Long Dispensed Poems
Long Dispensed Poems. Below are the most popular long Dispensed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dispensed poems by poem length and keyword.
In the Real Estate section,
A question arose
About incense within your abode.
Certain buildings have rules
That prohibit its use
And the writer was set to explode.
If some candles are lit
For the Sabbath by some,
Why can’t she light her incense as well?
Her religion requires
That incense is burned
But the difference, to me, is the smell.
With most incense, the scent
Is intense and, to me,
Has an odor with little appeal,
Which can drift down the hallways
That many do share
Which may impact the way people feel.
Yet the candles she cited
Have no scent at all
So the answer I would have dispensed
Was comparing the two
Isn’t fair, so it’s wrong
Over incense to be so incensed.
An Angel’s Dream
Last night I heard an angel’s dream
it was soft and sweet and quite serene
One word was spoken for me to hear
the voice was strong and the message clear
This angelic voice rang from ear to ear
it brought me peace and dispensed my fear
A private thought conveyed to me
we’re not alone and we’ll never be
I felt a presence unlike before
an unlocked heart with an open door
With just one word, I was filled with love
I felt two arms from up above
Preserve your faith and maintain your poise
It’s hard to hear with so much noise
Listen close, they’ll never scream
Last night I heard an angel’s dream
The sledding and the skating in ‘63;
the sugar cookies frosted green and red;
the stringing popcorn with my family
and going anxiously that Eve to bed.
The gift exchange when relatives would meet.
Some traveled far to Grandma's little town.
The feast and seeing cousins such a treat!
We stayed and played until the sun went down.
The program at our church where all took part.
Our flock was small but talent did not lack.
The joyous songs; before we would depart ;
the glorious sweets dispensed from Santa's sack!
No holiday to come could be as dear
as when I was a child in my eighth year!
For the "Christmas Past, Present or Future" Poetry contest of Kelly Deschler
(This was also the year my mother met my stepdad and we became a family of 9 instead of 5. A standout year, but also reminiscent of many of my childhood years at Christmas time in Iowa. With so many dear relatives now passed on, the past would be my time I would choose to revisit.)
The vampire exited the saloon doors
covered in blood her gaze enamors;
Cowboys on horses stop mid motion
to see what was causing the commotion;
Mysterious woman dealing black jack,
apparently someone had tried to attack;
Whiskey shots were barely dispensed,
outlaws came in and the energy tensed;
No intention of drawing first blood,
then he asked to play five card stud;
She said ‘I’m not part of the party;
You don’t gamble with the referee.’
He tried to hit her she broke his neck;
Then came his friends, a train wreck;
Not fond of utilizing easy murder,
off she rides from this sunset massacre.
The storm recedes, its rage now spent,
Leaving the earth to emit a scent,
A dank, damp, earthy smell of wet grass,
That breaks the drought, from its parched impasse.
In the quiet there after, all is still,
Thunder's rumble quelled to distill,
Sound to liquid, rage to peace,
As hopes of rebirth and new life increase.
The scent of rain is a heaven sent smell,
Wafting up to dispel a lingering spell.
It's a therapy from nature's apothecary,
Dispensed from a dry-grass prairie.
Imbibe the aroma of the heavenly scent,
To flush the stench of discontent,
From your life's toil and strife.
Imbibe its smelling salts, revive your life.
Look up, look up, so one can clearly see -
To change our world, we first must change our mind.
Up is best and it shall always be,
Hope in happiness, one is sure to find.
Basic injustices cannot make us one,
If true values should be driving our youth -
Equality alone can get this done.
Let us raise the bar we set for the truth.
It is the open mind that tends to engage,
Deceit is always dispensed by free will.
Then, the honest hearts will feel the real rage,
No reason now to abide a quiet quill.
As all earth is in flames, we reach higher,
Whoever believes in dreams, they must aspire!
