Long Divvy Poems
Long Divvy Poems. Below are the most popular long Divvy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Divvy poems by poem length and keyword.
My husband and I have a perfect routine
In the stay-at-home days caused by Covid-19.
Our apartment’s not big – bedroom, kitchen and bath
And a living room – 3 and ½. (Do the math.)
We alternate times in the bathroom, of course.
(To do otherwise might just result in divorce.)
The kitchen’s the same – we just smoothly take turns
At the fridge, sink and stove to ensure nothing burns.
For the bulk of the day, we’re in separate rooms
(It’s not true that we talk to each other with Zooms)
But we join to watch Cuomo* and FaceTime the grands
And have dinner – I hope no one misunderstands…
We are happy together to shelter-in-place
But it’s vital to each have some just-for-me space
So we divvy the day to connect and to part –
Like the governor says, we’re tough, loving and smart.
*the governor of New York
Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
a country that never was, that never had borders
He somehow thinks that things will be ‘fine’
with Hamas in charge of ‘law and order’
Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
whose people claim the land ‘from the river to the sea’
He somehow thinks that things will be fine
that such people will coexist with Israel peacefully
Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
though its Arabs came there to reap Jewish-Israel’s goldmine…*
Mr. Macron, it is the Jews who are indigenous to the land
No ‘recognition’ of yours can divvy up their sand
________________________________________________
*"Far from being an indigenous people, supplanted by Jewish
migrants, a close look at Palestinian origins and censuses
suggests most Arabs emigrated to Palestine alongside or
even after the Jewish immigration. ~ NSJ, National Secu-
rity Journal, 'Pandora's Box Opened,' July 25, 2025, MSN.
KISSES...From the UNITED STATES...of HATE!
Only Some are Welcome...Don't get SORE!
We BRAG! and We Wave our FLAG!,
But...WE..Forgot What ..IT!...STOOD FOR!
The LAND of the FREE? The HOME of the BRAVE?
But...the List is short ..Who They Choose to SAVE!
We ALL...Break our BACKS!...For LOVE of COUNTRY!
YOU...GERRYMANDER...And RIG our COUNTY!
YOU...Prey on Our ANGST!, YOU...Prey on Our RAGE!
YOU...Put US in LINES...That's Wrapped in a CAGE!
WE...whimper and wilt÷...Just like a whipped pup...
YOU...Rake in the CA$H...and Divvy It UP^
IMMIGRANTS have COME...IMMIGRANTS have TRIED!
IMMIGRANTS have BLED...IMMIGRANTS have DIED!
But, Lest YE Forget...WE just Thought YE KNEW!
YOU ARE A PRODUCT...OF IMMIGRANTS TOO!!!
TIME...enemy or friend-
...with us until the end.
_by Poet
If time were just a gift to spend
in any way we choose,
without a thought of, at the end-
well-spent? Or did we lose?
Each second, minute, hour, count
to make a brand new day;
how do we divvy the amount
tween what comes first and play?
Did we embrace or kiss someone-
or even, a dear pet,
and feel the joy when that is done-
to share the love we get?
Have we made time to help a friend
with simple words or deeds;
some flowers or a card to send
to those, we know have needs?
Did we take time to think and pray;
be thankful for our gifts,
and offer pleas for ways that may
help others needing lifts?
And, have we used our talents well-
inborn or those acquired?
Took special time to work, propel
creative drives inspired?
But, when it comes our time to play,
time needs to slow a bit,
rewarding us with some leeway-
long, fun-filled hours- permit.
So, time should be accounted for
not only to survive-
preplanned enough to do much more!
But- not on overdrive!
May 26, 2021
~1st Place~
Contest: All Yours (May 27)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 05/28/2021
Her Mam did for the rich Wool toffs,
days chocka block with chores.
Her fella was a plazzy gent—
A few jars opened doors.
A proper jarg johnny he used;
he thought hi’self real cool.
In the shade of the Whalley Abbey,
the banks of Otterspool.
She was sacked off by the Big House;
for bloating like a toad.
The sconner did like a runner;
she was proper devoed.
Eleanor Rigby was nineteen
when the Great War broke out.
She worked at t’ alehouse in The Lanes;
crashed with this divvy lout.
This RC priest offered her a job
as the scullery maid.
Her threads were mostly ant wacky;
skint from the tuppence paid.
He made her attend Sunday church
and to learn the new hymn.
She had managed to scrounge a pair
of boss new trabs from him.
The scran for tea was abar sound—
she shared with a few birds.
They rolled own ciggies from backy
and shared one another’s thirds.
The declaration of the war,
surely did her head in.
A baltic day in thirty-nine,
at t’ ozzy, she didn’t win.
At St Peter’s Church in Woolton,
Eleanor was laid t’ rest;
one of the many lonely people …
A scouser—one o’ the best.
Call girl of Thulhu?
I smiled at the voice at the end of the phone.
