Long Dictates Poems
Long Dictates Poems. Below are the most popular long Dictates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dictates poems by poem length and keyword.
#Want_everything_first_hand
Wanna be the first to know and hear her say" i think I'm pregnant " , wanna be the one to buy the pregnancy test , wait with her for the 15 minutes and watch as the one line give birth to the 2nd line, wanna hold her hand and say " we are in this together"
Wanna be the first to notice the bump, starting to show, wanna be there when the moods and cravings kicks in, wanna love her even more when she'd be angry at me for no reason, when her body adjusts and rub her swelling legs, wanna be waken in the middle of the night to go and buy her juristic cravings
Wanna see and feel my child moving and kicking, the tiny legs prints on her mothers belly, wanna listen and touch my child while still wrapped inside her mothers gold womb, wanna be there in labour, holding my wife's hand and when she can't bear the pain anymore, wanna kiss her of her forehead and say" you can do it for us"
Wanna take turns to change diapers, warm the bottle, bath my child, wanna raise my child for me not how the media and the society dictates it should be, wanna make mistakes and learn from them, wanna be a father, not what and how religion and nature says it should be, wanna trim fatherhood to my own desire and make, wanna be the first, for it will be my first
Wanna be the first to hear my child say their first word, wanna be there to witness their first step, their first tooth, first chuckle, wanna be what my child's eyes sees when they start to see, want them to know the taste of my fingers, know the sound of my voice and know that I chose to be there and will always be there, that I chose to be a father, their father
Wanna drop my child at chrech in the mornings and fetch them in the afternoons, wanna see their first scribling, wanna be the fisrt to buy and fit them their first school uniform
Wanna take them to meet my mom and siblings and both brothers and sisters rascals, wanna take them to grannies and grandfather's graves to introduce them, wanna take them to meet my father and his brothers,
Want everything first hand, be a father, a friend, a confidante to my child, I want everything first hand
#Poetic_ink
Her reemergence into my relatively reclusive reality
was tantamount to the scary sensation a victor perceives shortly prior to victory,
the feeling that you could prevail if time would just evaporate suddenly,
extinguishing the crowding curve that an opponent may still win,
the situation wasn't that dire,
Nevertheless,
Embers became fire,
flames transformed into dangerous desire
and wishes remained whimsical,
we began by ignoring the unpreferable past like it was dissolved ice
that watered a now open and fertile steppe ready for horses liberty,
she spoke vaguely, happily, and with a young athlete's hubris,
I clarified things comprehensively, I was encouraging like lost songs heard within,
Aleksandra said that she was in love with life itself,
I mentioned that I was in love with survival,
seemed to me that there was a compatible appraisal,
one who loves life does so because life appears to them as a kind beauty
a perfect preachment that exists for their edification,
one who loves the survival of life perceives life as a pitiless perfection,
a brutal beauty endured with dignity for a fiercer freedom commitment,
we each received relic epiphanies from the echoes
of our elastic hopes & heartaches which suggested risk is a ransom of romance,
cute chance,
briskly, like a chill of the dusk,
we ended the endeavor of escapade,
the dictates of our friends, families foes and freedoms would not finance -
J.A.B. 2007
On an old tree, cranky and high, Hung this pathetic and chaotic life, As charming as a golden ripe fruit, Yet as hard as the rocks beside the mountains.
Often, as the tide draws high, Footprints of desperate, grasping men Scoured its root, Seeking the magnitude Of the endless gains of life.
Life is frail, yet so beautiful. Days are like the sun, But they grow dim when nature calls. Death ushers into a realm of solace, Yet life struggles, Fighting to stay in a futile battle. Nothing is too much a gain or loss, Not even the earnest fight Against the unprecedented escape from death.
Do not take too much or give less, For life bears its own scale of weight, Balancing your ways With dictates that may be insufferable.
Still, this pathetic and chaotic life Doth have something to offer "The best heaven we see now" Though hanging on an old tree, Cranky and high.
