(Poet’s Note : AI will be able to decipher Light Language soon. For now, it cannot. Light Language is not classified as an “other” language yet.)
language of Love has
no w Or dS
ong s’allie ding ma nokie ja ra so ligt lite
ong ma n’a soe doe ra la me da koo KA
ding ding can nooo
De let. E. PIC
has ty lang Age
do ta ra poet RY
POETRY speak
ING wi OOye
footprints in sand : pic fo Heart
Mys heri
chic ken
castles make
laugh heave
vie li ta
ti ma heal her withdrawal
thirsty 4 jui ka si ma
soe ma to ma ri da no
wORD sssssss
forgive them, they know not
what they do
imag ikie Heart
__———— NISH
mystic n’a new
water rOse shower
rose faded
ful cri dis
aPEAR
heaven F
aLL
ING
¥¥••¥¥
watcher in ada rye %•
eat jud brea ge satamanaramakri’ansh
no mica nnn hungry
waves 222 surf
high /\/\/\. clean 2metres
~**
no rul no ma ge
gotta Lo
ve water
so ma toe ri la ma di
sika
mien ra da
De. Ciet
eiki dee ma to ta powersth
AT B
wonder cice li fear ?•••
DISMISS.
We all have at one time written poetry in the moment
Where at the time to you it just seemed pretty potent
But, left to time, not many views with not a comment
No-one has understood your babble of utter nonsense
Maybe; it is the time for that massive poetry clear out
Quality over quantity; should now be your main shout
With a fewer poems to read they should get the views
Taken away, are the works I write, even worth it blues
Each poem you have written appeals to the right mind
But, if that right mind does not pass, delete it, be kind
Spend your time writing a master piece see the results
Then stand back, and watch in awe the power it exults
Linda Marie
why do you flee
i hope is has nothing
to do with me
Linda Marie
can't you see
that giving up
is'nt being free
is not our land the land
of the stars and stripes
was it not fought for
with blood and strife
when men fight
it is a fight untill the end
Linda Marie you have
something to defend!
if not your site
your world, your time
with us.
your not alone
i give a cuss
stand up to them
with the power to delete
let them know you'll take
it on your feet
we fight with words
and principles and rights
if not you
then who will fight?
for ourselves and our
posterity
who?
Form:
Stand Your Ground
I joined the soup to challenge myself, all I wanted to do was write
I’m not a professional poet and sometimes my words lack bite
I am not a college graduate, I have no English degree
But what I have is from God, and some friends I never see
I’ve been here on the soup since the beginning of 2020
The trolling started quite early, the slams were good and plenty
Within the first two weeks, I felt their crosshairs on my back
They would post their nasty comments, then delete after each attack
I decided to stand my ground, in the beginning it got quite rough
I watched many poets leave, dealing with bullies can be pretty tough
Trying to use my words, I defended through all of their bull
You can turn the other cheek, but sometimes that trigger just needs a pull
I fired back with poems; I honestly did the best I could
They eventually gave up on me, just like I figured they would
It’s been almost two years, the ring leaders have disappeared
We still have a couple who stir the pot, but they no longer are revered
I let lust lead.
So when I speak on this,
I’m not guessing.
I’m not judging.
I know what it does.
It rips your heart.
Messes up your mind.
Twists how you see people
how you see yourself.
It cages you.
Makes you smile in public
but cry in secret.
Makes you feel too dirty for grace.
Too broken for mercy.
Too far for forgiveness.
And the worst part?
It makes you think God’s done with you.
And truth is — He should be.
But He’s not.
Because Jesus didn’t die for the cleaned-up version of you
He died for the broken one.
The ashamed one.
The addict.
The liar.
The boy with secrets.
The girl with regrets.
You can’t delete demons with a filter.
You can’t kill sin by willpower.
You can’t win this war by fighting flesh with flesh.
You need the Spirit.
You need God.
I tried everything.
Fasted. Blocked sites. Prayed.
Deleted apps. Made promises.
And still fell.
Until the Holy Spirit whispered:
"You don't get free by pretending you're not bound.
You get free by bringing it to the light."
So I did.
I confessed.
Not to impress.
But to survive.
To finally live.
And you know what?
God didn’t cancel me.
He covered me.
He didn’t shame me.
He saved me.
No lightning.
No thunder.
Just quiet conviction
and loud mercy.
Now, I don’t boast in my strength.
Because it wasn’t me.
It was always God.
Every time I said, “I can’t,”
He whispered, “I can.”
Every time I fell,
His grace picked me up again.
I still fight
but now I fight from victory, not for it.
I’m not perfect
but I’m free.
And I write this for you.
Yes, you.
If you’re stuck in ****,
trapped in shame,
thinking it’s too late
It’s not.
Jesus didn’t just die to save you from hell.
He died to save you from this.
This secret sin.
This silent prison.
This hidden addiction.
So bring it to Him.
Say it out loud.
Let the light in.
Because when you confess,
He doesn’t walk away
He walks in.
He breaks chains.
He still does.
And I am living proof.
So let the world hear this:
My little secret sin is now exposed
not to shame me,
but to free someone else.
Because if He did it for me,
He can do it for you.
Let the world hear.
Let the broken repent.
Let the captives run free.
Let the light shine in the darkest room.
This is not weakness.
This is freedom.
This is Jesus.
And He is still breaking chains.