Long Endures Poems
Long Endures Poems. Below are the most popular long Endures by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Endures poems by poem length and keyword.
I USED TO WORRY ABOUT THINGS THAT DON'T MATTER
THINGS THAT USED UP MUCH OF MY DAYS
I SPENT ALL MY TIME TRYING TO MAKE MORE DIMES
UNTIL IT ALL CRASHED DOWN IN MY FACE
SO REMEMBER TO ENJOY THE GIFT OF LIFE
AND THE FIRST STEP IS LIVING EACH DAY
DON'T WORRY ABOUT THINGS THAT’LL MAKE YOU LOSE SITE
AND TAKE YOU OFF IN ALL THE WRONG WAYS
SOMEONE YOU’LL WANT TO TAKE ALONG ON YOUR RIDE
HAS ALREADY BEEN WITH YOU ALL OF YOUR LIFE
EVEN WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS JUST YOU ALONE
KNOW IT’S OK FOR YOU WERE WRONG
HE CREATED ALL THINGS AND THOUGH WE’RE JUST ONE
HIS LOVE FOR US ENDURES
EVEN WHEN WE’RE THE PRODIGAL SON
BUT FOR YOU TO GET THE MOST OUT OF LIFE
REMEMBER TO THANK HIM EACH DAY
YOU WILL SEE THAT HE’S ALWAYS AT YOUR SIDE
AND IF YOU LISTEN HE’LL HELP LEAD THE WAY
SOMEONE YOU’LL WANT TO TAKE ALONG ON YOUR RIDE
HAS ALREADY BEEN WITH YOU ALL OF YOUR LIFE
EVEN WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS JUST YOU ALONE
KNOW IT’S OK FOR YOU WERE WRONG
HE CREATED ALL THINGS AND THOUGH WE’RE JUST ONE
HIS LOVE FOR US ENDURES
EVEN WHEN WE’RE THE PRODIGAL SON
TAKE A MOMENT AND LISTEN TO YOUR BEATING HEART (AND)
WHAT YOU FEEL WILL BE HIS GIFT TO WHO YOU REALLY ARE
SOMEONE YOU’LL WANT TO TAKE ALONG ON YOUR RIDE
HAS ALREADY BEEN WITH YOU ALL OF YOUR LIFE
EVEN WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS JUST YOU ALONE
KNOW IT’S OK FOR YOU WERE WRONG
HE CREATED ALL THINGS AND THOUGH WE’RE JUST ONE
HIS LOVE FOR US ENDURES
EVEN WHEN WE’RE THE PRODIGAL SON
HIS LOVE FOR US ENDURES
EVEN WHEN WE’RE THE PRODIGAL SON
THE PRODIGAL SON
Before the dawn has painted sky or land,
My heart awakens, calling out your name,
And every quiet movement of your hand
Is light that puts my darkest fears to shame.
You are the gentle breath inside my chest,
The sacred altar where my troubles fall,
The only shore where wandering thoughts can rest,
My quiet sanctuary through it all.
I trace the tender lines upon your brow,
And thank the heavens that our paths have crossed;
To hold you in the stillness of the now
Is finding life where everything was lost.
No worldly treasure, fortune, title, power,
Could ever match the devotion that I feel;
With every passing day and fleeting hour,
My love grows only deeper, pure and real.
If I am granted all my remaining days,
I vow to give my life to honor yours,
To hold your heart in reverence and praise
As long as breath remains and spirit endures.
When storm brews in the yonder horizon hazy,
wild winds surge dark cloud across the smoky sky,
sailing steady on the old boat with unsinkable hope,
the ancient mariner in me endures the torment of toil.
When the torrential rain pours from the falling sky,
the deluge descends on the landscape of my life,
my morose mind drowns in the flood of despair,
I face the plight with fortitude and forbearance.
When the frail body suffers in the abyss of disease,
the despondent mind senses the beginning of the end,
I walk patiently the last mile that waits to be traversed,
and envisage the garden pathway I strolled in cheerful days.
When the assigned time reaches the edge of twilight hour,
the darkness of dusk designs the desolation shadows,
I see sparkling stars sprout in night’s moonlit crown,
for the new sunrise of bliss I wait with longanimity.
