Long Entertainment Poems
Long Entertainment Poems. Below are the most popular long Entertainment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Entertainment poems by poem length and keyword.
Warm your heart with what’s left of summer, warm your heart and put on a thick skin for winter, open all the resorts and hotel all over the town and fill them with tourist where destiny is bound.
Fire and storms will come, twister, tornados, typhoon, hurricane, cyclone will take you up to the moon and when the earthquake levels everything to the ground you can find solace on the other side of the town. When the fires burn the hill, just look up to the skies and keep still, it is purifying the land so the next generation can sing a happy song.
Warm your heart with what is left of the summer, warm your heart and dine with me in winter. I will give you discount on every suite and I will give you half price for a table for two to romance in the breeze. Get the whole family and come and have some summer fun life goes on for the battle that is not yet won.
Many businesses are down and total devastation is left in the town but somewhere in the middle of the ruins, there is hope. You can clear away a spot, set up a mobile kitchen, an entertainment corners and bring the caterers in.
The tourist bus will arrive in your town and they will greet you without a frown, the ships will come too and you will have business for the rest of the year so don’t fear.
Warm your heart with what is left of the summer get your friends and family and join me for dinner, Aunt Jane cannot come because her grieving is long,
She cannot get over the loss of her entire family. Three boys, a husband and four dogs perish in the fire. She was away when the fire started; she is inconsolable and she is vulnerable so we visit her from time to time to tell her that life is divine. She will always have a seat at this table.
Warm your heart with what is left of the summer and let’s go shopping, before winter, we will get something’s from the gardens store because we are going to do a big barbecue outdoor.
You must get some household gift, kitchen counter and table items. You will go to the electronic store and buy many things galore; business is very slow so you will bring some people in the town and have blowout sale all year round.
Warm your heart with what’s left of the summer, take a trip to Japan, China or America, just let it all go and get ready for the big show.
Winter is around the corner so enjoy what is left of the summer; just warm your heart.
"melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams " (by poet)
a gift from my father - on the first day of college,
"Golden Treasury"...A book of poetry...
the first poem I read... "She Walks In Beauty".
I carried that book throughout my life, even when I stopped reading poems...
even when poetry wasn't the priority any more,
Instead I looked at recipe-books - how to improve my culinary skills,
and became almost a champion chef in a few months.
Wordsworth and Browning were far away from my thoughts,
Coleridge? Oh No! Porphyria's Lover, and Ancient Mariner...
did not exist in my world of reality!
how many glorious summers went by ~ how many frosty winters ~
Delicious food, excellent company,
chasing after active children, stressing about job-opportunities,
exotic travels, grandiose entertainment ...
had time for every little trivial thing in the world...but no time for
the book my father imagined his daughter would embrace the most!
then one miraculous day...when even my father gradually forgot
the girl who used to blossom in the world of words, and poetry....
I found my precious friend collecting dust,
neglected, discarded, in the corner of a shelf.. couldn't believe it was waiting for me with a beating heart ~
each and every page came alive with a magical touch ~
still my name clearly visible, handwritten with my father's calligraphic dexterity !
almost shaking to spot my long-lost treasure, I cried!
overwhelmed with emotions, tears fell!
as if a candle burnt and melted.
every drop of tears brought back the lavender memories ~
of an exhilarating past... my passions, my yearnings,
tender dreams of lilac hues never attained, the abandoned path I was supposed to tread ...
a path strewn with lyrics and verses, ballads and
sonnets like blazing auburn leaves of autumn ~
now shockingly empty and despairingly barren.
the forgotten aspirations and never-met goals...the tremendous sense of loss,
of crushing heart-break, of torturous frustration,
all flooded in!
many lonely years have gone by!
melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams
ultimately my first love has returned !
First Place
May 15, 2021
Inspired by “ He gave her a book” contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
The little one came and asked the elder
How did things come to be?
The elder answered in abstract
A truth for all to see
It didn't happen all at once, but over many years
It happened with joy, laughter, and many silent tears
Like death from a thousand cuts, we just didn't want it to be real
Now all we have left, is just a bad deal
Its not that we didn't know, about the moments of despair
Its not that we didn't care, about the sordid affair
We just saw problems bigger than the sky and thought, who would dare?
