Long Divider Poems
Long Divider Poems. Below are the most popular long Divider by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Divider poems by poem length and keyword.
No; I don't want to be a poet
Stinginess in certification
Not in me really
I certify straightforwardly
Everyone in the world is a poet;
But the phrase of words expressed by everyone
is not poetry
Yes, man is the crown creation among fauna and flora
But not everyone has humanity, conscience;
Brutality, bigotry, divider among human being
maybe something another but not human
because of my belief
The holy scriptures are not a measure of truth,
Through the veins of practical life
doing peaceful anything for the welfare of entire world peoples
is true religion
Worship, coming to the house of prayer
Just a sign of worldly displaying righteousness
That’s not the reality of self knowing;
The pious - the people who do everything on earth
without desire of exchange
No; But I want to be a true human, not a poet
28.06.2020 Chattogram
Dear Kitty, today, I sing your everlasting praise,
I, your humble Frisky, dog next door,
bark a heartfelt word and phrase,
though, both of us are alive no more,
and, though my hackles, you did raise
when you walked upon the wall
dividing our two yards.
To eat you, I tried hard,
but I could only jump so high, and never did you fall.
Dear Kitty, it's heaven now where we two play
as we while away each blessed day,
where up here, too, a wall divider,
where you may tease and prance.
as I bark, "I want my teeth inside her,
if she'd just give me a chance".
There is no other cat than thee,
for me to chase, I truly say,
to Kitty, the cat that won't ever fall, for all eternity.
THE NUMBER FOUR
Two plus two or two into two.
Giving you the easiest clue,
to get the Desired Number.
So simple! You will remember.
Leap Year divisible by it.
No error, divider to fit.
Welcoming worldwide Olympic.
Participants optimistic.
Peace-Love-Truth-Honesty: Count Dear!
The Desired Number to appear.
Moral values Universal
Not at all controversial.
North-East-West-South enclosing us
Count to reach Number glorious.
All over coming global NEWS,
so far social -political views.
Life needs lots of variety
but some demand priority.
Those are Food-Work-Love-Slumber
Count: Get your desired number.
02/18/20
Edited on 04/01/20
Third Place
'STRAND CHOICE W' Contest by Brian Strand
The Flower Head
I see a flower floating down the middle of the stream
It causes me to stop in my walk.
Why a flower floating alone, what a strange scene
The petals all tight, just the flower head, and no stalk.
Did it drop or was it cast just, like the proverbial bread?
It bobbed up and down disappeared and then returned
I saw some petals had separated from the head.
They started to drift from the flower as it churned.
And the gap grew wider and wider
Soon it was so wide it couldn’t be closed, the water a real divider.
It made me think was it me as the flower head spun in the stream
Was I the head were my petals my friends?
We stick together through life’s rich pattern and schemes
I watch for a while but the stream bends
When the going gets tough and the water gets rough
Some petals break away and drift off
But some stick on the head and the water they tread
They will stick with the head, and at life’s troubles they scoff.
a newly wed couple travels happily to a destination unknown
no cares or worries as the rubber hits the road , their future untold
freeway driving easy road , loving and laughing just before their
tire is blown
out of control , he hits the brake, skids across the 3 and 4 lane to
the divider the end.
weeks later i see no clue of the devastation
just the marks of a fatal collision
concrete an metal , the deadly blow for the
newly wed couple who will drive no more
when you travel on any street USA
think about the marks of rubber in front
of you or to the side ,remember they have a story
with everything to hide
My considerations are devoured by the Void.
Instinct and certainty are generally devoid.
In slight spite of everything, I cease here.
I'm stuck in the created voids phantom clear.
I falter and appear to be stuck.
In an endless descending twisting snuck.
It's essentially impossible to escape this.
I can't move away from my premonition bliss.
I'm caught inside my spirit by the abyss.
It feeds off my mood, which serves to permiss.
It burns through me from the back to the front.
It keeps me out because I can't confront.
In my body freezing, relentless divider.
I've turned into my sole survivor rider.
Written: October 1st, 2021
Pretty... is hard to find when you're dying in a grocery store line.
