Long Entreats Poems
Long Entreats Poems. Below are the most popular long Entreats by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Entreats poems by poem length and keyword.
I know in writing about The Quote Wars, no one probably knows or cares what the heck I'm writing about, but that's Ok......for some mysterious phantom force entreats me....beseeches me....and compels me to write these chronicles. If you read these and shake you head, do not feel alone. I ask not that you accept it nor attempt to make sense of it ......It , like so many anomalies in our universe has no reason...........It just IS. My apologies
The Quote Wars VI
The sun began to rise
To paint the sky blood read
I'm running low on quotes
And can't remember what I've said
The soldiers that are wounded
By the words that strafed the field
Now lie down in this trench with me
Without much strength to wield
We thought when we arrived here
In a few days we'd be home
Armed with all the treasures
In that great eternal Tome
By now its scattered pages
Lay useless on the ground
While the echos of their wisdom
Were nowhere to be found
Now, The sun has fully risen
And the light reveals our plight
We take up pen and paper
And get poised to stand and write
The time has come to leave this tomb
And crawl up from our trench
To face our own mortality
The verdict from the bench
Words fly fast and pierce our flesh
As volumes hit the ground
The ink we carried in our veins
Now splattered on this mound
If I could write just one more line
By turning back the clock
The enemy might just retreat
And end this writers block
More on this war to follow !
BA bi yea. Ba ba BI yea
Mi mi golden swoon
tis mi Golden Dude
kpuf ya shot bring di beat
blessings gather PAPA entreats.
pull up, bro. Big moves only
dey golden dude Jesus rules
level di field keep it real
drop some heat.
love for grace and repeat
drop some heat, no retreat.
dey golden dude
grace and repeat
~
Mi mi golden swoon
Tis mi Golden Dude
Shoot your shot bring the beat
Blessings gather Father en treats.
Pull up, bro. Big moves only
Stay golden dude Jesus rules
Level the field keep it real
Drop some heat.
Love in grace and repeat Drop some heat don't retreat.
Stay golden dude
grace and repeat God in tune... Golden Dude
3/21/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
You give me a lift
to those heights I once dreamt of.
You support me in your warm embrace
and the heat comes through the silk and lace.
I cling to you with all my might.
We pass unseen from day to night.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
You ravish my soul
in pleasured ways that you know.
Fingers rouse each dormant fantasy;
your voice entreats me to set them free.
I yield as your lips have their way,
thoughts break free; I’m taken away.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
We lose count of time
as it comes to a standstill.
We can read each other’s thoughts so well
though we dare not talk or break the spell.
Our eyes and cheeks with pleasure glow.
Emotions rise and freely flow.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
We lose conscious thought
as pleasure exerts control.
Our bodies prove the zenith is near
and we arrive in euphoria’s sphere.
We revel in passionate thrill
until every tremor is still.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
For the Duet Contest of Heather Ober
December 3, 2015
Now that December has descended
with it's roots of ice and skies of snow
our timber fortress is a sanctuary of ethnographic enlightenment
and embassy that entreats the exchange of craftsmanship,
lately I have been preoccupied with my etymological research,
it is important to President Jefferson, an anthropologist
that we discover the origin of the natives through their languages,
he is obsessed with understanding the diversity of the human race
a bone collector of civilizations and shaman of scholarship,
Private Sheilds, through his blacksmithing expertise
has allowed us to barter iron for corn without which
the Corps of Discovery would either lose vital quantity of provisions,
be reduced to malnourished paupers, or even engage in unscrupulous raiding,
there are still a thousand arduous miles to go
from all estimations, before reaching the Pacific,
as is, the Elders, especially from the Hidatsas
are suspicious of our motives
because of the 18 foot high pallisaded fort we have built adjacent to the Mandans,
so mistrust is suppressed well with an open door policy
and liberal trade of battle axes,
knives, weapon and tool sharpening, kettles, needles and so on,
January 1805,
the new year has introduced 40 below zero weather, syphilis and fists fights,
to stave the ills of boredom we routinely go on hunting expeditions
through the gruelling grip of winter's madness,
another activity that warms the soul are the spectacular jamborees
that conjure the whiles of instincts
and reminds us all how the heart seeks it's deepest expressions,
Cruzzatte plays the fiddle like a tempter of lunatic love
while Silas Goodrich thumbs a mandolin into the dreams of romantic heroism,
the squaws often coo with eyes of diamonds
arms outstretched with fingers swaying like wind blown wheat,
York is a sensation with the Indians
they have never seen a Black Man before
describing him as the black clay of chaos,
they believe there is magic in his skin
touching and rubbing him constantly like a healing stone,
J.A.B.
Slide ever so slowly O Life,
I’ve many a debt to meet still,
Many an ache, pain to treat still,
To do some duties discreet still.
Some were upset in daily drill,
Some lost life's bet, some feeling ill,
Those upset, to welcome back still,
To win back the weary ’s wit still.
Some desires stuck are as dreams still,
Some work be done, debited still,
To heal hurts and harms of heart still,
Bury the dead, soothe bereaved still.