Dewdrops sparkle
In blurry light;
Grass veiled in mist
Violet flower buds
Props on climbers;
Fence garlands display
Moments here
Lingering softly;
Awaiting sunrise
Sanguine sensations
Tender touch of August;
Rain quenching dry earth
Saturday styles
National Day rehearsal;
Road block barricades
Crowded congestion
Marina Bay Floating Platform;
Final Preview commotion
Rise to the occasion
Nothing else matters;
Focus on intentions
Busy preparations
No distractions allowed;
Outcome dictates tact
By grass verge
New blooms emerge;
Unnoticed fragrance
Song in the wind
Grass seeds fly;
Away from good earth
Affairs of the heart
Nobody understands;
Love triangle
Morning caress
Casuarina tree surprise;
Glimpse old apparitions
Being sees
Becoming fruits;
Plain truth attends
Leon Enriquez
02 August 2014
Singapore
#Want_everything_first_hand
Wanna be the first to know and hear her say" i think I'm pregnant " , wanna be the one to buy the pregnancy test , wait with her for the 15 minutes and watch as the one line give birth to the 2nd line, wanna hold her hand and say " we are in this together"
Wanna be the first to notice the bump, starting to show, wanna be there when the moods and cravings kicks in, wanna love her even more when she'd be angry at me for no reason, when her body adjusts and rub her swelling legs, wanna be waken in the middle of the night to go and buy her juristic cravings
Wanna see and feel my child moving and kicking, the tiny legs prints on her mothers belly, wanna listen and touch my child while still wrapped inside her mothers gold womb, wanna be there in labour, holding my wife's hand and when she can't bear the pain anymore, wanna kiss her of her forehead and say" you can do it for us"
Wanna take turns to change diapers, warm the bottle, bath my child, wanna raise my child for me not how the media and the society dictates it should be, wanna make mistakes and learn from them, wanna be a father, not what and how religion and nature says it should be, wanna trim fatherhood to my own desire and make, wanna be the first, for it will be my first
Wanna be the first to hear my child say their first word, wanna be there to witness their first step, their first tooth, first chuckle, wanna be what my child's eyes sees when they start to see, want them to know the taste of my fingers, know the sound of my voice and know that I chose to be there and will always be there, that I chose to be a father, their father
Wanna drop my child at chrech in the mornings and fetch them in the afternoons, wanna see their first scribling, wanna be the fisrt to buy and fit them their first school uniform
Wanna take them to meet my mom and siblings and both brothers and sisters rascals, wanna take them to grannies and grandfather's graves to introduce them, wanna take them to meet my father and his brothers,
Want everything first hand, be a father, a friend, a confidante to my child, I want everything first hand
#Poetic_ink
The Devil’s watch has started and the time is consummate
A strange and tranquil calmness mocks our terrifying wait
There, just beyond our window moves like fearsome reprobates
A pair of tortuous demons meant all Hell to perpetrate
We will not yield in panic! We will not abdicate!
The oaths we swore, though did not know what fortune could mandate
Then all at once the door explodes like Hell’s infernal gate
And from its raw primordial wound two creatures detonate
A thunderous commotion rings as demons orchestrate
Concussive pandemonium ‘til heads reverberate
Our precious things and property? Just grist to lubricate
The cogs and gears of ruin in their trek to decimate
All supplications fail to slow or cause to deviate
The terrors’ stupefying quest to misappropriate
It seems no thing that we hold dear shall realize escape
Each second’s an eternity, yet hours accelerate
And suddenly as it began, the anarchy abates
Back to their lair they are recalled and though they hesitate
To disobey their Master’s voice they dare not contemplate
So final mischief they perform then through the door gyrate
Perdition’s gate they seal once more, no fear can infiltrate
Now silence will return again and we’ll recuperate
In time the fear will disappear and doubts evaporate
So order once again returns, our world to dominate
Yet in our minds there still exists (though we equivocate)
Confession for the origin of this despairing state
For harsh parental curse once made we can’t repudiate
What went around has come around to now reciprocate
Thus progeny of progeny is ours to expiate
We can’t take back what Nature in its wisdom still dictates
"I hope your children grow up to be JUST LIKE YOU!" still grates
And devil’s laughter is the fee we pay to procreate
Date: December 19, 2018
Contest Name: Give Me Goosebumps Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Immaturity
Logic dictates that we must escape,
The shackles of youth and mature with age.
But who can decide when we have matured enough?
Surely we all have a part of us that needs to remind us of the fun,
We had when we were young.
The first time we found love, finding the music of our life.
Memories that takes us back to a moment when we were happy.
Maturity is a good thing, but so is immaturity sometimes.
Do what you love, all hobbies are good.
The older we get the more we love the way thing used to be.
Become what they expect you to be
Between the hours of nine and five;
But an evening of your life is yours to do with as you please.
Find someone you love and if they feel the same way,
They will accept you are young at heart
And they will accept your immaturity.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Behind the glass, a ticking god of brass,
Who waves a withered palm of fiberglass.
The neon crystal bleeds a bruised magenta hue,
Dispensing plastic tokens, counterfeit and true.
“Your wish is granted,” the solenoid sighs,
While servo motors calibrate his glowing eyes.
He sits in a paisley vest and a gold-wrapped head,
Proclaiming: “Be happy living, for you’re a long time dead.”
Drop in a copper, hear his jawbones creak,
The algorithm’s gospel is the truth he’ll speak.
He shuffles fifteen fortunes from a secret slot,
Telling you of money, love, and what you haven’t got.
A silicon swami in a cedar cage,
Selling sudden adulthood on a printed page.
For twenty-five cents—or a swipe of your card—
He dictates the future of a weary backyard.
But if you feed the Deluxe Cabinet every spare dime,
He loops all his blessings in a paradox of time.
A timeless automaton, forever programmed to please,
Dispensing our destinies on tear-off degrees.
When it is that freedom is taken from our lives
And is replaced by tyranny that so totally deprives
Our rights to freely speak or be a dissident
Or question the authority from which it has been sent
‘Tis then we must come forward and take a righteous stand
To quell the tyrants’ dictates: Remove the things they’ve planned
Our country’s sinking rapidly, of that there is no doubt
We must work until we put the tyrants out!
Indictments here; indictments there, that’s how it’s all begun
But there must be many more, before our job is done
And when we have completed this necessary task
We’ll hold our heads on high, and then it is we ask:
“Were we the ones who took a stand to right the freedoms’ wronged?”
And are we in the company of those who have belonged
To America, our country, and still Founding Fathers bless
With wisdom and wherewithal to make the answer: YES.
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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