Long Eat drink and be merry Poems
Long Eat drink and be merry Poems. Below are the most popular long Eat drink and be merry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eat drink and be merry poems by poem length and keyword.
Visible Continually Part II
Change is a natural law that cares
not for homo-sapiens opinion formed
Marching to the beat of it’s own drum;
with moon dances through storms.
How little we realize
what means most
Find we get caught up;
then try to coast
Through the turbulence
that we emulate
Like the symphony
conductor escalates
In rhapsody of a musical
scale in perfect time
Harmonizing at every
sharp and flat in rhyme.
Aye ~ Eat, drink, and be Merry--
For tomorrow we die!
Our time here is minute compared
To the planet and sky,
And the mountains, the trees,
the ocean deep and blue
A nano-second is all we receive
and we have no clue
To…
What, or why, or
even think of when.
We are, we were
or what is meant
By the cycles of the
universe in motion
That spins on the
extreme of all emotion.
The crossroads are visible
again on my long journey
No longer are they a mirage
in the desert but continually
Are the reality of our paradigm
that shifts dimensions
Anytime we are not focused on
our own destruction~
May Peace
and Serenity
Finally Prevail
"For we are his workmanship (poiema), created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared in advance that we should do them." Ephesians 2:10. "
I read these words in the whole context
of the book of Ecclesiastes.
When “all is vanity”, what comes next?
“Excess” say some enthusiast-ees.
“Eat, drink, and be merry.” - Don't we lose
the goal - when pleasure's all we achieve.
"Work" is that prepared gift from God we use
for outcomes which man cannot unweave.
Even Solomon ends, this thought in mind
“Fear God and keep all His commandments.”
Ponder, if God is the judge, we'll find
in the final grave, rightful recompense.
Where the Lord's wisdom and strength are compromised,
labor loses when self is lionized.
I am a tiny winged buzzing insect
A friend to folks and flowers alike
Another name for hard work
Toiling untiring from dawn to dusk
I set out merry, humming a tune,
On my professed mission of gathering honey
The flowers freshly bathed in dew
Eagerly await my propitious visit
I like to flit from flower to flower
I love dallying with floral beauties
Gladiolus, Chrysanthemums and Petunias
Red geraniums and colorful Zinniahs
But I prefer to hover over clustered blooms
Which hang from trees’ stooping boughs
From each flower I sup to my fill
And my body gets covered in yellow dust
I don’t believe in the Epicurean dictum
Of ‘Eat, drink and be merry’
Neither do I live just for today
I await a future that is trouble free
We work tireless till the day is done
And see that every cell of our hive is full
We never complain of those among us
Who stay idle and thrive on our labor
Never grumble against the privileged Queen
Who enjoys unique status with rights many
For we respect the Nature-ordained hierarchy
As we know, a mob without a leader would be anarchy
Bee Creative Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Matt Caliri
Placed First
23. Jan. 2022
For Strand’s (1058) Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Brian Strand
If miracles were made in the Sun
I would come and see you before the day is done
I would whisper good news in your ears
And touch the passion that has been sleeping for years
And drive out the monstrous fear
Wake up to the peace around you
for summer is smiling within you
Go shopping for your summer wear
And live the life that you always fear
Go partying on the beach, and bring
The carnival back on the street
And wear something nice above your knee
For you are going to make noise in
The street for the entire day
until the stress goes away
You will carnival in state, city, village and municipality
Until you drive the demons out of the town
Give everyone an hand Kerchief to wave and make some
Noise in the place; eat drink and be merry
According to the biblical prophecy
, you can hold the world in the palm of your hand
And the heavens will make you strong
Nature will tell you what to do for life is bigger than you
Sound the alarm in every town and dance till the mountains
Come down, and when your hearts are free you
You will slip away from the crowd and walk
With me in silence by the sea ,and gaze at your destiny.
God, does not want us to suffer,
he has told us, in the Bible,
how to build a better life,
Proverbs says time and time again,
"Seek knowledge"
knowledge leads to careers,
education leads to jobs,
wages to support ourselves,
"Eat drink and be merry"
"sit not at the table of the drunk"
So drink and enjoy your life,
but don't let it, destroy your life,
the parable of the talents,
invest Gods money,
to make five times more,
creating jobs to overcome poverty,
God does not want you to suffer,
yet people do no follow,
the word of God,
people do drugs,
people join in the drug trade,
people allow poverty,
to rule the world.
people create wars,
people create violence,
people rape children,
people waste his money,
people steal,
God leaves people,
to do what they want,
but they will be judged,
at the end of their lives,
Like a farmer God created
the perfect world,
but Satan filled the world,
with imperfection.
God waits like the Farmer
waiting for the crops to grow,
seeing your life,
he will choose if you should be saved,
the way you treat others,
determines, whether you
are apart, of the good crop
or the bad,
God does not want you to suffer,
yet people create the suffering,
it's time, that the people
learned to work together,
saving, investing,
creating work,
to overcome the poverty
and suffering of others.
