Long Dispensing Poems
Long Dispensing Poems. Below are the most popular long Dispensing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dispensing poems by poem length and keyword.
"Somethings become part of our existence, never dispensing them however old or cracked they are...! May not be out of any special fondness or attachment, but simply so, defying all rationale."- By Poet
The syllable count-10, 7, 7, 10 is followed in all the three limericks.
I owned my house many many years back.
Changed my furniture, even kitchen rack.
But there is a rusted sink. 10,
It is tilted at the brink
Fear if it will come off the hinge and crack
Now my sink looks a worn out contraption.
My wife's upset, has a hot reaction.
All its former glamor, gone.
In my wife's eyes, it's a thorn.
Still hold it to my strange satisfaction!
Though a washbasin, looks a urinal.
Water keeps flowing as through a canal.
In lower pipe, there's a kink.
Anytime my sink may sink.
Why I keep it, I have no rationale!
She's grown old
Having norished many a soul
Leaving her imprints on a stroll
Dispensing knowledge, never to fold
Many have been sheltered from the cold
Inside her strong walls, I was once enclosed
And encouraged to be courageous and bold
Taught to read, write, and do the math,
Preparing me for life's stormy path
Her externals are aged and unsightly
Yet she stands lovingly and waves politely
Her internals portray battles for survival,
And being held together with bolts and rods,
She's very much alive and thrives
She engenders memories of sadness and joy
Reminding me of experiences when just a boy.
With a reddish tin-top roof, she sits by the road
Where she's resided for more than a century.
There are still future stories yet to be told about
The little country church in a little southern town.
Come on you lot wakey wake
A start of another crazy day
Give the comatosed children a chant
Dash to the bathroom now it's vacant
No time for a rest or sleep
Just on the go cup of tea
Uniforms pressed and shoes scrubbed
Presented to my two grouchy cherubs
Breakfast time can be unreal
He wants toast, she wants cereal
Fruit and veg for their box
Time for school, ready you lot?
Walk my lovelies for exercise
Get back just after nine
Too tired to eat straight to bed
Out like a light blowing my zzz
Soon be time to get up
To go fetch my little cherubs
Prepare our meal before I leave
Help with homework before we eat
Prepare my box full of snacks
Shower then my uniform is back
Babysitter's running a little late
A mad rush out the gate
Step onto my favourite ward
No time to stop and talk
Cries for nurse and buzzers
Keep me even more busier
Change beds, mop it all up
Help feed and change Mr Jessup
Medicine dispensing with caution
Cannot give the wrong portion
Have five minutes eat a pair
On the go no time to spare
Mr Drinkwater's health has declined
Call in the family, it's time
Comfort the loved one's in grief
One last round before I leave
Walking home pick up some bread
Making plans for the next day ahead
—The Affliction of Abundance—
The ocean thirsteth, though her fathomless deeps contain
Enough of water to drown kingdoms, yet cannot slake
the thirst that salt, her ancient curse, doth breed again
within the very flood no drought could ever take;
for what should quench her is condemned to be
the brine she bears—and therefore cannot drink the sea.
The flame devoureth timber, drawing into its core
the resin, sap, and heartwood of the forest as it feeds;
yet every bough surrendered through its incandescent door
leaves in the fire a hunger fiercer than its needs;
till what should exhaust the appetite of flame
becomes the very fuel whereby it renews its claim.
The moon, dispensing argent through the sleeping land,
doth pour her borrowed splendour over vale and stone,
yet keeps within herself—where no terrestrial hand
may reach—the lightless kingdom she must call her own;
thus all the world receives the radiance she gives—
yet what she cannot shine upon is where she lives.
The wound, once closed, retains beneath the skin
the iron's ancient memory, though flesh hath grown
across the breach through which the violence entered in,
and time, that boasts it healeth all, hath only shown
how what the flesh seals over may yet remain—
the proof that what was broken had the strength to live again.
I do not seek the sandy earth
for which to hide my heart.
The ebb and flow of ocean’s tide,
with time, would steal a part.
The water would rush over it
and as a thief would do,
creep silently, with fingers clenched
back into shadows blue.
While pulling at my heart's small door
to thrust and open wide,
dispensing all the treasures there
I worked to keep inside.
The ocean’s much too wild a place
to let a heart roam free.
So, tell me if you want it, Love
Else it should stay with me.
I mustn't trust the mountains high
for keeping safe my love
in a majestic stone embrace
up in the skies above.
