Long Duty Poems
Long Duty Poems. Below are the most popular long Duty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Duty poems by poem length and keyword.
All of my children did come home
One at a time, almost like a metronome.
It made me happy, as I felt needed
Yet, when they wanted advice it was never heeded.
I love them all with my entire being,
Yet, not long it felt like they were fleeing.
They are now adults with lives of their own
However, for their past, some refused to let me atone.
My youngest one always acted entitled,
Then when he started working he made me feel vital.
Then one by one, as their lives moved on, it seemed they forgot about me.
Only on holidays or my birthdays did they act around me with glee.
Once festivities were at an end they found a reason to flee
They always seemed to prove my fear that they were there out of duty.
Then my youngest started calling me every day to say I love you
I started thinking I was forgiven for all he had gone through.
I was soon to learn how wrong I was
As he started rumors, making a buzz.
And soon most believed these rumors so heinous
He was showing everyone he was a Janus.
Somehow the others believed him
It left me feeling my future with my kids was grim.
Then one son came to me to talk about my actions
Talking to me and making it look like we were doing transactions.
Yet, he was telling me the things my youngest had said
Then he gave me an ultimatum that led me to feel as if my heart had bled.
The very next day, I woke up to a message from my other mother
Another lie told by my youngest made me feel like he wanted to separate me from his brother.
Now that son and daughter will not returns text or a call
Making me think they believe the lies one and all.
All because I was tired of my youngest using me
Threatening me that in my life he no longer would be.
All because I told him until he could talk to the respect I deserve
Somehow my telling him this must have struck a nerve.
Now he is trying to turn all his siblings against me
Using lies and my fears in order for me to beg and plea.
There are two he cannot turn
Oh, how it must make him burn.
He is not being an adult, but a deceitful child.
I am praying my other two can help me get reconciled
To the two who believed their younger brother
And have them understand what is going on with their mother.
Until that time comes, I sit here and wait
I have to leave this all to God and to fate.
© Kristy De La Keur Scoville
In the tapestry of life's intricate design,
A journey filled with love and loss intertwine.
From childhood's embrace to the call of duty,
A path of resilience, courage, and beauty.
Blessed I was with parents whose love knew no end,
Guiding pillars, companions, forever friends.
With every step, their love paved my way,
Teaching lessons of kindness, all through my day.
I joined the Marines to see the world's vast expanse,
Encountering new cultures, taking a chance.
In the midst of service, love's light I did find,
Meeting my soulmate, destined to be mine.
Love at first sight, a bond unbreakable and true,
Discovering in her, my reflection, a clue.
Embracing the role of husband and father with all of my might,
Living my life, filled with love's pure light.
Tragedy struck, tearing apart my happy home,
Loss of my wife, and mother, I was left alone.
Grief's heavy cloak enveloped my days,
Yet through the darkness, my spirit would not be swayed.
The strength of a woman, my mother so dear,
Fighting through pain, and facing her fear.
Caring for her, as she faced her final fate,
In her grace and courage, with God there's no debate.
Through loss and pain, my writing became a guide,
A channel for emotions, for tears I had cried.
Penning poems of raw truth and grace,
Touching souls, shining a light in that dark space.
Seeking to share my words, to reach those in need,
To offer help, hope, in every word indeed.
Mental illness, struggles, faith's ebb and flow,
Uniting humanity, in joys and in woe.
I hope my verses find wings to reach far and wide,
To touch hearts, to heal, and in love abide.
In sharing my story, my voice it finds its power,
An offering of empathy, in life's uncertain hour.
I can only hope my poems are a beacon of light in the night,
Shining for those who may have lost their sight.
A testament to resilience, faith, and love's grace,
In a world that yearns for kindness as it's embrace.
With each stroke of the pen, my story is told,
Of love, of loss, of courage so bold.
In sharing my journey, and truth leaving nothing unspoken,
May hearts be lifted, and barriers broken.
Thank you for reading my tale of joy and woe,
I hope my words continue to inspire, to grow.
For in storytelling, I find my peace, and in the memories I hold deep.
And in love and faith may our souls the Lord shall keep.
(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
"Never mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing.
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve was picking up. This Griggs guy
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.?
……… … .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.”
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.
