Long Dispense Poems
Long Dispense Poems. Below are the most popular long Dispense by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dispense poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s time, by now, we did away with nations.
I tell you, hand on heart beneath the flag,
This jingo jag has now become a drag.
Those puerile patriotic palpitations
had meaning only when we lived in tribes.
Today our people mix and mingle freely –
so can’t we now dispense with Horace Greeley,
and wetbacks, wops and wogs, and all those jibes?
Since nations never have a sense of humour,
it’s little wonder why we have these wars.
We need a change of heart. Embrace the cause:
don’t split us into gooks or spooks or squaws,
or hicks or micks or spicks, or baby-boomers.
One nation under God, we’re all consumers.
When lightning strikes post thunderclap
stout, sturdy, stems do sometimes snap.
Fires are kindled in a flash
turning things we treasure to ash.
From high above mountains and hills
lightning strikes men and maims or kills.
That’s when our gut grim grief doth grip
and chafe our soul as with a whip.
When death like lightning strikes a soul
sorrow and sobbing take their toll.
Mere mortals some their Maker curse
while others Job-like faith do nurse.
When sorrow and strife stalk your soul
let not your mind sink to Sheol.
Look up instead to God above
And let Him heal your heart with love.
The choice you make can build or break
your trust in God, so, stay awake.
Your enemy lurks like a snake
to tempt your God to forsake.
When like just Job your faith is tried
Humble yourself, dispense with pride.
Trust God, and with firm faith abide,
let His promises be your guide.
At last weave bin released from winter's frigid jaws!
Spring has sidled upon us as delicately as if on kittens' pause!
April hath drenched hour land with life-sustainin' showers,
Two ade inn springin' fourth Mae's myriad of pretty flowers.
Thee robins have returned two serenade me at brake of dawn.
Mournin' due glistens like diamonds on my emerald lawn.
Those pesky dandy-lions ad sparkle with there yellow hew,
Butt, eye'll soon rid my yard of them sew yule never gnu they grew!
Glorious son-flowers salute Sol each mourn as if too say howdy-do!
Flowers nodded too there nay-boors urged by casual winds that blue.
Dainty mournin' glories grace thee path-weigh awl along my fence;
Too-lips, peetoonias end lielacks dispense there vary pleasin' cents.
Guardeners till thee soil two plant unions, carats end pertaters,
End other veggies includin', let-us, beans end beef-stake termaters.
Pleasin' aromas of broilin' stakes waft about from nay-boor's bar-bee-cues.
Folks gether on friends' front porches two sip tee end schmooze.
Birds flit about buildin' nests four there gnu-bournes inn my apple trees;
Ravishin' butterflys sample thee nectar of blooms, a-waftin' on the breeze.
Spring! A time for gnu life, knew beginnin's that doth us awl enthral!
Spring! Thee most delightful season of the year, the most joyful of awl!
When we were young and lacked the coin
to buy enduring toys, the Woolworth store
defined the reach of acquisition,
filling up the breach of larger dreams
with flavored ice and scooter pies.
We consumed them while on the run
through the hot streets of Washington,
learning thus the rate of sweetness
and how rapidly it melts away.
At the flea market in Arlington
we saunter through the parking garage
and dispense the largess piled on age.
She soothes the ache of toys denied
with a pewter vase and a string
of Lapis from Afghanistan.
I use the hour to forage for
battered trains from before the war
when I could only watch the tin toys run
through the teasing window of the store.
Always thinking ahead,
as opportunity seldom knocks,
I'm still and always will be
pushing the envelope outside the box.
As what goes up must come down,
if I may have my way and say today,
airlines should sell seats by the pound,
the more you weigh, the more you pay.
History has shown (we've always known),
when American Indians he's among,
all the better to speak out of both sides of mouth,
white man speak with forked tongue.
As stress brings on distress,
employ mind over matter,
and dispense with the former,
to prevent the latter.
If God created mankind in his own image,
as some are straight and others gay,
was God therefore bisexual
or merely dabbling in shades of grey?
A well-balanced world would be bereft,
it can't be all right as nothing would be left,
and almost lost in obscurity,
its axial tilt of 23.44°,
is also known as 'obliquity'.
In these days of austerity
It’s getting to be a treat
To go out for a few pints
And have a bite to eat,
So, Please Mr Pub Landlord
Grant me just a little wish
Bring back the vinegar bottle
So I can splash me bit of fish.