Not been in action for many years, but had a keenness for a kill.
Sure is, I said in my youngest voice.
Happy it did not crack or give my age.
You can do some delectable things for five hundred? A question.
I said “six” to see if he would bite.
A slight hesitation
We negotiated to five fifty.
Agreed to meet at the Slingback, a seedy motel.
You could torture someone here.
No one would call the cops.
They would not show up in this divvy place
Too scary.
More than one cop had probably
already been murdered at the Slingback.
Run by Mama M,
Nickname: Mama Mortician.
Got out my knives and lovingly polished them.
They had not seen daylight since ’85 when I took out several men
No idea my trick was polishing his knives too
Assertive rage can compel a dart to strike viciously.
Bitterness is a sequel to releasing mutual animosity.
Contain your vexation, despite if you are incited callously.
Don't yell; you consider no idea how others feel wimpy.
Enkindling your day: Today will be an avid day, kindly.
Forget Yesterday; the present is splendor for obstinacy!
God gathers your essay, but you can't do it all prudishly.
Heaven sustains the individual to utter a possibility!
If you undergo anxiously, settle on a ramble instantly.
Jaded times will strike, so stay alert for vulnerability.
Know that if you don't prevail, don't turn shaken, truly.
Lonely, lead to a call, text people, aim to be praiseworthy.
Moments fly; you must admire each one carefully.
No man should agonize loose, yet you unstrain barefacedly.
Only god judge, your verdict won't reckon appropriately.
Pander to and thank mates, span all the way genuinely.
Quietness is a deep inner time that offers harmony.
Respect all humans, don't oppose their equanimity.
Savor every day; ne'er grasp when it will decrease unstintingly.
There's no such object being a stable future, meritoriously.
Unwrap all the strain within your ribcage and be sprightly.
Value the cockcrow; don't doze and gust it, bluntly.
When blight strikes, do not unbolt the entry seriously.
Xerochrysum is a dainty flower, so blare collect plenty!
Yellow is a lovely shade; aim to exhibit it proudly.
Zealously divvy up every infelicity and mastery, avidly.
Written: November 14, 2021
Alphabet Soup Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Oops!
In our backyard five apple trees abide - harvest of red, yellow, green fruit our pride
Bushels of fruit overflow from their baskets - looks like nature this year blew a gasket.
Way too many apples for us to eat - now time to share of our ripe apples sweet
So with our neighbors we’ll divvy these treats - for lunches, pies, snacks and midmorning feasts.
Just a month later - just enough for a pie a Sunday night treat as cold raindrops fly
Measure the spices then roll out the crust - bake in the oven - dessert just for us!
Oops! Tripled the flour! Now I lament - :o - as we pick out baked apples from flour cement!
True story! Instead of 3/4c of sugar I added ¾ c of flour! At least we salvaged the apples. My boys have never let me forget this gastronomic disaster! A true lesson in humility!
11-24-20
Contest: Make Me Laugh with Some Humor
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
A Doctors touch
Subdued by agony of illness and throes,
When thoughts knead and whirl,
to rest in solitary cells,
And abate the confess of dark night’s duress;
Beats frail as soft white downy fibre of lisle,
Reasoning and logic fail;
When weary hearts have ceased to dream,
And hope is nothing but a distant gleam…
A Doctors touch …
Brings calm to the suffering’s place,
Those gentle hands, that steadfast grace;
Soulful balm, to not just heal,
As patient starts in on subtly feel.
Today we stand at threshold of remarkable times…?
Where silicon learns,?
Algorithms reason, swift and wise,?
And find what hides from human eyes.
Yet, beyond every image interpreted,
pattern recognised and prediction made,
No machine has ever held a hand
That trembled in the face of fear,?
Or stood beside a silent bed?,
Just so a soul would know, “I’m here.”
No circuit can sense a mother’s flailing tears,?
No software can divvy up a father’s pain;?
No coded voice can bear the weight,?
Of hope that rises after rain.
For healing lives isn’t merely a skill,?
It breathes through kindness, calm, and grace;?Comprehends the silence between the words,
A listening heart, a caring face.
The doctor’s hands do more than cures,?
The patient touch that comforts, strengthens and reassures.?
Their greatest art is not in tools,?
But in empathy, in compassion, so very pure.
Medicine isn’t just the science of disease;?
It is the privilege, of entering into another man’s suffering;
So let the future proudly bloom?,
With every marvel science brings;?
Yet guard the oath, the human heart,?
The soul from which true healing springs.
For medicine is much more than knowledge,?More than data, more than art.?
It ushers in with gifted hands…?
And blooms within a grateful heart.
A Doctors touch…
Engulfs the anguish, calms the tides,
Tunes the melodic dulcet reverberate,
Soothes as tranquil aurora of dayspring,
Sparkles the serene silvery moonlit night.
©?Dr Upma A. Sharma