And thus became a world that wasn't fair
We thought if its not us, maybe its not so bad
We can just enjoy our entertainment, and be plenty glad
And that's how it began, at least our part anyway
Even after so much has happened, we still have so little to say
The little one sat and asked the elder
Why did we do these things?
The elder answered in abstract
A sample of our selfish dreams
We did it because it felt good
Better than being good to ourselves
Better than loving thy neighbor
Better than the highest health
We called lies little, when they are quite big
Marking the beginning of our disgrace
We treated our future like it was a blooper
Without ever willing to embrace
We covered up truth with makeup and masks
Now we are the ones defaced
Our religion became follows and likes
And so we lost our faith
The little one stood and asked the elder
What can we do now?
The elder answered in abstract
With a head heavily bowed
The one thing that is our purpose
We no longer do
Because we look up atop our ivory towers
And only see a zoo
We believe that one can affect change
As long as its not us
So the answer to your question
Is to once again practice love
Have the conversations that create community
Not just for our favorite friends
Overcome our bias and impunity
And false prophets will come to end
The little one turned and asked the elder
Will you tell them I left?
The Elder answered in abstract
As a smile touched his breath
I will tell the story of the one
Who decided to be changed
And became the foundation
For this story to be reframed
When they come and ask
Where did the future go?
I will tell them the past only hopes
For the future to grow
That if we seek the future
We must put in the work
That we can move forward
Only when we acknowledge the hurt
In your eyes I can see, I am all your desires, cravings and aches. The obession
to which you wish to be bonded forever. And you'll gladly pay for your prize with
endless tears. I cannot deny the passion you stir in me and that pours out for you
virtually every moment that we exist and is as strong as your love and
commitment.
Your warped mind is a treasure to me. It propells you into the dark where I enjoy
your pleading. I watch your strange love of suffering and you bring me into your
soul to relish it with you. I am amazed when you do this. I think its for me but it
somehow fills you. I see that you must be with me each night and your craving is
desperate and way beyond anything normal. You cannot exist without it. You
must feed on me.
I am completely invested in you. I must have you, strenuous, throbbing and
twisting, and sometimes shrieking for my entertainment. Your gift to me. No
matter how I exercise its power, which I so enjoy, I can only own it as a gift. I do it
sometimes just so that I can make you bear it. You bear it again and again
without complaint. Because it is a gift, love can remain. And no matter what you
bear, you have solace that it is a gift from you. I can never take that away.
I experience joy when you delight in my voice and follow its flow. Can I hold you
forever?
My intense, inner desires combine with your foolish love and willingness to
become everything and anything I can delight in. I think you must be stupid to give
so much until I realize that your gift is the one I treasure. I want to hold you and
have this kiss forever. You are a feast for my senses and a slake for my thirst
which always returns. How you have given over control to me is a measure of
your soul. How I accept it and play it over and over again is a growing obsession,
that knows nothing but pleasure. I want to hold you, kiss you and taste you more
than anything else I have ever desired.
Our passion is easy for me and so hard on you. You rebound again and again
seeking even more to steady our hearts and increase our hope. Your suffering
holds you while you await the eventual tender moments that always come and
you once again drink in my love. I look at you admiring everything that you are and
desiring the moment when I can take you at will.
Please, give me your tears again.
When I was 16 years old, I walked into the English class on the first day of school of a new year. I’d been waiting through the long hours of Economics, of Chemistry, of Physics to get to English class, the subject I loved most.
My teacher stood in front of us and explained that we’ll be studying the theme "Coming of Age" – the transition from childhood to adulthood. We were going to read many different novels that tell this story in diverse ways, and as we read, we’ll discover the universal themes across diverse accounts of this rite of passage.”
Then he told us about the books we were going to read – Lord of the Flies, Black Boy, A Separate Peace… I noticed something odd: none were written by women and none were about a girl coming of age. I knew it wasn’t right for a classroom of girls and boys to only read stories about boys.
But what was most remarkable about that day was this: I felt a strange surge of energy. It wasn’t anger – it was more like momentum, vitality, passion. It came with a feeling of “I’m going to do something about this.”
At the time, I was a little lost – in teenage rebellion, in hating my body, in being bored with high school. Suddenly, I wasn’t bored, or lost or hating. I was excited about something. I was working toward something.