(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)
I'm a simple guy,
I like video games, music and succeeding without trying,
So when a man comes up to me and tell me he can save my life,
Who am I to turn down a free book from a generous passerby,
Strange how after hundreds of Reddit articles I find these red words the most astounding,
Each verse saturated with a truth beyond my understanding,
I embraced the scripture in my new-found belief,
Ditching skeptics and scientific contention for a biblical motif,
So with my newfangled faith I embarked on a holy endeavor,
To sift through a lifetime of personal uncertainty to uncover the answer,
I found myself under bottomless pizza boxes,
Buying time stocks from the evolutionary clock,
Discovering purpose through glimmering game discs,
Fashioning polygonal personalities into personable obelisks,
Uncovering the depths of my psyche excavating mountains of dirty laundry,
Rinse on, dry off, purging both physical filth and emotional quandaries,
Sharing walkways with speeding cars enslaved to a monetary duty I can't shirk
A journey of a thousand steps every pilgrimage to work,
My blood a bubbling brew of ambition and potential,
Yet required to surpass insurmountable credentials,
Ignoring the marked symbols in newspapers they seek to brand on my forehead,
Subjective opinions of civility and idealism dropped on me like warheads,
Cryptic predictions of personality and fate,
You think I need a dice roll to determine if I'm straight?
Countless evaluations to rationalize the psyche and soul combined,
What makes their opinion more viable than mine?
I'm taking buoyant steps upon the swamp to reach my destination,
Swapping carnality for divinity to achieve the ultimate self-preservation,
Cremating my mortality I seek to ascend,
Past primitive understanding of a purpose I cannot comprehend,
This road we walk is coated with trip-wire and paved with scorching coals,
Watch out for those flaming hours in your 5-day forecast so find the nearest foxhole,
The burden on our shoulders has already been lifted so there's no reason for us to be aching,
We're on the path to eternal salvation why aren't we skipping?
So why don't you tag along with me on this self-realization odyssey,
I can't promise explosions or tentacle-headed aliens but I know it'll at least be interesting,
Just you, yourself, me and I,
The most dynamic duo to ever breach the sky.
While sailing out on morning’s tide
A mermaid on a rock I spied
She was a lovely half-fish girl
With a necklace made of whitest pearl
She smiled and blew a kiss to me
Then disappeared into the sea
She surfaced back behind the boat
And lazily began to float
I grabbed my friend and pointed aft
He thought that I was truly daft
For mermaids don’t exist, you know
My friend quite plainly told me so
No sooner had he walked away
The mermaid came again to play
She sunned herself upon some rocks
And combed her flowing silken locks
I hailed the Captain of our ship
But she had given me the slip
The Captain answered to my call
But saw no mermaid there at all
The Captain thought me quite insane
As my wondrous tale I did explain
When he returned back to his duty
I saw again my ocean beauty
She floated there upon a wave
A subtle wink she slyly gave
And then she flipped her lovely tail
Swimming along as we did sail
I called all of my sailor friends
To show them her curvaceous fins
They asked if I was feeling well
When my story I began to tell
I pointed to the mermaid fair
But when they looked, nothing was there
They thought that I had lost my mind
No mermaid out there could they find
They left and shook their weary heads
And sleepily went to their beds
My head was in a dizzy whirl
I saw the ocean waters swirl
Then once again she came in sight
Swimming in the pale moonlight
I yelled and danced a frantic jig
As they hauled me off into the brig
“He’s lost it” I did hear them say
As they sadly went upon their way
Through the port of my little cell
I watched the sea waves rise and swell
Then suddenly next to the glass
I saw the little seaward lass
She took the pearls off of her neck
And tossed them up onto the deck
Then off she swam into the deep
As I wearily slipped off to sleep
When came the early light of dawn
I stretched my arms and gave a yawn
Then my good friend upon the ship
Ran down with pearls fast in his grip
"You won’t believe the sight I saw"
He said to me, face filled with awe
Last night while I was by the rail
I heard a voice give me a hail
Next thing I knew, here came these pearls
From underneath the ocean swirls
"Quite right you were", he said to me
"A mermaid threw these from the sea"
I winked and said “I don’t think so”
For mermaids don’t exist you know
- continued from Part 2
I Am Making More Profits
Than An Open Window Can Scope!
But More Importantly
Than Any Viable Earnings Can Invoke …
Lovely … I Am Sending Valuable-Love
… Inside This Envelope
(Isa. 54: 11, 12)
Yes, Lovely … You Are My Amethysts & Rubies
and Sapphires and Silver and Gold
and I Am The Richest Person Alive!
