Long Devotes Poems
Long Devotes Poems. Below are the most popular long Devotes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Devotes poems by poem length and keyword.
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To the twosome that falls in love, who and why and when hardly matters. But those of us watching from the sidelines, it may--who falls in love first, who devotes more time to love, how often, contentment, depth of love, and what not. So here goes.
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Who devotes more time for love?
A woman’s lost in thoughts of him--
Her waking time and that in dream,
She scores fifty-four, he, forty-four,
Her love stems from deeper core.
Who falls in love first, how soon?
Man takes a month after first meet,
Woman takes twice longer to it.
Man decides in hurry
And that’s the real worry.
Who acknowledges love first?
Hear too the same story repeats,
Man in hurry always her beats.
She takes time to confirm love
And never once makes first move.
Falling in love, how often?
Men seem to love more than once
And in love here and there runs,
She that loves one alone
Never is too far gone.
Content in love, who scores?
Here too he hurries, gets fulfilled first,
A balloon, he soon gets burst
And never content still
Whilst she can truly chill.
Who dives deep in love?
It’s she that feels love far ahead
From heart. Man, no farther than head,
On attachment also scores she,
He, no more than possessive be.
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Happenings | 13.02.2026 | love, men, women, Quintain
Waking up before the sun kisses
Chirping of birds becomes brushed aside
Putting glasses to see better
With unpolished shoes I ride over
With an old beg of mine
Keeping some old books inside
The rusted passage let me in
I walk through a road edged with topiary
as if golden hedges welcome me
The old corridor embraces my stomping footsteps
Holding a chalk to create and defend
I march into battle ground cum temple of knowledge
Keeping all agonies behind the doorway
A warrior devotes to serve the future
An oath to fire up extinguishing lamps
And to nourish the saplings till they grow
Time rushes with greying hairs and vivid memories
But the grown up trees reminds me to keep going
My favorite song is Al Green's Belle.
Perhaps you also know it well?
Lust and love are waged in war.
Who and what is it all for?
The guy has the girl but he is torn.
Leaving her makes him all forlorn.
But a higher God is calling him.
He feels the pull from deep within.
In the end he is forced to choose.
In his heart he knows it's her he'll lose.
Eventually he turns his back on fame
and fortune and her, they're all the same.
Unfulfilled by earthly pleasures,
he decides to take appropriate measures.
Devotes wondered what could this mean.
Behold before you The Reverend Al Green.
No stage now but an alter bare,
upon which his love of God he swears.
My heart goes out to poor Belle.
In love with the wrong guy she fell.
'Same Old Song' Contest
Sponsor Beth Evans
Snow falling uninterrupted, unhindered in the silent, dark night,
Shimmering snow pellets floating down like thin silvery clouds,
Some adorn the unruffled evergreens - glimmering gems on a tiara,
Some reach the hard ground and melt like our unfulfilled emotions do,
Sky with no blinking stars, somber in reverie like a meditating saint.
I close my eyes, my mind filled with reflections of the past,
Delightful, exultant, tranquil ….
Dismal, dejected, gloomy,
All crowd crystallized in my memories,
My childhood, adolescence, youth, all unfold in my mind in a moment of tranquility,
Gone through many rare experiences which have made my life richer,
As I behold at the absolute darkness of the night,
And experience the sacred feelings of watching snow fall,
My solitary heart prays, devotes, dedicates, bows, glows,
My mind gets purified with an intense desire to be out in the universe,
And feel the inspiring oneness under a mysterious canopy.
Dark night
Silent night..
With the absence of all sounds, and all sights,
I connect to my god.
Contagion ceremoniously weaves its harvest into a fabric of un-social inclusion
Haunted by lack of humility and lost serenity it serenades through the masses
In God We Trust but who listened to Nietzsche who proclaimed that she is dead
Lest we believe that a deity or other exists and really knows what she's doing
Divinity does not adhere to the faith that we are immune to such a great reaper
Revelations come at a price and blood money changes gloves and sterile hands
Engulfed in statistics and mortality rates we watch breathlessly old news in pain
No human creature is more equal than others when pandemonium is pandemic
Opulence luxury and money do not protect us from the insidious bastard bug
Foreshadow a lesson in morality diffidence acceptance and washing our hands
Alamo meets the apocalypse in cryptic proportions of ignorance and surrender
Loo rolls pasta hand soap have vanished from shelves as have bread and wine
Endangered species need to make offerings with the latter and worship at home
Surreptitious veneration of non-believers stakes false claims at burgeoning altars
Superficially cleansed with an insane amount of fake oaths in hypocritical pride
End stage scenarios roam beliefs narratives and reason beyond any much doubt
Reinvent biblical prophesies as devotes of virgin birth bow to rigor mortis instead
Grotesque gargoyles utter a cynical message on shrines mausoleums and crosses
Ogres whirl a ballet of youthful joy while funeral processions have come to a halt
Deliriously they applaud the harvest and struggle to keep up with all those in line
30th March 2020
Blessed are the peacemakers
A great source of joy in life
They are a great blessing
Amidst life’s battles and strife.
We have one such amongst us
Who is quite capable
To diffuse any situation
To bring peace he’s able.
He knows how to calm the rage
When anger is raging high
He brings peace and calm
When the sparks seem to fly.
His mind is all at peace
When others see red
He restores normalcy
When sanity hangs by a thread.
He devotes his life to prayer
We hold him in great admiration
The world he makes a better place
He is truly an inspiration.
Dedicated to Bro. Stanley Cherian, our friendly and esteemed neighbour
Autumn
Let us begin in the current season, Not the season of beginnings but of seasoning.
Leaves bold
Wise, old
Winter
Hither it comes, white or gray, falling, failing, smarting, incredibly enlightening.
Lets go
New show
Spring
New birds of millenials herded into facebook frames, those cribs engaged with each month’s age. I look on, remembering how this boomer’s recollection is in a box, more than one.
Face crib
Ad lib
Summer
Watch those new birdies fly. Life is fleeting. Parents hold onto their wings, sometimes clipping. Grandparents no longer open their wallets to show their pride, but with much more intensity and videos, besides, put the kids front and center for thumbs up, hearts, exclamations, tears, never anger.
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