Years later I turned out to be a biology teacher even without attending any teaching school or training.
And used the opportunity to enlighten lots of female students on maturity (the transition from childhood to adolescense and to adulthood) and several female related issues that wasn't in any textbook nor in the curriculum.
Today I might not be a very rich man but I am a fulfilled man. I am fulfilled because I know deep down that I have made an impact in the lives of several females out there.
So whatever is that drive, that burning passion inside of you, that push to make a positive difference, to contribute to humanity, I just want to tell you "don't give up on it. It's only a matter of time"
Together if we all put in our little effort, we can make a huge difference.
So whatever field u find yourself, be it entertainment, music, acting, poem writing, YouTuber, blogger, teacher, student or parents, let's all join hands to make the world a better place. All it takes is for you to use your field to make positive impacts.
#POETICLORD#
(c) JANUARY 2019.
Just in case you wondered...
Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy
regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore
alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge
(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...
Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)
getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.
insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten
pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...
Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...
Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent
return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous
analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby
microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.
There are too many times when my eyes open and it’s still dark.
It’s useless to think that I’ll go back to sleep, and it’s no good at all to lay in bed and watch the passing parade of worries that comes marching down the Main Street of my mind. When I do that, the entertainment seems to take on its own life. The parade grows longer, more spectacular, with the noise of marching bands, my thoughts, growing louder. Clowns scurry ahead of the band leader, throwing red balls in the air. There are too many balls to count.
The best thing I can do for myself is to rise from my bed. But there are days when it seems too much to bear being home before the rest of the world rises. There’s just too much emptiness in my small house.
I leave, escaping to DD's, where I sit and sip my coffee over a newspaper. Sometimes there are others sitting waiting for the light to come, too–like the woman who gives an animated “Hello” to everyone she meets, staring too long into our eyes. She takes out her cell phone to call a friend about the rashes on her legs. Something is biting her during the night. Raj and the other DD workers snicker, and I am drawn to–but at the same time repelled by–her morbid troubles.
Sometimes, in the winter, it seems as if the time I spend in the dark before the light comes is endless. I don’t think it’s normal for darkness to last so long; it’s probably one of the punishments for eating the apple in Eden.
I much prefer the early light of June and July, when the morning allows the gentle unfolding of life around me. Somehow, when the sun is in the sky at 6:30 a.m., a passing gasoline truck rattling my windows does not sound so lonely. Nor do I mind the sun revealing the stains from spring rains on my windows … or the birds loudly announcing their presence in the trees. Their manic chirping awakens schoolchildren eagerly counting down the days til summer.
When the darkness is especially long, and I have already sought out the comfort of others who cannot sleep, I will sometimes return home and do what I am so reluctant to do — sit still. I take up my position in a special chair near a window that looks out onto the street. I close my eyes and listen to the heated rhythms that only my body can make. My breath … my ins and outs.
But I wonder; why is it so hard to be still? Especially in the dark before the light.
Where are the children? Where are the children this night and day? In the African nation of South Sudan, there is a horrible famine. Their families, and their children are perishing because they are starving to death.
World television pastors, such as Rod Parsley, are pledged to help provide assistance. The Daystar and TBN networks really providing: fresh water and wells, medical, and dental care, food and of course shoes.
The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America has our world hunger fund, The Baptist, and charismatic churches sponsor missionaries. Professional athletes and entertainment industry's actors and musicians sponsor their own non-profit organizations. The Red Cross, and Salvation Army and Habit for Humanity etc. The list could go on endlessly. Yet photos of starving children we constantly see.
Many people have wondered why? Is there really a God above us in heaven's lofty skies? And if he does exist, does he even care about us? "The poor you will always have with you, you shall not always have me with you." He was addressing Jesus. Yes, God really does care! His ministry welcomed the little children and denied them not for such is the kingdom of heaven. We must have the faith of a child to please him and enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Where are the children? They need responsible people to care for both their physical spiritual needs. The secular world addresses their physical needs from cradle to the grave. The unborn children and their mothers need special treatment and care. What happens to an unborn child from conception if it dies? The child is immediately welcomed into the presence of Jesus Christ in the kingdom of heaven. It is their grieving mothers, fathers, and families needing both spiritual and emotional tender loving care TLC.