Some bonds that whilst bonding bore chill,
Links broken down on the anvil,
Nurse wounds of all relationships,
Tie up all these pending tasks still.
So, O Life, walk ahead of me,
Can I ever live without thee?
To whose blessing breathes my life,
Can I ever defeat its will?
Slide ever so slowly O Life,
I’ve many a debt to meet still,
_____________________________________________
Ghazal |11.12.2023| life
Poet’s notes: The year 2023 is about to bid goodbye. So is the life being lived. The poet here entreats time to slide by slowly, he has many a thing to do. Translation of a Hindi piece.
Rose petals fell before us
Hands slid into each
Evening’s intermittent rays
Twinkled out a desperate reach.
We took those steps together
Blessed by day and holy night
With gratitude for measured feelings;
Endless love or injured flight
Fortunate ones allowed to share
A moment, or perhaps a pair.
And when the moment came;
It came for you.
No worthy breath bestowed
Or made anew.
Through curtain raised
Dawn became so still
No pulse of time to feel
For us until:
Senses stretched to yearning
As day to night entwine
Master's hand to each entreats,
Our time, from fruit of vine.
Sweet time, forever sweet
Whose endless touch we wear,
Breath as proof of life each soul to bear.
So Brief the hour given hearts to care.
Shapes mistaken in our form
The instruments we carry
Breath no less than sunless storm,
Teach life, to never tarry.
Mindless monks and fruitless sisters
Bargainers with tongues in blisters
Salesmen, pitchers, burdened ditchers
Promising a truth so coarse;
Cowards,
Watching all of this, without remorse.
Stand.
And we all stood.
Fast, with only bad and good between,
Prayers shaped
With words we could not sell,
Looking back to where we could have been
Stepped one by one off precipice;
And fell.
Who Is Knocking At My Door
Who is knocking at my door?
It is 4:00 am when sounds come harsh
Imagination wonders on the soulless bog
No one for miles can hear the tapping noises
My covers can't protect me in the solitude
Isolated land, dark emptiness and mysteries
The marsh has secrets too deep to bury
The cold outside creeps in through window cracks
Floor boards and shingles ache
The shack trembles with wind and rain attacks
Clearly someone wants inside
Some enigma beckons with repetitive cadence poundings
Through a peep hole in my door I see it standing
Alien red eyes glowing by its outer worldly craft
A giant metallic beast entreats me to let it in
To borrow a cup of sugar is surely not the plan
It landed here for much more than that
I yelled in dire fear
Who is knocking at my door?
Fragile old wood was not the only barrier
I think it speaks another language
It appears to be not from here
*Authors note: I missed the deadline for this contest. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Created on 12/28/15 for - Tammy Reams - 'Who is Knocking at my Door' Poetry Contest
For so long we crave being one.
Divided by fear we become undone.
The Universe beckons us to come home.
But we feel so empty and all alone.
When our hearts and minds are at peace,
Gaia brings forth her love with ease.
We embrace this love we so long for.
This amazing love of life, we want more.
Where do we begin this ominous trek.
But other fears, beckon us to come back.
We press on returning to ourselves in bliss.
We realize we are returning to innocence.
This is the innocence of our soul of Love.
This is the image of our Father from above.
Realizing this how we start to connect as one.
With return to our soul we now have begun.
We become keenly aware of Nature wonders.
Her beauty she displays as we delightfully ponder.
It enlightens our soul to heal the body completely.
As Gaia song entreats us to be to sing so sweetly.
And now in Love, we are one.
Faith has no limitations
God’s WORD will respond to any situation!
He is a HELPER in times of trouble
He CARES for his citizens and
His tender MERCIES are new every morning
Faith entreats but never argues
Faith will get the job done
Faith is liberation and not a hazard
No blaze can faze our Great LORD
We cannot afford to NOT call on the LORD
He will RESPOND—His Kingdom is OUR Covenant Right
Faith is the Future being told to the present
Your future is God’s past so it is imperative that
We cast our lives on the Great Lord
We cannot afford to NOT call on the LORD
He will RESPOND—His Kingdom is OUR Covenant Right
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
Mighty Ocean,
In your shoal I stand, peering over the swells of your surface.
Your gentle waves roll upon the sand, soothing and massaging
my feet with your deft fingers...ebbing and flowing in rhythmic beat.
Would you be so kind to grant me something I cannot do myself?
Trapped upon your shores, I have no way to search for my husband.
He sailed away many months ago seeking riches - a pirate's treasure,
but if my tears were diamonds, we'd be rich beyond all measure.
If in a bottle, I send him a note, would your tide take it on
the morrow? I would seal it well to ensure it would float.
There's no other way I know of to rid me of sorrow and grief.
In my worst fear, he lies entangled in kelp, and if he thinks they're
my arms wrapped around him, he'll drown feeling that it was I,
holding him in his sleep. But if he still lives, he needs a sign of hope
that he will return to me...home with me, where he belongs.
My note will help him hear my voice, cried in mournful song.
My heart entreats you, great stormy sea
carry my bottle on crested waves of blue
Or my treasure trove of hurt will surely be
the cause of my death; the last thing I do.