Long Dithers Poems
Long Dithers Poems. Below are the most popular long Dithers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dithers poems by poem length and keyword.
SMOTHER YOURSELF WITH PEANUT BUTTER
You may like chicken and your mate might like it, too
One of you might like peanut butter as cookies but the
Other as a sandwich but that is truly no excuse to often be
Snickering and flickering when you could be getting along
And even dickering or having fun and cooking together ‘like
Two or more birds of a feather’ even if you don’t wear leather
And your name’s not Heather- you do not have to be in tethers
and dithers.
Toss out the old useless medication and all of that stalling alcohol
Switch to an alternative that needs no perspiration or prescription
Or druitions- ‘if there be no purpose it is not needed so toss it all out
And make the switch before you lose your ability to do so otherwise
You are throwing your life away without sway instead of striving
Resist not offered help no matter who or what offer it whether it be friends or
God- it really makes no difference because God is our Divine Father so who
Ever and whatever the offer comes from it’s from God- fret not over how
People communicate nor how advice is given for it has to be given when it is
given- you who need it must really listen, so listen up then smother
yourself with peanut butter
Kaleidoscope
A gentle turn
changing colors, changing pattern
greet you live, fill your transfixed eyes
you can’t resist looking even if you may try.
A gentle move
changing feelings, changing groove
enchant you within, entice your heart
you can’t stop trying even in a new start.
A gentle twist
changing concerns, changing wish-list
enrich relationships close, please others
you don’t lose trying even if the mind dithers.
A gentle shake
changing vision, changing track
transform you, fulfill your empty life
you can’t stop doing even in times of strife.
A gentle tap
changing design, changing drape
morph the mind, build colored hope
you can’t desist looking in the kaleidoscope.
I have not started writing poems with Poetry Soup. My poetic journey began about ten years ago and on the way I published three books of poems. My first poem on Poetry Soup was Kaleidoscope posted on July 7, 2017 which was a POTD. This excited me beyond measure. I like the poem because our life is like a kaleidoscope with everything changing in response to whatever we do in the impermanent world. Over time I have been enriched as a poet by interacting with some very fine poets on PS and receiving their encouraging comments. I look forward to growing as a poet of substance by being associated with PS and being recognized through the Poetry Contests which I find very innovative, competitive and challenging.
My thought
The nature so beautiful
The world so enchanting
My poems flow from heart full
Of old songs of life pulsating.
Everything seems to collapse now
Like fragile designs in kaleidoscope
As ordained winds of change blow
I write poems of perennial hope.
The Poetry Soup gives me a scope
To take my say to sensitive people
The travails of life we painfully grope
The hope of new sun on poetic ripple.
August 31, 2017.
Once, I was something—a name, a face,
A force in the world, moving with grace.
I built and I bridged, I lifted and led,
A life filled with purpose, a life fully fed.
But now, I’m no one, a shadow’s faint line,
The echoes of work, of projects once mine.
Friends who once gathered now drift far away,
Gone like the years, the night, and the day.
It’s not easy, growing old and gray,
Less days ahead than those slipped away.
The strength I once held now fades in the dusk,
With more to get done, and less I can trust.
The fame and fortune I chased as a prize,
Have faded like stars in the morning skies.
Superficial and fleeting, not as I dreamed,
Just glimmers of gold where emptiness gleamed.
My wife, my dear partner, she left me in time,
Her laugh, her love, her warmth in decline.
Our children are grown, strangers, they seem,
Scattered like leaves in someone else’s dream.
The dogs that once lingered close by my side
Have followed their paths to a place I can't find.
Empty and silent, the house that was home,
Now hollowed with memories, I wander alone.
Each day is mostly sadness, a haze,
Filled with the echoes of faraway days—
The things we once took for granted and light,
Now cherished so dearly in the face of our plight.
I used to be someone; now, I just am,
A face in the mirror, gray and bland.
A retired, forgotten old man, they say,
Who dithers the hours and drifts through the day.
Yet there’s wisdom I hold, though no one may see,
In the spaces I’ve lived, in the work that was me.
The laughter, the struggle, the love, and the loss,
Each scar, each line—they’ve all come at a cost.
For now, I’m no one, a whisper, a breath,
A life that was full, now nearing its death.
But the silence that holds me, it speaks just the same,
Of a life once remembered, of a once-spoken name.
Two wings of a bird—
Love and hate, it appears,
Native to whole world….
To know and love, it takes years,
Hate takes moments, scarce dithers.
One wing winds higher,
The other holds in tight leash,
Love lights up more fire,
O than hate can extinguish
In life’s potent Petri dish!
______________________________
Tanka |06.01.2024| love, hate
Poet’s note: Love and hate are like two wings of the same bird. As it takes both the wings to fly, so also both together make it possible to love— to hate as well. Yet, the poet feels, hate is very quick, love needing more time. Yet again when you hate, it holds you from growing. Love helps you grow. And love lights more fires than hate can extinguish.
A gentle turn
changing colors, changing pattern
greet you lively, fill your transfixed eye
you can’t resist looking through even if you try.
A gentle move
changing feelings, changing groove
enchant you within, entice your heart
you can’t stop trying even if anew you start.
A gentle twist
changing concerns, changing wish-list
enrich relationships close, please others
you don’t lose trying even if the mind dithers.