A heart is not a treasure kept
within cold mighty walls;
nor on some perch up in the clouds
where hearts are prone to falls.
Such heights can be so treacherous
up where the eagles soar.
Their wings could carry love away
not to return once more.
So, it is best this heart be kept
between us, where we lay.
No other place is safe enough;
the mountains or the bay.
Will you yet give me yours then, too?
I promise I shall be
the safest home, much safer than
the canyons or the sea.
A merry band to profer hope in the land
A lute, fiddle, drum to make brigandry grand
A staff, bow, arrow to strafe the noble strand
A sworn oath to lawful king; a sword to gentry's overbearing hand
A pruning staff to fleece corrupt shepherds, who saintly flock's fodder have panned
A bow and arrow to poach servile game from royal tableland
A fealty to nature's law; a license the privileged class to brand
A Kangaroo court dispensing arbitrary justice to tenured gentry in the lowland
A pauper's lease, tattered remnant to expand
A squatter's right, doled penury to remand
An opportunistic syndicate confiscating hoarded supplies to reduce growing demand
A marauding troop of mercenaries liberally sharing their contraband
A providential broker, allocating pilfered alms poverty to withstand
The van jolts its way into our street.
She hops about in her animated cage
from dashboard to counter
adroitly cardsharping the world.
To her is given a great dispensing,
deftly she sorts
the trivial from the eventful,
flicks the lid of our mail boxes
as dire epistles are bundled with the trite
and the slight.
Each mail box now bears witness
that we are important enough to be persuaded,
pursued and pestered.
for she sorts and sends
and we wait expectantly to discover
if we are recorded within a printed letter,
then wave as the little van chugs away
on its rubber tread.
even though those white envelopes
may hint of trouble ahead.
Oratio, precaria, prayer
is how we, our petitions share,
with the God, we adore and love,
who sent us His Son from above.
Prayer is not a way to get
the things o'er which we fret and sweat.
God is not a vending machine
dispensing what we wish to glean.
Prayer involves a connection
with God, that’s not very hi-tech.
Without this close relationship,
one cannot effectively pray.
When we know God, as a true friend,
His will and our desires blend.
As our prayers to Him ascend,
His answers as blessings descend.
God’s promises lift our prayers,
like wings they, our petitions bear.
Then our benevolent Father
unto us His good gifts proffer.
Prayer is like breath to the soul.
it sustains, revives, and makes us whole.
The Christian who neglects to pray
will lose their way and from God stray.
Prayer the mouths of lions shut,
from heaven’s book sin's records blot.
It causes crop yields to increase,
and showers of blessings to cease.
Prayer can cause the dead to walk,
unloose tied tongues and make them talk.
Prayer can cause the blind to see,
heal begging man with crippled knee.
Prayer can bind a broken heart
and cause a raging sea to part.
It takes us through tough trials sore
heartaches, great grief, and so much more.
Take time each day to pause and pray,
God’s promises to him replay.
Whatever else you do or say,
be sure to thank God for today.
The breeze of silken dawn blew free,
scintillation of stars so many more to see.
Tide of time by flow in crystal serenity,
low blooming glistening deep alchemy.
Sparkling arches dispensing mirage,
eternal fountain flow of soul to soul courage.
Distinct dark blue sphere overhead,
vivid lights leaping in that grace of spread.
Realm of pleasance observing prime,
dazed vision unaware by the same.
The almightiest sensitive obscurities,
dewy dawn of timeless memories.
Gleaming wealth of open hearts confined,
longing richness in the garden of mind.
In sweet dreams and by soft gentle kiss,
eternal imprint of what we miss.
The light in that great presence and cope,
hands that feel like the glow in infants hope.
The distinguished judge sat on the bench for many years.
He was highly esteemed, loved by the community and his peers.
The challenge of the law since a young attorney was his passion.
For those washed up on perilous shoals he had great compassion.
An unpretentious county judge was all he ever aspired to be,
Upholding his solemn oath to serve the people of the community.
Dispensing justice fairly to the rich and penniless as well,
Interpreting the Constitution as he saw it and in this he did excel.
He cautioned youngsters of the challenging life that lay ahead,
And to learn from mistakes and pursue productive lives instead.
His long-time and faithful bailiff saw to his every need,
Taking care of all details no matter how small the deed.
Blind justice was a vision in his mind as he balanced the scale.
You see, the judge was legally blind, working with the aid of Braille!
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Justice" Contest