Rejection Slips 4
Editor's Notes
by Michael R. Burch
Eat, drink and be merry
(tomorrow, be contrary).
( and complain
in bad refrain,
but please, not till I'm on the plane!)
Write no poem before its time
(in your case, this means never).
Linger over every word
(by which, I mean forever).
By all means, read your verse aloud.
I'm sure you'll be a star
(and just as distant, when I'm gone);
your poems are beauteous (afar).
Less Heroic Couplets: Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch
pour Melissa Balmain
Whenever my writing gets rejected,
I always wonder how the rejecter got elected.
Are we exchanging at the same Bourse?
(Excepting present company, of course!)
I consider the term “rejection slip” to be a double entendre. When editors reject my poems, did I slip up, or did they? Is their slip showing, or is mine?
Ode to Postmodernism, or, Bury Me at St. Edmonds!
by Michael R. Burch
"Bury St. Edmonds—Amid the squirrels, pigeons, flowers and manicured lawns of Abbey Gardens, one can plug a modem into a park bench and check e-mail, files or surf the Web, absolutely free."—Tennessean News Service. (The bench was erected free of charge by the British division of MSN, after a local bureaucrat wrote a contest-winning ode of sorts to MSN.)
Our post-modernist-equipped park bench will let
you browse the World Wide Web, the Internet,
commune with nature, interact with hackers,
design a virus, feed brown bitterns crackers.
Discretely-wired phone lines lead to plugs—
four ports we swept last night for nasty bugs,
so your privacy's assured (a threesome's fine)
while invited friends can scan the party line:
for Internet alerts on new positions,
the randier exploits of politicians,
exotic birds on web cams (DO NOT FEED!) .
The cybersex is great, it's guaranteed
to leave you breathless—flushed, free of disease
and malware viruses. Enjoy the trees,
the birds, the bench—this product of Our pen.
We won in with an ode to MSN.
Keywords/Tags: rejection, rejection slips, write, writing, poet, poets, poems, poetry, internet, social media, society, culture, virus, viruses, viral, coronavirus, malware, world wide web
Last night no pyre the land was; no tamarisk tree wood that’s
No wooden forest there was where cold night was silky silent
Inside of pumpkins there’re lightening the insightful candles
Left souls there were waiting for welcome with praying hauls
Souls they are now; forefathers’ souls now in holy existence
All changes into saints souls as we believe in spiritual trance
Let all saints come; let all come through our love as gratitude
Without chain of good ancestry none can show noble attitude
No need the dark night and drink wine on deceased souls to hail
Day and night; sun and moon; nature is our peaceful existing bail
No mask I need to wear before my hereditary prodigious souls
Don’t think I to serve in greetings only vegetable for me and all
So, eat, drink and be merry on wishing and praying day for saints
Let’s celebrate the day with sacred solemnity to get saintly taints
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
01/11/2022
In loneliness, stranded in a row boat in dark nights,
Looking for the beacon of light, last hope to survive,
In sadness and despair, even the bright day looks so gloomy,
The nights seem haunted by the dark shadows in mind,
When one loses hope to survive being separated by lover,
Feel like jumping over from the cliff, and reunite in another life.
With the lost muse, eat, drink and be merry,
Invite some friends and forget about all the worries.
With lost muse, nothing comes to mind,
A bright day is bright, a dark night is dark,
With lost muse, get on the cliff, and glide like a bird,
There are no tears to shed, only to be amazed by beautiful valley underneath.
'Six slices a day is the well balanced way'
the boffins back then told us all,
but now I'm not impressed, they say 'wholemeal is best,
and more healthy' their clarion call.
For a good spirit lifter, an evening snifter
was, we were told, good for the heart,
now they say fourteen units (down from twenty-one)
in a week keeps you safe, if you're smart.
'Drinka pinta milka day' the adverts said,
it's good for the teeth and the bones,
now 'half fat, low dairy' the choices are scary
I may well just leave them alone.
Our family had chips cooked in gallons of lard,
spread dripping and salt on our toast,
bacon ate with the rind, and no scraps left behind
gravy made with the juice from the roast.
We ate this sinful food with no qualms or remorse
and left the table feeling full,
those boffins may be right but I think, with hindsight
that their lives must be terribly dull.
And I’ll say to myself, “You have plenty of grain laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.”
But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’
Luke 12:19-20
Revival in Late Winter
Goodbye evening stroll under leafy laze,
the repast is gone.
A communion feast, unbridled; the bride,
exquisite; a swan.
Draw hither to praise, dulcet and heartfelt;
humble chorale rejoice.
The nights last four moons long - joyous reborns’
one vivacious voice.
Christ’s train fills the sanctuary; approach,
don’t back up, come near.
With anointing of the Holy Spirit,
there’s nothing to fear.
Revival in late Winter, with no snow,
so spring to your feet.
Clap your hands, open and dim your eyes; see
light without retreat.
Though Sundays will linger, through precious days,
we’re blessed; the roof, raise.