… If The Truth Be Told …
I Want You Ecstatically Happy
Now Surely, You Must Know
I Just Want To See Your Own
Luminous, Starry Eyes Aglow
… and Pour Drops of Soothing Oil
and Lavish-Anoint You – Head To Toe
and Smell Your Sweet, Pure Perfume
Wafting Like Incense To My Nose …
And Hold You In My Arms
and Never Let You Go
My Lovely One, I’ll Be With You Soon
Because I Love You So …
My Lovely One, You Know Me
To Be A Lover of Honor, Most Honest
The Length Between Us Is Loyal
and Getting Closer By The Moments
And You Have Your One-True-Lover’s
Word of Oath – On This (like Sacred-Sonnets)
And I Will Come For You, My Lovely One
… I Promise …
But The War Rages On
and Will Wage Worse Before Its Gone
But These Things I Have Told You
So You Have Always Known …
About Harsh Ways of The World
So Go Past Them, You Must Stay Strong
and True To Me ‘Til I Come
and Make Us A Brand New Home
(For To Me, Again – You’ll Belong
… Before Ere’ Too Long …
(Rev. 21: 3, 4)
But I Must Finish My Duty
and Complete My Timeline-Task
The Importance and Responsibility
For This Job Is Very Vast!
It’s For Our Future & To Make Sure
That We Will Always Last
and That No One Else Dare Repeat
Poisoned Mistakes From Prideful-Pasts
And After This … We’ll Never Again
Ungroup or Unclasp!
But Your Understanding & Agreement
Is Needed Now … That’s What I Ask …
Oh, Let My Words Kindle
Your Starry Eyes Like Flames!
Let The Fire of My Ardor
& Pure Force, Course Thru Your Veins!
(The Song of Solomon 8: 6, 7)
And Let This Letter Draw You To Me
With Unbreakable Mettle Chains!
and If You Must Whisper and Weep
Just Softly Echo My Name …
(Remember, You Agreed To Wear My Name)
(Isa. 43: 7, 10, 11 / Acts 11: 26 / Rom. 10: 13)
Let This Letter Be My Lips
Speaking Forth Innocence
Let This Letter Be My Lips
and Each Word A Knowing Kiss
Let This Letter Be My Voice
Telling You How You’re Loved & Missed
For Soon, We Will Be Together
As If In Celestial Bliss
I Send This Letter So It Could
Act As Your Revival
I Sent This Letter So You Could
Know I Am Reliable
(Part 3 of 4)
*My beloved Oval, I fear that my words fall short of what I am feeling in my heart. May you accept these few lines of love as my best effort of expressing my concern for you. I have heard much about you, but I have yet to visit and meet you in person. The pictures of you are rather striking and stunning.
It was during the 90's that I first became gravely concerned about what seemed to me, 'a tarnishing' of your office. Circumstances surrounding your occupants caused a great deal of weeping in my soul. It appeared as if the dark clouds of contamination were setting over you, and determined to drive out the awe and aromatic presence of your enduring reverence. Nevertheless, like the giant I always believed you to be, you came roaring back to a place of renown in the early 2000's. And Oval, it was so good to have you back. A new leader so deserving of your atmosphere took great lengths to restore the sacredness that was so rightfully due. I tell you Oval, the reality of your presence and power is so pervasive that it extends far beyond your palatial walls. For centuries you have adorned the shoulders of presidents in attire befitting their sacred trust.
Again, I stand aghast that I am observing a cloud of low regard for your office. Oval, this concern is not about presidents. More than 40 presidents have sat in your room, but you are still here. Presently, you are the one I am concerned about. It's my duty to speak up for you at this "high tide" of divisiveness.
Oval, in closing, there are many forces parading through our country; and it appears that these opposing forces are conspiring for a 'perfect storm'. Be advised and encouraged that much prayer is also invading the air waves. I see indications that not only shall we prevail and survive, but we shall also thrive because of God's Good Graces and His magnanimous mercies.
09292017 PS Contest, Early October Standard, Brain Strand Personification Form *Oval: The Oval Office in The White House
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.
For years her stepmom and stepsibs made her perform a menial's duty,
And as she blossomed into beauty,
They grew more hateful, mean, and cruel.
Each night they dined on fine cuisine and wore lace dresses with silk sashes,
While she wore rags begrimed with ashes,
And got just crusts of bread and gruel.
Then one day a herald from the king demanded entry
To the homes of landed gentry,
They were invited one and all.
It was the prince's eighteenth birthday, and the king and queen were harried
Because their son was not yet married.
Ergo, the reason for the ball.
The stepsisters primped and preened and wild excitement they exuded,
When Cindy asked to be included, they gaped at her as if appalled.
Stepmother sneered, "Look here, I'll show you!"
With self-righteous indignation,
"Your name's not on the invitation.
Just we elite are so installed."
So Cinderella went downstairs to seek some solace in the kitchen,
But 'stead of sittin' there and b****in', she started dancing with a broom.
She whirled and twirled around the floor,
Or else she'd stand there, gently swaying,
As if an orchestra was playing
Pretending they were bride and groom.
And then a flash, a crash of thunder, and to Cindy's stunned amazement,
There gliding through the kitchen casement,
A pudgy lady dressed in blue.
She said, "Hello, my dear, no fear, I'm here to grant your secret wishes,
I'll wave my wand and clear the dishes,
And make a princess out of you!"
