Long Depends Poems
Long Depends Poems. Below are the most popular long Depends by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Depends poems by poem length and keyword.
Observing all, the fly upon the wall,
Sees politicians trip before the fall.
They scheme and whisper, planning their ascent,
On sticky webs of power, time is spent.
It cleans its legs upon the ‘summit’ food,
And buzzes secrets, were it understood.
It watches spouses lie, then softly creep,
While promises are cheap, as kept words sleep.
They rise to the top where there are no ends,
Soon out of sigh, with what they store depends.
The fly on the wall, a tiny, silent judge,
Converging human spirit that won’t budge.
For all their pomp and all their grand affairs,
They’re merely mammals with their silly airs.
One tries to swat it with a mighty whack,
But misses every time, the clumsy hack.
The fly lives on, its life of two days grand,
To watch the finest follies of the land.
For human drama, to its beady eye,
Is just a pile of rot beneath the sky.
A fly upon the plaster sits and waits,
To see which fool will seal his sorry fates.
He watches scandals, secrets, tears, and strife,
The endless, pointless drama that is life.
He buzzes softly, hearing every word,
A tiny, winged, satirical absurd.
He sees the lies in every human heart,
And plays his quiet, observant, tiny part.
This world is just a stage, a fleeting play,
He’ll watch you falter, then he’ll fly away.
A fly upon the pristine ballroom wall,
Obsessed with the mechanics of the fall.
He judges every waltz and every twirl,
A critic in a world of social whirl.
Observing secrets from his perch up high,
He files reports on who has told a lie.
He scoffs at all the human pomp and grace,
And wipes his tiny feet upon their space.
Convinced that he’s the master of the room,
He buzzes softly in perpetual gloom.
the witches creed was “to no creature do harm”
jealous men were annoyed by their confidence
Brothers Grimm used witches as storybook villains
attempting to take them down a couple of notches
witches were always for the greater good
they were gardeners, nurturers, and healers
Their balms and remedies were created to help others
jealous men twisted their cauldrons into evil instruments
I hope that men do know the difference between right and wrong.
My life’s creed depends on it; it is “be yourself always”.
I imagine the witch-tormentors must have figured it out.
If they had not, the Salem Witch trials would be happening today.
I like to think that they were horrified when the innocent drowned.
Proof they were not witches.
I like to think we shun away from evil.
My mantra “be yourself always” is not meant for serial killers.
You ever had a neighbor, a friend, a family member or somebody that always wanna know if “you got?”
You got $5.00 til Friday, you got milk, you got some soap powder, you got a egg, you got cooking oil, you got some plies I can use, you got a lawn mower, you got 2 slices of bread I can borrow… Borrow?
I can borrow yo car? I can use yo phone? You can watch my lil boy til I come back? I can borrow yo curling iron?I can wash my clothes by yo house? I can use yo wifi password…
No, no, no and NO, so stop asking.
But just imagine, all those “You Gots” be from the same person.
Now mind you, it's okay to borrow from time to time. I'm not saying nothing is wrong with that, because I have had to borrow too at one time or another, it just wasn't every day, all day.
But why should they go out and get it for themselves if they know they can always get it from you?
It's okay to be giving, nice and helpful to people, but at what point does it turns to dependency and expectation, where the person depends on you and EXPECTS you to have and give every time they ask? And ask yourself, are you enabling this behavior?
A dot to dot for all to see
Rotating across the world
Everyone see's it differently
Depends which way you're twirled
You can play even in slippers
I connect Orion to his belt
Trace a mighty Leo's mane
Draw Hercules with his pelt
Then I'm interrupted by a plane
Right through Hydra's flippers
Link the horns to Taurus
And Pegasus to his wings
A shell for Delphinus porpoise
Few more lines in Lyra's harp strings
and Cancer's pinching clippers
My favourite dots to connect
In any constellation
Are the made up ones, I suspect
From my starry imagination
(plus, I can never find the dippers)
Nov 17, 2022
Between grains of ancient fine sand
desert roses hidden from sight—
Colourful, exquisitely fanned.
They formed in darkness; pressure shaped.
Each perfect corolla agape
in floral whorl of sharp crescents;
fluorescent and phosphorescent.
Against injustices they railed—
within shed tears, I saw their plight.
In our moral duty we’ve failed.
Their troubled spirits to immerse
in laughter which abounds in verse.
Pococurante obedience.
Parting: an Aubade in a sense.
POET'S NOTE
Updated 25th Aug with the mosaic rhyme in the final two lines:
obedience & Aubade in a sense.
Recommended reading: Desert rose selenite/gypsum.
POETIC FORM: Saraband sonnet (I used the BASIC French rhyme scheme, extended).