___________________
March 5, 2022
Title Chosen : Longanimity
Contest : Pick-A-Title, Vol 29
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
Amidst an orange moon which brightens
the chill of evening... when armada of snow
in a free-fall drapes the lanes as night recoils:
Yet, menfolk gather in a bonfire kindled with calm--
for just one flame in heaven's dome imbues
that a certain assurance can pierce a bitter gust
when darkness falls.
Tender grace endures as a lone star flickers
while the canopy of frost trembles to blanket
old hills like an iced lattice
climbing edge on edge and ridge on ridge:
and though dazzling crowns of peaks etch
iced crystals near westward's reach-
the smoldering embers of hope abide.
From a distance, I watch this mystery,
this interplay of flame and cold where time
mirrors the shift of beauty as a pool of winter
sways with the kiln of man's vigor and his moon,
allowing near capped byways to glimmer
alongside human's virtue that joins a snowy flow.
Contest of Anthony Slausen: Embers and Snowflakes
1/5/2018
June 7, 2019
Sometimes I wonder what we are
It's wishing on a shooting star
Are we lovers or friends
Who can decipher
Some days I think you love me
Others I just don't know
I know I love you but who knows
what lies within the heart
The heart is the most deceitful of
all Who can tell
Many use the word love without
a thought never knowing the
true meaning
Love endures all and is faithful to
the end
If you ask me do I love you
I will say this
When I you, my heart skips
a beat
When I'm away from you
I can't wait to see you again
I consider you, my lover as
well as my friend
I seen you do things for me
no other would but my heart
has been so wounded over
and over again it is hard for
me to tell
Ache—
Let it sink
Deep
With quiet and unfathomable rage, every word shown
Black ink, black intent,
Yeah, she was done
The black nail polish on her nails chipping
Stupid, cheap crap…
The color black burned through her soul,
Giving her slight satisfaction in her furious state of mind
Always angry
Always sad, and hollow
She wanted desperately to get back at the wretch
Because of him, she wished she never existed
Lying there cold,
Stark-naked on the bathroom floor…
Standing outside the chipped, wooden door
He wanted more
Waiting to feel her flesh upon his own
The demon…
The monster…
You’ve heard the tale
It’s nothing new
Hearing him breath heavily,
Listening, his ears pounding with his heart
A beast awaiting his prey
Cornering her, despairing her
Nose pouring forth snot and blood
He had hit her very hard,
And there was surely more to come
But she had to resist the monster.
She just had to
Glancing at the boarded window in agony and despair,
No one would ever know and there was no one to tell
He’s a good man…
It’s her who’s the bad one
God is mad at her…not him
It’s always that way
Her fists slammed on her desk
After it all, he was coming back for her
She kept telling herself he was going to forget
He was going to leave her alone,
But he soon would be back for more,
Just like the old days
He didn’t give a damn about the ache she endures every day of her miserable life
In a frenzied fury,
She tore up the paper with the short poem on it
He would never feel the ache…
It would never seep through his marrow
Her phone rang loudly, startling her
She let it ring three times and then begrudgingly answered it.
“What?” She spat, clenching her teeth in irritation.
“It’s Mr. Rickman. We are ready to see you in.”
She gulped. The time was upon her. “Now?”
“Yes, of course. Everything’s going to be alright”
She hung up the phone.
She put on her darkest of shirts
She slipped on her black, studded sweater and her spiked collar
Black boots
Black gloves without the fingers
Black skinny jeans
She wanted EVERYTHING to be black today.
Hello you ,
Let me start by saying : I am a connoisseur; one of the language arts kind. So if my text feel long , sometimes all day long , the words seem un ending , let me tell you a one of the many ways to understand the things that make me , me..and make me curious about you ..
I am driven by the way words can transfer vision , a scene , a strategy to critical think, a story forming , brainstorming, communicating is more than just drying ink and connected signal strength
.A way to flavor ordinary grammar , slip in a synonym, add exclamation! Grab the attention, for how can one teach, if one does not understand how one learns , how to grab and maintain attention.
Words harmonize prayer to our Creator , for let's all shout together ," his love endures forever ."
I'll keep this short, simple and sweet.
One more thing ...I know what your you are thinking , don't worry you just keep reading ..
' course I now wonder about how you ponder ,
What brings a smile to your eyes, a twinkle to your gaze ?
A skip to your gait?
A childhood olfactory memory? What does it take for your heart to skip a beat , then keeps right along in rhythm .
