Long Dreaded Poems
Long Dreaded Poems. Below are the most popular long Dreaded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dreaded poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a saying that I have heard,
And hopefully I've got it down here word for word,
'The Lunatics have taken over the asylum' is what the words say,
But I never thought this would apply to the good old US of A.
This President is just a big headed chump,
One day, I hope he falls with one almighty thump,
This man just walks over the countries of the world,
Him and his idiot billionare pal, who both want to make us live in an alternate netherworld.
I know these men have been succesful in getting their fortunes,
But they frighten me more than going to the dreaded dental surgeon,
I know they think they are just putting their own country first,
But does this have to mean making the rest of the world much worse.
Hopefully sometime soon, the American people will realise their big mistake,
And get rid of this man, who just makes the whole world shake!!
Remember me well ....and remember my God.
The stay of my soul was the strength of His Word.
The Heathen, the Godless keep shouting 'Good God!! '
That's not blaspheming; that's praising the Lord.
How often I've heard them - they cry out ...'Thank God!! '.
If only they knew - they're now saved from The Sword.
My unflinching faith, shows a Marvellous God.
I truly am blessed by His Staff and His Rod.
And though you have seen that I spread the Good Word.
I rejoiced as they scoffed, and my spirit high soared.
For a man that saves souls, this surely seems odd.
But the Scriptures don't lie!!! ... men will forsake God!
So I marvel at God; how He fashioned Creation
He furnished a globe with no form or foundation.
The balance of nature in a six-day construction!?
I marvel indeed; That's from 'odd' to 'perfection'!
I marvel at God for His Gift to each Nation.
Despite our weakness to the evil Seduction
He sent us His Son, who granted Salvation.
I marvel indeed; Here's an 'Ode To Perfection'!
I marvel at God that He gave us 'decision'
Some call it 'free will', no God-intervention.
Few have the wisdom to choose the God-option.
I marvel indeed; must be 'owed to perfection'!
I marvel at God for the Worded Prediction.
Within this Good Book lies the Sacred Solution.
But many still doubt and lack predilection???
I marvel indeed; ......I am 'awed to perfection'!!!
So remember my God and remember The Lord.
Agnostics and Atheists you're welcome aboard.
We broke the First Rule and severed The Cord...
Which bound us to Nature - and also to God.
We purchased a God-wrath we could not afford.
Now suffering and pain in abundance is stored.
Why do you lay blame at the Feet of my God?
The fault was all yours, and your judgement was flawed.
You did not heed warning as you gnawed at that gourd.
You craved for more knowledge - instructions ignored.
That serpent was wily but did not defraud,
We did not drop dead ...but we'll die! That's assured!!
We ate of that Fruit - and now we're like 'god'!
That 'knowledge of evil'? .....our dreaded reward!
The Rocking Chair That Keeps…
Up in the attic, there’s something or someone
that keeps creating an eerie, dreary air:
for the darkness is greedy
as it smothers a world of mystery,
a century of family history,
all boxed and cased
in a crust of rust and dust!
Pictures of Dad as a sprightly lad,
Gran with no wrinkle, just a youthful twinkle
and bits of me bagged and forgotten.
However, it is the empty, rocking chair
that reaches out with a squeeze of….. unease.
Yes, up in the attic, there’s something or someone
that offers, a bite of fright and a dreaded dare:
as pipes snake into secret, cobwebbed lairs
and wooden beams stream like overhead train lines
while the excitement of discovery hides in the past.
But it is the empty, rocking chair
that grips and grabs at my attention
as I sense ‘something’ harbouring its wooden frame.
Oh yes, up in the attic, there’s something or someone
that keeps, nudging and grudging with a gloomed glare:
the room suddenly trembles, my heart holds tight
but it’s only the wind galloping by at night.
Immediately a watery giggle,
gurgles the length of a pipe
increasing my midgets of fidgets.
I turn and an aged mirror offers a face of fear
but I breathe again – for it has only borrowed mine.
Up in the attic, there’s definitely something or someone
that keeps, me uneasy, even queasy, each time I am there:
for the darkness is greedy
as it smothers a world of mystery,
a century of family history,
all boxed and cased
in a crust of rust and dust!
But now…. something far more shocking,
a lone rocking chair that keeps.…rocking!
Ian Souter 2025
When the AIDS crisis began to happen,
safe sex became the lifestyle of the majority of the population,
and then the spread of AIDS took a noticeable quick reduction.
Eyes, Ears, Nose and Mouth everyone,
and any recent wounds that may be open,
Protect these areas and just like AIDS,
this corona virus thing will noticeably and quickly go away,
just remember to wash your hands and face regularly.
If a droplet of this dreaded disease,
should land on your hands and you rub your eyes unconsciously,
you have provided an entrance for this virus to invade your body.
Eyes, Ears, Nose and Mouth everyone,
protect these areas and any open wound,
Wash your hands and face regularly in and outdoors,
and this virus will disappear for sure,
without the need for any vaccinations,
and without the need for any degree of quarantine confinement.
Protect yourself seriously, and walk the streets freely,
without fear of catching or spreading this viral disease.