She waved and tapped and flicked and zapped,
And what she seemed to make the air do
Was give her make-up, nails, and hair-do,
And then to make the look complete,
Out of those rags so soiled and worn and far too torn to drown a cat in,
A gown of gossamer and satin, and crystal slippers on her feet.
Without this timely intervention, Cindy's tale might have been tragic.
Could she have managed without magic,
And her dilemma be resolved?
But everybody knows what happened with a gourd and six white mice,
And how a smudgy scullery maid was made to clean up really nice,
When a fairy got involved.
To be continued...
THE CRYING WILD CREATURES.
Nzongi Mwero.
Oh, we recall the bygone times,
The days of the golden past,
That chirping with our merry mates,
Flying around the parks,
Gone the joys of the nests,
That freedom restrained,
Coming at our will in parks,
But hindered and chained in the parks.
Oh, we feel painted at our hearts when we recall,
The scene in the parks unsmiling,
No glistering dew drops from the trees,
All big trees were cut down,
We can’t forget that lovely shape of the parks,
That endearing our faces.
Oh, life was real nice in the vernal shade,
Oh, we miss the sweet voices of our brothers in the parks,
Would that we had the strength to break the predators,
What a bad luck have we?
Can we pine for another park?
Brothers let us think of the weapons and tactics,
That we could escape from poachers and predators.
My friend Antelope- You can use your speed in retreating,
You Tortoise- Use your shield or bomb shelter,
My friend Chameleon- You can use the camouflage,
You Porcupine- Please use your swords or bayonets,
My friend Snake- Use your poisoned knife,
You Stunk- Please Use your tear gas or poison gas,
My friend Octopus- Use your smoke screen,
You Electric Eel- Please Use your electric shock,
Then my friend Gecko- You can Use your diversionary tactics,
And finally me Elephant I will Use my tusks.
Everyone has a duty to perform his defensive way,
To deal with poachers and predators,
But still human beings have more brains,
They know how to trap us,
We plead those with good hearted to protect us.
Parks are our shelters,
Rivers are our shelters,
Oceans and lakes are our shelters,
Trees are our shelters,
The land is our shelters.
Oh, we beg you do not harm us,
You live on land- You live on land,
You drink water from the rivers –We live and drink that water,
You get medicine from trees- We live and eat those trees,
You collect foreign money from the parks- We live in the parks,
You use oceans and lakes to travel –We live in those waters.
Oh, we are all world creatures,
Why are you killing us for meat?
Why are you destroying the parks?
Why are you contaminating the waters?
Why are you cutting down trees?
Why are you burning the land we live?
Why are you hunting us for more money?
And already you are getting foreign money due to us,
Please stop hunting us or destroying our shelters.
I once saw a man one early misty winter morning. He was crossing at the intersection as I was preparing to make a U turn. Upon seeing him, not in worn out shoes, but completely without any shoes, I felt duty bound; so I gave him the shoes on my feet. This memory came to me as I thought about a song I heard years ago about a Mr. Bojangles who ran a string of bad times and was wearing 'worn out shoes'.
I was deeply moved when I first heard the song nearly 20 years ago, and it has stayed with me since. When I heard it on the radio being performed by Sammie Davis Jr., I fell in love with Mr. Bojangles whose life demonstrated someone down on his luck but still tugging along and doing the best he can with a little confession about 'drinking a bit'. The story also speaks to people with talent and artistic abilities, reminding them that their call, their purpose, their assignment to touch the world, is far bigger than them. Sammie's opening with a whistle was rather soothing.
Whether it's age or addictions, people or circumstances that stepped on one's life to crush them like a roach, we need not stop or give up on ourselves or our gift. If we are blue and sad, Dance! If victimized by manipulation or loss, Dance! If we have come to or toward the end of life and find ourselves feasting on bitter herbs, Dance! We still have a story to tell and one to leave with the coming generation.
The language of life is to love, to laugh, and to Dance, and need never die for any reason. I never learned how to Dance physically, but sometimes when all alone and no one is looking, I Dance. My inner spirit and attitude have learned to Dance. If not as high as Mr. Bojangles, jump as high as you can; can't jump while tapping my heels like Mr. Bojangles, but I can tap the floor.
I suspect that I have Mr. Bojangles to thank and so many others like him who over a span of years have taught me not to cry over spilled milk but to wipe it up and pour another glass. Sammie's closing with a whistle is rather telling and speaks to our approach to life regardless of what it throws at us. Yes, We keep whistling and talking, sharing our lives with whomever will listen, and move on to the next chapter, because it is never over until God says it's over.
071620PSCtest, Same Old Song, Beth Evans. 1P