The Saraband(e) derives its name from a fast erotic dance of the 1500s of Mexico and Spain which originated in the East. It is a stanzaic form imitating the dance steps and written in any number of septets. The various forms consist of tercets (axa—‘x’ being unrhymed) or triplets (aaa); the chief difference being in the rhyme schemes of the quatrains: English (axa bcbc), Spanish (aaa bcbc), Italian (axa bccb OR aaa bccb), and French (only axa bbcc). Each subsequent stanza repeats the rhyme scheme set in the first stanza, but in the longer Saraband poems it is not unusual to mix Spanish, Italian and/or French septets. Any metrical foot; any metrical line—some authorities insist on octal syllabic lines rendering it minor art (= 8 syllables per line) but this is not cut and dry.
Saraband Sonnet: It comprises 2 septets. Rhyme scheme: It depends on the form chosen. In the sonnet form, the rhyme schemes have been extended for the French variant (aZa in the tercets where 'z' rhymes), and Italian variant (aba cddc—thus, an addition ‘b’ in the tercets). Some examples can be found where the rhyme scheme for the second septet is progressive. It may be octasyllabic, iambic or trochaic tetrameter, or an extra foot (iambic pentameter) may be added to conform to the basic sonnet. The volta is at L8. I have experimented with the rhyme scheme: aza bbcc, dzd eeff.
I'm running away but I don't know where
Can't find my way but I really don't care.
And I don't know which way I might go
I guess it all depends on which way the wind blows.
But I'm running
And I don't even know what I'm running from.
I'm just running
I'm just running
Running blind with no where to hide
Running head on towards what I can't describe
I'm just a running
Just running
Running hard away from what I am
From what I've been just as fast as I can.
But there's no where I can run that You won't see
And no where I can go that I can't be
Maybe one of the ones I'm running from . . . is me.
But I'm running
I'm running.
Maybe I'm more afraid of stopping, and having to deal with me,
Than running blind into, the devil I've yet to see.
I keep running
I keep running
What makes me run well I don't know
I can't be afraid because it scares me so.
I'm running
I ain't running free
I'm running
Trying my best to get away from me.
Am I running from who I am
Or am I running from who I'll be?
I don't expect that you can answer that question for me.
And in the meantime,
I'm running
I'm running
Who is happy in this year?
Aries, reliable cooperator will help you a lot.
Taurus, good sense leads your things to be fresh and hot.
Gemini, think well and take an advance without fear.
Cancer, taking natural way, makes problems clear.
Leo, keep your principles to get absolute success.
Virgo, be independent, and you'll get much progress.
Libra, wait a bit till good person will soon appear.
Scorpio, original idea will bring you goodness.
Sagittarius, new stage starts with rapid decision.
Capricorn, fortunate all time, but watch your health well.
Aquarius, if you're prudent, you can reach goal well.
Pisces, your success depends on optimization.
And sometimes, lucky comes pretending unhappiness.
In hues of sepia she maintains
her web of life, Mother Nature;
from smallest seed to greatest
creature her umbilical sustains.
The fate of all life resides
in her consciousness and flow;
like a machine each part depends
on the other parts smooth glide.
Pollinators nurture flora,
food is recycled and regenerates;
feeding others of her children,
from trees to abundant Passiflora.
Through our big blue marbled macrocosm
she weaves her web of life;
from Terra-firma are many birthed
abundant arising microcosms.
With light and pigmentation's work
amazing color floods her realm;
from greens, golds, reds and browns
she paints such serene patchwork.
Wondrous miracles she has birthed
within her spirits sylvan seas;
a universal soul, our Mother,
captured by the poets in verse.
The finest artist of her kind,
with unlimited imagination;
her womb is quite a fertile one,
life’s threads are fragilely intertwined.
6-27-2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 27) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Three sides to every story
The viewpoint depends on,
which side you are looking at:
the up, the down, or the sideways glace.
There's your side, my side,
with the truth perchance,
lying forlorn somewhere between,
always on the other side, twisted out of view.
But no one is lying!
No view is false!
For our perspective is biased and tainted,
by our background and context.
So what you and I see,
when looking at the same thing,
is different in innocent crucial finer details.
However, in our eyes,
our side of the story is the only true one.
The other sides are the 'lie', and the 'veil'.
When I look at all three sides now,
From up and down, and from all around,
Somehow, I know its only cloud illusions I recall.
For I really don't know,
what's really true at all.
I wear a thimble to protect me from blows
I can't see the enemy,
But I got to fight anyway I suppose.
My thimble's a bit battered
Worn down by old wounds
I might need to get a new one
Till then this will do.
My kingdom depends on me
I guess so,
Haven't heard from them in many moons.
I fight, waving about a needle
I feel the enemy's presence
They wonder why I haven't given up hope.
I cut down through a couple of bushes
And there are the foes standing tall
They don't look all that scary
Just a bit tired, that's all.
I recognize them I think
I've heard their voices before
I take off my thimble
Strangely soothed by their song.
They say they're my demons
Trying to help me find a better end
I believe them
For they are my only friends.
They accept me, make me feel safe,
So much so, without my thimble
I still feel brave.
I don't think I'll go back to the kingdom
For the foes are now my friends
No matter what someone says
I'll stay with them till the end.