A gentle jerk
changing vista, changing framework
transform you, liven your listless life
you can’t stop doing even in times of strife.
A gentle tap
changing design, changing roadmap
morph the mind, create colored hope
you can’t desist looking in the kaleidoscope.
Another hallowed arrow from his quivers
One of cricket’s greatest shiver givers
Coursing down your spine like rivers
Fine line..never dithers as slivers
Of adversaries hopes on the ropes..withers
Tipples tickle our livers
The latest tropes of how
Somehow…anyhow won’t kowtow
Postman Pat delivers
Matinee idol looks tease
Record books hooks please
Finds batters crannies &
Nooks with such ease
Impeccable length…metronomic
Chin music chagrin
Such strength..astronomic
Gift of getting the ball to lift
Chronic bounce…hedonic
With his swag bag of quicks tricks
Name on the adored hall of fame
Lords boards with six..another Cummins elite fix
Beat Bob Willis’s record tome of the best
Test figures for a captain at cricket’s home..
Yep..yet another done like a kipper
By this chipper ripper skipper
Who’s not found wanting
His chiselled jaw..up there for sure
With the mean hardcore
Ponting or Waugh
As the best Test baggie green
Top draw Captain (not woke...just a better bloke) seen on screen
Or that’s maybe ever been
Futile flippant,
rules and obscure,
mousetrap pitfalls,
scurrilous lure,
to faze green novice,
unsuspecting candidate,
contestant sworn to zeal,
might pause when enjoined,
to allow one’ s muse,
lithe elastic scope,
supple latitude,
without reckless reign,
or barren folly,
however cunning ploys,
lay-by lurk dithers,
yet without prior notice,
draws, dupes, deceives,
but these are caveats,
when stricture is,
shrouded in vague,
plumes of hazed,
thin veiled hair-split,
one stumbles
and fumbles over,
whilst glazed glance,
skips blindly over,
cues, clues, clause,
tip-offs to
shady motives,
motifs! ulterior.
Where the Lesser Nature Reigns there Hell knows No Crowns
where Unguided Men follow crowds,
where the Spirit is Dormant and Obsolete
where Frenzies Run amok like Pacified Sheep,
where the Fruits of the Spirit are nowhere found
held captive by external bounds,
tethered to the Berm of the Unholy paths
where all Wither, where the soul Dithers, and Truth never lasts
Yet, by the High Road we find pastures So Sublime
through the Lands Of Penial where the Great Torch Shines
Upwards by the Fire unto the Higher Mind
there, we Travail Electric Paradigms
by Knowledge comes Ascension, by Ascencion we are Freed
by Freedom we March through the Passage of Sovereignty,
Ever Upwards from Gate unto Gate
Into Valleys and Highlands that Liberate,
7 Doors Yonder to find Thy Light
Ever So High, we Blitz into Paradise
Quick sands of fate cave in
airless darkness invites,
reeds of agonizing marsh slither
hope of escape entangled,
risk paves the life’s walkway
for the destiny to saunter.
Uncalculated steps falter
pace dithers uncontrolled,
the sands and the reeds wait
for the guest to arrive late,
tired of walking a long way
on the life’s walkway.
The survival game begins
in toiling times of journey,
struggling hard to win
treading on the life’s walkway,
until the time comes to join
the ordained farewell party.
Destiny is not an excuse
the walk is one’s own walk,
the walkway lighted or dark
the inner lamp decides,
garden path or marshy trail
the inner vision conceives.
A special space of sanctity
the lamp lighter needs,
and the vision maker seeks
to make the life’s walkway to bliss.
July 16, 2020
Contest : All Yours (Feb 27)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Sea, who breaks against the shore, reveals the anguish
soul’s soundless urge to feel the mist of impatient waves
remembering the solace, the soothing, the sanctity
beautiful waters scraping against the sand – a sensitive
peace that has the upper hand, the whimsical story
grace falling across the land…
mountains, climbing toward the summer sky, raised
hesitant to softly cry, moaning to the limbs of oak and pine
stealthy leaves in colors of tempting light, arising
so forever never decides to let time pass on by, let time
remember why the dream can silence the nights, fading
through the heart, in inklings of softest cries…
meadows, blown wild as the twilight’s melancholic rhymes,
a story unfolding on the hesitant stems, flowers and grass
revealing the music of a soul who hears the night’s prayers
erasing the fear, pouring out gentle instead, a furious race
between loneliness and the chaotic unrest of a crowd’s laughter,
the story of two who connect…
in rhythms of sea and shore, in the praise of the mountain’s roar
beyond the meadows and beneath the limbs of those oak’s heavy hopes
stirs the silence of a winsome grief so alone, so daunting, so full
like the lingering feeling of unending blue, the melodious ages race to the truth
where anguish evokes the mist of a mourning who is imbittered by doubt,
a mourning who never lets the joy out…
grief is the moment when light meets the dawn, with a fog who dithers, forlorn
risking the silence, risking the heart and soul, risking the moment
before hope withstood the song who colors the heart in lost,
colors the prayers in pitiful words, colors the forsaken in lingering lies
who remember what if feels like to grieve without end, with a grief
that shatters every peace the lives within.
Every peace – apart from Him who comforts beyond the heart’s unrest,
Comforts in a way that is surely blessed… just believe and know His relief is best!