A million shoppers with the same sweatpants, greasy ponytails
,, and checkout line posture.
Slapping conveyor belts with hordes of spam and large bags of rice.
Is there anything more durable than grocery store conveyor belts-
God must be made from grocery store conveyor belts.
A woman in front of me enjoys her lean meats
almond milk and big diamond rings-
She slams the plastic food divider behind her floating wealth,
In front of my T.V dinner(s) and budget cigarettes-
Her posture is barking "you don't have a chance in hell, buddy"-
but I've been around the block and know my boundaries very well.
For the next fifteen minutes we never make eye contact,
but I keep glancing at that little sweat mark on her almond milky @ss,
which strangely makes us slightly more equal.
To Father with love. You Raised Me in the new day from.
A covering Midnight's love you hold me ever so
Quietly you are a Chosen One you instilling me
If I reference you endearingly my Father love you're from heaven you're the Breath of Life above--
Father you choose me, Adorn me, everso love me
You touch mine heart, kissed me your breath of life
Reasurrance always present my ever blessing
You cover me in a new way Always provider, never my divider
In midnight love you set your over me always
And I thank U God
And I thank U Lord
As the Angels bow down around you
as I lift my voice for it is in you whom I have found true
I worship you, I Adorn you and I love you ever so true
always shall I do until the end
never being the end eternally always reverence dear Father with love you raised me in this new day
and I am so thankful for you Always and Amen
10/30/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr (c)
Yes, this is a bad joke
Yes, this is a sad comedy
What an irony
What a parody
Smile and smirk, so you won’t be poked
What a hilarious lie! It is a travesty
Immigrants don’t eat pets
They eat beef, chicken, and pork
Like you and me. All bets
Are off. Let’s be serious and dark
Migrant workers are looking for jobs
What a spoiled brat candidate! Unnecessary stabs
And sound bites, this time, will not work
Migrants are people too
Yes, I’m talking to you
Who believe in fake news, half-truths and lies
All human lives matter in front of God. All lives
Are special. Migrants are the poor children
Of the Almighty. Give them food and haven
If your ultimate goal is to reach Heaven
It’s about time, the system puts the felon
In his place. Nobody wants a convicted liar
A criminal with a deferred sentence at the border
It’s sad to see a grumpy old con artist
On stage. There’s no place for a divider, a racist
In this day and age, in today’s political scene
How strange, unbelievable and obscene
To see a liar tremble before the Truth
God is Great. It’s time to pray and to play the lute
Immigrants do not eat pets. They are like you and I
They eat chicken, meat and pork, and also enjoy apple pie
It’s time for the judge to send the felon
Where the fellow belongs, in jail, in prison.
Copyright © 10 September 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous books of poetry.
pounding
grinding
drilling
sawdust
plumbing scraps
empty boxes
strewn from
bedroom to bathroom
and everywhere in between ...
a miner's shanty once
propped up
on timbers with
no firm foundation ...
that's okay
jack it up
pour a footer
it has one now
reroofed, rewired, re-plumbed
remodeled
renovated
and added onto
more than once
it was never
big enough
when it wasn't
just me to love
now I need smaller spaces
to snuggle up into
like my suv a.k.a "campmobile"
the rv I sold
the fishing boat
where I spent
Alaskan summers
yeah...
so... split it
in two
her half is big
light
and airy
my half is minimal
dark and quaint
her art, her birds,
her cat, and her dog
fill her space
my space I
don't like sharing
thus the divider and
kitchen I'm building
I'm also fencing her dog out
of my backyard
the laundry's all we'll
share
stylish as she is
her vintage isn't
washed that often
(or it's when I'm gone)
as for me, I sneak into
our common kitchen
say hi, use the microwave
and pet her kitty
but I'm mostly gone
and she doesn't like it
when I'm away
says she feels safer
when I'm here
young introvert
who tends bar
plays games
and burns lights 24/7
that's okay
(she pays for it)
yeah, the pounding,
grinding and drilling ...
they're almost through
I'll be soon
washing my own dishes
and missing her kitty