Just suppose the unborn child would have been severely disabled from birth? God knits us together in our mother's wombs. The physical conception process with a male's sperm fertilizing a female's egg. The sin nature of mankind is responsible not God. When Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of the Knowlege of Good and Evil--sin entered into the DNA of people. Death and destruction also entered in. Where are the children? Under the shelter of his everlasting arms.
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
aka Roxy Lea 1954
August 05, 2017
A Life in a Day
Alarms pull me from my sleeping
The demand of their incessant routine undermining
The peaceful thoughtless dreaming
Where for a time I had forgotten
Everything
And like a vulture perched upon my pillow
Squawks all the separate memories to peck with their reminders
To myself of me
And while the daybreak has hardly broken
And while the dark room still conceals them
They invade my blood and bones
To return me to their isolation
As I lay there trying hard to think of something else
Still no one sleeps beside me
Their is no one to hear the resignation of my sigh
As my fathers name upon my lips
Is spat to a distance I can forget
And shoved closed the door and close my mind
So from the water risen and from the mirror no recognition
And from televised news no compassion
While I whisper some conversation to a girlfriend I once new
And think the stupid ***** still does not have a clue
No mercy for the human condition
As daybreak is about to be broken
For the support of mere flesh and entertainment
I frequent the hours I sell for money in return
Then as I stretch beneath my sheet
And my children’s faces swim through my head
All the lost years that lay between them
All the moments we never had
Return me once again to my isolation
From the darkness of a lovers hair
From the soft contours of her breasts
In the urgent and breathless moan
All the girls that I have had and known
This sweetness of togetherness becomes an acid made honey
Another broken back on which to sleep
Another collected offense for me to keep
In the silence of the questions they never asked themselves
Still no one sleeps beside me
Their is no one to hear the resignation of my sigh
As my fathers name upon my lips
Is spat to a distance I can forget
And shoved closed the door and close my mind
How this will end is not clear to me
The day has just begun
And the existence of the remains of life in a continuum
I have not yet lifted my head
Not bathed the sleep from my eyes
The blink of dawn has yet to offer me its usual compromise
In the comfort and the certainty of isolations open arms
And isolation has its charms
Alarms pull me from my sleeping
The demand of their incessant routine undermining
The peaceful thoughtless dreaming
Where for a time I had forgotten
Everything
1
i know the world enough to where i can walk through forests &
dodge each blade of grass, defy the likes of definition & let my breath
just pass. magic is meaningless, tricks & illusions based upon the
trick of the eye, the human factor, the inevitable blink. magic transformed
upon awakening, realized itself contradictory & sulked back onto the
shelf. the need for entertainment has (at last) been relinquished. adults
have had their skulls picked apart by the young, each undesirable portion
tossed away. there goes [war&worry&work&waste] in the name of
simplicity, in the name of Taste.
2
it's humorous how you rely on the movement of picture frames from one
corner to the next, doing the same things, saying the same things,
never leaving anything to question. ignorance is bliss, little miss-
i took Their dirtynailed hand & let Them lead me, sure They'd know
where exactly it was i was supposed to go. despite growing weary
under the weight of hesitancy, still the hand pulled me on, dragged
my breaking body as it cracked with each step.
3
this is maturity, this is guidance, this is something i you we all go
through-- & if i don't? --then you'd be one lost lost little girl, wouldn't
you? i know my god never said that freedom is a sin, that choice is
wrong. his words are lyrics that formed the every alternative, yet you're
reflexive refusal is drowning out his song. no wonder the innocents
have ceased to dance, have remained seated in silent penance for a
deed they can't recall.
4
it was something offhand in the beginning, without logic, almost but
not quite insanity- this continuous idea/phrase/thought that was said
by accident. (do you remember how words really sound?) bombarded
by the repitition, hammer on the head, death without dead- (watch the
welt rise & turn red). i'll just say i understand, even though i don't.
5
elevate each bone in the skeleton until each one points up, focus
on the relinquishment of order as you spread your eyes wide open.
the lids roll down the kneecaps, & fall back to the dark side of the
skull, exposing the body in its most gruesome beauty. the pupils
fuse to one & dilate to envelop the heart. exercize the foreign
concept of patience & go through this pain to achieve this pleasure.
upon acceptance of self-noself, nirvana is grasped.