What makes you feel seen , feel heard and understood, and feel good ? Pause ... before I go into anymore
like I promised above , I'll keep this short for not all messages require extra storage.
This was typed word for word not for anyone but you , so consider this your final warning , there's good things in store . Sweetest dreams for you and your little one , for tomorrow is not guaranteed but if we keep his word we are promised eternal peace, goodnight and be at ease
In a stream of murky waters deep,
Where secrets and shadows forever creep,
Lives a creature fierce and ancient, bold,
A guardian of tales as yet untold.
Behold the snapping turtle, wise and strong,
Her ancient shell echoing a timeless song.
With eyes like amber, full of mystic gleam,
She reigns over a realm of forgotten dream.
A warrior clad in armor of darkest hue,
Her jaws await, a formidable view.
But beneath her tough exterior, you'll find,
A heart of grace, gentle and kind.
She navigates the currents with graceful ease,
A creature of wisdom, silent as the breeze.
In tranquil shallows or depths unknown,
She finds solace, her kingdom, her own.
Through the ebb and flow of passing time,
Her presence endures, a sacred rhyme.
She teaches us patience, resilience, and might,
As she journeys through day and night.
So let us honor this creature so rare,
With a whispered homage, a quiet prayer.
For in her presence, we find strength anew,
Her snapping spirit, forever true.
Eleven years have spun like cotton thread,
Since the day they told us Grandpa was dead.
The fields of summer turned a mournful brown,
And a piece of my heart went six feet down.
I was just a boy, knee-high to a plow,
Clinging to his hand, wondering how,
Life could ever be right, or skies so blue,
When the best man I knew was suddenly through.
Now I stand tall, a man in my own right,
But Grandpa's not here to see my light.
He missed my first shave, my awkward first date,
The victories won, the stumbles of fate.
I often wonder, with a tear in my eye,
Would he recognize the man passing by?
Would he see his grit, his love, his gentle soul,
Reflected in the dreams that make me whole?
But there's solace in the scent of gasoline,
A comfort in the engine's powerful sheen.
I'm building a derby car, Grandpa, it's true,
Just like you taught me, with bolts shining and new.
You loved the rumble, the roar, and the speed,
The thrill of the race, planting a winning seed.
I feel you beside me, your hand on the wrench,
Guiding my fingers, helping me clench.
This car ain't just metal, it's memory and might,
A tribute to you, burning ever so bright.
Each car I smash, each victory I claim,
I whisper your name, carrying on your flame.
So though you're not here to watch me grow,
Your love's in my heart, a steady, warm glow.
And as I cross that finish line, fast and free,
I know you'll be cheering, right there with me.
The sun dips low, painting the sky with hues of gold and rust,
much like the memories
that time cannot fully erase.
Sometimes,
in the quiet of the evening, I swear I can hear his laughter
carried on the wind, a gentle reminder that even in absence,
love endures.
Building this derby car has become more than just a hobby;
it's a bridge across the years,
a tangible connection to the man who taught me the value of hard work and the thrill of the open road.
Each piece I fit, each adjustment I make,
is a testament to his enduring influence.
And so, I press on, fueled by love and remembrance,
knowing that though he may not be here in body,
his spirit rides shotgun, guiding me toward the finish line and beyond.
A woman gives birth to a new life.
She is not just a 'woman'
But also a mother, a companion, a spouse,
A sister and, a survivor to the end.
We never value her, respect her
Ask her concerns and care for her
We never wipe away her tears,
As they are imperceptible as air.
She works, cooks and cleans
She chuckles, helps comfort,
Yet, she never complains
And shrouds her agony.
At the point when you battle in your life
She helps to get you through
This is HER and what do we do?
Grumble and make a wreck
Give her pressure,
And leave her feeling discouraged.
We push her away
And overlook her exhortation
Reveal to her she isn't anything
Without a man
She was assaulted, tormented
And mishandled by the world
Told her she is nothing
And would be continuously utilized
Only for joy and pleasure
She bites the bullet, puts her sentiments aside
Does as you need altogether for you to be free
Overlooks your obliviousness
And endures your blemishes
You call her a scraper and vagrant
You call her with slang names
But she answers with satisfaction and pride
With a total loss of self
You call her nothing
But I call her solid, keen, erotic, mindful
Yet giving, enduring, lenient and amazing
And I call her WOMAN!