Those little plastic sachets
You’ve generously placed there
Supposedly have perforation
But they just refuse tear.
I need that essential liquid
Over me chips and cod
To transpose it from wonderful
To meal fit for a demi god.
I sit there by the mimute
Growing more and more tense
Looking at the pile of sachets
That just won’t dispense
In despair I eat my meal
Before it grows cold
But it’s just not the same
Without that liquid of gold.
I shall add that designer to
That list of those folk that
I’d like to meet in a dark alley
When I’ve got my baseball bat
A pox on the plastics industry
Once thought a packaging solution
Now a source of anger and despair
And the growing oceanic pollution.
I’m just a simple type of being
So many modern things I hate
Just give me fish and taties
Hot, served on a real plate
And I reall dont think that
I’m asking rather a lot
For vinegar in a real bottle
And salt and pepper in a pot.
When
When Muslims and Jews, eschew all notions of dissenting difference, and embrace in
distinct integration.
When Christians and Buddhists fuse love of self with love of other and dispense with pride
and self effacement altogether!
When Feminist Theologians, cry the plight of black women, and Muslim Men detect the
mystified labor of unsung wives,
When Black men learn to love themselves and through that love embrace their enemies,
When America makes amends for slaves of old made street criminals of conservative imagination,
When political liberals embrace the charismatic power of holy ghost renewal,
When Europe learns to love God, and Americans learn to love each other,
When charismatic leaders fade into horizontal mutuality,
When Martins are multiplied, and Mothers encourage their daughters to be their best,
When rest becomes as important as productivity and efficiency is defined by joy instead of
EBIDTA.
When technology becomes a tool to feed the world, and innovation ceases to be the slave of
profit,
When lawyers defend the cause of the weak and fatherless, and Doctors heal for free,
Then we shall see the day of the Lord.
And Evangelicals will no longer imagine the coming of an idea,
For the living Christ will be among us!
In the final act, alone you stand,
It's just you, amid the shifting sand.
Regrets, like echoes, in silence collect,
From things ejected, and paths unchecked.
Pain, an arrow, lodged deep within,
A heart's burden, a relentless sin.
The way you view, the way you dispense,
In the end, it's just you, the consequence.
Reflections cast shadows, truth unfurls,
In the kaleidoscope of life's swirling twirls.
Treat others kindly, let compassion blend,
For in the end, it's just you, my dear friend.
Discover the essence, in the quiet repose,
Before all else, in your own heart it shows.
A revelation profound, as time does dispel,
In the end, it's just you, all else farewell.
I swallow her bluest serenity whole
So she may return the favor,
In her consumption of my soul
My feelings I may waiver.
Give me my soma, you pretty young thing
So I can’t imagine the happiness you bring.
Then should your lips depart my direction,
I shall not regret exquisite perfection.
Let my dreams dissolve with numbing sleep
And dispense my blood of wonder,
For from my fears she’ll gently keep
The pain that would asunder.
Give me my soma, you pretty young thing
So I can’t imagine the happiness you bring.
Then should your lips depart my direction,
I shall not regret exquisite perfection.
And so our fleeting tryst must end
And fondness found thereof,
For she forbids to comprehend
A notion such as love.
Give me my soma, you pretty young thing
So I can’t imagine the happiness you bring.
Since your lips did depart my direction,
I cannot regret exquisite perfection.
Will he be my lover...
Will he be my friend...
Will he be the one who's with me...
to the very end.
Will he be the one...
who tells me
that I'll always be his Queen...
that I possess the greatest beauty...
of any woman he's ever seen.
Will he be the one...
that puts the light back in my eyes...
to make them sparkle and glimmer,
Will he be the one to dispense
with all life's lies.
Will he be the one to hold me...
forever and a day...
Will he be the one to love me...
as if every month were May.
Will he be the one to comb back
my hair
and hold it in his hand
Will he be the one
to whisper to me
sweetly in my ears...
Will he be the one that I'll always want
that I'll forever want to be near.
Will he be the one
whose reflections...
alway make me think anew...
who makes me a better person...
who never makes me blue.
Will he be my vision..
of all I'll ever want
that I'll want to remain forever
as two combined into one.
Will his very memory..
always occupy my mind
Will my thoughts and dreams of him
Hauntingly resonate,
until the end of time.
(November 22, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,