Wearing gloves is an added precaution you can take,
wear sun or clear safety glasses depending on the time of day,
wearing ear plugs is another added precaution,
when going outdoors to whatever needed location.
Protect yourselves and just apply some common sense everyone,
and we will all get through this taxing, trying situation,
without any advice, quarantine or marshal law from any government.
Please be smart and please be safe everybody.
Yours In Extensionality,
YourKidster, Billy
Never can dreaded oppressive oblivion
Order the blotting out of parents’ legacy poured into
Soul and heart of mine with memories so precious
Testifying faithful fellowship, forever triumphant
Affirming love, affectionately prevalent amidst nostalgia
Lingering in family bonds, beyond the temporal
Glowing against departure toward eternity --- bringing
Influence upon goodness’ impact, smiting “missing you” ennui
Cheering by God’s grace* along home-sweet-home lyric.
*Psalm 84:11 For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.
December 3, 2020
3rd place, "ANY NEW ACROSTIC ABOUT NOSTALGIA" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 1/9/2021.
TOMORROW
Tomorrow keeps on
Lifting her delicate hand
And flipping back strands of
Her colored, cherry-brown hair,
Which hang alonside her neck…
Grown long enough to just touch
Her collarbone.
Embellished with floral
And feathered pins,
Her exquisite hair flows down
Like the ironed lines
Of a cut and straightened
Halo…
Volumes of secrets Tomorrow knows
About what symbols live in those strands:
Silky, so thick, with a soft sweep
On down from from
The crown of her head
To cover her collar, and
Which she keeps absently
Tossing into the air
With the long fingers of her right hand
— Fingers turned and slightly bent,
Like a ballerina’s poised hands.
This is Tomorrow’s nervous habit
Manifest
Of present worries — burdening
Since childhood
To now — of things that
Are
Or could, shocking, crop up.
Tomorrow tries
To daydream away her sensing
Some of the possible, provoking streams
Of events — standing, waiting
In this day’s wings
For time’s cues to begin
Acting out the better or dreaded things.
As Tomorrow remains
Always
There, inclined in her earth-toned chair,
With her eyes half-closed,
In a Divinely gifted peace, subject
To the Divine power, who reigns over her ways.
And Tomorrow,
With us giving her reasons,
Continues
Tossing back strands of her hair.
————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 7/16/2023
Thanks be to God—-
Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be
Oh dear, what can the matter be;
I hate this dreaded technology.
This morning my computer was dead;
had I known, I could have stayed in bed.
They tell me that the hard drive has crashed;
I can’t work today, my day is trashed.
Oh dear, what can the matter be;
I hate this dreaded technology.
Last week my smart phone didn’t work as designed;
my text’s went to my son’s phone, how unkind.
They say it’s the result of Family Share,
but if you don’t want to share, better beware.
Oh dear, what can the matter be;
I hate this dreaded technology;
I fear it will be the death of me!
January 30, 2018
Contest: Oh Dear, What Can The Matter Be
Sponsor: Barry Stebbings
There is sweat pouring down my face like a river
And I’m shaking all over with utter terror
Slowly, unwillingly, my feet drag me in the direction
To the place where my horrible fate lays waiting
Oh God! What have I done to deserve this?
One on each side they flank me, there is no escape
They lead me into the grey room, I cast my eyes about
There it sat, in the middle, looking deathly ominous
It was the chair of doom, waiting for me, almost alive
They escorted me to it and I had to sit myself down
The arms wrapped around as if to prevent escape
Next to it, were the instruments that would be used
Now that I was in the chair what was to happen was inevitable
It was only a matter of counting down the remaining minutes
Then I heard those dreaded words, those fateful words
“Open your mouth, let’s see which tooth is giving you trouble”
A DIRGE TO A GREAT MAN IN CAPTIVITY
Like the morning sun you appeared in front of us with your glory
Like the satellite you outshone the stars while they talk of your story
Your shoulder was a mountain which gave birth to springs to flow
Even the grasses looked up to you like a fertilizer to grow
Difficult as it sounds you were a noise we listened to as sound
Your dark skin glitter like the diamond
On your head lies the dreaded hair of a Nazarite
So tall like the iroko you stood amongst other trees
The squeeze on your neck so thick like the Tigers skin
In your sight fear runs while brevity is your kin
How empty does thy name now sound
Your journey to your fall a reality we do not understand
The hands you put fish hook on used you as their bait
Your faith was decided by a mere soul
O... Thou great Father, your end a journey never foretold
Difficult as it sounds your memory will live on
While your Litany will be told as tales by your friends.
TO A FRIEND HUNTED DOWN BY HIS OWN CHOICE
These days, most relationships
Are made of spider threads
The chains are fragile and cheap
Nobody can blame the dreads
Who seem to always tell the truth
For they could not care about roofs
Over their hair, that does not mean
That they're crazy, illiterate or lazy
Listen to the beats of the rastamen
Their dreaded hair is as strong as iron
Listen to the reggae beats, to the veracity
Of their words. Weak relationships
Are hurting too many people on the ships
Men and women ought to be more careful
This world is sick. This world is crazy and full
Of impostors, liars, criminals and backstabbers
Guess who are laughing now? The mighty spiders.
Copyright © November 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.