Motivation Contest
5/31/2020
Sponsor: Shreya LN
Today, when I'm in search of news, seems no honest place to choose
No matter where my surfing lands, my wits are placed in biased hands
Facts and lies chewed in a blender, served up smooth for their agenda
Left or right, it makes no matter, what's dispensed is poisoned chatter
Truth that's twisted, then opined, meant to sway the sheepish mind
Oblique perspectives rife with flaws, varnished clean by righteous cause
Intent to impart the forthright soul, with their false brand of vitriol
They all cede news is "compromised", but entirely by the OTHER guys
So where can I seek news for me - outspoken and propaganda-free?
That's the sad, disheartening twist - trustworthy news does NOT exist
Thus, my New Year's pledge will be to waste that wasted time on ME
Consider last year's news a curse, and pray it won't get any worse
You see, with all that garbage hurled, WATCHING it won't change the world
But trading time spent on the news for kind pursuits and daily truths,
Might turn that hatefulness to mirth, (in my little corner of the Earth)
For bringing worldly changes nearer, starts with that guy in the mirror
So my resolution's to disabuse, and not waste '18 ... on the "news".
* Re-worked and submitted on January 3, 2018, for the "New Year" Poetry Contest, Janice Canerdy, Sponsor. *
A hypnotic effect is possessed by this gadget
It could even lead to a syndrome called pagets
Bent over and private its user spellbound
But unsocial and rude to all those around
Multiple noises are deftly emitted
With buttons to press and assets unlimited
Texts dispensed and news accessed
Leaving conversation to certain death
Ring tones abound in public spaces
Phone chat like barkers in public places
photos and selfies posted here and there
All manner of games to further ensnare
Thus putting the user in greater peril
When mobile phones become a menace
To drivers and walkers all absorbed
A selfish misuse to be abhorred
And a blight when the charger is mislaid
And constant debit to be repaid
This amazing gadget should remain in pocket
Until really needed, then out of the closet
Objection! My lord...
Thank you My lord...
An innocent vessel
Bound and raped
A blemish on her
Destruction of a well kept
F L O W E R
My colleague interrogated
Called it a pleasure
A painful pleasure My lord
What pleasure lies
Amidst pains and extreme
pains?
What is there to enjoy?
Why didn't scream?
What a tool of quest
To employ on a poor damsel?
S C R E A M!
The culprit hands dispensed
Punches for her shoulders
Her mouth dropped
The idea of scream
Surging and cutting inside
Her thigh bleeds from within
To the law she has come
Her stretched hands to save
And the grace of her blindness
I rest my case My lord...
PEDDLING HOPE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a small pill, solace in a blister pack
legally dispensed by a white coat
promises relief, a cure, a return to normalcy,
a life unburdened from pain and disease.
the ache returns, however, louder and more insistent
another pill, then two
the dosage creeping like a vine.
a pressed white powder, a crystal shard
illegally peddled in a dark alley
promises escape, temporary reprieve, abnormality,
a life numbed from pain.
the craving returns, however, the gnawing need
the body screams,
desperately clawing for the next fix.
addiction cares not about legality~
the hungry monster gnaws the same
whether fed by doctor’s script or dealer’s promise.
Big Pharma, a sanitized name
cartels in suits and white lab coats
pushing their product with glossy ads.
the cartel’s hand, a brutal fist
deals death blows and ruin,
pushing their product in seedy places and backstreet alleys.
one wears a suit, funds politicians,
smiles on commercials, promises relief from disease.
the other whispers in shadows
creates transactions based on desperation and fear.
Big Pharma’s towers gleam, untouchable
built on prescriptions, on the fine print no one reads.
cartels hide, their dens and caves obscured
built on blood, dead bodies, and broken dreams.
how many lives line the pockets of pharmaceutical giants,
legal drug pushers in suits peddling hope in blister packs?
how many lives line the pockets of backstreet cartels,
illegal drug pushers in hoodies peddling hope in powder?
Wait! don’t tell me about regulations, about quality control
when the end result is the same:
bodies chained; minds enslaved
lives bartered for fleeting highs and ephemeral repose.